Free Wedding Survivor by Julia London

both hands on her shoulders and smiled. "Marnie. If you are not to yourself, then who is?"
    She blinked. "Pardon?"
    He laughed gently. "Little sunburst, that is what I shall call you, for you have the sun in your mien."
    Marnie had no idea what that meant, much less what to say, so she gave him a very weak smile. He laughed again and turned around, walked to where Olivia was standing, and put his hand on her back. "Come, little raindrop, and let us see what life has in store for you today."
    "Watch my stuff, will you, Marnie?" Olivia asked, but she was gazing up at her advisor like a puppy.
    Marnie watched them disappear through the beads, then glanced around the room. She took the empty stool, picked up Olivia's bag, and balanced it in her lap, wondering why everything in this town had to make her feel so huge.
    The ringing of Olivia's cell phone startled her out of her wits—it sounded ferocious in the bare room.
    She gaped down at Olivia's bag—who was calling her?
Who
? Her director? Her agent? Her mom? That's who called Marnie all the time when she had a cell phone, which was why she didn't have a cell phone—wait!
What if it was Vincent Vittorio
?
    The thought that she had completely lost her mind flitted across her brain somewhere, but it was too late—Marnie had already reached into Olivia's bag and snatched the phone and flipped it open.
    "
Hello ? "
she whispered breathlessly.
    There was no response for a long moment. Then Eli drawled, "Well, I guess you two have hit if off real well if you're answering her phone."
    "She's not here right now," Marnie whispered.
    "Why are you whispering?"
    "Because she's inside with her spiritual advisor."
    "Ah, for the love of—what are you doing, Marnie?" he demanded in that bossy way he had going on.
    "
Sssh
," she cautioned him, forgetting for a moment that no one could hear him but her. "I'm not doing anything! We were going to grab a latte and make a list of chefs for her wedding cake, but she needed to see her spiritual advisor."
    "A cake." He said it like he'd never heard of wedding cake before.
    "A wedding cake," she clarified in a whisper.
    "You need a chef for that?"
    "Yes, you need a
cake
chef for that."
    "And how are you going to get this chef's cake to Colorado?" he demanded a little testily.
    But it was, she had to admit, an excellent question. "I haven't thought through everything yet. But I'll think of a way."
    "Maybe you better think again, because we didn't budget for a chef to make a cake."
    Okay, now the dude was really beginning to annoy her. Her fruit was too big, she wasn't supposed to drive around with Olivia, they didn't have money for a cake chef… "Well, maybe the budget needs to be rearranged," she said pertly.
    There was dead silence on the other end of the line, and then a low, throaty chuckle that swirled up her spine. "I think you and I ought to get together and go over what damage you and Olivia have managed to rack up so far," he said. "Maybe rearrange that budget, as you suggest. I'm going to be out of town for a couple of days—are you free for dinner later or are you having some lettuce leaves with your new best friend Olivia?"
    "I'm sorry, but I don't recall seeing a clause in the contract you made me sign that said I couldn't be friends with Olivia."
    "Olivia doesn't have friends. She has keepers—don't confuse the two."
    Now she was just pissed. He probably thought she wasn't up to snuff for Olivia. Single. Living at home. Frumpy clothes. Well maybe she wasn't up to snuff, but she would be by the time this was over. "Thanks for your advice, Eli, but I'm a big girl. I think I can handle it."
    "All right, so handle it. Get rid of the cake. Are you free for dinner?"
    "I'll have to check my schedule," Marnie lied. "I'll call you later."
    He laughed again. "I think Mom and Dad will let you out. I'll swing by and pick you up around eight… all right?"
    "Whatever," she muttered.
    "See you," he said and hung up. She made a face at the cell