Proposal for the Wedding Planner

Benjamin barked out a laugh. ‘Good grief. Is she paying you at all? Beyond expenses, I mean? This wedding must have been all of your billable hours for months now. Whatever she’s paying you, I can tell it isn’t enough.’

He leant forward, into her personal space, and Laurel recoiled.

‘She owes you, Laurel. And we’d like to help make her pay up—one way or another. Help us out and Melissa gets everything she deserves. So do you. It’s win-win.’

‘She’s my sister,’ Laurel whispered.

Benjamin shook his head. ‘She really isn’t.’ Straightening up, he turned and headed for the door. ‘Just think about it, Laurel. But remember—you haven’t got long to decide. We need whatever you can get before she walks down the aisle on Saturday.’

And then he was gone, leaving Laurel with a lot of very uncomfortable thoughts.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHERE ON EARTH was the best man? Dan scanned the room, trying to find Noah, but he was nowhere to be seen. Not that Dan could blame him; if he’d been able to find an excuse to get out of the stupid stag night he’d have left hours ago. Noah was probably cosied up in bed with the maid of honour—and more power to him.

If Laurel hadn’t been stuck throwing the hen do Dan might well have dragged her off to bed himself.

It was all he’d been able to think about ever since that kiss. That knockout, blindsiding kiss.

Or at least it had been until the stag party had got out of hand.

Riley had insisted on throwing the stag party himself, with no help from Laurel. Dan assumed that Noah and his other mates had had a hand in it, though, because everyone knew Riley couldn’t organise his way out of a paper bag.

The groom, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that his stag party would be an homage to frat movies past—complete with beer keg, red cups and some dubious-looking cigarettes over on the other side of the room that Dan wasn’t investigating too closely.

Of course frat parties only ever ended one way—with the good old frat boys drunk out of their minds and often getting into a brawl.

Riley had always liked his roles to look authentic, and by the time Dan had arrived—not late, but not exactly early either—it had been clear from his brother’s slurred greeting that the conversation he’d hoped to have about Melissa, and love, and marriage, was firmly off the cards. So he’d settled down with a bottle of proper beer from the bar, and winced as he watched Riley tackling a yard of beer.

And things had only got worse from there.

Dan yanked his brother out of the way of his mate’s flying fists and tossed him back into the chair behind him. Then he turned to the fighter, sighing when he saw that the drunken idiot intended to try and take him on next.

‘No,’ Dan said, with finality in his voice. ‘We are not doing this.’

‘Scared to fight me?’

The man could barely look in one direction, he was so out of it, but Dan couldn’t fault his courage.

‘Yeah, sure. That’s exactly it.’

In one swift movement he’d caught the guy’s fists, wrapping his hands behind his back and holding them there. Then he marched him across to the other side of the room, deposited him in the corner behind the pool table Riley had had brought in, and placed one foot lightly on his chest to hold him in place. Then he turned to address the room.

‘Okay—here’s what is going to happen next. I’m going to go take my brother back to his room and put him to bed. I’m also going to send some hotel staff up here to finish this party. I suggest that all of you go drink about a gallon of water, take a couple of aspirin, and get some sleep—so you can function well enough for whatever our beautiful bride has planned for you tomorrow.’

‘Hey, why do you get to call time? We’re having fun! It’s a stag party, man.’

Dan rolled his eyes at the man who’d spoken. ‘Yes, it is. But the stag has practically passed out already, there’s no stripper coming, and honestly...? We’re all a little old to be playing at frat boys.’

And he’d never felt quite as old as he did tonight. He was almost a decade older than a lot of these guys, but not all of them. And even they should be old enough to know better.

‘Feel free to ignore my advice, boys. But I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes tomorrow.’

With that, and feeling about a hundred years old, he went and retrieved Riley from where he was still slumped in his chair. Wrapping his brother’s arm around his shoulders and hoisting him up onto his feet with an arm around his waist, he half led, half carried him out towards the elevators.

Fate, or just blind luck, meant he had to walk past the bar where the hen party was happening to get there. And just as they approached he saw Laurel step out into the corridor and stand there, her head tipped back to rest against the wall, her palms flat against it at her side, eyes closed.

‘Long night?’ he called out, and she turned her head, smiling as she opened her eyes to look at him.

‘No longer than yours, by the look of things.’

Riley gave an incoherent mumble, and Dan rolled his eyes.

‘I can’t believe you let him organise his own frat-movie-themed stag do.’

Laurel shrugged. ‘Melissa said as long as there weren’t any strippers she didn’t care what they got up to. And, quite frankly, I’m not being paid enough to worry about idiot boys.’

‘Join the club.’ He hefted Riley up again, to keep him from sliding out of his grasp and onto the carpet.

‘Want a hand?’ Laurel offered.

‘I thought you weren’t being paid enough?’

‘This one’s a freebie.’ She met his eyes. ‘Or you can pay me back later. Personally.’

Heat flared between them again, just as it had when they’d kissed that afternoon, and Dan mentally cursed his brother for being a lightweight.

‘Help me get him to his room?’ he asked, flashing her a grin. ‘I promise I’ll make it worth your while later.’

Laurel slipped under Riley’s other arm, helping bear his weight as they lugged him towards the elevators. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

‘Please do.’

* * *

It took longer than Dan would have liked to get Riley settled. He was all for tossing him onto the bed and leaving him there, but Laurel insisted on removing his shoes and belt at least, and trying to get him to swallow some water before they lay him down in the recovery position.

Laurel left painkillers and a large glass of water on his bedside table, dimmed the lights, and placed a call down to Reception for someone to sneak in and check on him throughout the night.

‘Well, it’s not like Melissa’s going to do it,’ she pointed out. ‘I doubt he’ll be with it enough to even notice, but I won’t sleep if I’m worrying about him.’

If Dan had his way she might not be sleeping anyway, but he didn’t mention that.

Laurel shut the door behind them, and suddenly it was just them again, heading back to their room like an old married couple at the end of the night.

‘Are you...?’ Laurel started, then trailed off. ‘Did you enjoy the stag party? I mean, apart from the last part.’

‘Not really.’ Dan gave her a one-shoulder shrug. ‘Not my kind of thing any more.’

‘Frat parties? No, I guess not. So, what is?’

His kind of thing? You. Naked. With me. Yeah, that probably wasn’t what she meant.

Laurel punched the button to call the elevator, and Dan felt his body tensing, getting warmer the closer they got to being alone with a bed. How had he ever imagined he’d be able to survive another celibate night after that kiss? He really hoped he didn’t have to...

‘My kind of thing?’ he echoed as the elevator arrived and they both stepped in. The enclosed space felt airless, and Dan struggled to concentrate on the conversation. ‘Uh...I don’t know. Not Hollywood parties either, I guess. I just like...quiet nights. A few good friends, good food, quality drinks. Conversation.’

The sort of night he found almost impossible to have in Hollywood, even with his oldest friends. There was always someone new tagging along. Dan wasn’t against new people in principle, but when they were only there to get a foot in the door of the industry...it got old pretty fast.