Wedding Party Collection: Proposing To The Planner: The Argentinian's Solace. Susan Stephens
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gaze, but in the interest of good business she decided not to push too hard on this yet. ‘I quite understand if you’d rather not lend your bike to a stranger—’
‘You haven’t seen my bike,’ he said, with all the confidence of a man who hadn’t met too many women like Maxie before. ‘I think you’d be safer taking the Jeep.’
She recoiled at the put-down, but all she said was thank you. Who liked being patronised? But this wasn’t about Maxie’s pride. She was here for the bride, and to earn the money that kept her father safe and well looked after in a nursing home. Glancing inside the vehicle, she hoped Diego Acosta would take the hint. He might be impervious to the elements, but she was freezing cold and wet. She was glad when he swung the door wide, and launched herself into the welcoming warmth of the luxurious interior.
‘Now we wait for Fernando,’ he announced, bringing the gale from hell with him as he entered the vehicle. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung into the driver’s seat using just the formidable power in his arms.
She hoped they wouldn’t have to wait long. Every part of her was prickling with awareness in the confined space. They were seated so close—too close. To distract herself she reached inside her bag to find her business card. ‘You can check me out on this website.’ She held it out to him. ‘There are plenty of reviews from satisfied clients. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with the services I offer.’
‘I should hope not.’
Something in Diego Acosta’s voice made heat curl low in her belly in a way that was both inconvenient and inappropriate. Silence was her safest bet, Maxie concluded, noticing he barely glanced at her card before stowing it in a pocket on the door, where it would probably stay until it yellowed.
Fernando joined them soon after, much to her relief. She gripped the seat as they drove off, but she needn’t have worried as Diego Acosta drove with the same arrant confidence with which he appeared to do everything else.
‘How long do you plan to stay, Ms Parrish?’
‘That’s hard to say…’ Her senses sharpened when he met her glance. ‘Except I’ll be as time-efficient as I can be.’ She guessed this was to reassure them both. She had a real sense of invading the dark space of a man who had retreated to this remote island after his accident and who wanted to be alone—and she was in no hurry to stay a moment longer than she had to.
‘How do you normally proceed?’ he demanded.
‘I spend a few days researching the bride’s preferred venue, deciding if it’s viable or not, and then I make suggestions, with photographs to illustrate my thinking.’
‘And when the weather’s like this?’ he said abruptly, making a gesture that encompassed the storm ravaged landscape outside the windscreen. ‘How do you tempt the bride then?’
‘The sky seems to be brightening,’ she pointed out, determined not to be put off at such an early stage. ‘The bride is already in love with Isla del Fuego, Señor Acosta, and please believe me when I say I won’t get in your way.’
‘I can’t see how we can avoid each other on such a small island.’
She tried reasoning that he’d been injured and craved solitude, and yet had been thrown into the path of a wedding—the most social of occasions. No wonder he was climbing the walls. But did he have to kick her on the way?
‘You’re very quiet,’ he observed.
Staring at impossibly strong forearms and powerful yet sensitive hands could do that to a girl. She quickly dragged her gaze away.
‘Are you regretting your decision to arrange a wedding here, Señorita Parrish?’
‘On the contrary, my mind is buzzing with ideas.’ He needn’t know the details.
‘Your name?’ he queried thoughtfully as they slowed to take a bend. ‘It seems familiar to me. Are you sure we haven’t met before?’
‘It’s quite a common name.’ She said this to a soundtrack of Fernando snoring. ‘I’m sure we haven’t met before. I would remember. And I doubt we move in the same circles.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ he said, frowning.
‘Just that I have never been to a polo match and I doubt you crash weddings.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t added polo to your list of things to do,’ he said sharply. ‘You have been hired to arrange the marriage of a high-profile polo player.’
His concerns on behalf of his brother were understandable. ‘I’ve read a lot about the game, and I’ve watched a lot of films regarding the sport, documentaries—you know.’
‘Which is hardly the same thing as attending a match.’
‘That’s something I intend to put right as soon as I can. I’m looking forward to it,’ she added keenly. ‘It looks such a thrilling game!’
‘It is.’
She could have bitten off her tongue when he shifted position to ease his leg.
‘How long have you been in the wedding business, Señorita Parrish?’
‘Please—call me Maxie. Everyone does.’
‘Are you going to answer the question?’ he said, ignoring the olive branch.
‘Both Holly and your brother have my references,’ she said, rattled by this inquisition.
‘It’s a simple question.’ Diego Acosta swung the wheel so abruptly she was thrown into the side of the vehicle as the off-roader lurched onto a minor road. ‘Why should I read your references when you’re sitting next to me and can give me the answers yourself?’ he added, with a certain amount of justification and a whole heap of ire.
Because she had edited her CV so carefully, maybe? ‘I’m happy to answer any question you care to put to me.’ Within reason, Maxie amended silently.
There was a lot of information about herself that she didn’t share—like the fact she had been in business since the onset of her father’s illness and the cost of his nursing care meant she couldn’t earn enough working for anyone else on a fixed salary. She had struck out on her own, determined and desperate, with one goal in mind: her father’s dignity and privacy had to be preserved. And it had been. And would continue to be, whatever provocation Diego Acosta tossed her way.
‘I’VE been arranging weddings for friends for as long as I can remember.’ Maxie had decided that if she was going to be forced to explain herself she might as well take the lead.
‘And why would they ask you?’ Diego Acosta demanded.
‘I guess because I was always the one who put on events at school. Arranging weddings turned out to be a natural progression of that.’ She only now realised that that was exactly what had happened.
‘How long is it since you left school?’
‘I’m twenty-six.’ And enough was enough. ‘I’ve been a successful wedding planner with my own company for over five years now, Señor Acosta.’
‘My brother led me to believe that his wedding planner would be someone older with a great deal of experience. And excuse me for saying so,’ he added, not sounding in the least bit sorry, ‘but you seem far too young to handle a job of this size and importance.’
‘All weddings are important to me,’ Maxie said, bridling. ‘And though I realise you are unlikely to have heard of me, please don’t judge a book by its cover, Señor Acosta. I may not wear a business suit while I’m traveling, any more than you wear one when you’re down on the dock, but I’m serious about what I do.