Don't Tell the Wedding Planner (5 page)

She cleared her throat to loosen the muscles. “I grew up poor, in a little town north of here. My parents sacrificed a lot to move us to the city so I could go to a better high school. They wanted me to attend a university and be the first LaBeau to get a college degree.”

“Did you have trouble in high school?”

“Nope. I did well,” she said. “Straight-A student. I wound up with several acceptances to excellent schools. My parents wanted me to accept the scholarship at a smaller college closer to home, but I...”

Callie stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d been so dumb, thinking her ability to adjust to a new high school translated into an easy adjustment to a new town and a large university.

“I wanted to get out and see the world,” she said. “I mean, high school seemed fairly easy. How hard could an out-of-state larger university be? So I accepted the Wimbly Southern deal.”

His gaze ticked back to hers in the mirror. “Scholarship?”

“A full ride,” she said with a nod. “Tuition. Room and board. Books. The works. Even some spending money so I didn’t have to get a job. I only had to concentrate on my studies. For a girl with parents who could barely afford the rent, it was a big deal.”

He cocked his head, the fingers at her back now motionless. “Let me guess. You flunked out and lost the scholarship.”

Callie hesitated. She could say yes and let that be the end. His short sentence summed up the events accurately. But she knew leaving out the most important bits would be taking the coward’s way out, and certainly wouldn’t explain about her commitment to Matt’s brother and his fiancée—a couple she’d only spoken to once on the phone.

“Yes, but there’s a little more to the story,” she said.

“How much more?”

“My grades slipped because I fell in with the wrong crowd. I was lonely, and the party kids were the only ones who would have anything to do with me.”

In hindsight, she realized how lucky she’d been in high school. Moving just before the tenth grade should have meant she’d been the odd one out, friendless and alone. Instead, things had come together easily. She’d had plenty of friends and was well liked by her classmates. Some of that might have had to do with her dating Colin, his popularity rubbing off on her. Either way, things had fallen into place and she’d never missed a beat.

College, on the other hand, had been a disaster.

Callie cleared her throat. “But the party crowd comes with certain expectations, and I went out too much.” She rolled her eyes. “That alone would have been enough for the Moron of the Year Award, but one night I went to a party at a house.”

Matt’s going to hate what comes next.

She gripped the skirt of her dress, wishing the silken folds could sooth her nerves, and she gathered her courage before she went on. “The police raided the place because the man was a drug dealer.”

Matt sucked in a breath and his lips went white, and she knew the news had hit him viscerally. He looked as if he’d received a solid punch to the solar plexus. She whirled around to face him, laying a hand on his arm. Her heart pumped hard in her chest.

The rest tumbled out of her mouth. “I didn’t know who he was or what he did to make money, Matt.” She stared up at him, emphasizing every word and trying hard to convince him of the truth with her gaze. “He was a friend of a friend of a friend. It sounds like a stupid cliché, I know, but I honestly had no idea who the man was. But—”

She bit her cheek and held her tongue, staring at Matt. Callie shoved her hair back from her face, disturbed by the slight tremor in her fingers.

“We all got taken down to the station and...and they found marijuana in my purse.”

“Jesus, Callie.”

And then Matt just seemed to stop breathing, as if this final piece of the sordid story was just one insult too many. There was no way out but the truth. And the faster she got this over with, the sooner her heart would start beating again.

Callie drew in a shaky breath and pushed on. “I know. I
know.
I was stupid and depressed and I just wanted something to make it all go away. It was the only time, I swear.”

The stupid move would follow her around the rest of her life. She briefly pressed her eyes closed. The shock of her arrest had been difficult enough for her, but it had been horrible for her parents. Years of being the perfect kid, the perfect student, had made her fall from grace all that much more painful. Especially given their car had been plastered with so many Student of the Week bumper stickers the chrome on the bumper had all but disappeared.

“I called my parents, who couldn’t come to help me out, so they sent Colin.” She winced at the memories of the complete and utter humiliation when Colin had strode into the police headquarters, clearly furious. “He drove up to Wimbly, even though I didn’t ask him to,” she said, realizing she was rambling again. “And then, of course, things between the two of us started to fall apart and I—”

The look on Matt’s face gave no indication as to what he was thinking. The knot in her stomach tangled a little tighter, so she hurried on, beyond ready to push on to the next subject.

“I just think, after everything they’ve been through, Penny and Tommy deserve the wedding of the century,” she said.

The tension in his body had eased a bit, and he leaned back against the wall, arms folded across the chain mail on his chest. For one bizarre moment, she realized she missed his hands on her skin. Callie smoothed her hand down the satiny skirt of the underdress.

“And if I can help Colin out with a fantastic publicity opportunity
and
prove to my parents my business is a success, all at the same time, so much the better.”

Parked against the wall, Matt continued to study her.

She still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. That she was an idiot? That she deserved to return to New Orleans, the stink of shame following on her heels? True.

But jeez, the whole mess had taken place ten years ago.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked.

There was a two beat pause before he answered. “You’re right.” She held her breath as he went on. “The dress does flatten your breasts too much.”

A bark of surprised laughter escaped Callie, one part humor and a hundred parts absolute relief. “Oh, my God, you really
are
a perv.”

He smiled, crinkles appearing around his eyes, the tension of the moment finally broken. “Are we done with the confession now?”

Callie released her death grip on her skirt, muscles finally relaxing.

“Beyond done,” she said.

“Good. Now could you please help me get this son of a bitch off?” He pulled at the chain-mail shirt a bit, letting it drop back to his chest with a
ching.
“I’m about to die of heat stroke here. And no way in hell do I want to pass out and be carted off to the nearest emergency room in this getup.”

“Sure, turn around.”

She spent a minute wrestling with the clasp at the nape of his neck, her fingers fumbling a bit as she tried to ignore the soft tickle of hair against her fingers. Against her will, awareness washed over her again, and her gaze slid past his broad shoulders down to his trim waist and lean hips. The body looked solid and rugged and was impossible to ignore, especially in the kind of getup that hinted at strong heroes, epic battles and undying devotion to a lady.

Ridiculous, Callie. You’re absolutely ridiculous.

“Now face me and lean in,” she said.

Matt turned and bent forward at the waist, and Callie pulled the hem up his trunk and over his head. The chain mail was heavier than it looked, pulling the shirt beneath along, as well. The whole ensemble dropped to the floor with a
clank
and Matt straightened up.

Holy hell. What had she done?

Now she had to hold herself together in the presence of a shirtless Matt with sexily mussed hair. While her heart thudded, Callie tried to drag her gaze from Matt’s chest, but failed. The well-honed muscles had a dusting of hair that tapered at his waist, passing over the flat abdomen and disappearing beneath his pants.

A small smirk quirked his lips. “Are you checking out my cleavage?”

Several seconds passed before her brain could arrange the words in the right order. “You don’t have man boobs.”

“Good thing, too.”

Time seemed to grind to a halt as they both studied each other. And then Matt stepped closer, with
goal
written all over his face, and the tension returned, ten times worse than before. But this time the air was filled with a sexual charge. Electric currents prickled just beneath her skin and spread, producing goose bumps as they went.

And her briefly returned ability to speak fled even faster than before.

“Only problem I see with this scenario?” He grabbed a fistful of fabric just beneath her fitted waist and slowly drew her closer, her pulse picking up speed with every step. “You are way overdressed.”

Callie tried to protest. “The owner is—”

“Currently engrossed in a conversation with a customer about the history of Mardi Gras.”

She blinked, trying to process all the input threatening to blow a fuse in her brain. Too many sparking impulses firing at once. Just the bare torso alone was enough to shove her senses into complete meltdown. But toss in the sight of all that lovely, lovely skin covering muscles and sinew and bone? The rudimentary pants clinging low on lean hips? She could just make out the top of his briefs. Blue.

Matt continued to slowly pull her forward, until her body finally met his—naked chest to, unfortunately,
not
naked chest. His eyes zeroed in on her lips, and several thoughts flashed through her brain at once.

This isn’t why you’re here, Callie. You need to stay focused on the job.

His mouth covered hers. And just like the focused man who’d hunted her down at the wedding reception, this man was all about the goal, as well. He tipped her head back and his lips pressed in firmly, opening Callie’s mouth wide and taking his time with each retreat. Several deep, wet kisses followed. Forceful, yet unhurried. Heat and moisture and hard lips registered just before his tongue rasped against hers.

For a brief moment her mind splintered, and she moaned.

Matt gripped the fabric on the outside of her thighs, settling her legs on either side of his thighs. Unfortunately, the mounds of fabric between them prevented the satisfaction of feeling his hard body pressed against hers.

“Jesus,” he muttered, arching his hip. “How the hell did people wear these bloody clothes?”

She gripped his arms, hoping to keep from melting into the floor. The fingers twisted tight in her dress hauled her that last little bit, and she had to adjust her stance to allow his leg to settle between her thighs. Then there was a skitter of pleasure up her spine from the pressure, the fabulously delicious
friction...

My God.

She closed her eyes.

“Too bad my brother wasn’t into
Space Vixens from the Planet Venus,
” Matt said, nibbling his way from one side of her mouth to the other.

“Why would you say that?”

Geez, she sounded so breathless.

He dove in for another openmouthed kiss, and several mind-spinning seconds later he said, “Because their costumes were smaller. Much smaller.”

Another drugging kiss consumed her, his tongue hot and demanding and doing unspeakable things to her body. His hand drifted to the small of her back to keep her pressed close. That leg pressed firmly against the part of her anatomy that desired the contact the most.

And those little rudimentary pants and thin briefs did nothing to hide the hard shaft pressed along her hip.

The sensation too fabulous to lose, she pulled herself a little higher up his leg, and the slow drag of fabric settled more firmly against the sensitive area between her thighs. Callie let out a whimper.

Good Lord. She needed to... She had to...

Matt’s hands landed along her shoulder blades and began to undo those laces he’d worked so long and hard to fasten. As the back of the dress slowly fell open, cool air slid down her skin. The contact sent an illicit thrill skittering up her spine.

Surely she should be letting out some sort of protest? Where was her vow to keep her hands to herself? Where was her focus? Even more important, where was her sense of decency?

A loud laugh from somewhere in the store broke through Callie’s lust-muddled brain, and they both went still. Callie silently counted to five and listened to Matt’s harsh breaths before she gathered the strength to open her eyes.

Lips brushing against hers, he said, “I’m thinking we should fix our clothes.”

Which totally was in contrast to the palm pressed flat against her back, holding her firmly against his chest.

“Um...yeah,” she muttered against his lips, embarrassed by her less than brilliant response.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” he said. “Searching out a pack of traveling circus performers to juggle flaming torches?”

Her lips smiled against his. Something about his teasing tone and his easygoing manner made the moment less awkward.

She stole a quick kiss before answering. “No,” she said. “Though we do need to find someone who can transport a dragon from Colin’s storage house to the park.”

He pulled his head back and hiked a brow dryly. “Well, that shouldn’t be hard at all.”

“We’re in New Orleans,” Callie said. “This town plans, produces and pulls off the Mardi Gras parade every year. There are plenty of people who can properly transport a dragon.”

“So tomorrow will be about securing dragon transport?”

Callie opened her mouth to say yes and then bit her lip, remembering that her aunt had called this morning and asked for her help sorting through the stuff at the dock house. Callie had promised to drive up to Aunt Billie’s place despite her suspicions the favor wasn’t the real reason her aunt wanted Callie to visit.

While she was always pleased to see her favorite relative, the visit never came without a risk. But there was definitely a way to cut down on said risk. Bring backup. Provide a distraction, so to speak. Matt was the perfect person to help in that regard.