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Honeymoon. The one word Abby truly did not want to hear—at least in association with Cade and Mona.
“I do.” Abby confirmed, cringing. “Do you have any input on that?”
“None at all.” Mona reached her perfectly manicured hand across the table and squeezed Abby’s short, unpolished fingers. “I have confidence in you. If Cade says you’re the best, then I know you are.”
Abby felt like a traitor. This woman was genuinely sweet and was putting her trust in Abby.
Why did she have to feel guilty about loving someone?
After their brief wedding-planning lunch came to an end, Abby took her white to-go bag and headed back to the office where she attempted to get her mind off this wedding and onto real estate.
What would happen to the San Francisco office if Cade and Brady went global? Would Cade and his new bride want to jet-set from country to country and check out new properties? Would they hire a stranger to take over the office their late father had started from scratch?
Abby sighed as she stepped behind her desk and dumped her uneaten lunch into the trash. She toed the can aside and slumped into her chair. This upcoming marriage would be perfect and the only person who was unhappy about the arrangement was her…and she had no right to be.
With the absurd amount of money she was getting for arranging the wedding of the year, she could not only pay off her mother’s old medical bills, but she could also afford to buy a house of her own and get out of her studio apartment. Granted the only reason she chose the tiny, cozy place was to get out of the house she’d shared with her mother. The house where she’d watched her mother’s life wither away day by day.
When a tear slipped down her cheek, Abby didn’t even bother to swipe it away. What good would it do? Swatting away tears almost seemed as if she was brushing aside her mother’s memory.
“Abby.”
At Cade’s demanding, powerful voice, Abby turned in her chair and pasted on a smile. “Yes.”
“What happened?” His brows drew together and, in a gesture that shocked her, he plucked the canary-yellow handkerchief from his navy Italian suit jacket and dabbed her cheek. “Are you all right?”
She didn’t know if she was more impressed at the fact he truly cared about her feelings or the fact he may be the last man on the planet who actually used the handkerchief for something other than decoration.
“Everything’s fine.”
She tried to back away, but his intense, concerning gaze held her still. The silk slid over her cheek, making her shiver, making her recall the feel of his sheets against her skin.
“Did you need something?” she asked, trying to pretend his touch hadn’t just sent shiver chasing after shiver through her body.
For a moment, Abby wondered if he heard her. He was, after all, only inches from her face. But then, as if he just realized their close proximity, Cade handed her the silk cloth and came to his feet.
Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “How was the meeting with Mona?”
Clutching the handkerchief, as if she could actually squeeze some of Cade’s courage and strength into her body, she nodded. “The meeting went well. I’ll be swamped, though, since Mona will be out of town a lot until the wedding, plus my work here. But…”
“You can handle it.”
His confidence warmed, yet irritated her. Was he completely dismissing the fact she’d be in utter chaos or was he just that sure of her abilities? And, God, why did she let him tie her up in knots? She’d never questioned her ability to do her job before.
“There is one area that you need to do yourself, though,” she added before he could turn away.
“Whatever you decide will be fine.”
Abby came to her feet and handed the handkerchief back. “No, as the groom, it is your responsibility to plan the honeymoon. Normally I assist, but that was when I only had wedding planning to do and when I had plenty of time to plan the big event. And, since I know you, I don’t feel a bit guilty asking you to take on that part. Besides, you’ve traveled enough to know what would be a nice getaway.”
Nope. She didn’t feel the least bit guilty asking him to plan the erotic—er, exotic—honeymoon where the two of them would be able to frolic and make love for days as an orange, glowing sunset made their picture-perfect backdrop.
Ugh. This was not her idea of a dream job. But, if it paid the bills…
He folded the silk cloth and slid it into perfect position in the slim pocket of his navy jacket. “I don’t care where we go. You pick and book something.”
“No.”
Cade’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
