Where There’s Smoke

Chapter 1

One

Kenzie Knight dropped her head forward to rest on her desk. God save me from unreasonable, demanding brides. The term ‘bridezilla’ was apt for certain clients she occasionally had to deal with, and this current one was a doozie.

It took a lot to ruffle her feathers when it came to drama queens—after all, her younger sister was the reigning monarch of the Drama Queen Kingdom, so Kenzie had been honing her coping skills practically all her life—however, Mercedes Lorenzo, the very rich, very spoiled daughter of the mega-rich Solomon Lorenzo of Lorenzo’s Luxury Yachts, was seriously doing her head in.

This was the fourth time she’d changed her mind on a venue and Kenzie’s patience was wearing thin.

Kenzie appreciated the business—it was a very sought-after gig, a glance at the guest list was like reading a who’s who of the Gold Coast—and her event management company depended on bringing in these high-profile clients, but sometimes she wondered if all the headaches and stress that came along with them was really worth it.

A flash of memory of the figure she’d quoted the Lorenzo family a few months ago reminded her that yes, it was, in fact, worth it.

Kenzie loved her job—usually. Weddings had become her specialty after she’d secured a prominent family wedding only six months after setting up her business.

No one was more surprised than her that she had a particular knack for creating memorable wedding days.

Her keen eye for detail and single-minded focus ensured each wedding she took on ran like clockwork.

She left nothing to chance, and never settled for second-best, be it fabric, centrepieces or securing the bride’s dream venue—even if it was for the fourth time.

‘Hey, boss?’ Cee Cee, her receptionist, poked her head around the corner of her office door.

‘Just reminding you about your ten o’clock site meeting.

’ Cee Cee was a vivacious, curvy bombshell who favoured vintage rockabilly fashion.

Today, she was wearing a pink and cream off-the-shoulder dress covered in flamingos, with her long, blonde hair artfully arranged in voluptuous rolls and pulled back with a wide, pink scarf.

She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fifties pin-up-girl poster.

‘Thanks, yep, I’m all over it.’

‘Knew you would be,’ Cee Cee chirped as she fluttered her fingertips and returned to her desk in the outer office.

‘Can you get Michelle to come in when she’s done on the phone, please?’ Kenzie called.

‘Shall do!’

Kenzie had hit the jackpot when she’d hired Cee Cee, Michelle and Tara.

She could depend on event coordinator Tara’s eye for detail, just as particular as her own, and Michelle, who had held the assistant role for the last year and a half, had time and again proven herself invaluable, defusing potential disasters and able to predict exactly what either Tara or herself needed done without being told.

Over the last few years, their small team had become a force to be reckoned with.

Kenzie made a mental note to set up Michelle’s performance review, where she was intending to offer her a promotion, as a third planner. With the company growing in leaps and bounds, having a third planner would help ease the workload. Tara had agreed.

It was exciting times ahead. It was hard to believe that one mistake had put her whole career path in jeopardy not that long ago.

But everything had worked out. Admittedly, life looked a little different from what she’d imagined when she’d been at university, but she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

‘How did it go with Mercedes?’ Michelle asked with a small wince as she stepped into Kenzie’s office. ‘I heard Cee Cee transferring the call earlier.’

‘Let’s just say I’m counting down the days, hours, minutes and seconds till that wedding.’

‘It’s still eight months away,’ Michelle pointed out.

‘I know,’ Kenzie moaned, before forcing cheerfulness, ‘but we’re grateful for her business.’

‘Yes,’ Michelle agreed positively. ‘What did you need to see me about?’

‘I had a request come through for a product launch. I’ll send through the details, but can you contact the client to set up a consultation and put together a creative concept and design, sometime this week?’

‘Sure.’

‘You’ve got a real knack for the corporate stuff. I think you’ll be a perfect fit for this one.’

‘Thanks, Kenzie. It sounds great.’

They went over a few more items that needed to be dealt with that day, and Kenzie gave Michelle a list of venues she needed quotes from for another client, before she glanced at her watch and realised it was time to leave the office.

Mackenzie walked into the reception venue and placed her briefcase on the table, reaching inside to withdraw the presentation folders she’d put together for her client.

She’d worked with the venue several times now and had built a warm working relationship with the management team.

They’d set a display table with the three options Kenzie had requested, based on the client’s brief, and she eyed the place settings critically, ensuring each one had been presented as per her instructions.

Kenzie let her gaze slip across the third setting, her personal favourite, a vintage collection she’d had to source overseas but was absolutely to die for with its delicate floral pattern in shades of teal and pink.

However, she suspected the bride’s mother would probably lean towards the other more classically elegant settings in crisp whites and gold.

Everything from the cutlery to the assortment of wine glasses was correct so she moved to the meeting table, setting out a folder and glass of water each for the bride, groom and the bride’s parents.

A murmur of voices alerted her to the arrival of her clients, and she took a calming breath, releasing it as the door opened.

Kenzie had already met Mrs Delsanto and her daughter, Sasha, at several previous appointments, and she greeted the two women with a warm smile. ‘We’ve got some table settings for you to look over, take your time and let me know what you think.’

She turned to the two men and reached out a hand to shake Mr Delsanto’s hand. ‘Hello, I’m Mackenzie, your daughter’s event manager.’

‘I’m Leo, my daughter’s personal banker,’ Mr Delsanto answered dryly, but the smile he sent his little girl was nothing short of indulgent, and Kenzie gave a small chuckle before turning to the other man, who had hung back.

‘And you must be the groom,’ she said as he stepped forward, hand extended. He was dressed in business attire and looked to be in his early thirties.

‘Ewan Campbell,’ the man said with a faint Scottish accent. As her hand was engulfed by his larger one, her gaze locked with a set of deep hazel eyes and she felt the strangest shiver of déjà vu.

She saw the man’s expression flicker slightly—as though he too was experiencing some kind of familiarity—before Kenzie quickly withdrew her hand, still tingling from the moment of contact.

She sent him a brisk smile before picking up her pen and notebook and moving across to the display table, trying to gather her scattered senses. Pull yourself together, Kenzie.

She followed the women, jotting down their preferences and making notes.

Thankfully, the task required a degree of concentration, and she soon fell back into what her sister, Brooklyn, called ‘OCD mode’.

She didn’t have an obsessive-compulsive disorder; she was just thorough, which made her perfect for this job.

Brook always joked that she was the family overachiever—she’d always been organised, even as a child.

The sisters were as different as any two people could possibly be.

Brooklyn was spontaneous and beautiful, and seemed to attract people to her like bees to honey, and Kenzie had always been secretly in awe of her confidence.

Kenzie, on the other hand, preferred working quietly behind the scenes, and was a meticulous planner—the thought of doing something spontaneous almost gave her a case of hives.

The differences went beyond personality, though.

Brooklyn was tall and slender and loved fashion, whereas Kenzie was shorter and had what Brook politely described as curves.

Her plain, work-suitable clothes gave her a comforting air of sturdiness that people found comforting, especially in times of high stress.

Mother and daughter chattered on, cooing over the pink dahlias and debating the merits of gold versus rose gold.

There was an uncomfortable moment when Ewan expressed an opinion about napkins, and Kenzie kept her eyes firmly on her notebook while his future mother-in-law frostily informed him why he was wrong before tactfully redirecting the group’s attention to the important question of coupes or flutes.

Once the table settings were decided, sadly not the vintage floral one, Kenzie guided the small party to the table she’d set up earlier and opened the folder to go through the other items. The menu was almost an appointment all of its own, but the bride’s parents had insisted they go through everything, possibly so Mr Delsanto didn’t have to go through all this again.

These kinds of appointments were always intense, and it was her job to make the process as painless as possible.

Very few people enjoyed making endless decisions about every last detail, and she found that the men often became restless.

Ewan seemed to be the exception to that rule, seeming to study her face intensely. Do I know you?

She started to deliberately avoid looking at him, mindful that she needed to ‘keep her shit together’, as her sister would say.

As they started talking about chair covers—Mrs Delsanto had some very firm opinions about organza—she noticed Mr Delsanto surreptitiously check his watch for the third time, so she suggested they break for refreshments.

A server brought in a tray loaded with coffee and pastries, and Kenzie took the opportunity to go over her notes, before she sensed someone standing beside her.

She glanced up.

Ewan was leaning against the table, holding a cup of coffee in one hand. ‘I’ve been trying to work out why I feel as though I know you,’ he said, wearing a slightly confused smile.

Kenzie opened her mouth to tell him she had no idea, when it suddenly hit her.

Oh. No.

She felt the colour drain from her face and then, just as quickly, rush back, flooding her cheeks and leaving a bubbling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Fuck.

Her horror must have shown on her face, as she saw Ewan frown before she pushed her chair out and stood quickly. ‘I, uh, won’t be a minute,’ she said, forcing a smile as she addressed the others, gathered at the small buffet. ‘Please, take your time. I just need to take a call outside.’

She turned away and snatched her phone from the table, moving quickly across to the exit. Outside, she stopped beside a tall palm tree and rested her forehead against its smooth trunk, closing her eyes and praying for some kind of miracle that could save her from having to go back inside.

This was not happening. It couldn’t be. Taking a deep breath, she scrolled through her phone until she located a file labelled budgeting and finance. Her thumb hovering over the icon momentarily before she forced herself to press it.

A photo came up on the screen, one she had managed not to look at since saving it secretly a year earlier from a friend’s Facebook memory. Staring back at her was a younger version of the man she’d never known by name. Until now.

Ewan Campbell.

The father of her four-year-old child.