“THE doors will open in ten minutes,” announced a feminine voice over the convention center loudspeakers.
Ten minutes? Kane scanned the large hall, balancing the gold-wrapped box he’d promised to deliver to Serena. He’d thought he had more time.
Little-Miss-I’m-In-Charge Serena had sounded really upset when she’d called and asked if the box was still on the plane. When Kane had finally found the package in the tail-cone baggage compartment and brought it over, she’d told him she’d be right out. But he was already there, wasn’t he?
And—admit it—he’d been curious to see the blonde in action. Curious enough to volunteer to deliver the box himself.
Man, was he sorry now. This wedding stuff gave him the heebie jeebies.
He might as well be standing in the middle of a wedding nightmare. Instead of fire, heat and screams, this place reeked with flowers, tulle and as much pipe organ music as the soundtrack of some cheesy Dracula movie.
A woman dressed in black with spiked red hair, flushed cheeks and a clipboard in her hand raced up to him. “Are you a fashion show model?”
“No.”
“Where could they be?” Her face scrunched, then, as she studied him, brightened. “Would you want to be one of the models?”
Kane pictured himself dressed up like a penguin and escorting models in white dresses down a runway. He didn’t mind models, but the other stuff…Not his thing. “No, thanks.”
With a frustrated sigh, she ran down the aisle and disappeared out of sight.
She wasn’t the only one in a hurry. Exhibitors rushed around, putting finishing touches on their booths and applying their lipstick. Kane didn’t see many men, not like yesterday when he’d dropped off Serena to set up, but a few guys remained. This seemed like the last place any male would choose to spend an hour. Let alone a day. Or two.
Once, he might have thought about settling down someday, but now, after all he’d seen, Kane knew better.
As he searched the booths, every company seemed to have the word wedding somewhere in its name and everything looked sort of similar. He felt lost and out of place.
“Kane.” He turned to see Serena waving at him. “Over here.”
Relieved, he walked across the aisle to her booth. Whatever panic he’d heard in her voice wasn’t visible on her face, looking fresh and rested with expertly applied makeup.
That’s right, dummy, look at the lipstick. Keep your eyes on her face. She is so not your type.
But man, she looked good in that dress.
Her gaze was intent on him. “You made it.”
“With minutes to spare.”
“Minutes?” Serena asked.
“A few. Were you getting worried?”
Kane already knew the answer was yes. She seemed to keep a tight hold on her responsibilities, on pretty much everything within her sphere of influence. He happened to be the exact opposite, taking things as they came. It was probably a good thing she had an almost-fiancé. Because the way she looked, he could have been tempted into a fling. And the last thing he wanted or needed in his life was a cool blond control freak with a thing for weddings.
Serena took the box from him. “I wasn’t worried, but I was getting a little impatient.”
“Not the patient type?”
“Waiting for someone to come through can be hard.”
“Sometimes.”
But he wouldn’t mind waiting right there. He didn’t have to want to spend the rest of his life with her to enjoy the view. What man with blood running through his veins wouldn’t want to look? Her brown and blue dress clung in all the right places. The hem fell above the knee, and her high heels made her legs look long and sexy. She defined “it” girl.
He didn’t know whether to envy that Rupert fellow or pity him. Serena James was the type who knew how to make a guy roll over and beg. And Kane didn’t sit, stay or play dead for any woman, no matter how hot she looked in heels.
“I do appreciate your bringing this over.” She walked toward a linen-covered table with one of the elaborate floral arrangements she’d brought with her in the center. Candles in silver holders sat on either side. She tossed a smile his way. “Thank you.”
Her gratitude sounded genuine. Kane couldn’t tell whether she was sincere or not, but he was willing to play nice. “You’re welcome.”
The gentle sway of her hips and the swirl of her dress hem around her legs captured his attention. The lingering scent of her light floral perfume filled his nostrils.
Serena opened the box. “Now all I have to do is set these things out and the table will be ready.”
The table already looked finished and fancy enough to him. A little too fancy, but probably what the monkey-suit, bouquet-tossing set expected. “What’s in there?”
“Chocolate.” As she unwrapped each item, she placed the pieces of candy on an oval beveled-edged mirror setting on the table: three chocolate truffles shaped like three-tiered wedding cakes, small gold and silver boxes tied with ribbon, oval and heart-shaped engraved chocolates packaged in a gold base and wrapped with tulle and a ribbon, gold and silver engraved foiled coins. “No wedding is complete without something chocolate.”
“I don’t care much for weddings, but I like chocolate.”
Her eyebrows rose at his not-so-subtle hint, but she tossed a coin his way.
He unwrapped the gold foil and took a bite. Good stuff. “Aren’t you having any?”
“I don’t sample the merchandise,” she said in her cool, controlled voice.
Yeah. Right. Probably one of those salad-and-rice-cake types who wouldn’t let herself eat a piece of candy. Too bad. She had a sweet little body, but he’d rather see a woman enjoy a meal with dessert than starve in order to fit into a smaller size.
She hid the box underneath the linen tablecloth–covered round table displaying a four-tiered white-iced wedding cake decorated with real flowers cascading down from the top like a colorful pink and white waterfall. “All done.”
He’d say so. Judging by this booth, The Wedding Belles was a high-class, high-end operation. From the neatly stacked full-color brochures to the maroon leather embossed photo albums, everything shouted “money.” Including Serena herself.
Kane leisurely finished his chocolate, surveying the booth. He noticed a stack of boxes. Board games, actually. Who would have thought to make a game out of getting married? Playing that sounded more like torture than fun.
A burgundy upholstered chaise longue sat at a right angle to a row of headless mannequins in white—the Wedding Shop of Horrors. “Looks like someone went furniture shopping last night.”
“We contracted with a rental store here in Seattle who delivered all this yesterday.”
“You must have worked all night.”
She pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Just doing my job.”
“Don’t you design the wedding dresses?”
“Each of us helps out where we can,” she said. “That’s why working for The Wedding Belles is such fun.”
Fun? Serena never seemed to stop working. She moved through the booth adjusting swags of rich yellow fabric draped on the boring white panels separating each of the exhibit areas.
Didn’t she ever slow down or rest? Even sitting on the flight she’d been working on something. He didn’t know how she did it.
“Everything