Free The Unexpected Honeymoon by Barbara Wallace

The two of them obviously eloped, and now the guy wants to indulge his wife. What’s wrong with that? You were married. Didn’t you oblige your wife now and then?”
    â€œNow and then,” he replied.
    â€œSee? I rest my case.”
    â€œSo you do.” An odd look crossed his face and Larissa couldn’t help but wonder if his concession was more to avoid an argument than because of any point she might have made. There’d been a definite edge to his voice that suggested as much.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he continued. “I’m afraid I’m not cut out to be an event coordinator. I was brought here to handle the financial issues, not plan weddings.”
    There was more to his outburst than being uncomfortable with the job, Larissa was certain of that. She was beginning to think that, for some reason, he had a deep dislike for weddings in general. Rather than press the issue, however, she allowed him his excuse.
    â€œDon’t you have a catering manager who can handle these kinds of events for you?”
    â€œYou saw what kind of mistakes Maria left us to deal with. My catering manager is already overcommitted handling the events on the books. Asking him to plan a last-minute ceremony in addition to everything else he’s doing might cause him to quit. Then where would I be? I will take care of planning Paul’s and Linda’s event myself.”
    Larissa nodded at the manila folder that lay by his bread dish. “So is that the work you’re bringing home? Their ceremony?”
    â€œIt is. I plan to write their proposal after supper.”
    â€œWhat do you have planned?” Like Linda, Larissa found herself eager to hear his ideas. Probably not for the same reasons, but eager nonetheless.
    â€œDoes that include the moonlight cruise you sold them on a second ago?” Carlos asked.
    â€œYes.”
    Her request had to wait, because the waiter chose that moment to bring out the next appetizer. Two bowls filled with a pale green broth.
“Sopa de lima,”
he announced. Larissa stirred the mixture with her spoon, letting the citrus smell wash over her. “Tom thought all these details were a waste of money, too.”
    â€œI didn’t say I thought it a waste of money.”
    â€œBut you don’t think much of all the planning, either. And don’t say that’s not true,” she said, shaking her spoon, “because it’s obvious you don’t.”
    She could tell he was choosing his argument by the way he hesitated. “So many people...they spend all this time and effort creating the perfect memory, and for what? So they can pick apart the event after the fact, and focus on the mistakes? Every day, my managers bring me complaints. The food wasn’t what they expected. The temperature in the room was set incorrectly. The service wasn’t discreet enough. The service was too discreet. The list is endless.
    â€œMakes me wonder why people even bother,” he added, stabbing at his bowl with his spoon. “Especially when no matter what you do, you can’t make them happy.”
    Larissa refrained from comment. The acerbity accompanying his last comment suggested their conversation had crossed from theoretical to personal. Very personal, in fact. She thought of their other encounters. His exaggerated concern this morning, his shuttered expression. Didn’t take a detective to realize her host carried some dark, heavy baggage.
    Curiosity pushed her to find out what, but she held back. This vacation was about focusing on her own issues, not distracting herself with someone else’s. No matter how much someone else’s issues cried for her attention.
    â€œUnfortunately for you, Paul and Linda
are
bothering,” she said, pointing out the obvious instead. “And from the sounds of things, Paul’s looking for spectacular.”
    â€œUnfortunately, yes, he is, and if you have any spectacular