The Wedding Planner and the CEO. Alison Roberts

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      Her surprise was evident in the way she blinked—that rapid sweep of thick, dark eyelashes. He could understand the surprise. Why should he know anything about a small town on the outskirts of the New Forest between here and Southampton? Or an eighteenth-century manor house that had been used as a function venue for the last decade? He wasn’t about to tell her that this location did, in fact, give him a rather close connection to this upcoming event.

      ‘It could be the last wedding ever held there because the property’s just been sold and nobody knows whether the new owner will carry it on as a business venture.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Rafe nodded but his attention was straying. This Penelope Collins might not be remotely his type but any red-blooded male could appreciate that she was beautiful. Classically beautiful with that golden blonde hair and that astonishing porcelain skin. Or maybe not so classical given that her eyes were brown rather than blue. Nice combination, that—blonde hair and brown eyes— and her skin had a sun-kissed glow to it that suggested an excellent spray tan rather than risking damage from the real thing. She was probably no more than five feet three without those killer heels and her drink of choice was probably a gin and tonic. Or maybe a martini with an olive placed perfectly in the centre of the toothpick.

      ‘Sorry...what was that?’

      ‘It’s the perfect place for a fireworks show. The terrace off the ballroom looks down at the lake. There’ll be six hundred people there and major magazine coverage. I could make sure that your company gets excellent publicity.’

      ‘We tend to get that from our larger events. Or special-effects awards from the movie industry. There are plenty of smaller companies out there that specialise in things like birthday parties or weddings.’

      ‘But I want this to be spectacular. The best...’

      She did. He could see that in her eyes. He’d had that kind of determination once—the need to get to the top and be the very best, and it hadn’t been easy, especially that first time.

      ‘Is this your first wedding?’

      Her composure slipped and faint spots of pink appeared on her cheeks. ‘I run a very successful catering company so I’ve been involved in big events for many years. Moving to complete event design and execution has been a more recent development.’

      ‘So this is your first wedding.’

      She didn’t like the implied putdown. Something like defiance darkened her eyes and the aura of tension around the rest of her body kicked up a notch.

      ‘The event is running like clockwork so far. Everything’s in place for the ceremony and reception. The entertainment, decorations and catering are locked in. Clarissa is thrilled with her dress and the photographers are over the moon by the backdrops the venue offers. We even have the best local band playing live for the dancing. You must have heard of Diversion?’

      Rafe’s breath came out in an unexpected huff. Another connection? This was getting weird.

      ‘It was all going perfectly until this morning, when Clarissa decided they had to have fireworks to finish the night. She had a complete meltdown when I told her that it was probably impossible to organise at such late notice.’

      Rafe had dealt with some meltdowns from clients so he knew how difficult it could be, especially when your reputation might be hanging by a thread. Maybe Penelope was reliving some of the tension and that was what was giving her voice that almost imperceptible wobble. A hint of vulnerability that tugged on something deep in his gut with an equally almost imperceptible ‘ping’.

      ‘When it got to the stage that she was threatening to pull the plug on the whole wedding, I said I’d make some enquiries.’

      ‘So you came straight to the top?’ The corner of Rafe’s mouth lifted. ‘Have to say your style is impressive, Ms Collins.’

      He’d done the same thing himself more than once.

      ‘I know I’m asking a lot and it probably is impossible but at least I can say I tried and...and maybe you can point me in the direction of an alternative company that might be able to do at least a reasonable job.’

      There was a moment’s silence as Rafe wondered how to respond. Yes, he could send her hunting for another company but nobody reputable would take this on.

      ‘Have you any idea what’s involved with setting up a professional fireworks show?’

      She shook her head. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, too, and the childlike gesture of trepidation was enough to make Rafe wonder just how much of her look was a front. And what was she trying to hide?

      ‘Long-term planning is essential for lots of reasons. We have to have meetings with the client to discuss budgets and the style and timing of the show.’

      ‘The budget won’t be an issue.’

      ‘Are you sure? We’re talking over a thousand pounds a minute here.’

      ‘I’m sure.’ She sounded confident but he’d seen the movement of her throat as she’d swallowed hard.

      ‘The show gets fired to music. That has to be chosen and then edited and correlated to the pyrotechnic effects. The soundtrack has to be cued and programmed into a computer.’

      Once upon a time, Rafe had done all these jobs himself. Long, hard nights of getting everything perfect on an impossible schedule. The memories weren’t all bad, though. That kind of hard work had got him where he was today.

      ‘The fireworks have to be chosen and sourced. The site has to be mapped and the display layout planned for firing points. There are safety considerations and you have to allow for a fallout range that could be over a hundred metres. You have to get permits. And this all has to happen before you start setting up—fusing all the fireworks together in the correct sequence, putting electric matches in each fuse run, and then testing the whole package to make sure it’s going to work.’

      ‘I understand.’ There was a stillness about her that suggested she was preparing to admit defeat. ‘And you were right. I had no idea how much work was involved. I’m sorry...’ She got to her feet. ‘It was very kind of you to take the time to explain things.’

      The door to the office opened as she finished speaking. Melissa poked her head around the edge.

      ‘They’re waiting for you in the boardroom, Mr Edwards.’

      Rafe got to his feet, too. Automatically, he held out his hand and Penelope took it. It was a clasp rather than a shake and, for some bizarre reason, Rafe found himself holding her hand for a heartbeat longer than could be considered professional.

      Long enough for that odd ping of sensation he’d felt before to return with surprising force. Enough force to be a twist that couldn’t be dismissed. A memory of what it was like to be struggling and then come up against a brick wall? Or maybe articulating all the steps of the challenge of delivering a show had reminded him that he’d been able to do all that himself once. Every single job that he now employed experts in the field to do on his behalf.

      He could do it again if he wanted. Good grief, he ran one of the biggest pyrotechnic companies in the world—he could do whatever he wanted.

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