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I reached for my water as Dane said, “You clearly don’t lack for clients.”
I sipped, then set aside the glass. Even ice water couldn’t cool my blazing insides. “I get a decent amount of referrals now. Word of mouth, or people who were guests at one of my weddings.”
He retrieved a magazine from the side pocket of his bag and dropped it on the table. My face smiled back at me.
“Congratulations,” he said.
It was the latest issue of Southwest Weddings magazine, in which I was featured in as an up-and-coming wedding planner, following an event I’d orchestrated at the private Forest Highlands country club outside of Flagstaff, just north of us. The son of an eighties rock musician had married a Malibu Barbie type and the wedding had been sensational, with the gorgeous San Francisco Peaks as the backdrop.
“Are you in the habit of reading bridal magazines?” I asked, my tone low and provocative. I couldn’t seem to find my real voice when I was around this man.
“The cover caught my attention,” he said, a hint of mischief in his words. “Turns out you’re exactly what I was looking for.” Excitement flared in his eyes—warning signals went off in my head.
Still, I said playfully, “I’m not the marrying kind.”
He smirked. And oh, what that sexy look did to my insides was nothing short of volcanic!
Even light flirting with him was dangerous. My gaze dropped as I tried to regroup. Then I forced myself to make eye contact again. Not exactly a good thing. I was way too entranced, way too hooked on how he looked at me, the way his eyes glowed seductively, the way the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, revealing the shadow of a grin.
“What were you looking for?” I managed to ask.
His gaze dipped to my rapidly rising and falling chest. Which made it all worse for me. My nipples puckered behind the tight bodice of my lavender summer dress as desire flitted across his chiseled features. I fought the insane urge to have his hands and mouth all over my body.
Another blush crept up my neck. Damn it.
This was what I carefully avoided in order to stay focused on my dream, and to keep from falling into the trap of mediocre dating that always left me lonelier than I was before I’d met someone new and had given him a chance.
Though, without doubt, there was nothing mediocre about Dane Bax.
His gaze shifted to my face and he continued our original conversation, as if he hadn’t just stolen more than a quick glance at my breasts and responded as heatedly as I had. The intense humidity in the air didn’t cling to my skin the way his bold gazes did. I felt tingles along my bare flesh and had to reach for my water again.
He said, “We located your application at the hotel—a glitch with the new system.” A troubled expression flitted across his face but quickly disappeared. I surmised there were plenty of glitches when it came to bringing a resort online. One of this magnitude was likely rife with challenges and setbacks. I suspected that was the reason for his vacillating consternation—when he wasn’t scowling over me being in the clutches of another man.
Continuing, Dane said, “You started your company when you were twenty, while getting your business degree.”
“I took online courses. Ended up with a good deal of time on my hands for weddings. No commuting to class.”
“Right.” He gave a half snort at my easy explanation.
No, school had not been a breeze for me, especially while actively farming for clients. But I’d wanted my own LLC initially and needed to know how to run it. Plus, I’d always considered eventually becoming a corporate planner, so I’d committed to professional training and industry certifications.
“According to this article,” he said, indicating the magazine, “you’re on a distinguished list of preferred planners.”
“A celebrity wedding helps to put one on the map.”
“That and the Delfino event.”
“Yes.” I’d already had media inquiries to talk about some of the arrangements I’d made. Mr. Delfino had me sign a nondisclosure statement but it only applied to family information—most specifically, his daughter’s pregnancy—not anything related to flowers, decorations, et cetera.
“What’s the largest number of guests you’ve worked with?”
I eyed him speculatively, my stomach fluttering. “Is this a job interview, Mr. Bax?”
His dazzling grin took my breath away. “Perhaps the start of one.” He leaned in, pinning me with an engaging look. “And call me Dane.”
I opened my mouth to speak. No words came out.
His grin widened. “Have dinner with me Saturday night at the hotel and I’ll explain.” His voice alone did the most insane things to my inner thighs, making them burn.
