The Wedding Wrecker

2. Emma

2

EMMA

I was good at my job. Really good.

Which is why I noticed immediately when the wait staff started bringing out the wrong appetizers.

In the immortal words of Maggie: Oh, hell naw.

I didn’t care if it was the wedding itself or the Uber one of my bride’s second cousins took to get the venue—everything had to be perfect.

I was on my way to intercept the appetizers when I felt it—that electric awareness that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

James had just entered the room.

Don't look, I told myself. Focus on the tiny quiches that absolutely should not be served to Mrs. Harrison's seafood-allergic aunt. I had been assured the allergy wasn’t deadly to her, but the gas it would give her might be fatal to the rest of the room.

But my body betrayed me. My head turned like it was drawn by a magnet, and there he was.

He'd changed for the rehearsal dinner. The casual sweater was gone, replaced by a suit that looked so good on him it made my mouth go dry. The jacket stretched across his shoulders like it was spanning the freaking grand canyon with how broad he was. His hair was still artfully tousled, like he'd just run his fingers through it, and?—

Oh god, he caught me staring.

I spun awkwardly, touching my fingertips to my eyebrow to halfway hide my face, as if that didn’t just make it more obvious.

Get it together, Emma! I carefully lifted my eyes to see if he was still looking.

His lips curved into that dangerous smile as our eyes met across the room. Heat bloomed in my chest and spread lower, making it hard to remember why I'd been so determined to keep things professional.

Right. The quiches. Allergies.

I forced myself to turn away, catching the nearest server just in time. I sent him back to the kitchen with the seafood and a reminder to double-check everything else from this point forward.

Once the crises were averted, I quickly scanned the room. Everything else seemed to be running smoothly, at least, even if I felt like a ball of chaos after seeing?—

"That was impressive."

I jumped at the sound of his voice. He was right behind me. How did someone that big move so quietly?

"The save with the appetizers," he clarified, though I could hear the smile in his voice. He knew exactly what effect he had on me.

I turned to face him, trying to ignore how good he smelled. "That's what I do. Notice things. Fix things. Keep the magic alive."

"Magic, huh?" He stepped closer, just inside the bounds of propriety. "Speaking of magic… did you still plan to save me that dance?”

God, his eyes.... Up close, they were even more intense—deep blue with tiny flecks of gray, like a storm rolling in over the ocean. For an irrational moment, I thought I wouldn’t really mind being ravaged by a storm that sexy… a storm with such wonderful, muscular glutes…

"I shouldn't," I said, but my voice came out breathier than I intended.

His fingers brushed my arm, barely touching but leaving fire in their wake. "One dance, Emma. That’s all I ask."

Emma. The sound of my name coming so deep and gravely from his mouth was perfect. It was like honey in my ears, which actually would be really sticky and inconvenient, but still.

I wanted to record it and listen to that sound on repeat all night.

Then the band chose to switch to a slow and sultry song at that moment. James' eyebrow lifted in challenge. “The dance floor beckons, Emma.”

"Fine," I said, trying to sound reluctant. "One dance. But I need to check on the?—"

His hand closed around mine, and the rest of my sentence evaporated. He led me onto the dance floor, then pulled me close—not inappropriately so, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Correction: simply being in the same room as a man like James felt inappropriate. My mind went to dark, dirty places the moment I laid eyes on him. My body hummed like it was some old generator that had finally been cranked into life after long years of inactivity. I was…

Being crazy.

Calm it down, Emma.

Technically, there shouldn’t be much for me to handle right now. The guests would be eating for the next half hour or so. Some of the family asked if they could give a few practice speeches. They wanted to dance and drink. None of it really required me, unless there were emergencies.

And what emergencies could there even be? It was just food, drinking, and dancing.

This is fine, I told myself. Calming it down is overrated, and why shouldn’t you get to live a little when the opportunity presents?

One of his hands settled on my lower back, the other still holding mine. My free hand found his shoulder, and I tried not to think about the solid muscle beneath my palm.

"Relax," he murmured, his breath stirring my hair. "You feel so tense."

“Sorry,” I said, letting him guide me through the music as the tension began to melt from my body.

The song changed, but neither of us moved to break apart. His hand spread wider on my back, and I had to bite back a gasp at how small it made me feel. How protected. How... wanted.

His thumb traced small circles against my spine, each touch sending sparks through my entire body. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, strong and fast. At least I wasn't the only one affected.

"Emma," he said, his voice rough. "I should tell you?—"

"Ms. Marshall?" One of the servers appeared at my elbow. "We have a situation in the kitchen."

Reality crashed back in. I stepped away from James, immediately missing his warmth. "I'll be right there."

I noticed him give the server a strange look, as if wondering why he was bothering me with problems in the kitchen.

Maybe he still didn’t realize I was the wedding planner? And why would he?

But I put the thought from my mind as I hurried toward the kitchen, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me. The kitchen crisis turned out to be minor—a dispute about wine pairings that took all of five minutes to resolve.

When I emerged, James was gone.

I told myself it was for the best. I had work to do. A wedding to coordinate. A career to build. I didn't have time for... whatever this was. Despite the still-lingering heat in my belly and the aching feeling of that magical potential fading, I got to work.

I threw myself into last-minute preparations, triple-checking details that definitely didn't need checking. As the dinner wound down, I found myself in the castle's wine cellar by myself, counting bottles I'd already counted twice.

"There you are,” a familiar, deep voice said.

I spun around to find James leaning against the doorframe, jacket off, dress sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, making him look dangerous in a way that did nothing to calm my racing pulse.

"Here I am," I said automatically.

He pushed off the door and walked toward me. "It looks like you're hiding."

"I don't hide."

"No?" He was close now, too close. "Then why are you down here counting wine bottles at midnight?"

"It's my?—"

His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my bottom lip. "I think you’re incredible."

"James..."

Something crackled in his eyes as he came closer. “Fucking. Incredible,” he said, voice a low whisper.

“You’re not so bad your?—”

Then he kissed me.

Everything else disappeared. The wedding, the castle, my carefully constructed professional boundaries—all of it vanished in the heat of his mouth on mine. His tongue swept past my lips and I moaned, my hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer.

He backed me up against the wine rack, bottles clinking softly as his body pressed against mine. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other gripped my hip, fingers digging in just hard enough to make me gasp.

"Tell me to stop," he muttered against my neck as he trailed hot kisses down my throat. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

In answer, I pulled his mouth back to mine. He growled—actually growled—and suddenly I was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me to a nearby table.

"Here?" I managed between kisses.

He paused, breathing hard. "Anywhere,” he rasped, hands already greedily exploring me.

I rolled my hips into him, drawing a glorious groan from his lips. “Is this a bad idea?” I asked suddenly.

He paused, eyes practically smoldering in the dim room. “Only one way to find out.”

While I thought that wasn’t technically true, I was way, way past logic, so I shut up and kissed him like my life depended on it.