Planning for Love by Christi Barth Read Free Book Online

same sleight of hand employed by guys running street
games on hapless tourists in Battery Park.
    “You know how to avoid losing at a shell game? Don’t play.”
    “Marriage isn’t a con. It’s a miracle.”
    “Right up there with walking on water, huh? Too bad we didn’t
see any of that today.”
    “In a world filled with billions of people, it is a miracle,”
Ivy repeated stubbornly, “when two people find their soul mate. Once paired up,
they take a leap and pledge themselves to each other for the rest of their
lives.”
    Ben lowered his voice as they entered the building, stopping at
the steps where they met. “You’re right. It’s a miracle anyone is that gullible.
Or stupid. Take your pick.”
    Cocking her head, she tapped a single, slim finger against her
chin. Gave him a thoughtful look, which he assumed could only mean trouble. “Oh,
I see. You’re messing with me. Trying to get my goat, as it were. All so you can
run a promo with a thirty-second hook to reel viewers into the next episode.
Something like watch the crazy wedding planner lose her
cool .”
    He refrained from pointing out that the camera currently hung
from his hand at knee height. Lens cap on, power off. If her misconception meant
her saccharine tirade might wind down, he’d keep his mouth shut. Why stir the
pot? Although she did look even prettier with the glint of battle in her hazel
eyes and a pink flush in her cheeks. The kiss he’d grabbed earlier put the taste
of her on his mouth. Not long enough to qualify as an appetizer, the peck had
been barely an amuse bouche. Now he wanted to go back for a full, seven-course
meal of her lips and the tight little package that went with them.
    Ivy barreled on. “Well, it won’t work. The key to being a
successful wedding consultant is to remain calm, no matter what problems an
irate mother or drunken groomsmen may toss at you. Not to toot my own horn, but
I’m quite successful. My serene disposition is a thing of wonder.”
    Oh yeah, she gave him lots to wonder about. How long her hair
would be once he pulled the pins out of its tight twist on the back of her head.
If her underwear—and her nipples—were the same pale pink as her dress and shoes.
How many licks it would take to turn her serenity into breathless pants of
pleasure.
    Then Ben remembered there were over one hundred people on the
other side of the door, and he had a job to do. “We should catch the end of the
ceremony, your serene highness.”
    Ivy surprised him with a giggle. “Wait and see. You may mock me
now, but by the end of the night, it’ll ring true when you call me the Queen of
Calm. The Princess of Peace.”
    “The Dispassionate Duchess?”
    “Don’t use that one.” She tossed him a saucy wink over her
shoulder as she ran up the stairs to watch from the balcony. “I’m plenty
passionate.”
    Ben hefted his camera back up, using her well-shaped calves to
check the focus. This could turn out to be the best last-day-on-the-job
ever.
    * * *
    Ivy toed off one shoe, then the other. The cool stone of
the portico soothed her aching feet. Eight hours of countless trips up and down
the stairs, tromping around part of the zoo for pictures and basically running
herself ragged to always stay one step ahead of the bride and groom took its
toll, even in flats.
    The four-tiered cake (red velvet and lemon, once more mirroring
the wedding colors) was cut. She’d convinced a few of the burlier groomsmen to
help her move the presents to the parents’ cars. A white stretch limo idled,
ready to whisk the happy couple to a swanky hotel with a view of Lake Michigan.
Although why a couple embarking on their honeymoon needed a view escaped her. If
it was her wedding night, she sure wouldn’t spend it gazing out the window.
    The persistent bass throb from the dance floor below pulsed in
time to the low throb at the base of her skull. A few more songs and she could
call it a night. Sighing, Ivy rested her elbows on the wide,