Rocky Mountain Legacy. Lois Richer
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tumbling curls off her face. Her look, reflected in the pastry case mirror across the room, was so not the image of a pulled-together career woman out for coffee with a client.
“Makeup artist, cure thyself,” she muttered, patting a napkin against her damp forehead.
“Excuse me?”
“Talking to myself. Often happens after a round with the twins.” Hiding facial flaws on others was Sara’s passion. Hiding her own was a losing battle, so she ignored her reflection. “Somehow those two little kids always leave me feeling like I need time to recoup. Happy but drained. The way you looked before we left the store.”
“I wasn’t drained,” he said.
“Right.” He’d been chafing to get away. Sara wondered why.
“Because I invited you, I’m buying. What will you have?” Cade leaned one shoulder against the wall, his face all sharply defined planes and angles in the dimmer interior.
“Just coffee, thanks. Double cream.”
Cade’s shadowed gaze raked her face, then his swift assessment moved slowly from her untamed curls to the pearly sheen of polish Katie had painted on her toenails. He nodded once, then walked to the counter.
Sara leaned back against the banquette. Because Cade wasn’t volunteering any information, she’d have to come out and ask about his sister, and risk sounding like a snoop. She hadn’t come up with a way to begin when her client returned, grinning as he set a gigantic cup in front of her.
“Thank you. Is something amusing you, Mr. Porter?”
“Cade.” He studied her hair, frizzy now from the outside humidity. “You don’t look old enough to drink that.”
Sara’s molars met. Tomorrow she’d cut off her curls. Perhaps then—
“I assure you I am perfectly capable of functioning as your wedding planner. I do have the necessary credentials.” Later she’d ask Katie how that certificate had gone from the trunk in her room at their parents’ home to hanging on Woodwards’ wall.
“I’m sure you do.” He sat down across from her, stretched his long legs to one side. His eyes turned a moody shade of blue.
“Is the coffee bad?” She sipped her own.
“Coffee’s fine.” The granite jaw softened slightly.
Sara liked the effect. “So—?”
“I wanted to do something really special for my sister. I didn’t realize planning her wedding would be so complicated.”
“And now you’re thinking more along the lines of elopement?” she teased.
“No way.” Not a morsel of doubt crept into his low, firm tone. “I specifically chose Weddings by Woodwards because they’re supposed to be the best in the business. And I want the very best.”
“Woodwards is top of the heap.” Sara studied him. “You need the best because—?”
“Because this wedding has to be absolutely perfect. She deserves it.”
As he said the words, something in Cade Porter’s demeanor changed. The intensity of his voice, the love underlying his words, the blaze of pride in his blue irises—all of it told Sara how much he loved his sister.
“Your sister is lucky to have a brother like you.” For a tiny second a soft brush of yearning feathered across her heart. Then reality returned.
Cade Porter was planning this wedding without the bride! It was exactly the kind of thing her lovable family would do, the kind of overbearing, know-it-all action that Sara constantly fought against.
“Tell me what your sister would want.” That didn’t sound nosy. Sara held her pen above the pad and waited.
Cade leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes. His deep, assured tone compelled her attention.
“She’s a perfectionist. She’d want every detail to be taken care of. So do I. I don’t want any surprises on that day. I want it beautiful, elegant but not stuffy. I want the guests to enjoy themselves, to feel welcome. I particularly don’t want ordinary.” He opened his eyes. “I want memorable. Does that help?”
“It’s a place to start. Any idea when she’ll hold her wedding?”
His eyes flickered open. “For now, the date’s up in the air.”
Another glitch.
“When will she know?”
“Probably not until a few days before it’s to be held.”
Sara frowned. This was getting weirder by the moment.
“Mr. Porter, we need your sister present for at least one consultation.”
“Not possible.”
“But it sounds like you want to have everything planned without having a set date.”
“That’s exactly what I want. A church ceremony seems obvious.”
“Unless the wedding comes during a busy season like Christmas when we would have to book ages ahead.” Sara set her cup aside, troubled by his plan.
She was pretty sure she could do this—on her own, without help. She had the skill, the ability. It was simply a matter of applying her brain to the problem and then coming up with a solution. But was it right to do it all without the bride’s involvement?
“What about a park setting? Then we wouldn’t need to book ahead.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer.
“Weddings in a place that holds meaning for the couple can also be charming. Is there some place special to your sister and her fiancé?”
Cade seemed not to hear her because he suddenly leaned forward, holding her gaze with his own.
“If it was you, would a church wedding be your choice?”
“No.” She avoided his gaze.
“Why not?”
“I’m not the church-wedding type.” Sara wasn’t about to tell him how long it had been since she’d stopped talking to God. “Listen, Mr. Porter—”
“Can we please agree that you’ll call me Cade?” He was doing that charm bit again, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Cade,” she complied, pretending a coolness she didn’t feel. “My preferences are not the issue here. I must talk to the bride to get her feelings on things.”
“She’s leaving it all to me.”
His fast response ramped up Sara’s inner warning system to red alert. She looked him straight in the eye, just the way Winnie had taught her.
“Does your sister even know you’re planning this wedding?”
“Not yet.” Cade’s smile dimmed. “It’s a surprise.”
Sara squeezed her eyes closed, barely stifling her groan.
“I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a terrible idea. I have never known a bride who didn’t want to play an active part in her own wedding.” Sara glanced away, counted to five. When she looked back, his eyes waited for her. Their gazes locked. “Tell me the truth.”
“She wants to elope,” he rasped, his voice drained of its rich timbre. “To go somewhere no one knows her and take the most important step of her life.”
“Then surely—”
“She’s so fixated on getting married she can’t see how much she’ll regret her decision later. But I know exactly how much she might need those memories in the future.” His ominous