time to break out the Fuzzy Handcuffs, Mike.” Olivia Fortune Robinson gave the sexy bartender her most flirtatious smile.
He cocked a brow and grinned. “It’s my pleasure to hook you ladies up.”
“Excuse me?” Her sister Sophie frowned at him and then her eyes went wide as realization seemed to dawn. “Oh, no.” Sophie held up her hands as if to ward off Mike. “Please tell me you are not a stripper.” She pinned her panicked gaze on her sister. “Olivia, Dana and I specifically told you we didn’t want strippers at our bachelorette party. No offense, Mike. I’m sure you’re very good at what you do. You just can’t do it here. Not tonight. Not for us.”
She looked at her sister-in-law-to-be, Dana Trevino, and the other Fortune Robinson sisters seated on the plush love seats and overstuffed armchairs grouped around a glass cocktail table in a cozy corner of the Driskill Hotel bar.
Sophie’s brown eyes were huge and color blazed high on her cheekbones. By contrast, Dana seemed to have gone pale as she perched hesitantly on the edge of her seat, as if weighing whether or not to bolt. Watching the pair of them squirm was worth all the effort Olivia had put into planning this sisters’ weekend. Olivia almost hated to burst their horrified balloons.
“Unfortunately, Mike is not a stripper,” she said, pausing to let them sit with thoughts of what they would be missing.
Her sister Rachel sighed. “Aw, that’s too bad. For one glorious moment, I thought we had our very own Magic Mike.”
Zoe, another sister, nodded in agreement.
Mike laughed. “Sorry, ladies. It’s true, I’m not a stripper. Although I will be tending to your every need tonight.”
The innuendo was thick.
“Does that mean you’re a gigolo then?” Rachel asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Mike laughed. “No, not a gigolo, either. I am your personal bartender and I am happy to be at your service.”
Sophie’s mouth formed a perfect O before her brows knit together. “And exactly what were you planning to do with the fuzzy handcuffs?”
Olivia and Mike exchanged a conspiratorial look.
“Forgive them,” she said. “They don’t get out much.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “Would you like to tell her about the Fuzzy Handcuffs or shall I?”
“Please, do the honors,” Olivia said.
“Your sister commissioned me to create a signature cocktail for your bachelorette party.” He stopped and looked at Sophie. “I’m guessing you are one of the brides.”
“Yes, I’m Sophie.”
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips before he asked, “Which one of you is Dana?”
“That would be me.” The pretty redhead gave a hesitant wave before she tucked her hands into the fabric of her flowing gypsy skirt. Mike winked at her. Rachel and Zoe promptly introduced themselves, laughing as they made a dramatic show of extending their hands for a kiss. Mike didn’t disappoint them.
Mike was a very good sport. As Olivia made a mental note to tell the manager how he’d gone above and beyond, her gaze was snared by a tall, dark, good-looking man walking into the bar. Though she only caught his profile before he turned and sat down with his back to her, he reminded her of someone. Who, she couldn’t place, but Olivia hadn’t gotten a very good look at him.
“Congratulations, ladies,” Mike said. “I’m honored to serve you on your special night. I understand you’re staying at the Driskill?”
“We are,” Sophie said. “We checked in this afternoon. Olivia has planned a fabulous weekend for us.”
“Nothing but the best for my sisters,” Olivia said.
“When is the wedding?” he asked.
“Next weekend,” Dana said. “Right here in this hotel in the ballroom. But there will be a full week of events leading up to the ceremony. This girls’ get-together is a nice way to kick off the festivities.”
“Well, don’t let me hold up the party,” Mike said. “One round of Fuzzy Handcuffs coming right up.”
“Fuzzy Handcuffs.” Rachel shook her head. “Only you would come up with a name like that, Olivia. Only you.”
They all laughed.
“Originally, Mike wanted to call the drink the Bride’s First Blush, but that was boring.”
“No it’s not,” Sophie said. “It’s pretty.”
Olivia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The name Bride’s First Blush was too sweet for such a potent cocktail. The drink itself was perfect. It was festive and fizzy, but it also had just the right amount of something stronger to pack a pop. It needed a name that was just as strong, not one that sounded like a virgin cocktail. Fuzzy Handcuffs was perfect.
Olivia had gone to the ends of the earth to ensure that every single detail of this sisters’ weekend was perfect. And of course, it had been perfect so far. She may have been a computer programmer by trade, but if she ever found herself in need of a career change, she did have a knack for event planning.
Sophie and Dana weren’t party girls, so they’d been ecstatic with the plan of a weekend of pampering. After they’d checked into the suite at the Driskill, a limousine had whisked them away to the spa where they’d enjoyed hot stone massages, facials, seaweed wraps, special conditioners that had brought out the shine in their tresses and luxurious aromatherapy soaks in jetted tubs. At noon, they’d taken a break from the pampering to enjoy a light lunch complete with mimosas. Afterward, they’d returned to the spa for mani-pedis before adjourning to the pool to sip fruit-infused reverse-osmosis water while they relaxed and soaked up just enough sun so not to burn, but to give them a healthy glow.
“I wanted my sister and sister-to-be’s last weekend of freedom to be something you two will never forget. Since you nixed the strippers, I had to sneak in something edgy somewhere else. Voilà—Fuzzy Handcuffs. At least I didn’t call it the Ol’ Ball and Chain.”
“No, that’ll be the name of the drink we serve at your bachelorette party,” Zoe quipped.
“Hell Froze Over might be a more apt name for my bridal cocktail, since that’s what would happen if I ever got married.”
“Don’t be so cynical,” Zoe said. “You reap what you sow.”
“I beg your pardon?” Olivia knew exactly what her sister meant, but she wasn’t going to give in that easily. Zoe was the consummate Pollyanna when it came to love and romance—despite every bad example their parents’ screwed-up relationship and sham of a marriage had set for them.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Zoe sighed and looked at Olivia as if she was hopeless. “You draw to you exactly what you put out into the world.”
Olivia blanched, but now wasn’t the time to get into a philosophical discussion about the realities of love
