A Bachelor At The Wedding

Okay…I would love to see her in a bathing suit. With one of those matching sarong things floating around her hips, he mused.

But that’s totally beside the point!

Packing his bag with one hand, he dialed Stephanie with the other and then tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek.

“I just spoke to Drury. It’s a disaster. I’m going down there right away.”

“Oh…that’s too bad,” Stephanie murmured in agreement. He could hear the banquet in the background. The clatter of plates and the murmur of the partying journalists.

“Who’s at the concierge desk tonight?”

“Max,” Stephanie replied.

“Have him book two seats on the next flight to Miami. If he can’t find a connection to the Cay tonight, have him hire a private plane. Something small. Then meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes. I need you to come along. Got that?”

He waited for her reply, hearing only silence. He imagined the shocked look on her lovely face.

“I’m sorry…it’s a little noisy in here. Did you say you want me to come to Blue Water Cay?”

“That’s what I said. You’re my assistant, aren’t you?” he reminded her. “Isn’t an assistant expected to assist with emergencies?”

He felt a twinge of conscience at his gruff sarcasm.

He wasn’t really annoyed, just trying to strong-arm her into a quick agreement. If she didn’t fear her job was on the line, he reasoned, she might make some excuse not to go.

“Why…yes. I mean, of course. I just didn’t expect…” Stephanie paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t have any clothes. Or even a toothbrush. Maybe I should run up to my apartment and pack a bag.”

“Sorry. No time. You can buy a toothbrush and whatever you need at the resort. Just put it on an expense account. Any other questions?”

“Uh…no. Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll see you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

He hung up the phone and rubbed his face with his hands. Suddenly, he wondered if taking Stephanie Rossi with him was such a great idea after all.

“Whisked away! To a tropical paradise!”

That’s what Nana Bella’s reaction had been. Nana was the only family Stephanie had been able to reach while she waited in the lobby for her boss to appear. She knew they’d be looking for her over the weekend, maybe even call the police when she didn’t answer her phone messages. It was wiser by far simply to tell someone what was happening.

But her grandmother, bless her soul, hadn’t understood at all that this was hardly a pleasure trip and that her impossible boss probably expected her to body-block an entire herd of stampeding guests heading for the checkout desk. Among other impossible feats.

Nana didn’t get any of that. When she heard the news, she shouted, “Whoopee! You’re being whisked away to a tropical island! Just like Desiree and Chad….”

Desiree and Chad were Nana’s favorite characters from her favorite soap opera Tempest Rock. Since Nana’s world beyond the Rossi household was limited, the soap had become her primary point of reference and she often confused the events on Tempest Rock with real life.

“This is just business, Nana. A real emergency,” Stephanie explained.

The most miserable forty-eight hours of her life, most likely. Stephanie considered cooking up some last-minute excuse. Could she suddenly remember some crucial doctor’s appointment? Or some family crisis?

He’ll never believe me, she thought.

The moment to wriggle out of this invitation had passed. He hadn’t even given her a moment. She felt as if a gun had been held to her head, the unspoken threat being, “Come along…or else.”

“Believe me, I’m not being…whisked in any way, Nana. Hijacked is more like it.”

“I’ve seen pictures of your boss, sweetheart. I’d let that guy whisk me—or hijack me, even—in a heartbeat….”

“Nana…don’t be silly.” Stephanie felt her cheeks flush. Nana had a point. A fairly irrefutable one.

Stephanie felt someone standing beside her and looked up to find Matt. She wondered how long he’d been standing there. How much he’d overheard.

“So long, Nana. I’ve got to run—”

“Have a good trip, sweetheart. I’m going to light a candle for you!” Nana called happily after her.

Stephanie said goodbye again, clicked off her phone and stashed it in her purse.

“Checking in with your family?” His tone was bland but a faint light of amusement danced in his dark eyes.

“I needed to call in case anyone was looking for me.”

“Very thoughtful…and don’t worry about Sunday dinner. I’ll write you a note.”

She felt annoyed at his teasing for a moment. But his warm smile quickly melted her anger. Practically melted her bones, she realized. She found it hard enough to deal with him when he was being bossy and demanding. When he got all up close and personal like this, it was truly a challenge.

That’s the last time I’ll tell him anything about my real life, she vowed.

“I’ve got the e-tickets from Max. The flight leaves in about an hour and half, which should give us plenty of time. The car is out front, waiting,” she recited efficiently.

“Good work.” He smiled again, making her heart skip a beat. She’d never seen him dressed before in casual clothes. His worn denim jeans hung low on his hips, draping his long legs like an advertisement for male sex appeal. A soft black pullover, with the sleeves pushed up his forearms, molded his physique, emphasizing wide shoulders, a hard chest and washboard abs. He wore it without a T-shirt underneath and the high V-neck tantalized with a hint of dark chest hair.

He bent to pick up his duffel bag and she remembered again that she was traveling light. Frighteningly light.

What kind of clothes would she find at a resort shop on a tropical island—batik wrap skirts and tie-dyed bikinis?

Well, one disaster at a time, she coached herself.

Chapter Three

It all felt very dreamlike, Stephanie thought later. As if she and Matt were in a movie. The speeding ride to the airport in a long black limo. Their mad dash to the gate. The VIP treatment by the airline personnel.

She’d barely fastened her seat belt and caught her breath when the plane began to take off. She’d never sat in first class before. She had to admit, it wasn’t so bad. The leather seats were soft and roomy and tilted back for dozing. Like sitting in her Dad’s new deluxe La-Z-Boy recliner. She and her sisters had chipped in on Father’s Day and bought him the top-of-the-line model, complete with back massaging action at the touch of a button.

Of course, when you compared the two seating situations, you had to factor in proximity to Matt Harding. Though Stephanie wasn’t sure if that went in the plus or minus column.

She snuck a quick glance at her boss, who sat disturbingly close. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum, unwrapped a stick and stuck it in his mouth. Then turned and offered her some.

“Helps relieve the air pressure when you take off,” he promised.

She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m fine.”