The Best Man and The Wedding Planner. Teresa Carpenter
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But it was the touch of vulnerability surrounding his desire for his parents’ approval that really got to her. She understood all too well the struggle between respect and love when it came to parents.
Bottom line: the man was dangerous. Way out of her league. And a distraction she couldn’t afford. She may be headed for one of the most beautiful places on earth, but this was so not a vacation. She needed to stay sharp and focused to pull off the wedding of the century.
Face washed, teeth brushed, changed into yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. That should be enough time. She gathered her clothes and toiletries and tucked them neatly into her tote before making her way quietly back to her seat.
Zach lay sprawled on his bed. He was so tall he barely fit; in fact, one leg was off the bed braced against the floor. No doubt he had a restless night ahead of him. For once she’d sleep. Or pretend to. Because engaging in middle-of-the-night intimacies with Zach Sullivan could only result in trouble. Trouble she couldn’t afford.
Climbing into her bed, she pulled the covers around her shoulders and determinedly closed her eyes.
She had this under control. She’d just ignore the man. If she needed something from the groom, she’d get it from the palace representative or Christina. There was no need for her to deal with Zach Sullivan at all. That suited her fine. She’d learned her lesson.
No more falling into the trap of self-delusion because a man paid a little attention to her. But more important—work and play did not go together.
* * *
“There must be some mistake.” Lindsay advised the car-rental clerk. “I made my reservation over two months ago.”
“Scusa. No mistake. My records show the reservation was canceled.”
“That’s impossible,” Lindsay protested. Exhaustion tugged at her frayed nerves. This couldn’t be happening. With everything she needed to do for the wedding, she absolutely required a vehicle to get around. “I had my assistant confirm all my reservations a week ago.”
The clerk, a harried young man, glanced at the line behind her before asking with exaggerated patience, “Perhaps it is under a different name?”
“No, it is under my name.” She gritted her teeth. “Please look again.”
“Of course.” He hit a few keys. “It says here the reservation was canceled last night.”
“Last night? That doesn’t make any sense at all. I was in the middle of a transatlantic flight.” Enough. Arguing did her no good. She just wanted a car and to get on the road. “You know it doesn’t matter. Let’s just start over.”
“Scusa, Ms. Reeves. We have no other vehicles available. Usually we would, but many have started to arrive for the royal wedding. The press especially. And they are keeping the vehicles. We have requested more autos from other sites but they won’t be here for several days.”
“There you are.” A deep male voice sounded from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder to find Zach towering over her. Dang, so much for losing him at the luggage carousel. Assuming her professional demeanor, she sent him a polite smile. “Have a good trip to Monte Calanetti. I’ll keep you posted with updates on the arrangements. I’m going to be here for a bit.” She smiled even brighter. “They’ve lost my car reservation.”
“They didn’t lose it. I canceled it.”
“What?” All pretense of politeness dropped away. “Why would you do that?”
He held up a set of keys. “Because we’re going to drive to Monte Calanetti together. Don’t you remember? We talked about this during the movie last night.”
She shook her head. She remembered him asking her what car-rental company she’d used and comparing their accommodation plans; he’d rented a villa while she had a room at a boutique hotel. Nowhere in her memory lurked a discussion about driving to Monte Calanetti together. There was no way she would have agreed to that. Not only did it go against her new decree to avoid him whenever possible, but she needed a vehicle to properly do her job.
“No,” she declared, “I don’t remember.”
“Hmm. Must be champagne brain. No problem. I’ve got a Land Rover. Plenty of room for you, me and the dress.” He grabbed up the garment bag, caught the handle of her larger suitcase and headed off. “Let’s roll.”
“Wait. No.” Feeling panicked as the dress got further out of her reach, she glared at the clerk. “I want my reservation reinstated and as soon as a car is available, I want it delivered.” She snatched up a card. “I’ll call you with the address.”
Dragging her smaller suitcase, Lindsay weaved her way through the crowd, following in Zach’s wake. Luckily his height made him easy to spot. She was right on his heels when he exited the airport.
Humidity smacked her in the face as soon as she stepped outside; making her happy she’d paired her beige linen pants with a navy-and-beige asymmetrical short-sleeved tunic.
Champagne brain, her tush. What possible motive could he have for canceling her reservation if she hadn’t agreed?
This just proved his potent appeal spelled danger.
Okay, no harm done. She handed him her smaller case and watched as he carefully placed the garment bag across the backseat. It should only take a couple of hours to reach Monte Calanetti. Then she could cut ties with the guy and concentrate on doing her job.
“How long to Monte Calanetti from here?” she asked as he held the door while she slid into the passenger seat.
“I’ve never driven it, but I can’t imagine it’s more than a few hours.” He closed her in, rounded the front of the Land Rover and climbed into the driver’s seat. A few minutes later they were in the thick of Florence traffic.
The old world elegance of the city charmed her, but the stop and go of the early evening traffic proclaimed work-force congestion was the same worldwide. She could admit, if only to herself, that she was glad not to be driving in it.
“Have you’ve been to Tuscany before?” she asked Zach.
“I’ve been several times. A couple of times with Antonio and once with my parents when I was twelve.”
“So you know your way around?” She smothered a yawn.
“I do.” He shot her an amused glance. “Enough to get us where we’re going.”
“I was just going to offer to navigate if you needed me to.”
He stopped at a traffic light, taking the time to study her. “Thanks.” He reached out and swept a thumb under her left eye in a soft caress. “You’re tired. I guess relaxing didn’t help you sleep.”
She turned her head away from his touch. “I slept a little, off and on.”
“Disrupted sleep can be less restful than staying awake.” He sympathized. “Are you better at sleeping in a car?”
“Who can’t sleep in a car? But I’m fine. I don’t want to miss the sights. The city is so beautiful.”
He drove with confidence and skill and a patience she lacked. He’d shaved on the plane; his sexy scruff gone when she woke this morning. The hard, square lines of his clean-cut jaw were just as compelling as the wicked shadow. The man couldn’t look bad in a bag, not with a body like that.
Unlike her, he hadn’t changed clothes, he still wore his black suit pants and white long-sleeved shirt, but the top two buttons were open and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The suit jacket had been tossed onto the backseat.
“Florence is beautiful. The depth of history just draws me in. Halencia is the same. Since I’ll be here for a month, I’m really hoping to get a chance to play tourist.”