# Don't Tell the Wedding Planner

Aimee Carson

The craziest wedding…Bespoke wedding planner Callie Labeau has a reputation for embracing the crazy. The weirder the concept, the wilder the party, right? And her love of all things OTT is about to be tested – because the cyber-geek wedding Matt Paulson has asked her to organise for his brother sounds insane.…the wildest time planning it!ER doctor Matt has come to New Orleans to lock down the plans. And working with the gorgeous Callie is just an added bonus! But with the city engulfed in a heatwave, the chemistry between them is getting more scorching by the day…and it’s proving to be one seriously big distraction!

## ‘Callie Labeau?’

The woman turned and Matt was hit with a vision of hair the color of dark honey, wide brown eyes, and a slim but clearly female body filling out the bust of her gown. Appreciation thrummed through his veins, but he ignored the distracting sensation.

‘Matt Paulson.’ He stuck out his hand.

‘Colin called and said he was sending you my way.’

A palm briefly pressed against his. The soft skin and the drawl, as honey soaked as her hair, brought to mind hot Southern nights filled with heated skin and sweat-soaked sheets.

Stick to the plan. Get in, take care of the problem, and get out.

She released his hand and her lips quirked. ‘Though Colin didn’t mention he was sending you now.’

There was no irritation in her voice, only the calm tone of one who dealt with life’s surprises and upsets with grace and dignity. He liked her already.

She’d need that skill set for what he had in mind.

## ONE NIGHT IN NEW ORLEANS

Check out the first book in this duet:

NO TIME LIKE MARDI GRAS

by Kimberly Lang

(February 2013)

which is also set in the city of New Orleans, Louisiana, USA!

Don’t Tell the

Wedding Planner

Aimee Carson


www.millsandboon.co.uk

The summer she turned eleven AIMEE CARSON left the children’s section of the library and entered an aisle full of Mills & Boon® novels. She promptly pulled out a book, sat on the floor, and read the entire story. It has been a love affair that has lasted for over thirty years.

Despite a fantastic job working part-time as a physician in the Alaskan Bush (think Northern Exposure and ER, minus the beautiful mountains and George Clooney), she also enjoys being at home in the gorgeous Black Hills of South Dakota, riding her dirt bike with her three wonderful kids and beyond patient husband. But, whether she’s at home or at work, every morning is spent creating the stories she loves so much. Her motto? Life is too short to do anything less than what you absolutely love. She counts herself lucky to have two jobs she adores, and incredibly blessed to be a part of Harlequin Mills & Boon®’s family of talented authors.

Other Modern Tempted™ titles by Aimee Carson:

THE UNEXPECTED WEDDING GUEST

This and other titles by Aimee Carson are available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the man who made all this possible.

Thanks, honey. I love you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Extract

PROLOGUE

Dear Ex Factor,

I’m in desperate need of help. My best friend is marrying my former boyfriend and now she’s asked me to be her maid of honor. My ex and I dated for over three years and everyone thought we’d eventually marry. The breakup was messy, but when he started dating my BF we all managed to reach an understanding. I’m really happy for my girlfriend and I want to be there for her on her big day, but I dread all the comments from friends and family. What should I do?

Callie: First off, congratulations to all three of you for working through your differences so that everyone remains friends. Secondly, I’ve been in your shoes, having recently arranged the Ex-Man’s wedding—my ex-boyfriend—which he ruined with a zombie invasion. : ) If you are happy for the bride and groom then most of the guests will see this. Unfortunately, there will be those with thoughtless comments and questions. I found it best to be prepared. So formulate a few vague, generic responses beforehand so you won’t get caught unprepared.


Ex-Man: I think you only need one response: “I’m mainly here for the free food and beer.” And if you’re planning a zombie invasion to liven up the reception, don’t tell the wedding planner.

ONE

Man, what a lot of work just to get hitched.

Matt weaved his way through the sightseers enjoying the ballroom of the historic Riverway mansion, a plantation that had once taken part in producing 75 percent of the world’s cotton, but was now reduced to group tours and a venue for weekend events. He knew he was headed for the outdoor, private wedding reception when he spotted two Southern belles in authentic dress.

Choosing a Civil War theme to celebrate a marriage seemed wrong. But who knows, maybe the couple enjoyed the irony? Regardless, given the authentic mansion worthy of Scarlett O’Hara and the costumes of the guests, the wedding planner was either a genius...or insane. Matt was pulling for the latter, because he absolutely needed Callie LaBeau to be insane. If she were a reasonable, rational individual, she’d refuse Matt’s request. Which meant his plans to fly in, fix his problem and fly back home would be over. And he’d be screwed.

Catching up with the two ladies in 1800s dresses, petticoats rustling beneath, wasn’t hard. Their hoopskirts caught as they tried to open one of the French doors leading to the backyard, and their attempt to cross the threshold side by side didn’t work out so well.

Matt bit back the grin and the fatigue of thirty-six hours on two hours of sleep, pulling open the other door.

The one in an ugly yellow-colored dress tossed him an inviting smile. “Thanks.”

“Bathroom breaks must be a real bitch,” Matt said.

The lady in lavender laughed. “You have no idea.”

“Do either of you know where I can find Callie LaBeau?” he asked.

Lavender lady jerked her thumb toward one end of the outdoor reception. “Last time I saw her, she was over by the bar.”

Matt took that as good news. Alcohol would definitely be a requirement in a crazy setting such as this, hopefully softening the wedding planner toward Matt’s cause.

“I think she’s the only one in royal-blue.” Yellow dress sounded a little jealous.

Matt took the exit leading out to the twenty-acre grounds that smelled of freshly cut grass and held the crowd of wedding guests in Civil War costumes. Kerosene lamps sat on tables covered in white and dangled alongside Spanish moss in the giant oaks. The trees provided a canopy for the reception, the soft lamps casting a glow against the twilight sky.

He hoped the lamps were fake or the theme would soon be overrun by the yellow of firemen suits.

Fortunately, the lighting was low enough that Matt’s dark pants and white, button-down shirt blended with the attire of the staff posing as servants. As for the male guests, half wore blue Union uniforms while the others sported gray Confederate uniforms—given the choice of a Southern theme, most likely the bride’s side of the family. Matt scanned the brightly colored Southern belle dresses dotting the scene and spied one of royal-blue in front of an old-fashioned buggy being used as a bar.

Relief relaxed his shoulders. Today’s four-hour flight to New Orleans had been turbulent and hot, hopeless for snagging a few minutes of shut-eye. A cold beer would go down good about now.

He approached the makeshift bar and leaned a hip against the wagon. “Callie LaBeau?”

The woman turned, and Matt was hit with a vision of hair the color of dark honey, wide, brown eyes and a slim but clearly female body filling out the bust of her gown. Appreciation thrummed through his veins, but he ignored the distracting sensation.

“Matt Paulson.” He stuck out his hand.

“Colin called and said he was sending you my way.”

A palm briefly pressed against his. The soft skin and the drawl, as honey-soaked as her hair, brought to mind hot, Southern nights filled with heated skin and sweat-soaked sheets.

Stick to the plan, Paulson. Get in, take care of the problem and get out.

She released his hand and her lips quirked. “Though Colin didn’t mention he was sending you now.”

There was no irritation in her voice, only the calm tone of one who dealt with life’s surprises and upsets with grace and dignity. He liked her already.

She’d need that skill set for what he had in mind.

“Colin told me I could find you here.” He scanned the guests milling about. “I assumed you were scoping out a venue for an event. He didn’t mention I was walking into the middle of an actual wedding reception.”

“Colin’s a good friend, and I owe him a lot. But he’s an obsessed gamer,” she responded with a shrug that said it all.

Matt understood. Over the course of the past two years, he’d learned that the geekdom world was built on the backs of those whose lives revolved around the game. Outside social conventions often didn’t compute. His brother’s life currently consisted of work and spending hours immersed in the world of Dungeons of Zhorg, having traded one obsession for another. Matt just hoped Tommy’s current fixation lasted.

Because dungeons and dragons and trolls beat the hell out of crystal meth.

As always, the years-old ache in his chest hurt as he remembered a time when his brother was gaunt, paranoid and delusional. Sick and wasting away right in front of Matt’s eyes.

His stomach roiled, and he pushed the memories aside. “Should we meet up tomorrow or do you have a minute?”

“I’ll be out of town all day on Saturday. How long are you in New Orleans?”

“Until Sunday morning.”

She let out a huff of humor. “Now it is, then.”

Callie reached into the bodice of her gown. The sight of those graceful fingers dipping into her cleavage hiked his brow and tightened his groin. Fortunately, he kept his expression one of amused sarcasm rather than the truth: a sleep-deprived guy who found the sight a total turn-on. A grin curled her mouth as she pulled out a tiny pocket watch.

“I try to keep things as authentic as possible. As the one in charge, that makes things difficult. Working without my tablet has been a real pain.” She glanced at the time and blew an escaped strand of honey-colored hair from her cheek. “My assistant can keep an eye on things for a bit. But you only have twenty minutes until I need to prepare for the cutting of the cake.”

Twenty minutes wasn’t a lot of time to convince someone to do the impossible.

He ordered a beer and Callie requested a club soda. After she spoke with her assistant, who wore a similar gown in red, and looked a lot more harried than the wedding planner herself, they headed to a small bar along the back of the house that wasn’t in use.

“What I wouldn’t give to lean back in that seat right now.” Callie looked longingly at a chair at one of the few empty tables, like a student eyeing an espresso after an all-nighter. “But this dress makes relaxing impossible. And I’m tired of sitting up straight.”

“That getup doesn’t look comfortable, either.”

“The petticoat is stiff and the corset makes breathing impossible.” She leaned against the counter, her brown eyes intrigued. “So tell me about your wedding-day fantasies, Mr. Paulson.”

A bark of shocked laughter shot from his mouth. Hell, before he could think about tying the knot he’d have to be in one place long enough to successfully date someone. And that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. If ever.

How many times had he tried, and miserably failed, to be the long-distance boyfriend? How many times had he tried, and failed, to keep a relationship going? An occasional round of great sex was one thing, but that held a woman for only so long. And there weren’t many willing to play second chair to his responsibilities to Tommy. Eventually, they all left, the resentment toward his priorities too much to overcome.

Matt cleared his throat. “I’m not here to discuss my fantasies.”

Fantasies.

Another stab of awareness hit, stronger than the one before. Damn, why were they even using the word? Currently his fantasies consisted of a brown-eyed beauty wearing an old-fashioned dress with a ridiculous hoop beneath. But the thought of unlacing a corset was surprisingly...hot.

He settled next to her at the counter. “I’m here about my brother’s wedding.”

Was that a hint of interest that flickered through her eyes?

Before he could decide, she glanced down at her drink and took a sip before carefully setting down her glass. “So why isn’t he here?”

“Can’t get the time off work.”

More accurately, with Tommy’s track record, he couldn’t risk losing another job.

“And the bride to be?” she drawled.

A history as bad as the groom’s. Perhaps worse.

“They had prior commitments,” Matt said instead, sending her a smile that didn’t encourage further questioning. “I had a few days off, so I volunteered to come down and get the ball rolling.”

She eyed him steadily. “Dedicated of you.”

Matt’s lips quirked dryly. She had no idea.

“What can I say?” he said with an easy shrug. “I’m a hell of a brother.”

Matt glanced down at the woman who stood a good six inches shorter than him. A height which was just high enough for a great view down the front of that ridiculous outfit that displayed her breasts as though they were a commodity. Perhaps during the time period of the dress, they had been.

Man. He rubbed his eyes. The fatigue was clearly getting to him. He’d worked four twelve-hour shifts in a row, the E.R. packed with patients every night—just how he liked it. The last night he’d encountered a trauma case that left him flying high on adrenaline, unable to sleep. He loved the challenge, and he was damned good at emergency medicine, too. He’d finished up a satisfying two weeks of work in one of the busiest E.R.s in Los Angeles and had been set to climb on a flight back to Michigan to check on Tommy. Until his brother had called and shared his and Penny’s plans for the wedding. So, instead, Matt had headed to LAX and climbed onto a plane bound for New Orleans.

“Don’t be too impressed, Mr. Paulson.”

Matt blinked, forcing himself back to the present and the lovely set of boobs. “Come again?”

“The corset pushes everything up. They’re not as big as the dress makes them look.”

He quirked an eyebrow, amused by her admission. “Who said I was looking?”

Even the laugh that escaped held a hint of the South. “No one had to say anything, Mr. Paulson. I can see your eyes with my own.”

Matt scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry. I haven’t had much sleep in the past thirty-six hours and I got a little distracted. And I think you should call me Matt.” A hint of a grin finally crept up his face. “I’m guessing the formalities aren’t necessary once you get caught leering down a woman’s dress. How much time do I have left?”

Her lips quirked as she reached in to her bodice “It’s now seven forty-five. You have ten minutes left.” She tipped her head curiously. “Don’t you wear a watch?”

“I do,” he said. “I just enjoy the sight of you pulling that watch out of your dress.”

Her warm laugh encouraged him to settle more comfortably against the counter.

“So tell me about your brother’s wedding fantasy,” she said.

She turned and leaned her elbows back on the counter, and he wondered if she knew the position put her on even better display. From the focused look on her face, he’d say no. The woman had slipped fully into themed-wedding-planner mode. He forced his eyes away from the expanse of skin of her bared shoulders and the line between the curve of her breasts.

“Simple,” Matt said. “His fantasy involves a video game.”

Callie groaned. “That’s why Colin sent you to me.”

“Tommy and Penny want their wedding to be a Dungeons of Zhorg weekend set here in New Orleans,” he said. “And since I volunteered to come and hire someone to organize the wedding, I wanted to check and make sure there wouldn’t be any legal problems with the plan. So I hunted Colin down to clear up any copyright hassles.”

“Which would only be a problem if you were selling tickets to the public. I assume this is a private party.”

“More or less.”

Her eyebrows drifted higher. “So which is it, more or less?”

Here was where things were about to get tricky.

Matt shifted on his feet, trying to get comfortable against the counter. “They want to combine their wedding with a LARP event for their fellow gaming friends. You know, a live-action—”

“Live-action role-playing. Yes, I know. I dated Colin long enough to be well versed in geek speak.”

Matt felt his brow crinkle in surprise.

So Colin was her ex. When Matt had searched the creator of Dungeons of Zhorg out at Rainstorm Games and found him in his office late on a Friday afternoon, Matt’s opinion of the geeked-out gamer had been complete. Fortunately, the man had no problem with Tommy and Penny’s plans. In fact, Colin thought a newspaper article about the event would be good publicity for his game. Matt had told him he’d check with Tommy before agreeing, but figured his brother and the equally geeked-out fiancée would be thrilled. Matt could just see the headline now.

Ex-Drug Addicts Saved by Finding True Love Through the Dungeons of Zhorg.

Everyone would love the story. Hell, Matt loved the story.

He just wished he could believe the current state of affairs would last.

The familiar surge of unease filled his stomach like a concrete truck unloading its contents. Damn. If he’d learned anything over the years of Tommy’s addiction, it was that taking care of today was the best Matt could do. Sometime it was more than Matt could do.

And often, his best just hadn’t been good enough.

Matt pushed the thought aside and returned to the more interesting topic of Callie. “You and your ex must have remained pretty good friends if he’s sending you my business.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’d have to pry the game controller from his cold, dead fingers before the man would admit the truth, but he owes me. I helped him track Jamie down after they first met. Now they’re married.” Callie let out a chuckle. “That and he wants to ensure the wedding gets done right. You know, with the proper attention to Zhorg detail.” He heard, rather than saw, the roll of her eyes in her tone. “But a ceremony shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.”

“Actually, the entire weekend needs to be planned.”

“Wait,” she said, straightening up from the counter to face him. “I thought you just needed me for the wedding part. You want me to be in charge of the entire LARPing event?”

After several years of experience as the locums doctor in various E.R.s located in big cities across the country, Matt had learned how to handle addicts flying higher than a kite, as dangerous as a violent criminal.

Much like a cornered wild animal, the key was to never let ’em see you flinch.

He maintained her gaze and adopted his best soothing tone. “Yes. But the weekend doesn’t need to be that elaborate. Throw up a few tents, offer a little food, and the guests bring their own costumes. And we can call it a day.”

He knew he’d totally downplayed Tommy and Penny’s vision for the weekend, but Matt thought they were dreaming too big anyway. He’d told them both pulling off exactly what they wanted would be impossible, short of crawling into the video game itself.

Her brow scrunched and several seconds ticked by.

“How much time do I have?” she asked.

“Two months.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m completely serious.”

“Impossible. Sorry, Mr. Paulson, you’ll have to find someone else.” She reached out and took his wrist, pushing up his sleeve to peek at his watch. And then gave him a pretty smile. “Time’s up.”

Momentarily stunned, he watched her head toward the cake table.

Until he remembered his goal, and took off, following her through the crowd. “I love what you did with The Wizard of Oz wedding,” he said, keeping stride with Callie. “And having the Mad Hatter as the wedding officiant in the Alice in Wonderland theme was inspired.”

Did he sound as stupid as he felt?

“How did you learn about that?” she asked.

“Colin gave me one of your brochures. He said you’re the best in the business.”

Callie cast him an amused glance but kept on walking. “Are you trying to use flattery to change my mind?”

“You bet,” he said. “Is it working?”

“Not yet, but feel free to keep trying.”

“The Elizabethan venue was spectacular—” he dodged two Southern belle dresses and a Confederate soldier “—and The Three Musketeers theme was cool, as well.”

She shot him a wry look. “Pirates,” she said. “It was a pirates theme.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Who else is better qualified for a Dungeons of Zhorg themed wedding?”

Callie stared out across the crowd of guests milling about as they enjoyed appetizers. A furrow of concentration between her brows, she appeared to be running through the idea in her head. She chewed on her cheek before swiping her lower lip with her tongue. The sight of the now damp, full mouth was putting a whammy on his libido.

Huh, if he was this easily distracted, it was well past time he sought out some female companionship. To take the edge off, so to speak. Or maybe he simply needed sleep.

“Okay. It might be doable. Crazy, mind you. But doable,” she drawled, and then looked around the current scene. “After all, crazy is my specialty.”

Matt smiled his first real smile since Tommy had shared his engagement news and Matt couldn’t decide if the marriage would make conditions better...or worse.

The potential for an epic screwup was great.

Callie sent him a wide smile back. The gesture wasn’t sexual, but the genuine nature lit her eyes in a way that left them sparkling, sending another bolt of heat and awareness up his spine.

Too bad his flight out was Sunday. And there was no way he could delay the trip. He’d already gone two weeks without flying back home, to the childhood house Matt had moved back into, sharing the residence with Tommy since the very first round of rehab had failed, all those years ago.

He cleared his throat. “Fantastic,” he said.

Mission accomplished. Problem addressed, solution found and past time to move on. Or, as the motto went in the E.R., treat ’em and street ’em. Everything was turning out better than he’d planned. He’d even get a full night’s sleep tonight.

“Let me know how much to put down as a deposit. I’ll get you my email so you can send me the invoices as we go.” He slipped his wallet from his pocket and pulled out his card, filling in the contacts. “And here are Tommy and my cell phone numbers too, just in case you have any questions—”

“Wait.” Her brown eyes grew even wider as she took his card. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Concern edged up his back, making his shoulders feel stiff. “I have a hot date with the king-size bed in my hotel room—a rendezvous I’m really looking forward to. And Sunday I have to head back home.”

Callie leaned closer, bringing that lovely view in a more direct line of vision. “Listen, Mr. Paulson.”

How was he supposed to listen, much less concentrate, with a view like that? And clearly the stress of the upcoming event had knocked them back to a last-name basis instead of first.

“You’re lucky I have a light enough schedule and an assistant to help me,” Callie said. “But I can’t do this alone. There are too many decisions that need to be made, and made quickly, too. I won’t take responsibility for making the wrong ones. Someone needs to be around to help.”

“Both me and my brother will be available by phone and internet.”

“Not good enough. We can’t afford to play phone tag. Not with so little time and so many big choices to be made.”

“What choices?”

“Venue, for one. This won’t be your average setting. We’ll need a large outdoor park with adequate parking. Food, for another. A menu based on medieval times? Complicated. And from what I remember about LARP, there are games revolving around the video. And they’ll need to be authentic.”

“Tommy and Penny won’t care about the details,” he lied.

They would care. In fact, they’d care too much. That’s what made a fan crazy enough to base their entire wedding around a video game. An obsession about even the minutest of details.

“I once had a client who said she didn’t care. But she did,” Callie said. “Despite the fact the bride and groom were thrilled with my work, the one paying the bills wasn’t.” She tipped her head. “Who’s paying for all of this?”

“Me.”

Something flashed in her eyes that he didn’t recognize. Probably questions and comments and opinions about a wedding being paid for by the brother of the groom. Not your traditional arrangement. But then again, who else was there? No one.

And there hadn’t been for a long time.

Callie, to her credit, didn’t pry. “Then, officially, you’d be my boss. If you want me to agree to plan this event, you’re going to have to at least stick around long enough to make a few of the major decisions.”

“How long?”

“Depends on how our hunt for a venue goes. Can’t say for sure. Maybe a week?”

Damn. That would mean he’d go almost a month without physically checking in on Tommy. The last time Matt had done that, he’d missed some early clues, and Tommy had wound up in rehab again.

But that was two years ago and he’d promised Tommy he’d take care of this.

Matt turned his options over in his head. As far as he could see, he didn’t have any. He’d only just convinced the woman to take this project on. Refusing her now would be counterproductive. And finding someone else to participate in this harebrained idea would be absolutely impossible.

“All right,” he said, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’ll give you until Tuesday and then we can reassess from there.”

“Fine. But we need to get started right away, beginning with a meeting to list exactly what y’all want. I have to go out of town tomorrow, family stuff I have to take care of. But I’ll put together a list of potential park sites and Sunday we can make the rounds to check them out. We can use the drive to put together our ideas for the wedding weekend.”

Sticking around to help nail down the details for this crazy event? Not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d climbed on the plane today. Matt could afford two more days in New Orleans before heading home. And Callie’s brilliant smile helped ease the frustrating turn of events.

“Sunday morning it is,” he said.

“Forecast calls for a heat wave the next few days or so.” Callie’s grin grew bigger. “Hope you like the weather hot, Mr. Paulson.”

The playful grin brought about one of his own.

“Ms. LaBeau,” Matt said, leaning close. “I like everything hot.”

* * *

Matt entered his hotel room and toed off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt as he headed toward the bathroom. Fatigue made his movement clumsy as he flicked open the front of his pants. After tossing his clothes aside, he flipped on the water and stepped inside the marble shower, groaning as hot water coursed over his hair and down his skin.

The ache in his muscles had started during the cramped four-hour flight, and now finally eased. Matt leaned his hand against the wall and bowed his head, letting the wet heat wash away the remainder of the stress of the past thirty-six hours.

It looked like his plans to get in and out of New Orleans quickly so he could check on Tommy had just bitten the dust. As a consolation, he now had a little more time to spend with Callie LaBeau. And the next time they saw each other, he will have had a full night’s sleep.

As far as screwed-up plans went, this one could have been worse.

But the time had come to rethink his approach.

First up, place a call to Tommy. A phone check never gave as much information as a face-to-face interaction, but it beat no contact at all. Unfortunately, no one could assess weight loss and skin color over the phone. Of course, the first sign Tommy was slipping was the way he refused to look Matt in the eyes.

Second, the trip around town to locate an available park. Matt ignored the tightening in his groin as he considered a day in the car. With Callie. Alone. Awareness definitely hung in the air around them, though he sensed a hint of reluctance on her part. A reluctance that could have meant anything.

Because they were working together.

Because she had a boyfriend, though Matt doubted that to be the case.

Because she still carried a torch for Colin...

Matt soaped himself clean, picturing the golden skin and the honey-colored hair and big brown eyes. The little dip in her upper lip. The way she nibbled on the inside of her cheek while lost in thought. The pink tongue that licked the corner of her wide mouth.

He pictured that mouth on his skin. The teeth. The tongue traveling down his chest. Past his abdomen. The lips closing around his—

He slammed his eyes shut.

Fifteen minutes later, clean and refreshed and a whole lot more relaxed, Matt padded from the bathroom and into his bedroom. He dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist, heading to the window and pulling back the curtain. The lights of New Orleans spread out before him. As much as he dreaded the conversation, he picked up his cell phone and punched speed dial.

He hated the way his stomach tightened before every contact. After two years of a sober Tommy, Matt should have stopped bracing for the worst every time. Only problem was, Tommy had achieved sobriety before. Six times total. Every relapse had gotten harder than the one before. And had broken Matt’s heart a little more.

“Hello?”

Despite everything, as always his brother’s voice made Matt smile.

“Tommy. Fought any good dragons lately?”

The laugh on the other end sounded robust, easing a little of Matt’s nerves.

“Dude, you should have seen the troll that Penny took down the other day,” Tommy said.

“Big?”

“Massive.”

“Hope her cooking isn’t going to your waist. Your chain mail still fit?”

When Tommy’s chuckle finally died down, he said, “That headhunter called again today.”

The news formed a knot in Matt’s chest and expanded, the pressure creating a wound that would never fully heal. The first time the recruiter from Jaris Hawking Healthcare had called about a job, Matt had been thrilled. At the time he’d been too busy cleaning up the last of his brother’s latest mess to search for a job, but things with Tommy had seemed to be settled and Matt was ready to finally make the longed-for career move. Matt had spent hours researching the busy hospital in Miami, looking forward to the excitement he craved. But just when he’d been set to sign the papers, Tommy had relapsed again, requiring another round of rehab. And a family member to be there to ensure it happened. Matt had finally realized that he’d never be able to move.

Giving up that dream had hurt like hell, but there was no sense rehashing old disappointments.

Tommy went on, “They said they were desperate for someone with your talents.”

“I hope you told him I’m still not interested.” If he repeated the lie enough, he just might begin to believe it. Besides, he had more important things to ask. “How’s work?” He aimed for a nonchalant tone, but he knew Tommy saw straight through the question.

“You don’t need to check up on me, Matt.” Tommy didn’t sound annoyed, just resigned. “Work is fine. Penny is fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure you two geeked-out lovebirds want to get hitched during a lame-ass reenactment of a video game? Not too late to go for the Elvis wedding in Vegas. Or better yet, a pirate-themed adventure wedding in Hawaii. Think of it. A week’s vacation in Maui with all expenses paid by yours truly. What better wedding gift could a brother ask for, huh? I could do with a base tan myself.”

“The wedding absolutely has to be in New Orleans. We want trolls. And dragons. And Matt...?”

Matt dropped onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and propping up his feet. “Yeah, sport?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Matt’s lips twisted wryly as affection kicked him the chest. Every goddamned time. The kid had spent the past twenty-five years worming his way into Matt’s heart, until Tommy was so firmly entrenched, there was nothing Matt could do. He could picture his brother’s wavy brown hair, earnest face and appreciative gaze. Beneath those ribs beat a heart of gold.

Amazing what havoc an addiction could inflict.

“You bet you’ll pay me back,” Matt said with a teasing tone. “With twenty percent interest. Wait, I forgot about inflation. Make that thirty percent. Didn’t I tell you? You’re my retirement fund.”

“Which means you’re screwed, bro.”

Matt let out a scoff. “Better odds than on Wall Street.”

Tommy laughed. When his brother finally grew silent, Matt went on.

“Seriously, though?” Matt said. “Don’t worry about the money. That’s what brothers are for. Just...”

Keep it together.

Stay clean.

Don’t break my heart again.

“Just make sure that future wife of yours doesn’t kick your ass on level ten like last month or I’ll have to disown you,” Matt said.

Matt could hear the smile in Tommy’s voice. “You got it.”

TWO

Two days later Callie studied Matt as he drove her Toyota out of New Orleans. It had been a long time since Callie had been so curious about a guy. Matt was friendly, charming, and sexy enough to eat with her fingers. There’d been no sign of embarrassment at being caught staring at her cleavage.

Even now the memory left her body vibrating with energy.

But a lingering hint of hesitation clung to him, a reserve that was fascinating. Intriguing. He’d shown up at the reception two nights ago with goal written all over his face.

They’d been traveling for about an hour now, but hadn’t had a chance to talk much about business. Callie had been too busy directing him around town to potential parks to use as the site for the Dungeons of Zhorg weekend. The first two were mostly a bust. But she had high hopes for the one they were heading to now.

She’d asked Matt to drive, explaining she needed to take notes while they discussed the plans for the event, listing out the pros and cons of the two sites they’d just checked out. But the excuse sounded lame, even to her. Especially considering she spent half her time giving Matt directions. But she didn’t care. Because with his attention on the traffic, and her vantage point from the passenger seat, she was free to enjoy the view.

And she wasn’t talking about the city she loved.

Matt’s lean, muscular frame filled the driver’s seat of her car. Given the heat wave that had settled in yesterday, he’d wisely chosen to wear shorts. Shorts that allowed a view of hard thighs. Muscular calves.

He’d had to push the seat all the way back to allow room for his long legs. His olive-colored T-shirt clung to a broad set of shoulders and biceps that flexed with every turn of the steering wheel. Not grossly big. More like well-defined and...just right. Enticing. Callie preferred the casual clothes to Friday night’s slacks and button-down. Because today he looked more relaxed. He also looked as though he’d gotten some sleep.

A large truck ahead of them whipped into their lane, and Matt reacted instantly to avoid the hit. No cursing. No frazzled look. Not even an indrawn breath or a frown for the dangerous driver.

Just like Friday night, when he’d shown up so focused, he employed a plan-and-attack mantra while driving. Goal written all over his face. Focused. Decisive. He never hesitated. And he had lightning-fast reflexes, if the maneuver he just pulled was anything to go by. They turned into the parking lot of their next potential venue, a grassy park on the outskirts of town.

Matt turned off the car and glanced at Callie, and she realized he’d just caught her studying him. Very closely. And thoroughly.

“Is this the equivalent of me staring down your cleavage?” he asked.

She ignored the heat thrumming through her veins and exited the car, missing the air-conditioning already and waiting for him to follow suit to respond. “Just admiring your quick reflexes.”

From across the roof of her Toyota, his lips quirked. “So you were checking out my...skills.”

She bit back a smile. “We have a lot of planning to do, Mr. Paulson.”

“Matt.”

“Matt,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m just trying to figure you out. And decide whether you’re gonna be the guy who makes my job easier or harder.”

Normally she meant the words in the sense of a client being difficult. Hard to please. And far too demanding in their wedding-day wishes. Or incapable of making up their mind.

With Matt she knew the decisions would come quickly and decisively. Yep, with Matt the easier or harder delineation was based on Callie’s ability, or inability, to stay focused with such a fine specimen of male anatomy on display.

“What have you decided?” he asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said with a tiny grin. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

After a few beats filled with a scorching temperature courtesy of New Orleans’s latest heat wave and Matt’s assessing gaze, he gave a sharp nod and headed up the brick walkway.

Fortunately the path was lined with oaks providing shade from the relentless sun. The playground to their left hummed with the activity of a few families crazy enough to brave the temperatures. An ice-cream truck was parked along the curb. The beautifully maintained park was clearly well run, the amenities nice. Even the current weather had been addressed. Misting machines with large fans had been set up along the path in front, providing blessed relief from the heat.

A drop of sweat trickled between her breasts and she ignored the long, lean legs of Matt as he walked beside her. The view wasn’t helping her struggles with heat stroke.

“So there’s a large private area of the park that is available for rent on the dates we need,” she said. “This place is a little farther out of town than I wanted, but there’s ample parking.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her focus forward as she came to a stop at the field.

She pointed at the outdoor building sitting in the middle of the field. “The pavilion can be used as the main structure and where the food will be served. We’re going to want the restrooms close by, even if it does ruin the medieval feel.”

“Better to ruin the Middle Ages feel than contract cholera.”

Callie smiled but continued on, “There’s more than enough space to set up the tents and the sites for the various games.” She studied the grassy field, a natural border provided by oak trees. “We can set up the gaming tent over here.”

He shot her another appreciative glance, and this time she couldn’t resist.

“What?” she said.

“You’ve already given this a lot of thought.”

“We don’t have much time.”

Matt leaned back against the oak. “Why did you agree to arrange this event?”

“It’s my job. This is what I do.”

He hesitated and crossed his arms as if settling in to wait for a better reason. Callie longed for a cool breeze, or heck, just a breeze would do. Anything to lower the temperature brought about by the Southern climate and Matt’s disturbing eyes.

“Because I owe Colin,” she said. “Our breakup was...complicated.”

Translation: I screwed up big-time.

“But we’ve managed to remain friends,” she went on. “And he’s a regular contributor to my blog, The Ex Factor.”

At his look of confusion, a grin slid up her face. “It’s a he-said, she-said column where readers can pose questions and we offer opinions from our unique perspectives.”

“Is that the only reason you agreed to take this on? Because your ex helps you out?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

He squinted across the field. “I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time than arranging a weekend LARP event.”

Was he speaking for her or for himself?

Callie nibbled on her lower lip and looked across the field. How to explain? Because if her business became successful enough, everyone would forget about her mistake in college? Because maybe, just maybe, if she landed a big enough event with the proper publicity, her parents would stop waiting for her to muck up again?

She liked her life, damn it. And while she hadn’t left for college with the plan of losing her scholarship and getting kicked out, she was delighted with what she’d built. She was happy, proud of all she’d accomplished despite her initial flub.

Now if she could only convince her family to be proud, too....

She pushed the thought away and shrugged. “Every little bit of publicity is good for business.”

Matt studied her with those observant brown eyes that always set her on edge, mostly in a good way. Making her aware of what she wore. Making her aware of what she said. Normally she focused on business or was totally relaxed. Then again, her clients usually consisted of happy couples or middle-aged parents. Dreamy eligible men didn’t knock on her doors wanting her services. And it was a little disturbing to be second-guessing every little thing as she went.

And if he thought her answer to his question was bull, he didn’t say.

When she couldn’t take those eyes studying her anymore, she turned her attention back to the field before them. “It’s more than we need, but I think this works perfectly. You agree?”

“You’re the expert.”

“I’m sure I’ll have to remind you of that sometime in the future.” She lifted her hair from her neck, longing for a cool breeze. “Let’s head back before you’re treating me for heat stroke.”

The walk back toward the car was even more uncomfortable, the sun now higher in the sky. Matt’s silence and his occasional glances left her thinking he planned to quiz her further. And with the hot temperature, and the hotter gaze—not to mention the zillion questions she saw in his eyes—didn’t make for a comfortable walk. Perhaps she should do a little quizzing of her own.

“So, tell me why you got elected to travel to New Orleans to arrange a wedding,” she said.

His lips twisted wryly, but he didn’t answer right away, so she went on.

“Over the years, I’ve worked with mothers, fathers, sisters and friends of the bride,” she said. “But I’ve never worked with the brother of the groom before.”

An amused light appeared in his eyes. “It’s an honor to be your first.”

She kept her gaze on his profile as they headed up the walk, the sound of the misting fans droning ahead. “Which doesn’t answer my question.”

“I told you, Tommy and Penny are up in Michigan. They both have jobs they can’t afford to lose. And I happen to have the time.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Dead.”

A pang of sympathy hit, and she studied his expression, looking for clues to his thoughts. There weren’t any.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-one. The year Tommy turned sixteen.”

Leaving you in charge, she didn’t say. Raising a teenager when Matt was barely past the stage himself had to have been a massive struggle.

Turning the news over in her head, Callie headed for one of the few massive fans that didn’t have kids hopping up and down in front of it. A large oak provided shade and when she stepped closer to the machine, the cool mist hit her skin, and Callie almost groaned in relief. A fine spray of water coated her face, her neck, and her T-shirt and shorts. But she didn’t care.

With the way Matt looked at her, a hosing off wouldn’t be out of order.

“Where are Penny’s parents?” she asked.

“They disowned her four years ago.”

Disowned? Her eyebrows shot higher, but Callie held her tongue, despite the curiosity. What kind of parent abandoned their kid?

When she didn’t respond, the buzz of the huge fan filled the air, and Matt shot her a look. “She’s a recovering drug addict.”

No wonder. The news explained the edge she sensed churning just beneath the surface of one Mr. Matt Paulson.

“That must be hard on your brother,” she said.

Matt turned and faced the fan, closing his eyes and letting the mist hit his face. “He’s a recovering addict, too.”

She lingered on his profile as the words and everything he hadn’t said settled deep. So much tension. So much emotion. She couldn’t read the thoughts in his expression but they were present in the taut shoulders, the flat line of his mouth. His short, sandy hair grew damp and curled at the edges, just above his ears. His bangs, thicker than the rest of his hair, developed a wave as water accumulated. The drops left a sheen to his skin, his throat and those lovely, lovely arms.

Matt definitely had the sexy shtick down pat. A wet Matt? Even more so.

“Sad that Penny’s parents won’t forgive her,” she said.

“They have their reasons.” Matt didn’t open his eyes, just continued to enjoy the cooling mist. Or pretended, anyway. “She put them through a lot. Lying. Stealing. Disappearing for weeks on end until they weren’t sure if she was alive or dead from an overdose. I’m sure they just couldn’t take it anymore. They’re just trying to protect themselves.”

Had Matt tried to protect himself?

“But still...” she said. She knew what it was like to screw up. Not in as grand a fashion as a drug addiction. Her screwup was tiny in comparison. But she knew how it felt to work hard to overcome your mistakes, only to have nobody let you forget.

“Now she’s clean,” she said.

“She’s been clean before.”

Callie let out a scoff. “‘My good opinion once lost is lost forever.’”

He opened his eyes, and that brown gaze landed on hers, sending a self-conscious flush up her face. She could read the question and surprise in his expression. She hadn’t meant to wear her own struggles quite so clearly, or to sound quite so personally invested.

She shrugged, trying to ease her discomfort. “Just a quote from Mr. Darcy, from Pride and Prejudice.” When he didn’t comment, she went on, “My favorite book.”

On her thirteenth birthday her mother had taken her to the library and she’d checked out the paperback. She’d spent the next two days glued to the book, her mother practically dragging her from her room to come eat dinner. Growing up poor meant Callie could relate to the Bennet sisters. She’d admired Lizzy’s courage and her determination to marry for love only, despite the very real risk of poverty, causing Callie’s transformation from a total tomboy into a romantic. The book had had such an impact, she’d spent the weeks after imaging Lizzy and Darcy’s wedding, and she’d developed a passion for bridal magazines and picturing the perfect ceremony.

Starting Fantasy Weddings had been a natural extension of that passion.

“I’ve never read Pride and Prejudice,” Matt said.

“I’m not surprised.”

A lull in the conversation followed, and she wanted to ask about Matt’s experiences with his brother, to learn the details about the current state of the relationship between the two. However, Callie sensed asking anything more would go over like a hot toddy during a heat wave.

“How did Tommy and Penny meet?” she asked.

“As total geekster gamers and pros at your ex’s zombie apocalypse game, they were selected as beta testers for Dungeons of Zhorg. That was how they met online. And then they discovered they’d fought the same addiction, and eventually fell in love. I think—” He pursed his lips. “I think the game helped keep them from slipping. Gave them something to focus on.”

Which would explain Matt’s willingness to take on this crazy task.

“I have to admit,” she said softly, “I’m a sucker for a romantic story.” And this one really struck a chord. Two people who’d lost themselves in a dark world and managed to pull out with the help of each other and a video game. Slaying dragons online as they fought their personal demons.

Callie smiled at the ridiculously fanciful thought. But no wonder Colin agreed to the weekend wedding/festival named after his latest game.

When Matt didn’t comment, Callie went on, “Who’s going to give Penny away?”

“She asked me, but I told her to get one of her Dungeon of Zhorg buddies. I can’t do it because I’m Tommy’s best man.”

She let out an amused huff. “It’s not like this is a traditional wedding. No reason why you can’t be both.”

“I’m not her family.”

“You will be.”

Two seconds ticked by before he hiked a brow. Mist had accumulated on his neck and trickled down to gather in the hollow at his throat. She had the sudden urge to lick the spot, and heat shot up her limbs and settled between her legs.

Shoot. Admiring the man was one thing. Wanting to treat him like her favorite brand of ice-cream cone was another.

And while he looked slightly put out by her pushing, the light in his eyes held a hint of amusement. “Does the family counseling come with the cost of your services or will that be extra?”

Callie grinned. “Just the cost of a trip to the ice-cream truck.”

If she couldn’t lick the real thing, she could at least enjoy the substitute. The lopsided smile he sent her did nothing to quell her appreciation of his form.

“So I’m buying?” he asked.

“You’re buying.”

* * *

In the end Callie chose a lemon-lime Popsicle, while Matt went with his favorite, chocolate. Cooler now that they were damp from head to toe, they wandered beneath the oaks back to Callie’s car, in no particular hurry. Not only because of the relief they’d accomplished the most pressing task, selecting a site for the DoZ weekend. But also because Matt felt no sense of urgency to leave.

Especially when Callie looked as if she’d just entered a wet T-shirt contest. It had been a while since his college buddies had dragged him to such an event during his relatively carefree undergraduate days. At the time he’d thought the rigors of academics and obtaining the grades for medical school had been stressful.

But then his parents had died, leaving him solely responsible for Tommy.

And the sight of Callie’s lovely chest beneath the wet garments did more than just bring back great memories of happier times, it also turned him the hell on.

Not exactly conducive to his get-in and get-out goals.

Her damp shirt clung to her skin, and he could make out the lace of the bra beneath. White, if he wasn’t mistaken. And if he tried hard enough, he could imagine the darker circle of skin beneath the center of each breast. He could definitely make out the rounder buds.

“I told you they weren’t as big as the slutty Scarlett O’Hara dress suggested.”

Busted.

The relaxed look on her face eased the tension in his shoulders. Though she certainly had good reason, she didn’t appear overly annoyed by his tendency to check out her form. In fact, she seemed more...amused. As though he was just a stupid kid who couldn’t help himself.

Which wasn’t too far from the truth, aside from the kid part. The stupid description fit just fine.

“I promise,” he said. “I’m not a total pervert.”

“Does that mean you’re a partial one?”

He threw back his head and laughed. When the amusement finally passed, he shot her a grin. “I guess it’s up to you to let me know.”

They reached her car and Matt opened the door for her before rounding and climbing into the driver’s seat.

He closed the door and faced Callie, who was still licking the Popsicle.

Why hadn’t he noticed how hot the image was until now? The tip of her tongue catching the drips. The way she nibbled at the side. How much the vision reminded him of his fantasies during the jerk-off session in the shower that first night. Probably because he’d been too distracted by the sight of her breasts beneath that wet shirt.

Maybe he really was a perv.

He gripped the steering wheel. “Where to now?”

“Home,” she said.

A completely inappropriate surge of adrenaline shot through his body, only to be doused by her next statement.

“I have some things I need to do today for another event coming up in two weeks,” she said. “And I really want to take a shower and wash off all of this sweat. Where do you want to meet tonight to discuss the rest of our plans?”

She twisted in the seat to face him, one long bare calf curling beneath her. The tanned leg looked smooth and he wondered if the skin was as silky as it looked. Heat gathered at the nape of his neck, and the relentless sun through the window lit Callie’s form, making ignoring her impossible.

He cleared his throat. “Preferably somewhere cool.”

Her eyes lit, and that wide grin returned to her pretty face. “I have just the place.”

THREE

Christ, this wasn’t really what he’d had in mind.

The chill seemed to hang in the air of The Frozen South, an ice bar taking up the top floor of The River’s Edge Resort and Casino overlooking downtown New Orleans. The crowd fairly thick, the noise seemed even thicker. Most likely everyone else had the same idea: escape the heat wave outside. And the establishment was the perfect choice.

Ice blocks holding tiny neon lights made up the bar. Ice sofas, ice chairs and ice sculptures were the mainstay of the furniture and the décor. Fortunately, fur rugs lined the seats. Good thing, too. Anyone bold enough to drink too much in this environment might forget to protect their skin and wind up stuck to their chair. Some of the patrons chose to have their drinks served in ice cups. And because the management clearly had a sense of humor, costumers could even keep their cups. Of course, with the hot weather still chugging along outside with a relative heat index nearing one hundred degrees, by the time the club goer arrived home all they’d have is a wet hand that smelled of vodka.

But Matt’s beef with the choice wasn’t the crowd. Nor was it the cool temperature, a relief after the blistering day outside. Callie’s frozen margarita looked inviting and his beer was the perfect temperature.

No, Matt hated the need for Callie to be covered in so many clothes.

Matt had sprung for the best cover package, which included a parka best suited for exploring the Arctic and a hat that framed her face, limiting his view of the honey hair he enjoyed. The only thing he had going for him was that she hadn’t zipped the jacket closed.

He leaned in to speak at her ear. “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere quieter?”

She turned to look at him. A maneuver that brought them face-to-face, her lips close to his.

Huh. The impulse to lean in and kiss Callie smacked him across the face like a pheromone-soaked glove, but he squelched the urge. How the hell could he plan this crazy wedding and get home to check up on Tommy if he was constantly looking at Callie, wondering what she’d taste like? With that honey hair and that honey accent, would her mouth have the same flavor?

A stupid, fanciful thought that was getting him nowhere closer to his goals.

He cleared his throat. “We might accomplish more without the noise.”

Two beats passed, but Matt couldn’t read the look in Callie’s eyes.

“It feels good in here,” she said. “Besides, the view is awesome.”

Matt mentally shook his head and forced his gaze out the large window.

True, the lights of downtown New Orleans at night were definitely awesome. Unfortunately, he hadn’t traveled to New Orleans to enjoy the view. But Callie in a blouse, wearing a sweater zipped up to her throat, paled in comparison to her breasts on display in a slutty Scarlett O’Hara dress. Or a wet T-shirt.

Though the gently curved hips and the shapely butt in formfitting jeans almost made up for the lack of cleavage.

Almost.

“So...” Callie stared down at her notebook, obviously completely unaware of the distracting thoughts mucking up Matt’s concentration. “The games we’ve got listed so far are an ax-throwing competition, an archery competition and sword fighting. Though having all three feels redundant. Today I made a few calls and found a magician available those two days.”

Magicians. Great. But Matt was too caught up by the play of beautiful lips and teeth and tongue as Callie spoke to pay much attention.

“A local group can provide something resembling strolling minstrels,” Callie went on. “Though they won’t be quite as authentic as we’d like. I checked with the park this afternoon, and horses are allowed. Which is good because apparently Penny would love to have jousters, so I contacted a branch of the Society for Creative Anachronism and—”

“Wait. What?”

Matt’s mind stuck, spinning on all the information. Though only one piece of news stuck out.

Callie set her list down and looked at him. “The society is a living history group that’s devoted to re-creating the Middle Ages. There’s a branch just outside of—”

“No.” Matt shook his head. “You spoke to Penny?”

For some reason the news felt odd. Strange.

She tipped her head curiously. “You gave me the contact numbers, remember? So I called and spoke to both Tommy and Penny today.” She hiked an eyebrow. “After all, I am arranging their wedding.”

Matt couldn’t speak, and Callie went on.

“Anyway, Tommy is gathering volunteers among their DoZ friends attending to run the sign-up for the competitions and then the competitions themselves during the event. And Penny is going to coordinate any of the Society of Anachronism volunteers who can attend on such short notice.”

“Damn.” Matt plowed a hand through his hair. “This thing is growing out of control.”

At this rate he’d never get back home to check on Tommy. Matt’s stomach tensed. It had been how many days since he’d last laid eyes on Tommy?

Regardless, if the explosion of the wedding weekend kept up, Matt would be stuck in New Orleans figuring out how to clean up horse dung from a park and how to find swords and— Jesus, why did Callie have to smell so good?

“I suppose now wouldn’t be the time to tell you about the dragon Colin is donating to the cause?”

Matt rubbed his forehead. “Dragon?”

Callie’s lips twisted wryly. “Not a real one, of course. One they used at the launch party of Dungeons of Zhorg.” She eyed him closely, like he looked as if his head bordered on exploding.

Matt wasn’t sure but it might have been true.

“At least all of Tommy and Penny’s guests are DoZ friends who are bringing their own costumes. Looks like you and I are the only ones who need to rent something.”

Matt blinked, biting back the urge to call the whole damn thing off. “I am not dressing up as a troll.”

Callie laughed. “I pictured you dressed more as a crusader. You know, chain mail and the whole nine yards. Anyway, because of Mardi Gras, New Orleans has great costume shops. I have several we can visit tomorrow.”

Chain mail?

A crusader?

Christ, he’d almost rather go as a troll. The only thing he had left to hope for was finding Callie a slutty medieval gown.

* * *

“How does the dress fit?” Matt called through the dressing-room door.

“Give me a minute. I have to find my way inside the stupid thing before I can tell you. If you don’t hear from me in ten minutes, send help.” Callie stared down at the mound of fabric big enough to hide a nest of baby gators and their mama in. “Make that fifteen.”

In truth, she needed a few minutes alone to recover.

Last night’s graphic dream involving Matt made looking him in the eye this morning pretty gosh darn difficult. Colin’s plans for publicity were growing and, as the publicity plan grew, so did the importance of this event. Now there was the potential of the story getting picked up by a local channel, so she did not need to be getting sidetracked by the killer hot looks of the brother of the groom. Still, looking hardly hurt anything...

Until the looking did indecent things to her dreams.

Callie pushed the thought aside and searched for the bottom of the dress. Actually, the outfit consisted of two pieces, the first part white satinlike material with a beautiful gold brocade pattern on the skirt. The second part was an overdress of robin’s-egg-blue with a solid gold band at the bodice and split in front, forming an inverted V to showcase the design of the skirt beneath.

She slipped the first part over her head, wondering how Matt was faring with the costume-shop owner, an eccentric elderly man Callie had instantly adored.

Callie hadn’t had an occasion to use this establishment before, but the moment she entered she’d known she’d found a gem of a resource. Not only did the owner carry a wide variety of quality costumes, he had a serious collection of props. And the stuff wasn’t cheap and flimsy, either, but high-quality.

The huge crucifix on the shelf would be perfect for the Interview with the Vampire wedding she was organizing. Callie longed to come back and comb through the assortment of odds and ends, though the process would take some time. The owner was sweet, eccentric and carried a wide assortment of interesting items. Unfortunately, his organizational skills sucked. Searching through the racks and racks of costumes would have been easier if the shop was organized better. But their high-quality costumes made up for the inconvenience.

Matt probably would argue no.

A sharp knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. “Need help?”

She bit her lip and stared in the mirror. Handling the complicated fastening system in the back would be impossible on her own. Then again, having Matt in here, alone with her. Her back so exposed...

Say no. Tell him to go away.

“Sure,” she said instead, opening the door.

In a medieval costume that would do a knight proud, Matt stepped inside. And there wasn’t a woman alive that wouldn’t have been satisfied by the way his gaze landed on her figure and his eyebrows shot higher.

He let out a low whistle. “That gown is something. You look gorgeous.”

A flush of heat left her feeling stupid.

Come on, Callie. Get your act together.

“Thank you,” she said. “You, uh, look good, too.”

Matt’s pants looked appropriately made of unrefined material. Over the crudely cut, long-sleeved shirt, he wore a chain-mail shirt. A huge sword hung on the scabbard at his waist.

Matt let out a scoff. “Maybe, but this stuff is heavy.”

“Most authentic costumes in New Orleans.”

“I think I’d rather go with the cheap stuff that doesn’t weigh a thousand pounds.” He rolled those broad shoulders. “Man, how did men fight in this getup anyway?”

“I have no idea. But at least you don’t have to wear a dress that pinches your waist to nothing and flattens your boobs,” she said dryly.

Matt was clearly biting back a grin. “I definitely prefer the slutty Scarlett O’Hara over the prim and proper medieval princess. Allow me?” He nodded down at the laces hanging open in the back.

She hesitated a second. Was that amusement flickering through his eyes? Gritting her teeth with determination, she then turned to face the mirror. Matt stepped closer, bringing a scent of spicy soap. When she briefly met his gaze in the reflection, a shock of awareness jolted her limbs and burned her belly.

The intimacy of the room, the muted lighting and the strange costumes made the whole situation surreal and, God save her from her overactive imagination, a little romantic.

Given this was Matt in chain mail with a sword at his side, a whole lot of sexy was on display, as well. Her heart did a crazy twist when Matt reached for the laces at her back.

Crap, don’t picture him undoing the dress. Just...don’t.

Dying to cover her nerves, she eyed him speculatively in the mirror. “Does this make you my lady-in-waiting?”

One side of his mouth curled up in amusement. “No,” he said. “And before you get any other crazy ideas in your head, I’m nobody’s knight in shining armor, either.”

Matt’s fingers whispered against her as he fixed the corset-inspired lace-up fastening in the back. Careful not to move, Callie concentrated on the warm brushes of skin on skin that sent currents of electric heat skittering up her spine. As touches went, this one bordered on being an incredible tease.

His gaze on the task at hand, lips set as if in concentration, Matt said, “You sure are going all out on this. I mean—” his eyes crashed into hers “—Tommy’s my brother.”

Callie blinked and mentally shoved her libido in a box. The most truthful explanation wouldn’t go over so well, for sure.

Especially with Matt.

She held his gaze in the mirror. “They deserve the wedding of their dreams.”

She’d never meant the words more, but she also knew reciting the slogan from her website didn’t cover everything she’d poured into this event so far. And everything left yet to do. After talking with Tommy and Penny yesterday afternoon—they’d both sounded so sweet and sincere on the phone—Callie’s heart had melted more.

In a way, her screwup had torn her and Colin apart. Years later, and she was still alone. Tommy’s and Penny’s screwups had led them to one another and now they were getting married. Their heartwarming story was one of the most inspiring Callie had ever heard. And she’d heard some doozies, stories of lost loves reunited and second chances and those who’d survived devastating illnesses to go and achieve their happily-ever-after.

But Tommy and Penny’s tale of overcoming the effects of the bad choices they’d made struck a chord in Callie. After talking to the two, Callie’s ideas for the weekend had exploded. So now there was more work than originally planned. Not that she feared hard work. In fact, she’d grown quite used to it.

But Matt clearly couldn’t figure out why she’d brought more work on herself.

“I guess because I know what it’s like to mess up your life,” Callie said. “In college, I made some seriously stupid decisions.”

The fingers on her back grew still, and Matt’s eyes met hers in the mirror again. His gaze didn’t budge as he remained silent, most likely waiting for her to go on. Callie’s throat suddenly felt twice baked and lacking in all moisture.

“I let a lot of people down,” she said. “Including my parents. And Colin.”

“Tell me.”

With those words, her immediate thought was no because the story was too personal, cut too close to the bone. But maybe if she shared the ugly truth about her past this would help Matt. She’d sensed there was tension between him and his brother. Maybe he’d find a way to move on, as well. The idea of her story helping others was kind of appealing.

Time to put your big-girl panties on, Callie.

Matt’s focus dropped back to her dress and he resumed his task. Maybe he sensed that telling the story would be easier without his eyes studying her so closely. Despite his focus being elsewhere, she could tell by the tension in his shoulders and the set of his mouth that Matt’s attention was solely on her.

She cleared her throat to loosen the muscles. “I grew up poor, in a little town north of here. My parents sacrificed a lot to move us to the city so I could go to a better high school. They wanted me to attend a university and be the first LaBeau to get a college degree.”

“Did you have trouble in high school?”

“Nope. I did well,” she said. “Straight-A student. I wound up with several acceptances to excellent schools. My parents wanted me to accept the scholarship at a smaller college closer to home, but I...”

Callie stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d been so dumb, thinking her ability to adjust to a new high school translated into an easy adjustment to a new town and a large university.

“I wanted to get out and see the world,” she said. “I mean, high school seemed fairly easy. How hard could an out-of-state larger university be? So I accepted the Wimbly Southern deal.”

His gaze ticked back to hers in the mirror. “Scholarship?”

“A full ride,” she said with a nod. “Tuition. Room and board. Books. The works. Even some spending money so I didn’t have to get a job. I only had to concentrate on my studies. For a girl with parents who could barely afford the rent, it was a big deal.”

He cocked his head, the fingers at her back now motionless. “Let me guess. You flunked out and lost the scholarship.”

Callie hesitated. She could say yes and let that be the end. His short sentence summed up the events accurately. But she knew leaving out the most important bits would be taking the coward’s way out, and certainly wouldn’t explain about her commitment to Matt’s brother and his fiancée—a couple she’d only spoken to once on the phone.

“Yes, but there’s a little more to the story,” she said.

“How much more?”

“My grades slipped because I fell in with the wrong crowd. I was lonely, and the party kids were the only ones who would have anything to do with me.”

In hindsight, she realized how lucky she’d been in high school. Moving just before the tenth grade should have meant she’d been the odd one out, friendless and alone. Instead, things had come together easily. She’d had plenty of friends and was well liked by her classmates. Some of that might have had to do with her dating Colin, his popularity rubbing off on her. Either way, things had fallen into place and she’d never missed a beat.