where one of them is a mime,” she said, pressing a finger to Jared’s lips, knowing this was a crazy idea even as she stepped back onto the stage with him.
Ten songs later, Jared accepted that he would never have a career in music. “There goes my dream of being on the radio. Even O’Malley threatened to buy earplugs on that last one.”
Callie laughed and slipped into place beside him as they left the bar. “You clearly have a masochistic urge to embarrass yourself in public.”
“It’s not so bad as long as I’m in front of total strangers I’ll never see again, and as long as you’re beside me.”
She laughed. “Still playing it safe, huh, Jared?”
“That’s me. Safe to a T.” He grinned.
“Well, I think you accomplished the total humiliation goal tonight. But you really should have drawn the line at that last pop song.”
“That one was purely for your amusement.” He caught her eye. “And were you? Amused?”
“Very.” The lights above twinkled in her eyes, like stars dancing.
Jared moved closer, unable to maintain his distance another second. All night, she’d enticed him, drawing him closer with every breath, every note. He kept telling himself it was all because he’d missed her, but even Jared knew it was about much, much more. He knew better…and yet, he kept doing the exact opposite of what was smart. “You, on the other hand, were incredible. You can really sing. Why didn’t you ever pursue that professionally?”
Callie shrugged, noncommittally. “I don’t know. Not my thing, I guess.”
“Not your thing? Callie, you are amazing. Seriously. Maybe you should add singing to the wedding business that you’re doing.”
“Oh, no. The other women don’t know I sing at all.” She blushed and turned away. “No one knows.”
For some reason, it thrilled Jared that he knew. That she’d shared this with him, and no one else. “So you’re a closet karaoke-er?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
He reached up and cupped her jaw, finally touching the face he’d been dying to feel all night. Her skin was satin against his palm, her delicate features cast by the soft evening light. He moved closer, closing the gap between them, the night providing its soft, quiet blanket of intimacy. “Seems a shame,” Jared said. “To have a gift and keep it wrapped up so tight.”
“Jared, it’s complicated.”
“If I remember right, everything with you was complicated.”
She lifted her chin, so close he could kiss her with nothing more than a whisper of effort. He shouldn’t. He needed to maintain his distance. His professionalism, the research. That’s what he told himself he’d come here for, not a relationship with the woman who had always been the complete opposite of him, who’d broken his heart, left the shards in her wake when she’d run off with his best friend.
But she was smiling and he kept having trouble remembering any of that.
“If I remember right,” Callie said, “that was part of what you liked about me…and part of what drove you crazy.”
“That wasn’t all that drove me crazy,” he murmured.
A heartbeat passed between them. Another, and all Jared could see, hear, think about, was the movement of her crimson lips, the sound of her breath. Her mouth opened again, lips parted ever so slightly, like an invitation.
And Jared dipped down, so close his lips could almost brush against hers. Desire drummed hard in his veins.
Then common sense sent an icy shower of reality across his senses and Jared drew back, his gaze lingering on hers for one long moment before he released her. “Now that we’re all grown up, it seems you’re not the only one who can make things complicated.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IF THERE had ever been a time when Callie wished she had better bluffing skills, it was the next night at the monthly poker game for the Wedding Belles. “So, Callie, how’d it go at O’Malley’s?” Audra asked. “Did you stick to your resolution and not meet a man?”
Callie dipped her head, avoiding Audra’s inquisitive gaze. “Of course not.”
She’d run into an old friend. That didn’t technically make it meeting a man.
The heat on Callie’s neck told her the entire assemblage of women was staring at her. So much for bluffing. “So, shall we get back to the card game?” Callie asked, picking up her pile of five cards and fanning them out in her hand.
“Are you going to tell us his name?” Audra asked. She shifted her slender body in the kitchen chair, her blue eyes wide with suspicion.
“Whose name?”
“This man who has you blushing like a teenager with her first crush.”
Regina O’Ryan, the company photographer, chuckled, then dipped her head to look at her poker hand. Her brown hair swung forward, the locks curving around her heart-shaped face. “Audra, maybe Callie wants to keep him a secret.”
“No secrets. I just want to play cards.”
“Uh-huh,” Audra said, not believing her for a second.
Callie rolled her eyes at Audra’s persistence, then glanced down at her cards. Two jacks, an ace, a three and a four. She slipped the three and the four out, laid them facedown on the table and slid them over to Audra, who, as the hostess, was also the dealer for the monthly ladies’ poker game.
The Wedding Belles played for pocket change because they looked forward to the camaraderie and the margaritas more than anything else.
Only four of the six Belles sat in Audra’s sunflower-yellow kitchen today, two-thirds of the hardworking, dynamic team. Natalie Thompson was busy teaching a cake decorating class to high school students in downtown Boston; Julie Montgomery was running some last-minute errands. Belle was closing up the shop.
“Audra, I think you might be onto something. Callie does seem awfully evasive.” Regina picked up her cards, but didn’t glance at her hand.
“That’s because she doesn’t believe Mr. Right exists,” Audra said, rising to refill the chip bowl.
“Are you serious?” Serena asked. Serena, the wedding dress designer, was the biggest Prince Charming proponent in the group. “You have to believe in Mr. Right. It’s like a job requirement to be a wedding planner.”
“Exactly,” Regina agreed. “How many weddings have you helped put together in the three years you’ve been working here, Callie? Dozens and dozens, right?” Regina finally decided on her poker hand, and slipped Audra a card for exchange. “Our clients sure seem to find good guys and plenty of great picks.”
Callie scoffed. “So do the bargain shoppers who shove you out of the way at the annual Filene’s Basement wedding gown sale.”
“I still have a bruise from the last one,” Serena added. “Those women are vicious.”
Regina chuckled. “Seriously. We’re in the business of creating dream weddings. We’re supposed to believe in true love and happy endings.”
“She has a point, Callie.” Audra handed Regina a card from the deck. Regina smiled. Audra eyed her friend, weighing her expression. As the Wedding Belles financial guru, if anyone could spot someone bluffing about their money, it was Audra. “What do you have there, Regina? Anything good?”
“Of course not.” Regina’s voice raised a couple octaves. The company’s photographer might be great at taking pictures, but most of them could call her on her bluffs. “And I’d never tell you if I did. How about you, Callie? You planning