The Tycoon and the Wedding Planner

CHAPTER TWO

SAM DIDN’T WANT to have anything to do with weddings: whip-wielding wedding planners; mothers-of-the-bride going crazy; brides-to-be in meltdown; over-the-top hysteria all round. It reminded him too much of the ill-fated plans for his own cancelled wedding. Though it had been more than two years since the whole drama, even the word ‘wedding’ still had the power to bring him out in a cold sweat.

If it hadn’t meant a chance to see Kate again he would have backed right out of the meeting this evening.

Now he stood on the sand at the bottom of the steps that led down from the hotel to the harbour beach. Jesse’s directions to Ben’s house, where the meeting was to be held, had comprised a vague wave in the general direction to the right of the hotel. He couldn’t see a house anywhere close and wasn’t sure where to go.

‘Sam! Wait for me!’

Sam turned at the sound of Kate’s voice. She stood at the top of the steps, smiling down at him. For a moment all he could do was stare. If he’d thought Kate had looked gorgeous in her waitress garb, in a short, lavender dress that clung to her curves she looked sensational.

She clattered down the steps as fast as her strappy sandals would allow her, giving him a welcome flash of pale, slender legs. Her hair, set free from its constraints, flowed all wild and wavy around her face and to her shoulders, the fading light of the setting sun illuminating it to burnished copper. She clutched a large purple folder under her arm and had an outsized brown leather bag slung over her shoulder.

She was animated, vibrant, confident—everything that attracted him to her. So different from his reserved, unemotional ex-fiancée. Or his distant mother, who had made him wonder as he was growing up whether she had wanted a son at all. Whose main interest in him these days seemed to be in how well he managed the company for maximum dollars on her allowance.

Kate came to a halt next to him, her face flushed. This close, he couldn’t help but notice the tantalising hint of cleavage exposed by the scoop neck of her dress.

‘Are you headed to Ben’s place?’ she asked.

‘If I knew exactly where it was, yes.’

‘Easy,’ she said with a wave to the right, as vague as Jesse’s had been. ‘It’s just down there.’

‘Easy for a local. All I see is a boathouse with a dock reaching out into the water.’

‘That is the house. I mean, that’s where Ben and his fiancée, Sandy, live.’

‘A boathouse?’

‘It’s the poshest boathouse you’ve ever seen.’ Her face stilled. ‘It was the only thing left after the fire destroyed the guesthouse where the hotel stands now.’

‘Yes. I knew Ben lost his first wife and child in the fire. What a tragedy.’

‘Ben was a lost soul until Sandy came back to Dolphin Bay. She was his first love when they were teenagers. It was all terribly romantic.’

‘And now they’re getting married.’

Kate laughed. ‘Yes. Just two months after they met up again. And they honestly thought they were going to get away with a simple wedding on the beach with a glass of champagne to follow.’

‘That sounds a good idea to me,’ he said, more wholeheartedly than he had intended.

She looked at him, her head tilted to one side, curiosity lighting her green eyes. ‘Really? Maybe, if you don’t have family and friends who want to help you celebrate a happy-ever-after ending. Dolphin Bay people are very tight-knit.’

He wondered what it would be like to live in a community where people cared about each other, unlike the anonymity of his own city life, the aridity of his family life. ‘Hence you became the wedding planner?’

‘Yes. I put my hand up for the job. Unofficially, of course. The simple ceremony on the beach is staying. But they can’t avoid a big party at the hotel afterwards. I aim to take the stress out of it for them.’

‘Good luck with that.’ He couldn’t avoid the cynical twist to his mouth.

‘Good planning and good organisation, more likely than mere luck.’

‘You mean not too many unexpected guests like me?’ he said.

Her flush deepened. ‘Of course not. I’m glad Ben has invited a friend from outside.’

‘From outside?’

‘I mean from elsewhere than Dolphin Bay. From Sydney. The big smoke.’

He smiled. She might see Sydney as ‘the big smoke’, but he’d travelled extensively and knew Sydney was very much a small player on the world stage, much as he liked living there.

‘My business with Ben could be discussed at a different time,’ he said. ‘I honestly don’t know why they want me along this evening.’

‘Neither do I.’ She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth and laughed her delightful, throaty laugh. ‘Sorry. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was they hadn’t briefed me on the need for a carpenter.’

He frowned. ‘Pass that by me again?’

‘You said you were a carpenter. I thought they were asking you tonight to talk about carpentry work—maybe an arch—though I wished they’d told me that before. I don’t know how we’d secure it in the sand, and I haven’t ordered extra flowers or ribbons or—’

‘Stop right there,’ he said. ‘I’m not a carpenter.’

‘But you said you worked in India as a carpenter.’

‘As a volunteer. Yes, I can do carpentry. In fact, I can turn my hand to most jobs on a building site. My dad had me working on-site since I was fourteen. But my hard-hat days are behind me. I manage a construction company.’

He couldn’t really spare the week away from the business in this sleepy, seaside town. But with the mega-dollar takeover offer for the company brewing, he needed headspace free of everyday demands to think.

The idea of selling Lancaster & Son Construction had first formed in India, where he’d escaped to after his cancelled wedding. In a place so different from his familiar world, he’d begun to think of a different way of life—a life he would choose for himself, not have chosen for him.

‘So I’m not in the business of whipping up wedding arches,’ he continued.

‘Oh,’ Kate said, frowning. ‘I got that wrong, didn’t I?’ He already had the impression she might not enjoy being found mistaken in anything.

He threw up his hands in surrender. ‘But, if they want a wedding arch, I’ll do my best to build them one.’

‘No, that’s not it. That was only something I thought about. I wonder why they wanted you there, then?’

He smiled to himself at her frown. It was cute the way she liked to be in the know about everything.

‘I’ve got business with Ben,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure if it’s hush-hush or not, so I won’t say what it is.’

She glanced down at her watch. ‘Well, let’s get there and find out, shall we?’

Kate started to stride out beside him in the direction of the boathouse. He noticed her feet turned out slightly as she walked. The financial controller at his company had a similar gait and she’d told him it was because she’d done ballet as a kid. Kate moved so gracefully he wondered if she was a dancer too. He’d like to see her moving her body in time to music—some sensual, driving rhythm. He could join her and...

Kate paused. ‘Hang on for a minute. The darn strap on the back of these sandals keeps slipping down.’

She leaned down to tug the slender strap back into place, hopping on the other foot to keep her steady. She wobbled, lost her balance, and held on to his shoulder to steady herself with a breathless, ‘Sorry.’

Sam wasn’t sorry at all. He liked her close—her face so near to his, her warmth, her scent that reminded him of oranges and cinnamon. For a moment they stood absolutely still and her eyes widened as they gazed into each other’s faces. He noticed what a pretty mouth she had, the top lip a classic bow shiny with gloss.

He wanted to kiss her.

He fisted his hands by his sides to stop him from reaching for her and pressing his mouth to hers.

He fought the impulse with everything he had.

Because it was too soon.

And he wasn’t sure what the situation was between Kate and Jesse. Earlier today, he hadn’t failed to notice the tension between two people who had professed too vehemently that they were just friends.

* * *

Kate started to wobble again. Darn sandals; she needed to get that strap shortened. Sam reached out to steady her. She gasped at the feel of his hand on her waist, his warmth burning through the fine knit fabric of her dress. She wanted to edge away but if she did there was a very good chance she’d topple over into a humiliating heap on the sand.

She didn’t trust herself to touch him or to be touched. Before she’d called out from the top of the steps, she’d paused to admire him as he’d stood looking out past the waters of Dolphin Bay to the open sea, dusk rapidly approaching. She’d been seared again with that overwhelming attraction.

But that was crazy.

She’d only just faced the reality that Jesse was not the man for her. That she’d been guilty—for whatever reason—of nurturing a crush for way too long on a man whom she only loved like a brother.

Of course, there had been boyfriends in the time between the two kisses. Some she remembered fondly, one with deep regret. But, in recent years, the conviction had been ticking away that one day Jesse and she would be a couple.

That kiss had proved once and for all that Jesse would never, ever be the man for her. There was no chemistry between them.

Could she be interested, so soon, in Sam Lancaster?

He’d changed to loose, drawstring cotton pants in a sludgy khaki and a collarless loose-weave white shirt—both from India, she guessed. The casual clothes made no secret of the powerful shape of his legs and behind, the well-honed muscles of his chest and arms—built up, she suspected, from his life as a builder rather than from hours in the gym.

Now, as he helped her keep her balance, she was intensely aware of the closeness of their bodies: his hand on her waist; her hand on his shoulder; the soft curve of her breast resting lightly against the hard strength of his chest. The hammering of her own heart.

Somewhere there was the swish of the small waves of the bay rushing onto the sand then retreating back into the sea; the rustle of the evening breeze in the trees that grew in the hotel garden; muted laughter from the direction of the boathouse.

But her senses were too overwhelmed by her awareness of Sam to take any of it in. She breathed in the heady aromas of masculine soap and shampoo that told her he was fresh out of the shower.

She was enjoying being close to him—and she shouldn’t be. Three days ago, she’d wanted to kiss Jesse. How could she feel this way about a stranger?

She couldn’t trust feelings that had erupted so easily. She needed time to get over the Jesse thing, to plan where she went to next. Not straight into another impossible crush, that was for sure.

Having Sam around was a distraction. He didn’t look like the man who had battered her young heart—and a good portion of her soul—eight years ago when she’d been twenty, but he was the same type. Sam had that outrageous masculinity; the untamed, ‘don’t give a damn’ look that sang to something wild and feminine and reckless in her—a part of herself she thought she’d long suppressed.

Panic started its heart-stopping, breath-stealing, muscle-tensing attack on her. She took in a deep breath that came out halfway to a sob.

‘You okay?’ Sam’s deep voice was warm with concern.

She pretended to cough. ‘F-fine thanks,’ she said. ‘Just...just a tickle in my throat.’

She dropped her hand from his shoulder and stepped away so his hand fell from her waist. She immediately felt bereft of his touch. With hands that weren’t quite steady, she switched her handbag to her other shoulder.

‘Let me carry that bag for you,’ Sam said, taking it from her, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her arm. It was just a momentary touch but she knew she’d feel it for hours.

‘Th-thanks,’ she stuttered.

He heaved the bag effortlessly over his own shoulder. ‘It weighs a ton; what on earth do you have in it?’

‘Anything and everything. I like to be prepared in case anyone needs stuff. You know—tissues, insect repellent, pain-relievers, tamp— Never mind. My bag’s a bit of a joke with my friends. They reckon anything they need they’ll find in there.’

‘And they probably rely on it. I get the impression you like to look after people.’

‘I guess I do,’ she said. There was no need to mention the accident that had left her sister in a wheelchair when Kate had been aged thirteen, or how her father had left and Kate had had to help out at home more than anyone else her age. How helping other people run their lives had become a habit.

‘So what’s in the folder?’ he asked.

‘The master plan for the wedding. The documents are on my tablet too, and my PC, but I’ve got backup printouts just in case. There’s a checklist, a time plan, everyone’s duties spelled out to the minute. I want this wedding to run like clockwork. I’ve printed out a running sheet for you too, to keep you up to speed, as they’ve made you part of the meeting.’

Schedules. Plans. Timetables. Keep the everyday aspects of life under control, and she’d have a better chance of keeping errant emotions and unwelcome longings under control.

She couldn’t let Sam Lancaster disrupt that.

* * *

Sam noticed that as Kate spoke her voice got quicker and quicker. She was nervous. Of him?

Had she somehow sensed the tight grip he’d had to keep on himself to stop from pulling her into his arms?

He hadn’t been looking for a relationship—especially not when everything was up in the air with the business. Selling it would impact not only on his life but also on the lives of the people employed by his company, including the contractors, suppliers and clients. It was important to weigh up the desire to free himself from the hungry corporate identity that had dominated his life since he’d been a child with the obligations due to those loyal to the company. He owed it to the memory of his father to get such a momentous decision right.

But in just the few short hours he’d been in Dolphin Bay Kate Parker had wiggled her lovely, vivacious way under his skin. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else but seeing her again since he’d said goodbye to her at the restaurant.

And now he wanted to take her hand and walk her right past that boathouse—past the meeting she’d scheduled for a big wedding the bride and groom didn’t seem to want and onto the beach with him, where she could ask him any questions she wanted and he could ask her a few of his own.

But he would not do that while there was any chance she could be involved with his good friend.

Again, she glanced down at the watch on her narrow wrist. ‘C’mon, I can’t bear to be late for anything—and especially for a meeting I arranged.’

He liked the dusting of freckles on her pale arms, so different from the orange-toned fake tan that was the standard for so many Sydney girls. He liked that she was so natural and unaffected, unlike the girls his mother, Vivien—she’d never liked him calling her Mum—kept trying to foist on him ever since the big society wedding she’d wanted for him had been called off.

‘Let’s go, then,’ he said, trying to inject a note of enthusiasm into his voice. When they started talking flowers, caterers and canapés, he’d tune out.

Dusk was falling rapidly, as it did in this part of the world. The boathouse ahead was already in shadow, the lights from the windows casting a welcoming glow on the sand. There was music and the light hum of chatter. He thought he recognised Ben’s laugh.