Planning for Love (2 page)

It took a concerted effort not to let her jaw drop to the floor. Without a doubt his show was the worst of the lot. It featured two couples, each trying to upstage the other with lavish ceremonies and over-the-top receptions. The brides invariably sniped at each other on Twitter, made horrible catty remarks in behind-the-scenes video diaries, or stole a great band right out from under the other’s nose. Really, it was like watching high school students fight to have the best prom.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Her head reeled. How could one of her weddings be featured on that classless catfight? The millions of people who watched wouldn’t know she was hired at the last minute to only do day-of coordination. They might even assume she pushed the bride and groom into participating. This broadcast could ruin her reputation in Chicago, the reputation she’d carefully honed and polished over the past six years. It was a nightmare, pure and simple.

“Wish I was.” He looked over both shoulders, then whispered in her ear. “Just between you and me, I hate it too.”

“Oh, well, that fixes everything!” Sarcasm weighed down her words.

“I mean it.” Ben came around to crouch in front of her and took her hands. The surprisingly intimate gesture from a man she’d just met startled her. Of course, between carrying her and checking for injuries, he’d already run his hands over most of her body. Still, this moment felt different somehow. Very personal, very connected.

“Ivy, I can tell you’re upset. You turned white as a ghost the minute I said
WWS
. Trust me, I’ve worked on the show long enough to know it’s a piece of crap. I’ve been trying to get off of it since day one. As a matter of fact, I just got promoted at True Life. Tonight’s my last gig.”

His thumb brushed in a soothing pattern over her knuckles. It took a huge effort to split her focus between his words and the tingles he sent zinging up her arm. “Well, goody for you. So glad you’re moving up in the world while I’m about to crash and burn.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

She rolled her eyes. The blatant understatement didn’t deserve a response.

“I know you hate the show, and I hate the show, but millions of people out there love it.”

“Millions of people watch NASCAR just for the crashes,” she shot back. Who knew it was possible to be this depressed while a tall blond hunk caressed her?

“Listen to me. Don’t look at the glass as half empty. Everyone knows it’s impossible to control a bride. They won’t blame you for the bad stuff, but you’ll get credit for all the good stuff.”

The only good side that immediately sprang to mind was meeting Ben. Unfortunately, it was a purely personal perk, and in no way could help save her career. And for all she knew, he might disappear the moment she calmed down. Meanwhile, in a matter of weeks her face would be in high definition on television screens handing out the tacky favors; water bottles plastered with a picture of the happy couple chugging beer at the bar where they met. The smothering weight of despair began to settle over her when his voice caught her attention.

“Think of it as advertising, unparalleled nationwide exposure. It may be hard to believe, but we get a ton of calls after each episode.”

“Oh, I believe it!”

Ben squeezed her hands. “Not complaints. People want to hire the vendors we feature, like the planner and the florist.”

The thick fog of panic clouding her brain receded a little. “Really?”

“Yes. Trust me, tonight could wind up to be the biggest opportunity you ever get.” His blue eyes, mere inches away from hers, radiated sincerity. She wanted to believe him, because frankly the alternative was unthinkable and ulcer inducing. And really, since Tracy and Seth signed a contract, what choice did she have?

Ivy closed her eyes, took a second to regroup. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Sounds interesting. Always a good sign when a beautiful woman propositions me.” Ben doled out a slow, suggestive smile while at the same time his lids drooped to create the effect of bedroom eyes. It was undoubtedly a practiced look, and potent enough to bring any unsuspecting woman to her knees. Ivy saw the smile for what it was: a sucking vortex of charisma and sex appeal. One she would resist. Or at least would resist until he agreed to her terms.

“I won’t hold up a giant sign saying ‘
Wild Wedding Smackdown
Sucks!’ during the ceremony if you agree to erase the footage of my fall. Honestly, Tracy and Seth have enough planned for tonight to give you lots of crazy outtakes. You don’t need me.”

“Prove it. What could beat a beautiful woman somersaulting down the stairs?” Now his eyes sparked with the hint of a challenge.

Ivy crossed her arms, accepting the challenge. “Okay. You probably know this from whatever they told you to win the stupid contest, but it’s an interfaith marriage. We’ve got both a rabbi and a priest, and if last night’s rehearsal is any indication, they can’t stand each other. Same goes for the families. It was like being caught in the middle of a turf war.”

“Come on, how bad could it be?”

“The rehearsal lasted three hours.” Ivy shook her head as she remembered the endless bickering. “They fought over everything. Where to stand. What order to stand in. Who goes first. The parents cursed, the grandparents yelled, a couple cousins got into a shoving match, and finally the happy couple joined in. Tracy actually threw her ribbon bouquet from the bridal shower at one of the readers and knocked his glasses off. It took me an hour to negotiate a truce about which side of the aisle to seat the bride’s family.”

Ben gave a long, low whistle. “Sounds like a fun group. Would’ve been great to get on film. Doesn’t do me any good now. Maybe they got it all out of their systems. With my luck, they’ll be on their best behavior. I need a guarantee of something really big, something our viewers will talk about for days.”

She realized he truly had no idea of what was in store for tonight. As hard as it was to believe, Tracy must’ve kept a lid on her big secret. Delighted, Ivy stifled a grin and tried to look thoughtful. “Bagpiper in a kilt?”

“Run of the mill.”

“Bride and groom in a paddleboat?”

“Decent, but not as good as you doing a header down the stairs.” He surged to his feet. “Sorry, but if you can’t bring anything better to the table, something with real shock value, we don’t have a deal.”

She pursed her lips, took a beat. “How do you feel about a skydiver?”

His mouth dropped open, then he shook his head slowly and raised a warning hand. “Don’t toy with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His reaction was everything she’d hoped. And their quick back and forth was the most fun she’d had all week. Now the tables were turned. She was once more in control of the situation.

“Seriously? A skydiver? What the hell for?” He sounded incredulous.

“He’s bringing the rings.” An array of emotions washed across his face; excitement, amusement and disbelief. Giggling at his reaction, she jumped up. Her bruised knees sent up a protest, but after a quick wince she pushed the discomfort aside. Grabbing his hand, she pulled Ben over to the window. The majestic stone hall sat at the edge of a pond that bordered the Lincoln Park Zoo. “Do you see the dock for the paddleboats? If everything goes according to plan, he’ll land there.”

“As landing strips go, this one doesn’t leave much room for error. What happens if he misses?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I wondered. I consulted a map of the zoo, and my best guess for an accidental landing is the zebra or kangaroo exhibit.”

“Which means no chance of life-threatening injuries, but a damn good chance of a kangaroo chasing a parachute?” Ben grabbed Ivy by the shoulders and kissed her hard and fast on the lips. The kiss was more than a peck. She’d classify it as a smooch. Just long and firm enough to tell her this man knew how to kiss. Not quite long enough to make her head spin, but it did wake up every nerve ending between her pale pink toenails and the pearl studs in her ears. Of course above all else, it made her want more. To her dismay, he released her and spun back to the window, probably plotting camera angles.

“It’s like Christmas and my birthday all wrapped up in one gigantic present.” The words tumbled out of him in a rush. “The skydiver’s enough to make my boss dance a jig. But the chances of something going wrong are huge, and if it does, the show’s fans will go crazy. I can’t believe this is happening on my last shoot!”

His level of excitement surprised her. “Tracy must’ve told you she’d planned something exciting in order to win your contest and get on
WWS
.”

“Had no idea. She didn’t have to qualify or anything. We pick the names out of a hat. What makes this show different is the couple lets us follow them on the honeymoon. You’d be amazed the way couples fall apart on their honeymoon, and we’re there to capture every tear, every thrown drink, and every night the groom winds up on the sofa of the bridal suite.”

So much for happily ever after. “It sounds depressing.”

Ben shrugged. “Can’t let it get to you. I mean, these people would get into it with or without the cameras. The divorce rate is still over fifty percent in this country.”

Ivy swatted his arm. “Don’t use that word!” Did the man have no sense at all?

His head snapped around. “What word?”

“The D word.” He still looked mystified. “Divorce,” she said in a pointed whisper.

“Why not? It’s a statistic, not an omen.”

“Even if you aren’t superstitious, it seems flat-out rude to mention that word on a wedding day. This is the one day when the whole world revolves around their love. One beautiful, untarnished day when everyone puts their petty arguments to the side and concentrates on the magic of love.” Ben looked at her like she’d just sprouted wings.

“You can’t really believe that load of crap,” he said flatly.

Ivy was used to this reaction, but it still stung every time. “First of all, I believe it with every fiber of my being.”

“Do you believe in the Tooth Fairy, too?”

“Secondly,” she pressed on, despite his interruption, “it doesn’t matter if you or I believe it. It’s my job to give clients the perfect day. They have to feel the cartoon hearts floating overhead and doves carrying a happily-ever-after banner. Whether it’s an illusion or reality, they get to live that fantasy for eight hours.”

Hands shoved deep in pockets, he held her steady gaze, considering. After a minute he nodded. “You’ve got a point. I bet you’re really good at your job.”

“I try.” Ten years of hard work scrabbling her way up the competitive Chicago wedding ladder were wrapped up in those two words.

“Well, for you, I’ll give it a shot. As of this moment, I’ll officially table my cynicism, my completely realistic view of relationships, and years of experience.”

Wow. It was both surprising and sad how many pounds of emotional baggage weighed down that single sentence. His past must be littered with heartbreak and disappointment. And to Ivy, there was almost nothing sadder than a person who didn’t believe in true love. But this time her pity was overshadowed by annoyance at his condescending tone. “Don’t put yourself out on my account.”

“No, I mean it. You’ve made quite the impression. I don’t want to be the big dark cloud on your perfect day.”

She squinted up at him. “Really? No mocking? No snide comments behind my back to your camera guy? No barely veiled hostility aimed at the groom?”

He spread his hands wide, the picture of innocence. “What can I say, Ms. Rhodes? You turned my day around with the possibility of an utter train wreck, then capped it off with a kiss. In my book, that means I owe you a favor. I figure a sunny disposition is the nicest way to repay you.”

“You know you stole that kiss,” she grumbled. It still rankled how quickly he’d ended it.

“Fair enough.” Ben edged closer, and Ivy automatically countered, which brought her flush against the window niche. He caged her in by resting his hands on the deep window sill. She was forced to arch her back in order to meet his eyes. The position thrust her breasts against the stiff lapels of his tux jacket. All the air in the room vanished, and her heart thudded. Without a doubt, Ben was back in charge, and she was merely along for the ride.

“Next time will be different.”

“How do you know? I mean,” she hastily corrected herself, “what makes you think there will be a next time?”

He chuckled, and kept that sea-blue gaze locked on her. “Certain things in life are inevitable. Sunrise. Hunger. And my kissing you again. Something ignited between us the minute I picked you up. Don’t try to deny it.”

Heat suffused Ivy’s face. Ben lifted his left hand to stroke the spot on her neck where her pulse fluttered rapidly. It was a light touch, and he used only a single finger to trace the path of her vein. It was one of the most erotic moments of Ivy’s life. The room, the wedding, the people banging glasses in the hallway disappeared. Her world shrank to a single patch of skin. And yet at the same time, she registered chills racing through her entire body. With a flutter of lashes her eyes closed.

“Are you the wedding planner?” A harsh, accusing voice bellowed across the hall. Ivy’s eyes flew open. Ben’s expression was unreadable as he stepped back and turned to face the interloper. She pushed off the window sill with a deep breath.

“Yes, I am. What can I do for you, sir?”

A man resplendent in full Scottish dress hustled toward her. The chain on his sporran clattered with every step. His kilt swished in a very unmasculine fashion, tartan plaid trailing behind him. “You can give me my money. The wedding’s in less than two hours and I haven’t been paid yet. There’ll be no bagpipes down the aisle unless you pay me what I’m rightfully owed. Five hundred dollars. In cash.”

The last vestige of delicious romance left her system. In its place, Ivy donned a practiced, calming smile. A threat to halt the wedding, a demand for an exorbitant amount of cash she didn’t have—it was another average day at work.

Chapter Two

Meticulous planning will enable everything a man does to appear spontaneous.

—Mark Caine

Ollie ran in, camera at the ready on his shoulder. Ben waved his hand to indicate he should keep rolling and received a nod of acknowledgement. It didn’t surprise him that Ollie was hot on the trail of the unhappy bagpiper. The kid had great instincts, and could sniff out trouble brewing a mile away.

“No stalling, now. You can’t treat me like this. I demand full payment immediately.” The man causing the ruckus was short, bald and full of righteous anger. He slipped in and out of a weak attempt at a Scottish accent every couple of words. The bagpipe cradled like a baby in his left arm was covered in a bright orange plaid. It clashed painfully with the red tartan over his shoulder. Ben wondered how obvious it would be if he slipped on his sunglasses to mute the effect.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’m sure we’ll get everything straightened out.” Ivy’s tone was polite and soothing, her expression placid. Her calm under such an attack was amazing to behold. Ben had seen other wedding planners crumble under far less. She looked so unassuming in her pink dress, but the petite brunette clearly had a spine of steel.

“There’s nothing to straighten out. I want my money. Period.”

“If I could get your name…” Ivy’s voice dropped off as she led the man to a table in the center of the hall. Ben trailed behind, staying out of the shot but still close enough to hear everything. He didn’t want to miss a second of the show.

“Robert Bruce.”

Ben snorted. He couldn’t help himself. As producer, he was supposed to be objective and most of all, stay out of everything. But none of the wedding party was around, and it just slipped out. Unfortunately, it caught the attention of the already riled piper.

“What’s your problem?” The man gently settled his bagpipe on a chair and turned to confront Ben, hands on hips.

“Struck me funny, is all.”

“You wouldn’t be making fun of my name, would you, laddie?”

Another snort escaped him, this time of disbelief. “No way is that really your name.”

Ivy’s eyes shot daggers at him as she rifled through her stack of contracts in a leather portfolio. “Please don’t exacerbate the situation, Bennett.”

“Hey, it’s a good marketing ploy. Robert Bruce happened to be the biggest hero in Scottish history. Takes a big pair to borrow the name of the guy who freed his country from England.” Ben stroked his chin. “A lot to live up to—some might even say disrespectful.” Although unprofessional and plain wrong to goad the man, he still found it irresistible. This made his fourth wedding in three weeks, and he was fed up with self-important jerks. He simply didn’t give a damn about this crap show anymore. Thanks to his promotion, today’s event hummed with a last day of school sensation of impending freedom.

“Are ye casting aspersions on my lineage?” Robert Bruce bristled like an over-furled rooster.

“Come on! Using the word
laddie
doesn’t make you Scottish. I peg your real accent as pure Long Island, not Loch Ness.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped. And with his next words, the burr disappeared completely. “Alright, you got me. I’m just trying to make a buck. People like to think they’ve hired the real McCoy. What’s the big deal? It’s not a crime.”

“No, but extortion is.” Ivy charged forward, brandishing a sheaf of papers. “My clients paid you in good faith, and you storm in here demanding more? How dare you?”

“All they gave me was a deposit. I don’t care about their good faith. I want my five hundred dollars.” His tone was surly.

“Then you’d better check your bank account, because that’s where it is.” Ivy thrust the papers under his nose. “Isn’t this a receipt, signed by you, acknowledging that Tracy paid you in full over a month ago?”

The seconds ticked by in silence as Bruce skimmed the paper. Then he crumpled the receipt into a tiny ball and tossed it over his shoulder. “Like I said, just trying to make a buck. Works most of the time.” He picked up his bagpipe.

“I won’t tell anyone about this if you agree to stay and play for the entire cocktail hour,” she bargained.

“Hey, I’m only supposed to play the ceremony.”

“True. But if you don’t stay, I’ll get on every wedding website and blacklist you. Then I’ll contact the Better Business Bureau and have them investigate. Wouldn’t it be much less trouble for both of us if you stay an extra hour?” Her tone was sweet and beguiling, in stark contrast to the down and dirty nature of her threat. It was beautiful to watch.

“Now you’ve got me over a barrel. Guess I’ll stay.” Bruce scooped up his bagpipe. “This job used to be easy. Damned interfering wedding planners ruin everything,” he grumbled as he stomped out of the hall.

“Did you get all of that?” Ben asked Ollie.

“You bet. Great stuff!”

“Miss Rhodes, you sure know how to deliver the goods. We haven’t even seen the bride and groom yet and we already have some great footage.” Ben bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. Talk about ending with a bang. He might not care about the show, but he still loved a great piece of film. “This is going to be one humdinger of a wedding.”

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on your ass!” Ivy hissed. Her glossy lips thinned in anger. “Pull another stunt like that and both of you will be on the sidewalk before you can blink.”

Hmm. So a bit of hellcat hid under the elegant pink dress. Every few minutes she revealed a new side. It sure wasn’t boring to hang out with her. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. But whatever Ollie did, I’ll make sure he apologizes.”

“Not him, you idiot. You’re the one who screwed up!” Her voice rose to a near screech by the last word. And of course, Ollie kept rolling.

“Turn off the camera and give us a few minutes,” Ben ordered. No way would he allow raw footage of him being scolded by someone who looked like a bridesmaid.

“You don’t have long,” Ollie warned. “I saw some limos pull into the lot right before I came in. This place is about to be flooded with happy wedding people.”

“Go get some best wishes interviews. I’ll be right behind you.” Ben grabbed Ivy’s hand and dragged her back to the window and a shred of privacy. “Was it really necessary to yell at me in front of my assistant?”

“Maybe not,” she conceded after a moment. “But I don’t have time to play nice. We’re about to be overrun with guests.”

He had a watch, didn’t he? Why did everyone keep drumming that into his head? “Yeah, I get that. Mind telling me why you’re so pissed off?”

Ivy huffed out a breath. “I was handling the bagpiper. Or at least, I was until you barged in and made fun of him. You escalated the situation unnecessarily.”

She had a point. Worse, she had a really good point. The kind of mistake even the greenest rookie wouldn’t make. Part of him was big enough to admit that. But the other part, the
this is my last day and I don’t give a damn
part wasn’t ready to roll over. Perversely, the need to defend himself reared its ugly head.

“Come on, the guy was a jerk. He tried to scam you for five hundred bucks!”

His rebuttal fell on deaf ears. Her scowl didn’t change. Ivy crossed her arms. She looked like a stern pre-school teacher. It was adorable and intimidating at the same time. “And by following my standard procedures, I caught him and put an end to it. All you did was enrage him.”

Deflection hadn’t worked. Maybe a change of subject would take the edge off her anger. “Before everyone gets here, we should go over the itinerary for tonight.” He reached into his back pocket for his crumpled copy of the schedule.

“It’s your job to record the action, not take part in it.” Guess she wanted to linger on his mistake like a tongue poking a sore tooth.

He flattened the schedule onto the windowsill. “Ouch! The truth really does hurt.”

“So you agree your actions were ill advised?”

Her relentless badgering wore him down. Time to give in. “It was stupid. My head’s not really in the game today. Sorry.” To his complete surprise, a smile broke across her face.

“See? Now I can trust that you won’t let it happen again. Every wedding comes with one stumbling block, and hopefully this was it.” She stuck out her hand. “Let’s aim for a drama-free day.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben took her hand, but didn’t shake. Instead, he rolled it over and traced the inner length of each finger with a feather-light touch. When she responded with a full body shiver, he finished by dropping a kiss on the inside of her wrist where her pulse throbbed furiously. “Am I forgiven now?”

“For what?” Ivy asked on a breathy sigh.

Ben knew enough about women to keep his chuckle all to himself. Still, it felt damn good to fluster the seemingly unflappable planner. “You know, waving a red cape in front of our pseudo-Scottish piper.”

“Oh. Oh!” Ivy’s eyes snapped back into focus, and she jerked her hand out of his. “Fine. Just behave yourself the rest of the day. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

I just bet you will, he thought, enjoying the view of her tight ass twitching beneath the satin skirt as she all but ran out of the room.

* * *

Ben’s trained eye took in the scene spread out before him like a postcard. Guests clustered on the flagstone patio behind the brick building. The florist had anchored the long runner bisecting rows of white wooden folding chairs with pots bursting with some kind of red and yellow blooms that echoed those in the bride’s bouquet. Wildflowers clumped together in a serpentine border fronting the wide expanse of a clear blue pond. No doubt it’d make for a beautiful shot. He lowered his video camera and called over his shoulder to Ivy picking her way across the moss-covered paving stones.

“Fifty bucks says the skydiver lands in the kangaroo pen.”

Ollie gave his lens a final wipe with the polishing cloth. “I want in on that action. Fifty from me on a pond splashdown.”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Ivy stopped dead in her tracks. Her head swiveled from one man to the other, then back again. “I don’t wager against my client’s perfect day. Since that’s why they hire me, it strikes me as a bit counterintuitive.”

Ben shrugged with one shoulder, the other currently weighted down beneath his camera. “Well, you could put your money on him sticking the landing, but frankly, it’s a sucker bet.”

“No betting.” She waggled a finger in front of his face, the nail painted the same toe-shoe pink as her dress. “You’ll jinx the whole thing. Brides are highly superstitious.”

“So we won’t tell her.” Ollie caught the cautionary look of death glared his way, and turned tail. Coward. “I’ll be in position over by the guests if you need me.”

“We’re a go in three minutes. Exactly,” Ivy called after him.

Funny joke, seeing as how she had no way of knowing when this guy would plummet from the sky. Except that she didn’t crack a smile. Ben scratched behind his ear, trying to appear nonchalant. Wedding planners could be very territorial. Treading lightly didn’t begin to describe the caution he’d use for fear of being seen as questioning her judgment. The only thing worse than a bossy planner was a ticked off, bossy planner.

“Don’t you want to wait until you at least have a visual of the skydiver?”

Ivy loosened her death grip on her leather portfolio to grab her skirt before it brushed the tall, weedy-looking things lining the path. “Oh, I’m not worried about Alan. He swears he can adjust his descent and land on the proverbial dime. Besides, all my weddings start on time.”

Ben had rolled tape professionally on almost one hundred weddings. Add to that the dozen he’d attended personally, it made him, if not an expert, at least well versed. Which meant he could count on one hand—scratch that. He couldn’t think of a single time a wedding began at the appointed hour. She must’ve fallen back on her standard convince-the-rubes-five-thousand-dollars-is-reasonable-for-a-wedding-planner spiel by spitting out that empty promise. But they were both vendors. Comrades in arms, for the day, anyway. He wanted to hear her real stats.

“No need to over-inflate your success rate for me. I’m not in the market for a planner.”

“Did I not enunciate?” She slowed her speech and over-pronounced each word. “Every wedding I run starts on time. Ask anyone.”

His jaw dropped. Literally unhinged like a cobra getting ready to swallow an entire wombat. “In that case, you’re more than a mere planner. You’re a freaking miracle worker. How do you do it?”

“I find that people tend to rise to whatever expectations are set for them.”

Ben mirrored her smug, single eyebrow raise and tossed her words back at her. “Really? I find that, given the opportunity, people tend to disappoint on a global scale.” The woman didn’t just wear rose-colored glasses. She lived in a fluffy, cotton candy bubble. One day reality was bound to fly through her air space and crap all over it.

They rounded the copse of trees hiding the bride. Or rather, the trees that almost managed to hide the super-puffy satin skirt. A red and yellow tartan draped from one shoulder to a belt at her waist. The identically colored bouquet cascaded down to where Ben guessed her knees must be. Her face, though, shone with all the incandescence of his best flash. A light meter couldn’t begin to capture the beams of joy radiating from her eyes.

“Tracy, you are a vision.” With an exaggerated bow, Ben dropped to one knee and kissed her hand. But he also carefully anchored the camera with his other hand, rolling every second. You never knew what would be worth keeping until the editors hacked away at hours and hours of footage to find the cringe-worthy moments that brought the viewers back every week.

“Usually I’d disagree, but today I truly feel beautiful. Good weather, good hair day, great dress. It’s everything I’d hoped.” A tiny, vertical line appeared between her brows. “Or am I so excited I overlooked something? Something obvious and important. Do I have a long string of toilet paper stuck to my shoe?” Like a dog chasing its tail, she turned in a slow circle, looking back over her shoulder.

Ivy smoothed a light hand down the veil, then reached down to twitch Tracy’s skirts even fuller. “No toilet paper, I promise. You shouldn’t worry about those things. It’s why you hired me, remember? To take away all the stress and details of today so you could sit back and bask in starting your new life with Seth.”