Free The Unexpected Honeymoon by Barbara Wallace Page A

suggestions, I am more than willing to hear them.”
    â€œI am the last person to ask for suggestions. Chloe and Delilah said I was a regular Bridezilla when it came to planning mine.”
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œYou know, a wedding monster.” One of those very people he’d just described.
    For the first time since their conversation began, a small smile tugged at his mouth. “I know,” he said, sipping his soup. “I read your proposal.”
    If she weren’t so distracted by the way his lips covered the spoon, Larissa would have been insulted. Damn, but he turned eating sexy. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting perfection.” She’d given the same argument to Tom and her friends dozens of times.
    The smile tugged wider. “If you say so.”
    â€œI wouldn’t expect you to understand.” No one else did. Her ex certainly hadn’t.
    She turned to stare at the beach. The long silver-white path that stretched to the horizon. “Did you ever dream of something your whole life only to have it suddenly come true?” she asked. “When that moment does finally come, you want to create this perfect sliver of time. A memory that stands up to all the dreams and wishes. Because you only get one shot at making fantasy reality. If you don’t go all out, you’ll spend the rest of your life replaying the memory and wishing you’d had.”
    Her cheeks grew warm realizing how much she’d rambled on. “Anyway,” she said, turning back, “that’s why people get crazy about their weddings.”
    Across the table, Carlos was studying her with an indistinguishable expression, his brown eyes sharper than she’d ever seen them. “Go ahead and tell me I’m over the top,” she said, tugging her shawl over her exposed shoulders. After all, Tom said that and worse when they broke up.
Over the top, superficial, caught up in the unimportant.
The can of worms she didn’t want to open—the one in which Tom might have a point—threatened to raise its lid again.
    Eyes yet to leave her, Carlos leaned back in his chair. His long fingers tapped at the file on the table. “So what would you do if you were planning the Stevases’ ceremony?”
    â€œWell, to begin with I would...” She stopped when she caught him looking down at the file. “Are you trying to pick my brain for ideas?”
    â€œI merely asked a hypothetical question.”
    Hypothetical, her foot. “You want me to help you plan the Stevases’ recommitment ceremony, don’t you?”
    â€œYou have to admit, you do have a knack for this sort of thing. First, the Steinbergs, then the Stevases with the moonlight cruise.”
    â€œA few suggestions does not a knack make.” Although she had to give him credit. At least he didn’t try and pretend he wasn’t looking for input. “Isn’t there a rule about making guests work?”
    â€œA few suggestions does not work make,” he replied.
    Damn him, for throwing her own retort back in her face.
    â€œPlus,” he added “you’ve already done more work since your arrival than much of my staff.”
    His tone turned gentle. “I listened to you describe our cruise to the Stevases. You painted exactly the kind of picture they needed to hear. They’re looking for magic, and frankly, when it comes to creating magic, I’m...” He paused to study the orchid in the center of the table. “Empty.”
    â€œEmpty,” Larissa repeated. An odd choice of words. It implied that once upon a time he’d had magic. The notion he lost a part of himself made her heart ache.
    â€œAll I ask is that you give me a few ideas over dinner. Perhaps things you would have done yourself.”
    â€œYou want to use my defunct wedding ideas?”
    â€œI want to hear your suggestions. Please. I would consider it a great favor.”
    Aw, damn, did