Saying Yes To The Dress!. Сорейя Лейн
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can get more people to help you.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I can probably build you a rudimentary gazebo at a different location.”
“What about the dance floor?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He said that as if he were the boss, not her. From what she had glimpsed about him on the internet he was very used to being in charge. And he obviously knew his stuff, and was good with details. He had spotted the weather and the tides, after all. Really, she should be grateful. What if her bride had marched down her tulip-lined aisle—or whatever the aisle ended up being lined with—to a wedding gazebo that was slowly being swallowed by water?
It bothered her to even think it, but Drew Jordan was right. That would have been a terrible omen.
Still, gratitude was not what Becky felt. Not at all.
“You are winning the headache contest by a country mile,” she told him.
“I’m no kind of expert on the country,” he said, without regret, “but I am competitive.”
“What did Allie tell you? Are you in charge of construction?”
“Absolutely.”
He said it too quickly and with that self-assured smile of a man way too used to having his own way, particularly with the opposite sex.
“I’m going to have to call Allie and see what that means,” Becky said, steeling herself against that smile. “I’m happy to leave construction to you, but I think I should have the final word on what we are putting up and where.”
“I’m okay with that. As long as it’s reasonable.”
“I’m sure we define that differently.”
He flashed his teeth at her again. “I’m sure we do.”
“Would it help you do your job if I brought more people on-site? Carpenters and such?”
“That’s a great idea, but I don’t work with strangers. Joe and I have worked together a lot. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“That wouldn’t be very romantic, him building the stuff for his own wedding.”
“Or you could see it as him putting an investment and some effort into his own wedding.”
She sighed. “You want him here so you can try to bully him out of getting married.”
“I resent the implication I would bully him.”
But Becky was stunned to see doubt flash across those self-confident features. “He isn’t talking to you, is he?” Becky guessed softly.
She could tell Drew was not accustomed to this level of perception. He didn’t like it one little bit.
“I have one of my teams arriving soon. And Joe. I’m here a day early to do some initial assessments. What I need is for you to pick the site for the exchange of vows so that I can put together a plan. We don’t have as much time as you think.”
Which was truly frightening, because she did not think they had any time at all. Becky looked at her desk: flowers to be ordered, ceremony details to be finalized, accommodations to be organized, boat schedules, food, not just for the wedding feast, but for the week to follow, and enough staff to pull off pampering two hundred people.
“And don’t forget fireworks,” she added.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” she muttered. She did not want to be thinking of fireworks around a man like Drew Jordan. Her eyes drifted to his lips. If she were ever to kiss someone like that, it would be the proverbial fireworks. And he knew it, too. That was why he was smiling evilly at her!
Suddenly, it felt like nothing in the world would be better than to get outside away from this desk—and from him—and see this beautiful island. So far, she had mostly experienced it by looking out her office window. The sun would be going down soon. She could find a place to hold the wedding and watch the sun go down.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll find a new site. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got it.”
“Let’s do it together. That might save us some grief.”
She was not sure that doing anything with him was going to save her some grief. She needed to get away from him...and the thoughts of fireworks he had caused.
“I’D PREFER TO do it on my own,” Becky said, even though it seemed ungracious to say so. She felt a need to establish who was running the cir—show.
“But here’s the problem,” Drew said with annoying and elaborate patience.
“Yes?”
“You’ll pick a site on your own, and then I’ll go look at it and say no, and so then you’ll pick another site on your own, and I’ll go look at it and say no.”
She scowled at him. “You’re being unnecessarily negative.”
He shrugged. “I’m just making the point that we could, potentially, go on like that endlessly, and there is a bit of a time crunch here.”
“I think you just like using the word no,” she said grumpily.
“Yes,” he said, deadpan, as if he was not being deliberately argumentative now.
She should argue that she was quite capable of picking the site by herself and that she had no doubt her next selection would be fine, but her first choice was not exactly proof of that. And besides, then who would be the argumentative one?
“It’s too late today,” Drew decided. “Joe’s coming in on the first flight. Why don’t we pick him up and the three of us will pick a site that works for the gazebo?”
“Yes, that would be fine,” she said, aware her voice was snapping with ill grace. Really, it was an opportunity. Tomorrow morning she would not scrape her hair back into a careless ponytail. She would apply makeup to hide how her fair skin, fresh out of a Michigan winter, was already blotchy from the sun.
* * *
Should she wear her meet-the-potential-client suit, a cream-colored linen by a famous designer? That would certainly make a better impression than shorty-shorts and a sleeveless tank that could be mistaken for underwear!
But the following morning it was already hot, and there was no dry cleaner on the island to take a sweat-drenched dress to.
Aware she was putting way too much effort into her appearance, Becky donned white shorts and a sleeveless sun-yellow shirt. She put on makeup and left her hair down. And then she headed out of her room.
She met Drew on the staircase.
He looked unreasonably gorgeous!
“Good morning,” she said. She was stupidly pleased by how his eyes trailed to her hair and her faintly glossed lips.
He returned her greeting gruffly and then went down the stairs in front of her, taking them two at a time. But he stopped and held open the main door for her. They were hit by a wall of heat.
“It’s going to be even hotter in two weeks,” Drew told her, when he watched her pause and draw in her breath on the top stair of the castle.
“Must you be so negative?”
“Pragmatic,” he insisted. “Plus...”
“Don’t tell me. I already know. You looked it up. That’s how you know it will be even hotter in two weeks.”
He nodded, pleased with himself.
“Keep it up,”