expected too much and went home alone. Or refer them back to the bride or groom for contact info that wasn’t shared.”
“That’s a lot of blame heaped on the best man.”
“Of course, it’s not just the best man, but in my experience he can be a bad, bad boy.”
“It’s been a long time since I was bad.”
“Define long.”
He laughed.
“Seriously, I just want you to rewind the conversation a few sentences and then say that again with a straight face.”
His gaze shifted from his laptop to make another slow stroll over her. Jacking up her pulse yet again.
He needed to stop doing that!
Unremorseful, he cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not saying I don’t go after what I want. But I’m always up front about my intentions. No illusions, no damages.”
Sounded like a bad boy to her.
“Well, you have fun, now. I’m here to work.”
He shook his head as he went back to keying commands into his computer. “All work and no play makes Ms. Reeves a dull girl.”
“I’m not being paid to have fun.” And that was the problem right there—the one she’d been struggling with for nearly a year.
Her work wasn’t fun anymore.
And the cause wasn’t just the disillusionment she suffered in her love life. Though that ranked high on the motive list. She’d started feeling this way before Kevin had come back into her life. Instead of being excited by the creative endeavor, she’d gotten bogged down in the details.
Maybe it was Hollywood. Believing in the magic of happily-ever-after got a little harder to do with each repeat customer. Not to mention the three-peats. And the fact her mother was her best customer. Hopefully, husband number six would be the charm for her.
Seriously, Lindsay crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt. She truly wished this marriage lasted. She liked Matt and he seemed to get her mom, who had the attention span and sense of responsibility of a fourteen-year-old. There was nothing mentally wrong with Darlene Reeves. She could do for herself. She just didn’t want to. Darlene’s dad had treated her like a princess, giving her most everything she wanted and taking care of all the little details in life. He’d died when she was seventeen and she’d been chasing his replacement all her life.
She’d had Lindsay when she was eighteen and then she learned to get the wedding ring on her finger before they lost interest. In between love interests, Lindsay was expected to pick up the slack.
She loved her mother dearly. But she loved her a little easier when she was in a committed relationship.
“Did you fall asleep on me over there?”
His question called her attention to his profile. Such strong features—square jaw dusted with stubble-defined cheekbones, straight nose. He really was beautiful in a totally masculine way. Too much temptation. Good thing her policy put him off limits.
“No. Just going over what I need to do.”
“Perfect timing then.” He swirled his finger and hit a single key. “Because I just sent your file back to you.”
“So soon?” She reached for her tablet, excited to try the new program. The file opened onto a picture of circles in the form of a rectangle. Each circle was numbered. She’d refine the shape once she viewed the venue. She ran her finger across the page and as it moved over a circle names popped up showing who was seated at the table.
“Cool. How do I see everybody?”
“You hit this icon here.” He hung over his chair, reaching across the aisle to show her. He tried showing her the other features, but his actions were awkward. Being left-handed, he had to use his right hand to aid her because of the distance between the seats.
“This is ridiculous.” Unsnapping her seat belt, she stood. “Do you mind if I come over there for a few minutes while we go over this?”
“Sure.” He stood, as well, and stepped aside.
Standing next to him she came face to loosened tie with him. She bent her head back to see him and then bent it back again to meet his gaze. “My goodness. How tall are you?”
“Six-four.”
“And the prince?”
“Six-one.” Long fingers tugged on a short dark tendril. “Does this brain never stop working?”
“Not when I get a visual of a tall drink of water standing next to a shot glass.”
“I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
“Don’t start imagining things at fifty thousand feet, Sullivan. We’re a long way from help.” She tugged on his blue-pinstriped tie. “You can ditch this now. Was dinner a formal affair?”
The light went out of his eyes. He yanked the tie off and stuffed it in his pants’ pocket. “It’s always formal with my parents.”
She patted his chest. “You did your duty, now move on.”
“Good advice.” He gestured for her to take the window seat.
She hesitated for a beat. Being trapped in the inside seat, surrounded by his potent masculinity, might be pushing her self-control a little thin. But his computer program blew her mind. From the tiny bit she’d seen, it had the potential to save her hours, if not days, of work.
“Ms. Reeves?” His breath wafted over her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” She realized he’d been talking while she fought off her panic attack. “Ah...hmm.” She cleared her throat to give herself a moment to calm down. “Why do you keep calling me by my last name?”
“Because I don’t know your first name,” he stated simply.
Oh, right. The flight attendants had used their last names. The prince had given her Zach’s name and then she’d read it on her spreadsheet.
“It’s Lindsay.”
A slow grin formed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Pretty. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
So obvious, yet the words still gave her a bit of a thrill. She pressed her lips together to hide her reaction. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What?” All innocence.
“Please. That line is so old I think I heard it in kindergarten.”
She expected to see his dimple flash but got an intent stare instead. “It’s not a line when it’s true.”
A little thrill chased goose bumps across her skin. Oh, my, he was good.
She almost believed him.
Shaking her head at him, at herself, she slid past him and dropped into the window seat.
He slid into his seat, his big body filling up the small space. Thankfully they were in first class and a ten-inch console separated their seats, giving her some breathing space. Until he flicked some buttons and the console dropped down.
“That’s better.”
For who? She leaned away as he leaned closer. Just as she feared, she felt pinned in, crowded. When he dropped the tray down in front of her, the sense of being squeezed from all sides grew stronger. Not by claustrophobia but by awareness. His scent—man and chocolate—made her mouth water.
“So is it easy for you?” He half laughed, going back to their previous conversation. “To move on?”
“It’s not, actually. My mom problems are probably just as