wasn’t serious and Very Important.
So what if he was? As she looked at him, all the breath sucked out of her lungs. Tall, and underneath that open-necked grey shirt he looked sculpted out of lean muscle with broad shoulders wide enough to tuck herself into. Dark tousled hair that made her fingers itch to ruffle some more. Deep brown eyes softened the defined features of his sharp cheekbones and square jaw. So what if he was cover-model gorgeous? Looks didn’t make a man. That, she knew first-hand. This one was grumpy and grouchy and in need of a damn good belly laugh.
She put this over-the-top attention to his detail down to the dating drought she’d enforced until she wrestled her finances into some sort of order. Not even an extraordinarily hot man would distract her.
If only something today could actually go according to her well-constructed plan. Flighty and chaotic was not the impression she’d intended to give him. ‘Well, that’s very nice of you. What does your sister want as regards food? Brunch? Sit-down dinner? Buffet? Food stations? How many courses?’
‘Whoa. Too many choices. Food stations? What the hell? I just want food. Good food. On a table, in a room. It’s not rocket science.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She tried to make the sigh escaping her lips sound a little less irritated. This was going to take a lot longer than she’d anticipated. Beauty he might have been, but empathetic he definitely was not. ‘It is her wedding day.’
‘Yes, I am fully aware of that, believe me.’ He shook his head, his palms held up, and he had the decency to look a little embarrassed. ‘Okay. Look, I’m coming clean. I am way out of my depth here. I didn’t ask her what she wants to eat. She doesn’t know I’m arranging this.’
‘What? She doesn’t know? How can someone organise food for a wedding without consulting the bride?’ Answer: the man who spoke in brackets. Figured. But she bit back what she was truly thinking. Honesty didn’t always go down well and she didn’t want to jeopardise his wedding party of fifty and its very welcome boost to her finances.
He gave a nonchalant shrug of those magnificent shoulders. Which she noted purely for their potential ability to carry things. Heavy pans. Trays. She might need assistance on the day. Briefly. ‘She said she was going to do it herself, she has a plan—and it’s terrible. I can’t let it happen.’ At her frown he elaborated, ‘Paying for the food is going to be my gift to her, a surprise.’
‘Oh, it’ll be a surprise all right. But not necessarily a good one. Fair play to you for wanting to help, but this isn’t the right way to do it.’ If there was one thing Cassie knew well it was that siblings often had great intentions but execution of intent wasn’t always brilliant. Killing with kindness sprang to mind. Suffocation. Never being taken seriously. Plain old interfering. ‘This may be news to you, but women tend to have a pretty definite opinion about what will happen on their wedding day. That usually includes the food too. And what about the husband? Did you ask him?’
‘Callum? Why? He’s a man. So long as there’s plenty to eat he won’t care what it is.’
‘Gosh, you’re all hearts and flowers, Mr Brennan, aren’t you? And they say romance isn’t dead.’
Was he for real? Thank God this was purely business because he was everything she kept away from. Overbearing. Too smart. Unfeeling. She usually went for the more laid-back type. And okay, well, the type you couldn’t trust. But if she was ever thinking of dating again—which she wasn’t—Jack’s type would be at the bottom of her list.
Which was long.
So why, when he was clearly every shade of wrong, did her tummy lurch at the merest hint of a smile? It was very disconcerting.
She hid one of her own behind her surprise. Unlucky girl whoever fell for him—there’d be no wooing, or wining and dining. No riding off into the sunset or valentine’s cards.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, crossing his legs. ‘Personally, I don’t believe in wasting time on fairy tales.’ Something simmered behind those dark brown eyes—a depth that she hadn’t been ready for. Hurt, maybe. Pain? Then it was gone in another quick shake of his head. ‘But Lizzie’s happy, I suppose.’
‘Not for much longer once she’s got wind of your plan to sabotage her wedding breakfast.’ He seemed a little shocked by the notion that his sister could be happy, or was it that she was happy to be getting married that seemed so unpalatable? ‘And you’re planning to tell her that you’ve taken away her choice for food...when, exactly?’
His hand ran along his stubbled chin, the dark shadow creating a dangerous edge to his striking features. She got the impression he was used to getting his own way and not being challenged. Well, unlucky. Part of the success of a wedding day was the quality of the food; she wouldn’t allow him to jeopardise that for his sister’s sake or risk Sweet Treats’ reputation by taking part in a fiasco. Her business depended largely on positive word of mouth or all her hard work would have been for nothing.
She sensed his irritation rising as that smooth deep voice took on a harder tone. ‘Let’s reframe this, shall we? I haven’t taken away her choice, I’m going to free up her time, remove some stress and help her enjoy her special day.’ The way he said special made Cassie believe he didn’t think there was anything valuable in a lifetime commitment, just a whole host of stupid. ‘I’ll present her with my plan when I’ve decided who is going to be my caterer.’
‘You’re interviewing others?’
His perfect lips curled upwards at the edges. He had a kind of reluctant smile that was almost there, almost whole, but somehow stopped short. Cassie wondered what stopped it from fully blossoming. ‘Of course. I have two lined up for tomorrow morning. I always keep my options very open.’
‘I bet you do. Good idea. Excellent plan. But no one’s going to agree to taking on a contract unless they have more concrete details this close to the day. Seriously, she might hate my ideas, or at the very least have some pretty fixed ones of her own.’
‘Sandwiches. Quiche. Something God-awful called quinoa, which sounds more like a tropical disease than anything edible.’ He visibly shivered. ‘If I stood back and let her loose on that it’d be the worst wedding ever.’
‘Forgive me for saying this, Mr Brennan, but with a bossy brother interfering behind her back it already is.’ If she didn’t take control he’d be bossing her too. Forthrightness was next to sound business, right? ‘Now, I’ve printed these off thinking you might not have had time to look at them. I’m going to talk you through some ideas, on the proviso you go right back and tell her about the options available.’
Carefully opening the folder in case they blew away again, she gave him copies of her menu suggestions and ignored the black look he threw her. ‘I’ve done a few quirky weddings in the past, themed receptions...anything goes, really. Some really embrace the idea of a breakfast, offering waffles and pancakes, French crepes, homemade pop tarts with hearts baked in them, that kind of thing. At the other end of the spectrum, cocktails are popular at the moment too, and local produce is a big hit.’
‘Like jellied eels, pie and mash—that kind of thing?’ The brown in his eyes glittered with hints of gold, which she imagined would be quite attractive. In another lifetime. On a more smiley man.
‘If it floats your boat—you’d be surprised how many people do ask for it. Oh, but if you decide on food stations I’ll have to hire a few other people—I can’t wok and grill at the same time.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘You do surprise me.’
‘I can hire in waiter service from the local catering college to save cash if you go for that option. Although family-style is pretty on-trend too.’ There she was, trying damned hard to be businesslike and professional, but those eyes....
He dropped the menus on to the table and shook his head. ‘You’re blinding me with science. What’s family-style?’
‘Where the party sits at one large table and passes