Glossy Contactingsexymomanddaughter Sv Go Developer Contacting Sexy Mom And Daughter Home - Moira McTark's Author Site

Saturday, the fifth of June

Sunshine glittered through the windows, reflecting the high polish of rich mahogany-paneled walls and throwing a gilded cast across the room. A hush, broken only by birdsong from beyond the glass, surrounded them. They stood facing one another, he in his dark suit, she in her gown. A small, silk-bundled bouquet rested against her chest. Laine Malone was overwhelmed by emotion.

“You’re an asshole,” she snarled, her narrowed eyes flashing like daggers. If only looks could kill.

Jason Henley, owner of the Henley Hotel, arched his brow and, clearly amused, let his attention fall to her lips. “Such pretty talk. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

His mocking tone chased away the shudder spurred by what was invariably a meaningless glance. Laine clenched her wilting bouquet, jabbing a stray thorn from beneath the ribbon into the flesh of her palm, the shock of pain adding fuel to her aggravation.

This man was insufferable.

Yanking a fistful of her sapphire dress to the side, she took a threatening stride forward to glare up at him. “You fix this or I’m going to shove this thorny, reject bouquet up your ass.”

Jason smoothed the lapel of his perfectly tailored suit. “Sorry, princess, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not into that kind of kink. But how about this? Take your pretty, plunging neckline and your sad little bouquet, and back off—clear out of my office so I can make some calls.”

He was infuriating.

“Though I think we both know whose fault this was, I’ll make a concession and get a cake in here for your bride before the entrées are served.”

Judging from the glint in his eyes, if she agreed to that she’d be looking at a two-week-old Spiderman birthday cake from the grocery store wheeled out during the choice of salmon or steak. “Get me a four-tiered cake in the next hour or you’ll hear from the Blissful Brides lawyer, and the Henley Hotel name is going to be smeared so badly you’ll never see another wedding in your rooftop rose garden.”

“Save your threats, Laine.” Jason rounded his desk to flip through a stack of papers. “You’ve got a wedding booked here every weekend for the next six months. You’re not calling a lawyer, and we both know it. Go tell that bride of yours, Melinda, her special day will be fine, regardless of the fact that her shit-faced groom tripped my bellboy into her hideous cake.” He straightened his cornflower tie, the one that matched his eyes, perfecting the always immaculate appearance, and looked over at her. “And skip the salmon tonight. Have dinner with me instead.”

“Like hell I will,” she snuffed, not missing a beat over the offhand remark that slipped under her skin and set her heart racing. What was he trying to pull? “And you know as well as I do your bellboy was high as a kite and tripped over his own damn shoes. The bloodshot eyes and repeated pleas for Taco Bell were the only way we found him under the canopy of fondant.”

“Fine, whatever. We’ll work it out this week. Let me get your new cake, so Connie Bliss doesn’t fire your gorgeous ass and the Henley Hotel keeps booking weddings fifteen months in advance.” Finding whatever paperwork he’d been looking for, he walked back around the desk. “Give me twenty minutes to take care of some business, and we’ll check back in.”

“Fine,” she snapped.

Jason brushed past her with a dismissive wave. “Fine.”

Irritating.

“Fine.”

The office door swung shut behind him and with it came his last hushed word. “Fine.”

Alone in his office, she stomped her stiletto heel on the cut-pile carpet, balled her fists at her sides and screamed through the closed door. “Fine!”

Ha, like she’d let that arrogant bastard have the last word. He liked to fight, always giving her a hard time—well, he’d have to work harder than that. Darting a quick glance back at the mirrored wall behind her, she checked to see how obvious her fluster was. Not terrible, but more than she wanted him to see. Damn.

Wedding planners weren’t supposed to ruffle. They should be unflappable, able to handle anything, even the feigned advances of chiseled-cheeked, tall, dark and sexy hotel managers built for wet dreams. He was so cocky, so smug, so annoyingly attractive; it made her want to scream.

Double damn, this wasn’t where her head should be. After what happened in May, she couldn’t afford another screw-up. Not if she wanted to keep her job and reputation intact. Time to focus.

Wedding. Bride. Special day. Damage control.

Checking her reflection, she smoothed a stray hair, slicked on a smile, and cocked her head to the side.

Instant transformation.

The effect was warm and confident. Someone to trust to get it done, whatever it was.

Cranking the smile, she looked like she was just bursting to make this day perfect.

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