One Winter Wedding. Barbara Hannay
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If she didn’t stop him, her own business would be destroyed in the fallout. Who would trust a wedding planner who couldn’t pull off her own cousin’s wedding?
Panic tightened her hands on the wheel. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“My friend Javy’s family owns a restaurant around here. Best Mexican food you’ve ever tasted.”
“I don’t like Mexican food.”
He shook his head. “Poor Kelsey. Can’t take the heat, huh?”
They stopped at a red light, and she risked a glance at him. He still wore those darn sunglasses, but she didn’t need to look into his eyes to read his thoughts. He was here to win back Emily and show the Wilsons and the rest of the world they’d underestimated him all those years ago. But until then, he’d kill some time by flirting with her.
Kelsey didn’t know why the thought hurt so much. After all, it wasn’t the first time a man had used her to try and get to her beautiful, desirable cousin.
The light turned green, and she hit the gas harder than necessary. “Let’s just say I’ve been burned before.”
A heartbeat’s silence passed. When Connor spoke again, his voice was friendly, casual and missing the seductive undertone. “You’ll like this place.” He chuckled. “I can’t tell you how many meals I’ve had there. If it hadn’t been for Señora Delgado…”
Kelsey wondered at the warmth and gratitude in his words. Something told her Connor wasn’t simply reminiscing about tacos and burritos. An undeniable curiosity built as she pulled into the parking lot. The restaurant looked like an old-time hacienda with its flat roof and arched entryway. The stucco had been painted a welcoming terra-cotta. Strings of outdoor lights scalloped the front porch, and large clay pots housed a variety of heat-tolerant plants: pink and white vinca, yellow gazanias, and clusters of cacti.
Still checking out the exterior, Kelsey remained behind the wheel until Connor circled the car and opened the door for her. Startled by the chivalry, she grabbed her purse and took his hand. As she slid out of the seat, she hoped Connor didn’t guess how rare or surprising she found the gesture.
She thought he’d let go, but he kept hold of her hand as he led her along red, green and yellow mosaic stepping stones that cut through the gravel landscape. His palm felt hard and masculine against her own, but without the calluses she’d somehow expected.
When he opened the carved door, he let go of her hand to lay claim to the small of her back. A shiver rocked her entire body. His solicitous touch shouldn’t have the power to turn on every nerve ending. And it certainly shouldn’t have the inexplicable ability to send her mind reeling with images of his hand stroking down her naked spine…
Full body armor, Kelsey thought once again, uncertain even that extreme could shield her from her own reactions.
Desperate to change her focus, she looked around the restaurant. A dozen round tables stood in the center of the Saltillo-tiled room, and booths lined each wall. The scent of grilled peppers and mouthwatering spices filled the air.
“Man, would you look at this place?” Connor waved a hand at the brightly colored walls, the piñatas dangling from the ceiling and the woven-blanket wall hangings.
He removed his sunglasses to take in the dimly lit restaurant, but Kelsey couldn’t see beyond his eyes. Not brown, not blue, but gorgeous, glorious green. A reminder of spring, the short burst of cool days, the promise of dew-kissed grass. Without the glasses to shield his eyes, Connor McClane looked younger, more approachable, a little less badass.
“Has it changed?”
“No, everything’s exactly the same. Just like it should be,” he added with a determination that made Kelsey wonder. Had someone once threatened to change the restaurant that was so important to his friends?
A young woman wearing a red peasant-style blouse and white three-tiered skirt approached, menus in hand. “Buenas tardes. Two for lunch?”
“Sí. Dínde est´ Señora Delgado?”
Startled, Kelsey listened to Connor converse in fluent Spanish. She couldn’t understand a word, so why did his deep voice pour like hot fudge through her veins?
Get a grip! Connor McClane is in town for one reason and one reason only. And that reason was not her.
The hostess led them to a corner booth. Kelsey barely had a chance to slide across the red Naugahyde and glance at the menu when a masculine voice called out, “Look what the cat dragged in!”
A good-looking Hispanic man dressed in a white button-down shirt and khakis walked over. Connor stood and slapped him on the back in a moment of male bonding. “Javy! Good to see you, man!”
“How’s life in L.A.?”
“Not bad. How’s your mother? The hostess says she’s not here today?”
“She’s semiretired, which means she’s only here to kick my butt half the time,” Javy laughed.
“I didn’t think you’d ever get Maria to slow down.”
“This place means the world to her. I still don’t know how to thank you.”
“Forget it, man,” Connor quickly interrupted. “It was nothing compared to what your family’s done for me over the years.”
Modesty? Kelsey wondered, though Connor didn’t seem the type. And yet she didn’t read even an ounce of pride in his expression. If anything, he looked…guilty.
“I’m not about to forget it, and I will find a way to pay you back,” Javy insisted. “Hey, do you want to crash at my place while you’re here?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got a hotel room.”
Finally Connor turned back to Kelsey. “Javy, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Javier Delgado, Kelsey Wilson.”
Javy did a double take at Kelsey’s last name, then slanted Connor a warning look. “Man, some people never learn.”
Still, his dark eyes glittered and a dimple flashed in one cheek as he said, “Pleasure to meet you, señorita. Take care of this one, will you? He’s not as tough as he thinks he is.”
“Get outta here.” Connor shoved his friend’s shoulder before sliding into the booth across from Kelsey. “And bring us some food. I’ve been dying for your mother’s enchiladas.” He handed back the menu without opening it. “What about you, Kelsey?”
“I’m, um, not sure.” The menu was written in Spanish on the right and English on the left, but even with the translation, she didn’t know what to order.
“She’ll have a chicken quesadilla with the guacamole and sour cream on the side. And we’ll both have margaritas.”
“I’ll take mine without alcohol,” Kelsey insisted. Bad enough he’d ordered her lunch. She didn’t need him ordering a drink for her, especially not one laden with tequila and guaranteed to go right to her head.
“Two margaritas, one virgin,” Connor said with a wink that sent a rush of heat to Kelsey’s cheeks. With her fair complexion, she figured she could give the red pepper garland strung across the ceiling a run for its money.
“I’ll get those orders right up.”
As his friend walked toward the kitchen, Connor leaned back in the booth and gazed around the restaurant. Nostalgia lifted the corners of his mouth in a genuine smile. “Man, I’ve missed this place.”
“So why haven’t you come back before now?” Kelsey asked, curious despite sensible warnings to keep her distance.
He shrugged. “Never had reason to, I guess.”
“Until now,” she added flatly, “when you’ve come to crash Emily’s wedding.”