LITMIR.BIZ

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      “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

      “So you’re a romantic at heart, too?”

      “I wouldn’t go that far.” She smiled at the ridiculous notion. No one she knew would ever call her romantic. “I’m more of a…realist.”

      A realist, she thought, who knew the truth—there was no such thing as “happily ever after.”

      Sitting in the living room of Kelsey’s condo in Brentwood, Will tried to make sense of the woman who’d agreed to coordinate Faith’s wedding. Kelsey hadn’t said yes out of the goodness of her heart. She would be well paid and receive an exclusive contract to put on weddings at Starr Properties. But he’d seen her genuine concern over his mother’s condition. The tears in Kelsey ’s eyes, the slight quiver of her lower lip, the cracking of her voice.

      From the doorway of what Will assumed was Kelsey’s bedroom, she leaned out, a toiletry bag in one hand, a cordless phone in the other. “I’m going to be a few more minutes. Would you like something to drink?”

      “I’m fine, thanks.”

      Watching her pack a trunk of wedding paraphernalia in her office had been like watching Tiger Woods play golf. Not one motion wasted, not one hit bunker. Here, she was no different and made multitasking look as effortless as a stroll through the park on a spring morning. “Do you need any help?”

      “No, thanks.”

      This didn’t surprise him. He’d never seen a more self-sufficient, organized woman before. No wonder his mother had been so adamant about his bringing her back with him. “Let me know if you do.”

      “Okay.” With that she was gone.

      Strictly business. Minimal exchanges. Polite manners. That’s how Kelsey had been for the past hour. He should be pleased. Yet, Will couldn’t forget the look of pure joy on her face when she’d tried on the veil or the flirtatious smile and the way she’d batted her eyelashes when she’d first seen him. She was a contradiction. That much he’d discovered in the short time they’d known each other.

      Will settled back on the couch. Obviously there was more to Kelsey than met the eye. Professional and smooth on the outside, he could only wonder what was going on in the inside.

      He was very good at reading people. Over the years he’d learned to anticipate the needs and wants of his guests as his mother had when she’d convinced his father to buy the Lake Inn so many years ago. That’s what made Starr Properties so successful. But Will was having trouble figuring out Kelsey. Dressed in her designer clothes with perfectly applied makeup and just the right amount of jewelry and accessories, she might look like one of his clients, she may have even been one. But she wasn’t the norm.

      Not by a long shot.

      And that’s what bothered him. He wanted her to be like the norm. He wanted her to look ordinary, not stand out. He didn’t want to notice her. He didn’t want her to be different or unique. He couldn’t afford the distraction or any entanglements. Regardless of his attraction, or whatever it was, to Kelsey, Will had to concentrate on Faith’s wedding. That’s what really mattered.

      In two weeks his sister would be married, his mother would be happy and the intriguing wedding consultant would be out of his life. Two weeks. Only fourteen days. He’d make it. He’d survive as he always did.

      Will stared at the pictures covering the walls and on the fireplace mantel. Most were photographs of the Armstrong family. Politicians, lawyers, doctors and corporate elite. Darlings of the paparazzi and one of the closest things to royalty America had. The most recent photo—resembling a family reunion with numerous aunts, uncles and cousins—had been taken in front of the San Montico royal palace. Last summer’s royal wedding had been the social event of the year and broadcast live all over the globe. His mother had gushed over the fairy-tale romance and asked Will to watch the wedding with her. He’d passed. Much to her regret then, and his now.

      Losing Sara had made him realize how important his family was, but he still had taken his parents’ and sisters’ love for granted. No longer, which was one reason he was here.

      Kelsey reappeared in the doorway. “If you’re bored, there are magazines in the ottoman. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

      Before he could say anything, she disappeared. Will opened the ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. Inside were stacks of magazines ranging from Bride to Vanity Fair, a few of the latest bestselling novels and a couple of photo albums.

      Curious, Will removed one of the albums. Opening the cover, he saw it was more a scrapbook than a photo album. It contained everything from actual wedding pictures to newspaper and magazine clippings about various weddings.

      As Will flipped through the pages, he recognized the extent of her clientele. But something else happened, too. A soothing warmth filled him. Kelsey had surprised him yet again. Realist or not, someone who put this much time and effort into preserving the memory of each wedding she coordinated had to be sentimental.

      Each two-page spread contained photographs of the bride and groom and the reception and keepsakes from the wedding such as a ribbon or ceremony program. Everything was neatly matted on coordinating paper and she’d written captions under each item.

      He continued paging through the book. Each wedding was different. From movie stars to political figures, Kelsey had managed to pull off spectacular and unique weddings for each of them. Some were enormous affairs with media coverage and security, but others appeared to be more intimate gatherings. That made him happy since that’s what his family was hoping for.

      After he reached the end and put the album back in the ottoman, a satisfied smile formed on his lips. Taking Kelsey home was the right move. Someone so warm and fuzzy was what they all needed—correction, what his mother needed. And Faith, too.

      Opening the next scrapbook, he expected to see more wedding memorabilia. He didn’t. Will turned one page, then another, and another. This book didn’t celebrate her clients’ marriages, but their divorces.

      Will frowned. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. Page upon page of clippings. Ugly accusations, tearful confessions, angry photographs. Her clientele was the kind to get as much press coverage with their divorces as with their weddings. In the upper corner of each page Kelsey had noted the years, sometimes only days, the marriage lasted. Will tried to reconcile the first book with the second. He couldn’t.

      The first book showed how much she loved her job and the photographs and clippings reaffirmed her talent for designing weddings, but the second scrapbook was the exact opposite. He didn’t get it. Something didn’t add up. He placed the book in the ottoman and closed the lid.

      Kelsey entered the room with one suitcase in her hand, another rolling behind her, and a bag on her shoulder. “I’m ready now.”

      Will hesitated. Should he mention the scrapbooks? He was supposed to bring her home with him, but was it in his family’s best interest to put her in charge of Faith’s wedding? Now he wondered, after what he’d just seen. The divorce album rubbed him the wrong way, made him wonder if Kelsey had a hidden agenda or something. He felt as if he’d opened the cupboard of a health fanatic only to find a stash of junk food.

      “Is something wrong?” she asked.

      A perfect segue, but something held him back. Was he reading too much into this? Maybe the divorce album was some kind of joke. Maybe he was too embarrassed to admit he’d peeked at her scrapbooks. Maybe he was looking for any excuse not to take her home with him and spend the next two weeks by her side.

      “No.” His goal had been to get Kelsey to coordinate the wedding. It’s what his mother wanted. It’s what Faith had asked him to do. No sense changing course now despite his own reservations. Will rose from the couch. “Let’s go. Our plane is waiting for us.”

      Talk about a bumpy flight. Another wave of turbulence shook the Learjet. Kelsey checked her seat belt for the zillionth time.

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