Don't Tell the Wedding Planner (9 page)

SIX

“This really
isn’t necessary, Mr. Croft.” Callie pressed the elderly man’s handkerchief to the cut on her forehead, hoping the blood had stopped oozing down her face. The E.R. was packed and it was only seven-thirty in the evening. The hour they’d spent in the waiting room so far felt like the tip of the iceberg.

Callie tried again. “It was kind of you to drive me here, but I don’t need to see a doctor.”

A trickle of blood ran down her hand as she applied pressure to her forehead, and she cursed the timing. How could she convince the man she didn’t need medical attention with her arm bringing to mind a horror flick? Served her right for being so distracted.

She’d gone to the costume shop today to rummage around and check out the crucifix she’d spied on the shelf the first day she’d visited the store. Focusing on her work hadn’t come easy, especially with the dressing room in her line of sight. And then, while standing on the shelf, she’d received a call from Matt, asking her to dinner.

No wonder she’d dropped the stupid crucifix on her head.

A drop of blood landed on her thigh, and she swiped the spot with her sleeve before the shop owner noticed. “I’m fine. Really. I can take care of this at home.”

The balding man’s forehead looked permanently creased with concern. “But that crucifix is heavy. You might need a CAT scan.”

That crucifix was heavy, indeed. Hurt like heck on the way down, too. Reaching for the sucker on the top shelf had been a stupid plan. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe she should stick to the cheaper, less authentic, less
heavy
props from here on out. Unfortunately, that didn’t solve her problem now. She kept hoping to convince the shop owner to leave, so she could leave, too. When she’d agreed to meet Matt for dinner tonight—to discuss the wedding
only,
she’d stressed to Matt—showing up bleeding wasn’t exactly the professional image she’d wanted to project.

A shout from down the hallway caught the attention of the entire waiting room. A man with handcuffs was kicking and screaming and shouting profanities, being escorted by two policemen. One of the cops sported a pretty impressive bloody nose.

Callie sighed and addressed Mr. Croft. “At least go on home to your wife.”

So that I can leave this E.R.

“Not until you get checked out by a doctor,” Mr. Croft said.

Callie bit back the groan. She hated being forced to go with her last resort but, at this point, she had no choice. She had to call Matt anyway, because making their dinner date looked impossible at this point. And she still hadn’t decided how to tell him she was putting their personal relationship, such as it was, on ice.

Callie pulled out her cell phone and placed the call, and Matt answered on the second ring.

“Hey. It’s Callie.” She turned in her seat to face away from where Mr. Croft was pacing and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help.”

“Does it involve another impossible deal involving sex with our clothes on? Because I’m not sure I’m up for torturing myself tonight.”

Despite everything, Callie bit back the smile and went on, “No, nothing like that. I went to Mr. Croft’s shop to check out a crucifix for an
Interview with the Vampire
wedding I’m planning.”

“Vampires?”

She grinned at the doubtful tone of his voice. “Set to take place at midnight. In a graveyard.”

“That’s just creepy.”

Callie laughed. “Anyway...” She glanced at Mr. Croft, who was now speaking with the clerk again, gesturing anxiously back at Callie.

The poor man was going to have a stroke at the thought of her keeling over from head trauma.

“I reached up to grab the crucifix and managed to knock the thing down on my head.” She purposefully didn’t share exactly why she’d been so distracted. “And it’s, um, a lot heavier than it looks.”

“Are you okay?”

“I have a little cut on my forehead. But Mr. Croft is freaking out. I think he’s afraid I’m going to keel over and die. He refuses to leave until I get checked out by a doctor.”

She could hear the grin in Matt’s voice.

“And you just happen to know one,” he said.

“I hate asking you for a favor like this. But—”

“Which E.R.?”

“St. Mathews.”

“I’m leaving right now.”

The next half hour passed by painfully, and Callie was no closer to deciding how to handle Matt. Not only that, the waiting room looked set to explode, every seat full. A couple was arguing and several kids were crying and Callie thought she was going to lose her mind. When the double doors whooshed open and Matt entered, relief swamped Callie, even as awareness shimmied up her spine.

He strode toward her with the look she remembered from the first night they’d met. Focused and intent on solving a problem.

Matt knelt in front of Callie, and she ignored the ridiculous catch in her chest as he lifted the bandage on her forehead, examining the cut.

“How long ago did it happen?” He ran his finger gently down the edge of her tender skin, and she sucked in a breath. The scent of spicy soap hit her nose, and she took in his hair, damp and curling a bit at the edges. Clearly he’d just gotten out of the shower. And the thought of a naked Matt soaping himself made her squirm in her seat.

She’d had the pleasure of having that hard length pressed along her hip...

Mr. Croft appeared beside Callie. “Two hours ago. The crucifix is heavy. I shouldn’t have kept it on the top shelf.”

Matt sent Callie a conspiratorial wink before assuming a serious face again, looking up at Mr. Croft. “Was there any loss of consciousness?”

“No.”

“Any vomiting or slurred speech? Have you noticed her acting or saying anything odd?”

Mr. Croft visibly relaxed a bit. “No.”

Good thing the man wasn’t privy to her crazy thoughts about Matt.

Matt turned back to Callie. “Feeling dizzy?”

Heck, yeah. Because you’re so close, and you smell so good and—oh, my God—those
hands.

The feel of his fingers and that hot hazel gaze bringing back the moment on the dock.

“No,” she said instead. “No dizziness.”

“I don’t see a need for a CAT scan.” Matt stood, keeping a reassuring hand on Callie’s shoulder, and Callie fought the urge to lean into the comforting gesture. “Why don’t you let me take her home, Mr. Croft? I can keep an eye on her tonight. If any concerning symptoms crop up, I can bring her back here.”

Poor Mr. Croft looked incredibly earnest. Callie could tell the older man wanted to leave, but the worry just wouldn’t let him go. “But what about her cut. Shouldn’t she get that sutured?”

“The edges are clean.” Matt pulled out something shaped like a marker from his pocket, with a clear tip. “We have a special kind of glue we use to close these kinds of lacerations. I can take care of this at home.”

“You’re sure?”

Matt’s face adopted that perfect combination of soothing authority and self-assurance that inspired confidence. “Absolutely.”

“Okay. But you’ll call if something happens?”

“Of course.” Matt sent Mr. Croft a smile that said, “I’ve got this.”

Callie watched the shop owner make his way back through the automatic doors, not allowing herself to relax until the man disappeared from sight.

She let out a sigh and turned to Matt. “
Thank
you. I thought he’d never leave.”

“Guilt.” His lips twisted wryly. “The damn emotion is a powerfully motivating force. And, speaking of the emotion, shouldn’t you be feeling a little of the same?”

When she looked at him stupidly, he went on.

“You promised a night out on the town, showing me the best that New Orleans has to offer. To make up for the nuclear, skin-melting étouffée I had to eat at your aunt’s place. I think I remember something about fine dining. Maybe a little dancing. I believe your condo was mentioned, as well.”

Shoot, she’d forgotten all about that. How was she going to get out of this gracefully?

She licked her lips nervously. “Oh, well—”

“I’m only kidding.” He gently pulled her to her feet. “A hot night out loses a bit of its appeal when your date is actively hemorrhaging.”

“I’m not bleeding anymore.” She touched the sore spot with her fingers. “At least not very much.”

“How about I get you home, close up that cut and we order takeout?” He cupped her elbow, and she tried to ignore the skin-on-skin contact. “And when you start to vomit profusely, slur your words and your left pupil dilates, I’ll call Mr. Croft and tell him I’m dragging you back to the E.R. for a CT scan and emergency brain surgery.”

She sent him a sarcastic look.

Matt simply grinned. “Maybe next time you should wait for the proprietor to retrieve the item on the top shelf for you.”

“Would you want to watch Mr. Croft crawl up a rickety old ladder?”

“Hmm,” he said. “Point taken.”

Another shout came up as a State Trooper hauled in a man that appeared to be flying high on something. Sirens wailed outside as an ambulance pulled up to the side ramp. Callie couldn’t wait to leave the hectic scenario behind. But Matt? Well, Matt was looking around with an expression of...

Good Lord. Was that
affection?

“You like the craziness of the E.R., don’t you?” she asked.

The little boy grin he sent was adorable. “Love it.”

Callie tipped her head. “Does your job in Michigan get this crazy?”

Matt’s gaze slid from hers to the overflowing waiting room, the staff bustling about. The chaos in the E.R. appeared to be reaching some sort of zenith. Instead of appearing overwhelmed by the sensory input, Matt looked sorry to be leaving. A nurse came out to announce there was a three-car pileup, with several patients on the way, asking the less urgent patients to please be patient. Matt looked as if he were itching to join in the mayhem and help out.

“Manford
E.R. has its moments,” he said. “But never anything like this.”

So if he didn’t stay in Manford
for the job, or because he loved the town, why didn’t he move? Before she could ask, he linked his fingers with hers, and the contact did crazy things to her pulse. Ridiculous, really, after everything they’d done in the hammock. The simple feel of palm against palm should not be so stimulating.

Matt squeezed her hand lightly. “Time to take you home.”

The words zipped through Callie’s brain, lighting little fires in their wake. She hesitated. If Matt took her home to fix her cut and keep an eye on her, despite his previous words, the risk of a repeat in the hammock was great.

After informing the clerk to take Callie off the waiting list, they made their way out the door into the night. The air muggy and warm and, after dealing with Mr. Croft for the past hour and a half, Callie had never been so grateful to leave an air-conditioned building. Regrettably, leaving also meant she had to make up her mind how to tell Matt.

And soon.

Thirty minutes later Callie opened the door to her condominium and tried hard not to show just how torn she was by his presence. But she needed to be honest with Matt. No doubt the man expected to finish what they’d started. And, God knows, Callie longed for the same thing.

Just tell him while he cleans up your cut, Callie.

Sure, she’d just wait until he was touching her with those fabulous hands. Nothing wrong with that plan,
at all.

Her throat tight, Callie set her purse on the foyer table and then led Matt into her kitchen. Matt came to a stop in the middle of the room, scanning the dark wood cabinets, the marble counters and the top-of-the-line kitchen appliances. Despite the small size, her upscale condo had everything she needed, including being located in the fabulous Arts District.

“Not bad for a former tomboy who used to catch crawdads,” he said.

Callie smiled. “How about a drink before we get started?”

Lord knows she needed one.

“Scotch?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

Hopefully a bit of alcohol would take the edge off, so she poured two, rehearsing her lines for the conversation that was about to take place.

Handing Matt his drink, she said, “I suppose you heard about Colin and Tommy’s big plans to take the DoZ weekend and go public.”

Matt sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair, leaving sandy-colored spikes in his wake. “I’m sorry.”

She let out a soft huff, amused. “Not your fault.”

“You could have said no. Tommy and Penny were already getting what they wanted.”

“Colin asked.”

Matt said nothing in response, so she handed Matt his drink and he simply followed her down the hall of hardwood floors and into the bathroom containing the same dark wood cabinets and marble counters as the kitchen. The mere fact that Matt hadn’t commented meant she had some explaining to do. Callie leaned her hip against the cabinet and watched Matt pull out everything he needed from his bag, totally focused on his task.

She’d experienced firsthand the chaos of the E.R. waiting room. God only knows how much worse the noise and confusion had been in back, which explained a lot about Matt’s ability to focus. Obviously the man had learned to block out unnecessary stimuli, concentrating on the task in front of him. And the memory of having all that attention directed at her sent heat crawling up her back.

“I’m curious what kind of hold Colin has over you,” Matt said.

“I told you before, I owe him.”

“Yeah, but I considered your debt more of an ‘I’m going to organize this weekend party for him’ kind of obligation. Not an ‘I’m going upgrade the whole shindig to a blowout publicity stop’ kind of obligation.”

He’d stopped, a package of gauze in his hand as he watched Callie closely.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with your college blunder,” he went on.

Callie almost laughed at the benign-sounding title he’d given her mistake.

“When I got dragged to the police station, Colin made the long drive to come bail me out. Colin was livid, and I was angry because I hadn’t even asked for his help. He just assumed and came.” Her voice dropped a notch. “And, unfortunately, the trip wound up screwing up his finals. He...” She looked away for a moment. “He almost flunked that semester.”