The Wedding Planners

Linda tells us all about her favourite real-life love story:

‘I love romantic stories, obviously, but real-life romances especially touch me. One of the most romantic couples I know is my son and his wife.

‘While in college, this macho firefighter worked as a shoe clerk. His uniform included a T-shirt emblazoned with the athletic store’s logo. When he phoned one evening to tell me about selling a pair of shoes to a beautiful blonde with the “prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen”, I suspected she was special.

‘Sure enough, they fell in love, and my romantic son proposed at his own birthday party, which turned out to be a surprise engagement party as well, complete with ring and roses and limo. Then, on the day of their wedding, the bride and groom celebrated their fortuitous meeting at the shoe store with one final romantic gesture. Beneath his tux, the groom wore the “Just For Feet” T-shirt. And the bride? Beneath her stunning white gown, the bride wore a carefully preserved pair of tennis shoes. Yes, those tennis shoes.

‘So, no matter where you meet your true love—at a wedding, the way Natalie and Cooper meet, or at a shoe store—here’s wishing you many, many happy-ever-afters.’

Catch up with Linda at www.lindagoodnight.com or e-mail her at Linda@lindagoodnight.com

Visit http://harlequin-theweddingplanners.blogspot.com to find out more…

WINNING THE SINGLE MUM’S HEART

BY

LINDA GOODNIGHT

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Natalie is the chef who makes cakes for The Wedding Belles. Here are her tips for personal touches that will make your own wedding cake unique and special:

Unless you are an experienced baker, start with your favourite cake mix instead of baking from scratch. It will taste good, take less time, and be more likely to turn out well. You can even make each layer a different flavour! Three layers—six-inch, eight-inch, ten-inch—should feed fifty guests.

Freeze the layers after they have been baked and cooled. This makes frosting and decorating much easier, without fear of tearing your layers.

A homemade layer cake looks professional if decorated well. Place a couple of mini calla lilies on the top layer, then stagger one on each tier, bending the stems around so that they conform to the shape of the cake. Other easy but beautiful choices for decorating are candied flowers, or fresh fruits such as raspberries, or chocolate-dipped strawberries.

NATALIE’S DREAM CREAM CHEESE ICING

4 oz real butter

1 lb real cream cheese

2 lb icing sugar

1 tsp vanilla

2 tbsp milk, if needed

In a medium bowl, beat butter and cream cheese together until smooth. Gradually add sugar. Beat on high until smooth (about 1 minute). Thin with milk to ice cake smooth; use full-strength for piping borders.

MILLS & BOON

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CHAPTER ONE

NATALIE THOMPSON felt a little woozy. In fact, she felt a lot woozy.

Wouldn’t it be just ducky if the cake artist collapsed on top of a vastly expensive five-layer wedding cake?

“Not now, not now,” she whispered desperately,blowing a strand of blond bangs out of her eyes. The chatter of wedding guests filing into the reception warned her to hurry.

Her fingers trembled as she made one last adjustment to the glittering cake topper. As a group of classy wedding planners, she and her best friends/coworkers, collectively known as the Wedding Belles, took pride in making other women’s dreams come true. Right now her fondest dream was to remain upright for another ten minutes.

The air in front of her eyes danced with black spots. Ten minutes might be pushing it.

Why, oh why, hadn’t she taken time to eat something? With all the activity of setting up for today’s wedding, she’d used up every drop of sugar in her body. Now her insulin had kicked in, expecting to be balanced out with a meal.

Diabetes, the bane of her existence since she was seven, could be so unforgiving.

A mountain of sugar in front of her and she dare not snitch a bite lest she destroy the picture-perfect confection that had taken days to create. Not that she was supposed to eat sugar in the first place.

Breath a bit short, she stepped back to survey the table. This was the first Christmas wedding of the season and, in keeping with the holiday theme, the cake sat on a raised pedestal beneath a beribboned archway of twinkling silver, blue and white snowflake lights. Beneath them the cake’s frosting glistened like new-fallen snow.

Draping the table in heavy white satin with wide blue bows and tiny silver bells tucked up at the corners had been Serena’s latest creation, an idea the Belles’ dress designer had brought back from the bridal show in Seattle. Natalie glanced around to find the cool, elegant blonde taking one last survey of the ballroom. Serena had also brought back something else from the bridal fair and subsequent plane crash that had scared them all to death. She’d brought back a rather wild and dangerous pilot, Kane Wiley, who had looked ready to eat her up like the last bite of creamy vanilla cheesecake.

Ah, yes. Cheesecake. Sugar. Food. Her job and her dilemma.

Everything was ready for the reception, right down to the fruit circling the dark-chocolate groom’s cake. She’d spent hours dipping and decorating those strawberries to resemble tiny tuxedos. Nobody, not even her, was going to mess that up before the bride arrived. No matter how badly her knees wobbled.

“Natalie, are you okay? You look funny.” The speaker was Regina O’Ryan, Natalie’s good friend and the Wedding Belles’ exceptionally gifted photographer. Though she always complained about her generous hips and extra ten pounds, Regina looked great these days. Glowing, happy, fulfilled. Marriage to her very own Mr. Right had done that for the lovely brunette.

People all around Natalie were falling in love faster than she could pipe leaves onto a birthday cake. Natalie was glad for them, especially Regina after all she’d been through. Truly she was. Love was great until it let you down.

A too familiar pang of bitterness pinched the center of her chest. Right now was not the time to remember. It was also not the time to slither to the gleaming tiled floor like butter-cream frosting on a July day.

She waved Regina away. The action took more effort that she’d like.

“Insulin crash. No biggie.” All Natalie’s friends knew about her unpredictable diabetic condition and fretted appropriately. She appreciated it, really she did, but she and Regina were both too busy at the moment to deal with her temperamental endocrine system. “The bride and groom cometh. Better get moving.”

Regina glanced in the direction of the arched doorway, and her soft brown eyes widened. “Eek. Can’t miss the grand entrance.” She pointed at the fruit display across the room. “Go eat something. Now.”

Regina snapped one more shot of the bride’s table and then hurried off, red heels clicking on white tile.

Eat something. Good advice. That’s exactly what Natalie had to do.

Oh, for a mouthful of richly frosted, sweet buttery cake. But she’d long ago come to grips with the fact that she could have her cake but she couldn’t eat it. Which was exactly why she was a cake artist, or cake fairy as she preferred to be called.

On the opposite side of the grand ballroom, rows and rows of fruit cascaded around a tiered table. Strawberries, grapes, melon, pineapple all beckoned. The table looked miles away, but fruit was one thing she could snitch without it being noticed. She edged in that direction, the wobble in her knees more pronounced. Usually careful about her diet, she’d been running late after the twins’ babysitter had canceled at the last minute, a victim of the evil twenty-four-hour virus. With the scramble to get the girls dressed and driven to day care, she simply had not had time to think of food.

But, boy, was she thinking about it now. A cluster of big juicy green grapes practically screamed her name. Just as she reached for it, a male voice stopped her.

“Natalie!”

Like a kid caught stealing candy, she yanked her hand away and spun around. The room tilted.

“Hey.” A pair of powerful hands gripped her upper arms. “Steady, there. Are you okay? Am I that much of a surprise?”

Surprise? What was he talking about? She blinked up at the expensive-smelling guest. He was tall, but then everyone was tall in her world. At just under five feet, she was vertically challenged. The only people shorter were her eight-year-old daughters.

“Natalie?” The man’s voice reminded her of someone, but she was zoning out. She hated zoning out, but that was the price she sometimes paid when her sugar levels plummeted. And were they ever plummeting! Any minute now she’d slide to the floor and make a spectacle of herself.

“Fruit,” she whispered, knowing she’d feel like an idiot later, but right now she had to have food. “Diabetes.”

The stranger didn’t hesitate. With rapid efficiency, he slid two pieces of the sweetest, most heavenly melon between her lips. Then, arm around her waist, he guided her onto a chair against the wall. If she hadn’t felt so awful, she might have enjoyed having a man take such good care of her again.

Well, on second thought, maybe not. The one thing in her life she’d sworn never to do again was depend on anyone, especially a man, to take care of her. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. Not that Justin hadn’t loved her. That was the problem. He’d loved her too much. So much that she’d depended on him for every single thing.

A stab of loss penetrated the fog of diabetes.

“I’d forgotten you’re a diabetic,” the deep gentle voice rumbled as he poked more fruit into her mouth. The brush of manly fingers against her lips would have been erotic in another setting.

He’d forgotten? Who was this guy?

She tried to look at him, but her eyes wouldn’t open.

She chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, grateful to whomever he was.

In the background, the reception was in full swing, the sound muffled by the roaring in her head. The DJ announced the first dance, and a sexy version of “Let’s Get It On” filled the air.

Natalie thought it an odd choice for the first dance. If she were the one getting married, she’d have chosen something sentimental and romantic. But then, she was never getting married again. Mr. Right came along only once if a girl was really lucky. She’d had her chance and look how that had turned out.

“Natalie,” her rescuer said, tapping at her lips. “One more bite.”

Like an obedient bird, she opened her mouth. Her heart wasn’t racing quite as fast now and her head had begun to clear.

The fructose was doing its job.

She raised her eyelids, blinked them clear. Concerned eyes as warm and rich as chocolate ganache stared back. Familiar eyes. Familiar face. Dressed in a dark suit, he crouched in front of her, one hand balancing a plate of fruit on a muscular thigh.

Natalie’s heart thumped once, hard.

“Cooper?” she gasped. “What are you doing here? Is that really you?”

Dr. Cooper Sullivan flashed the wide, sexy grin that had stolen the hearts of any number of coeds in college. “It was me a few minutes ago when I looked in the mirror.”

“But you’re in California.” She sat up straight, shaking the cobwebs out of her head.

Cooper looked around, mouth quirked. “I am?”

“Well, you’re obviously here, but I mean…” She was making a total idiot of herself. That’s what she’d meant. But then, she could always blame the sugar drop. The truth was, she hadn’t seen the man in years, but articulating that sentiment didn’t seem possible at the moment.

Cooper let her off the hook. “Right now I’m attending a colleague’s wedding. Mutual friends, perhaps?”

“No, no. Clients. I’m working.” She nodded toward the bride’s table where a gorgeous redhead in ice-blue satin served wedding cake to a parade of guests. “Only, I should have been gone by now. The cake fairy does her job and gets out of the way. Usually.”

One of Cooper’s dark, slashing eyebrows hiked. “Cake fairy?”

She nodded, gaining strength and clarity by the moment. No matter how long she dealt with diabetes, she was always amazed at how quickly she could crash and recover. “I design cakes for a local wedding planner, the Wedding Belles.”

She was good at it, too. She could turn any idea into a fabulous cake. Justin had laughed when she’d taken up cake design but she thanked God every day she had. Otherwise, she and the twins would be sponging off relatives. She shivered at the thought. Even now finances were incredibly tight.

“Feeling better?” Cooper pushed to his feet and towered over her.

“I am. Thanks.” Emitting a shaky breath, she ran a hand across her forehead. “I know better than to scrimp on lunch. But sometimes I can slide by.”

“Not today. You were as white as the bride’s dress.” He sat down in the chair next to her as though he was in no hurry to join the rest of the wedding guests. “Does Justin know about these episodes?”

Misery swept through her. He didn’t know. Cooper Sullivan had been Justin’s friend and closest competitor all through college and medical school but they’d gone their separate ways after graduation. Actually, after Justin and Natalie married. More than ten years had passed since she’d last seen the darkly handsome doctor. A lot can happen in ten years.

“Oh, Cooper.” Natalie reached for his hand to soften the coming blow. “Justin died.”

As a medical doctor, he must have said or heard those words dozens of times, but he jerked back, shocked. “Died? How? When? Natalie, no.”

Even after all this time, the grief could sometimes slam into her like a shark attack, fierce, sharp, tearing. When it did, she replaced the pain with anger. If he’d had any sense, if he’d loved her and the twins enough, Justin would still be here.

“Two years ago. A motorcycle accident.”

No use going into the horrifying details. When a motorcycle takes on an eighteen-wheeler, the motorcycle loses every time.

“God,” he said and leaned back against the wall to run both hands through the sides of stylishly groomed black hair. “Nat, I am so sorry. Are you okay? You should have called me.”

She didn’t bring up the fact that he had been the one to fade out of their lives when he’d moved to California to accept a residency training program at USC. She also didn’t mention the competition between him and Justin, a competition that had extended from the classroom to the sporting arena and finally to a bid for her affections. When she’d chosen Justin, their friendship had died out. Natalie was smart enough to realize it had never been her whom Cooper had wanted. His real desire had been the thrill of victory.

“The girls and I are fine, Cooper. It’s been hard, losing Justin, making a life without him, but we’re managing.” In truth, she was barely staying afloat.

“The girls?” Still shocked, his handsome face registered bewilderment.

He had no way of knowing Justin had left her with the most amazing daughters. Without them to care for, she might have given in to the awful grief and simply disappeared.

“Twins. Rose and Lily. They’re eight now.”

“Twins. Amazing.” He shook his head, soft smile pensive. “Old Justin has two little girls. I’d like to meet them.”

Natalie carefully sidestepped the subtle hint. “What about you? What are you doing back in Boston after all this time?”

White teeth flashed against a Southern California tan. “All that sunshine and warm weather grew tiresome. I yearned for a good old Massachusetts nor’easter. Snow, wind, frigid air.”

“No, seriously.” She turned in her seat, picked a grape from the plate, and popped it into her mouth. “Are you only here for the wedding? Visiting friends? Or maybe someone special?”

Had that sounded too…interested? She hoped not. She didn’t care one whit if Dr. Cooper Sullivan had twenty women on the string. Which he probably did. For Cooper, women, like everything else, were a prize to be won, a competition. Once he claimed the trophy, he quickly grew bored and moved on. Medicine and success were the only lovers that could hold him for long.

“Not visiting, though my family lives in the area.” He reached for a strawberry. “I’m back to stay.”

Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten that Cooper was one of the Sullivans, one of Massachusetts’s prominent political families? “They must be thrilled to have you closer to home. Where will you be practicing?”

At the mention of his family, something curious flickered in Cooper’s brown eyes but he said, “I’ve joined a surgical team at Children’s. Top-notch group with a great rep.”

Of course they were. Children’s was a fabulous facility. “Congratulations.”

No doubt he was the top recruit and they’d paid him a fat bonus to join their team. Cooper had been the number-one student in the entire medical school, something that had driven Justin crazy. Cooper was always one or two points ahead of his strongest competitor, her late husband. She knew without asking that he’d enjoyed the same success in his residency program and subsequent practice.

Dr. Cooper Sullivan was the single most brilliant human being she’d ever met. In fact, there was nothing he couldn’t succeed at if he tried. It was as if he had golden boy encoded on his DNA. The only problem with Cooper was his attitude. He expected to win. He expected to be the top and he didn’t back off until he was. The same attitude extended to his love life. She wondered if he’d ever dated a woman because he liked her rather than viewing her as trophy for his shelf. She’d known Justin loved her for herself. Cooper had seen her as a challenge, a Mount Everest to conquer. Cooper Sullivan was not her kind of man. That is, if she was looking for a man, which she most assuredly was not.

By now the wedding guests crowded the dance floor, moving to the energy of a fast track. Belle Mackenzie, the matronly blond owner of the Wedding Belles and Natalie’s boss, floated amongst them, occasionally speaking into her headset as she made sure every detail of the wedding went off without a hitch. Belle’s warm, Southern style and true love of people was what made the Wedding Belles a success. Not a woman to miss anything, she was certain to have noticed that her cake designer was paying an inordinate amount of attention to a darkly handsome guest.

“I really should be going now.” Natalie stood, glad her knees were no longer made of wet noodles.

He caught her hand. “Dance with me first.”

She pulled back. “I’m not a guest.”

He grinned. “I am.”

Before she could protest further, he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor. For a nanosecond, annoyance ruffled her feathers. The arrogant man never considered that she might not want to dance with him. To his way of thinking, every woman longed to be in the arms of Dr. Cooper Sullivan.

But Natalie swallowed her protest and went along with the dance. After all, he was Justin’s long ago friend and, as much as she hated needing help, he’d been there for her today. His quick reaction had probably kept her from fainting and disrupting a very nice wedding. Even though Boston was his home city, he’d been gone a long time. Perhaps, he’d been relieved to find a familiar face among the new acquaintances. The least she could do was dance with the man.

She loved to dance, had been on the dance squad in high school, and had taken jazz and tap for years. Justin had promised to learn ballroom dance with her as soon as his residency was completed. She was still furious with him for having procrastinated about the lessons, just as he’d procrastinated about most things, including taking out life insurance.

One thing Justin hadn’t put off was spending. If he or she had wanted something, no matter how expensive, he’d charged it. According to Justin, all residents lived on credit, knowing they would soon be making tons of money. She’d believed him. As a result, she was still paying off the mountain of debt, one month at a time.

“This is a nice surprise,” Cooper muttered as he gazed down at her with his “I’m hot” smile.

She supposed he was. Okay, he really, really was. Dark, dark hair, black spiky lashes that drew attention to brilliant eyes and a proud, sculpted face would make any movie star jealous. He looked like a model or something.

He danced pretty well, too, if she’d admit it, moving with a fluid, confident rhythm as he guided her effortlessly around the floor.

On the first whirl, he held her at arm’s length and made small talk. On the second whirl, he pulled her against his chest, trapping her hand in his. Natalie couldn’t help breathing in the clean, crisp, woodsy essence of him. The wool of his jacket rubbed tantalizingly against her cheek. She hadn’t been in a man’s arms in a very long time, and she’d always loved the wonderful differences between the male and female physiques. Hard to soft. Strong to delicate. Big to petite. Later she’d remind herself of all the reasons why she was permanently off the male species.

When the music ended she tried to step back. Cooper held on. She raised her eyes to his, saw a challenge there.

“No need to rush off. It’s been a long time. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Natalie glanced around the crowded dance floor where she spotted Belle chatting up the mother of the groom. Her boss lifted a wineglass in her direction along with a finely penciled eyebrow. Lovely. Now Belle would be asking questions about the handsome hunk with whom Natalie had been dancing. Belle was a die-hard romantic, a natural inclination given her business of coordinating the most beautiful weddings in New England.

She was also one of the greatest Southern ladies of all time. Belle Mackenzie had given Natalie this job, encouraged her to stand strong when the storms of life had nearly swept her under, and had been a motherly shoulder to cry on in times of distress. Natalie adored Belle, so much so that she wanted to live the rest of her life as Belle did, as an independent woman in charge of her own life. No man need apply. There was no opening for romance at the Thompson house.

“I’m supposed to be working,” she said.

Still, Cooper made no move to release her hand. She gave a gentle tug. He held fast, an enigmatic smile tilting those aristocratic lips.

“Nothing for you to do.” He nodded toward the bride’s table before smoothly sweeping Natalie back into his arms.

Blame it on the insulin reaction, blame it on the romantic swirl of bridal lace and the clink of champagne glasses, but Natalie could no more resist dancing with Cooper than she could conduct the Boston Pops.

After all, what he’d said was true enough. Her glorious creation was being whittled to nothing as guests came back for seconds, murmuring over its deliciousness. There wasn’t anything for Natalie to do until the reception ended except enjoy the compliments.

Cooper’s strong fingers clasped her much smaller hand against his chest. She felt the rhythmic beat of his heart, noticed the hard contours of his athletic torso. Though she tried not to think of Cooper as an attractive man, with the number of interested female glances coming his way as a constant reminder, she was failing miserably. She resented the feelings. Resented the reminders that she was a passionate woman alone. Especially she didn’t like the idea of betraying Justin’s memory with his once close competitor.

“Tell me about your new job,” she said, frantic not to notice Cooper’s muscular thighs brushing hers or the tingle of awareness that rushed from her own thighs upward.

He gave her a lazy smile. “I’m boring. Tell me about you.”

Boring? She doubted there was anything boring in Cooper’s life.

She, on the other hand, was quite ordinary and content to be so. A Friday-night poker game with the other Wedding Belles, a little gossip, Sunday afternoons in the park with her kids.

“Working. Taking care of my girls. Not much else.”

“And the cakes?”

“Oh, yes. Lots and lots of cakes.”

“Sweet,” he said and they both laughed.

“How, or perhaps I should ask why, did a diabetic choose to be a cake decorator?”

“Fairy,” she corrected.

“Ah, yes. Cake fairy.” His eyes twinkled. “It suits you.”

“My girls think I should wear a Tinkerbell costume with wings and a tutu.”

A wicked gleam. “Now that I’d like to see.”

“I’ve actually thought about it. For kids’ birthday parties, I mean. They would love it.”

He laughed down at her and something low in her belly reacted. She hadn’t felt this way in more than two years. Feminine, attractive, womanly.

The shock of it caused her to misstep.

“Sorry,” she said as a blush warmed her neck and cheeks. Hopefully, Cooper would blame the stumble for her sudden fluster.

“No problem. You need to rest anyway after that insulin reaction. I shouldn’t have kept you out here so long.”

As if reluctant to break contact, he held on to her hand and led her toward a white linen-clad table. Still stunned at her unexpected reaction to his very male nearness, Natalie followed without resistance.

“Something to drink?” he asked.

As she sank into a chair, she nodded. “Water would be great. I’m hot.”

Cooper inclined his head with a wicked smile. “I’d have to agree.”

Her flushed skin grew redder. How long had it been since she’d even thought of herself as an attractive woman? As a hot babe?

“Go away, Cooper,” she teased, trying to laugh off her sudden discomfiture.

He laughed, too, but did as she said, returning in a very short amount of time with their drinks. “I wanted to try your cake but it’s all gone.”

“Even the groom’s cake?”

“Every crumb. You must be a great cake fairy.”

Before she could think of a witty comeback, Cooper’s cell phone chirped.

“Excuse me,” he said as he reached inside his jacket and drew out the instrument. “Dr. Sullivan.”

An amazing transformation happened before her eyes. She’d seen it with Justin. Cooper’s face, animated, teasing and maybe a tad flirty a moment ago became a study in serious listening. The brilliant mind behind the playboy smile kicked into high gear.

“Call Dr. Francis. Ask him to assist. I’ll meet him there in twenty minutes.”

He snapped the phone shut and slid it inside his jacket.

“A patient?” Natalie asked.

He nodded and pushed back from the table.

“Sorry to break up the party. It’s been great seeing you again, Natalie.”

Natalie experienced a frisson of disappointment. “It was good to see you too, Cooper. I hope all goes well with your patient.”

He tilted his head, whipped around to leave but turned back just as quickly to hand her a business card. “Call me. We’ll get together.”

With that he was gone, straight back and wide shoulders slicing through the crowd with a confident air until she lost sight of him.

She gazed down at the card bearing his address and phone number in a bold confident font.

Call him? Call a man who’d rattled her self-imposed moratorium on male-female relationships?

Not likely.