The Best Man and The Wedding Planner. Teresa Carpenter

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      On the plane she passed a nice-looking older couple already seated in the first row and moved on to the last row where she spied her seats. She draped the garment bag over the aisle seat and frowned when it immediately slumped into a scrunched heap on the seat.

      That wouldn’t do. She pulled it back into place and tried to anchor it but when she let go, it drooped again. The weight of the dress, easily thirty pounds, made it too heavy to lie nicely. She needed something to hold it in place. After using her satchel to counter the weight temporarily, she slid past a young couple and their two children to speak to the flight attendant.

      “We have a closet we can hang the dress in,” the male attendant stated upon hearing her request.

      “I’ve been paid not to let it out of my sight,” she responded. True enough. Her reputation as a wedding planner to the rich and famous depended on her getting this dress to the wedding in pristine condition without anyone seeing it but her, the bride and her attendants.

      “Hmm,” the man—his name tag read Dan—tapped his lips while he thought.

      “Welcome aboard, sir.” Behind Lindsay another attendant, a blonde woman, greeted a fellow passenger.

      Out of the corner of her eye Lindsay got the impression of a very tall, very broad, dark-haired man. She stepped into the galley to give them more room.

      “You’re the last of our first-class passengers,” the attendant advised the man. “Once you’re seated, please let me know if you need anything.”

      “Check,” the man said in a deep, bass voice and moved down the aisle.

      Goodness. Just the one word sent a tingle down Lindsay’s spine. She sure hoped he intended to sleep during the long, red-eye flight. She wanted to get some work done and his voice might prove quite distracting.

      “I’ve got it.” Dan waved a triumphant hand. “We’ll just put the seat in sleep mode and lay the bag across it.” He poured a glass of champagne and then another. “Will that work?”

      “Yes, that will be perfect. Thank you.”

      “Seats aren’t allowed to be reclined during takeoff. Once we reach cruising altitude I’ll be along to put the seat down. And I’ll look for something to secure it in case the flight gets bumpy.”

      “Great. You’ve been very helpful.”

      Lindsay headed back to her seat. Halfway through first class she caught sight of the newcomer and her breath caught in the back of her throat. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Long, lean features with high cheekbones, dark, slanted eyebrows and long, black eyelashes. Dark stubble decorated his square jaw.

      Suddenly her eyes popped wide and she let out a shriek. “Get up!” she demanded. “Get up right now!”

      He was sitting on the dress!

      A frown furrowed his brow. He slowly opened lambent brown eyes so stunning she almost forgot why she was yelling. Almost.

      “Are you talking to me?” he asked in a deep, rasping voice.

      “Yes.” She confronted the man, hands on hips. “You’re in my seat. Sitting on my dress. Get up!”

      “What’s the problem here?” The other attendant appeared next to her.

      “He’s in my seat.” She pointed an accusing finger. “Sitting on my garment bag. Make him move.”

      Behind her a young child began to cry. Lindsay cringed but held her ground.

      The beading on this dress was intricate, all hand-sewn. If it had to be repaired it would cost a fortune. And she’d already paid a pretty penny to make sure nothing happened to it. How could someone sit on a garment bag without noticing it?

      “Let’s all calm down.” The blonde attendant squeezed by Lindsay. “Sir, can I ask you to stand, please?”

      The man slowly rose. He had to duck to the side to avoid hitting the overhead compartment. He must be six-four, maybe six-five; a long way to glare up from five feet four. She managed.

      “I’m not sitting on anything.” He gestured across the aisle. “I moved it there because it was in my seat.”

      Lindsay looked to her left. The garment bag rested in a heap on the seat with her heavy satchel dumped on top. She jumped on it, removing her bag and smoothing the fabric. It was all mushed as though it had been sat on.

      “May I see your tickets, please?” Dan requested.

      Lindsay pulled hers from the front pocket of her satchel and waited to be vindicated.

      “Actually, you’re both in wrong seats. My fault, I’m afraid. I’m used to a different plane. I do apologize. Ms. Reeves, you are on the left and, Mr. Sullivan, you need to move forward a row.”

      Lovely. She couldn’t even blame the beast. Except she did.

      At least he’d be in the row ahead of her so she wouldn’t have to have him next to her the entire flight.

      His brown gaze went to the toddlers in the row in front of the one the attendant indicated. “I’d prefer the back row.” He pasted on a charming smile. “Is it possible to trade seats?”

      No. No. No.

      “Of course.” The blonde gushed, swayed, no doubt, by his dimples. “There was a cancellation so no one else is boarding in first class. Is there anything I can get you before we continue boarding?”

      “A pillow would be nice.”

      “My pleasure, Mr. Sullivan.” She turned to Lindsay. “Anything for you, ma’am?”

      Ma’am? Seriously? “I’d like a pillow. And a blanket, please.”

      “We’ll do a full turndown service after the flight gets started.” She gave Sullivan a smile and disappeared behind the curtain to the coach area.

      Lindsay stared after her. Did that mean she didn’t get a pillow or a blanket? This was her first time flying first-class. So far she had mixed feelings. She liked the extra room and the thought of stretching out for the long flight. But Blondie wasn’t earning any points.

      Lindsay draped the garment bag over the window seat as best she could until the seat could be reclined. Unfortunately that put her in the aisle seat directly across from Mr. Tall, Dark and Inconsiderate.

      Nothing for it. She’d just have to ignore him and focus on her work. It would take the entire flight to configure the seating arrangement for the reception. She had the list of guests from the bride and the list of guests from the groom. And a three-page list of political notes from the palace of who couldn’t be seated next to whom and who should be seated closer to the royal couple. What had started as a private country wedding had grown to include more than a hundred guests as political factors came into play.

      It was a wedding planner’s nightmare. But she took it as an opportunity to excel.

      Before СКАЧАТЬ