if he was tumbling somehow, like Alice down the rabbit hole.
A blush hit her cheeks again and she shook her head, breaking a tentative connection that left him feeling a little unnerved.
Opening her satchel, she pulled out a thick creamy notepad and folder of papers. ‘Okay. Right. Let’s get started. We have a lot to get through.’ As she opened the folder a gust of wind caught the top sheets and sent them spiralling into the air. ‘Oh, wait... Sorry. Oh, no, I can’t believe this is happening. I’m sorry.’
Next, she was on her feet chasing the papers, stamping on a few to stop them floating away like confetti on the gentle breeze, more tendrils of her hair falling from the chopsticks.
He watched for a moment until it became clear he either helped or he’d be sitting here all night waiting for her to switch to simmer.
‘Here you go.’ He handed her the papers and she placed them back on the table and weighted them down with a large bowl of delicious-looking silky stuffed olives.
Popping one in her mouth, she bit down and smiled. ‘Not just delicious, but useful too. Thanks. So not my day.’ Finally she sat, took a long deep breath and slowed to a mode Jack could follow. She smiled again. She had a lot of them—endless smiles. Polite smiles. Embarrassed but intriguing smiles. Smiles that didn’t quite hit her eyes. He got the impression she was trying very hard to be professional and thought that smiling would be the way to go.
But endless cheerfulness wouldn’t convince him she’d be any good at helping him—and he needed help right now. Reliable. Organised. Straightforward help. ‘Er...the wedding? Are we going to cover that tonight?’
‘The wedding. Okay. Yes.’ She leaned forward and there was the scent of vanilla sugar again. Sweet and soft. ‘So, talk me through the day, Jack. Can I call you Jack? What’s planned? What do you need?’
Hell if he knew. Now she’d actually focused, he suddenly felt way out of his depth. This was a stupid idea. He should have asked first instead of interfering...as Cassie had so succinctly described honest and well-meaning sibling interest.
He spoke slowly to give himself time to think and to engage her full attention. ‘As I said, it’s in three weeks’ time. I’m not a hundred per cent sure of exact timings so I’ll get back to you on that. The wedding ceremony is going to be in a community art space off Portobello Road. It’s a small gathering of friends; there’s an Irish band booked in the evening. The details are being finalised.’
She tucked one of the errant curls behind her ear. ‘It’s very short notice but, luckily, I do have space in my calendar. Tell me, though, you’ve waited until now to sort out the food because...?’
‘I’ve just got back from filming; my schedule got changed a little.’ And he’d been too damned busy to pay much attention to Lizzie’s emails. Plus the word help had never been in her vocabulary. Even when she’d needed it the most. And he was, apparently, the world’s worst at working out what women wanted. Why they didn’t just straight out tell him, he didn’t know. But he wanted to make this work, wanted to make her happy. After everything they’d been through, Lizzie deserved a slice of that.
Another smile. ‘Okay, well, I guess we can work out some of the finer points later, but it would be useful if we could make a start on menu choices, just a jumping off point. I like to get a feel for the couple, their likes and tastes and dreams. Do you have a memorable meal you’d like to recreate? A theme?’
‘Why all the deep and meaningful stuff? It’s just food, right?’ Clearly, there was a whole lot more to weddings than he’d ever given thought to. Actually, he’d never given thought to weddings at all—only that he’d never be having one. ‘I...er...’
‘Okay, no worries. Let’s try a different angle.’ Her eyes twinkled through a confused frown. ‘Tell me more about the iguana—was it love at first sight?’
It was the first time in a long time a woman had left him speechless.
TWO
‘It’s my sister’s wedding. I’m organising the food, the car and the photographer.’ Jack Brennan had an edge to him, a rippling intensity, brooding, which made Cassie immediately want to make him laugh.
Or at least smile. But somehow she didn’t think he’d take kindly to a tickle in the ribs. He didn’t look the type of guy who’d take kindly to much that 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
