Going to the Chapel: A Novella (11 page)

“I’ll ask Elsa.” He stiffened, a muscle ticking in his jaw as if he didn’t like her touching him. Maybe Elsa was the jealous type?

She adjusted the tie and stepped away. “What do you think?”

“It’s fine,” he said in a gruff voice.

His gaze met hers, and she quickly glanced away, afraid she couldn’t hide her attraction to him. “How about Elsa? Is she all right?”

He heaved a breath. “She’s fine. I just want her to be happy.”

“Ah, that’s so sweet.” Izzy blinked back tears. “How can she not be when she’s marrying you?”

He cleared his throat as his gaze settled on her face. “How about you, Izzy? You run a wedding business, but I don’t see a ring. Does that mean that you’re single?”

Izzy’s pulse clamored as she debated on how much to admit. “As a matter of fact, I am single.”

His eyes darkened. “I can’t believe a girl like you isn’t taken. You’ve never walked down the aisle?”

Izzy’s chest constricted. She and Ray had danced down the aisle at a honky-tonk, Texas’s version of an Elvis wedding. Later, she’d wondered why she’d settled for bull riding a metal bull in a beer joint over a romantic ceremony.

Because her sisters hadn’t been there. As a little girl, she’d imagined them standing beside her as her bridesmaids, holding her flowers and her train.

Without them, the fancy dreams hadn’t seemed important. She’d just been anxious to be a wife, to be part of a couple. So anxious she had blinders on when it came to Ray.

“Izzy?” Levi said. “Did I say something to upset you?”

Tears clogged her throat. No use crying over Ray. “No,” she said, her throat thick. “It’s just that I was married once, but it didn’t work out.”

Levi touched her arm so gently she almost fell into his arms and cried.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” she whispered. “My sisters don’t know what happened, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Why? Didn’t they like him?”

“It’s complicated.” Izzy sucked in a breath and tamped down her emotions. If she wanted One Stop Weddings to work, she had to convince her clients she believed marriage was precious and priceless and that it could last forever.

Even if she didn’t believe a word of what she was saying.

Levi’s chest clenched at the pain in Izzy’s eyes. That longing and note of sadness in her voice wasn’t real, was it?

“Izzy?”

“We should have married here in the chapel with friends and family surrounding us,” she said, pasting on a cheery smile. “I guess the magic simply wasn’t there.”

Oh, good God. Would she drop the act about the chapel?

“Maybe if I’d set out more sachets and had fine china cups to entertain with, and listened to Aunt Dottie about being a lady, it might have worked.”

What did china cups and sachets have to do with her marriage? “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shared that,” she said, clamming up. “I don’t want our clients to think that I don’t believe in happily ever after.”

But she was hiding out here living a lie.

Still, he couldn’t resist giving her hand a squeeze. Because she sounded so forlorn. He had a feeling that once upon a time, she had believed in everything she was trying to sell.

“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Izzy. You deserve a good guy.” And Ray LaPone wasn’t a good guy.

“I was young and foolish,” Izzy admitted. “I left home thinking I’d show the world, and got swayed by pretty words and promises of a better life, of nice houses and traveling, promises that were nothing but lies.”

Levi measured his words. “What did he lie to you about?”

“Everything,” Izzy said.

“Where’s your husband now?”

“Far away.” She blinked back tears. “Now enough about me. This is your big day and I don’t want to ruin it.” She hung the jacket back on the hanger, then reached for the measuring tape. “Let me take your measurements so we can make sure the slacks and jacket fit.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as she knelt and ran the measuring tape up his inner thigh. Good God almighty.

The sexy little vixen was torturing him with her touch. How was he going to extract information from her when his mind was filled with images of her stripping his damn jeans and running her hands up his naked thighs to cup his sex?

The sight of Levi’s broad shoulders filling out that black western coat reminded Izzy of old cowboy movies and tough men and . . . sex.

By the time she finished measuring Levi’s inseam, she was close to hyperventilating. His breath hitched as she ran the measuring tape around his waist, his masculine scent triggering images of naked bodies sliding together in a dance between the sheets.

Or up against the wall. Or on the floor.

And not just any naked body—his body gliding against hers. His lips on her mouth and breasts. His tongue trailing down her naked torso. His sex between her legs, thrusting inside her.

Desperate to banish the images and control her raging hormones, she fanned her face and lifted the measuring tape from his waist. Who would have thought taking his measurements would have been so erotic?

Poor Elsa was going to have her hands full with other women throwing themselves at Levi. No wonder she wanted to rush him down the aisle.

Not that a ring on his finger would matter if he decided to stray.

Just because Ray was a two-timing jerk didn’t mean Levi was. He seemed completely devoted to Elsa. Part of her was anxious to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart.

Another small part was jealous. What would it feel like to have a man devoted to making her happy like Levi was devoted to Elsa?

“Are we about finished?” he asked, his voice low. Hoarse.

“Just one more.” She stretched the measuring tape across the width of his shoulders. Heat suffused her, and her fingers itched to remove his jacket and shirt and run her hands over the corded muscles of his chest. To feel his naked skin beneath her fingernails.

Did he have a matt of dark chest hair? Would his skin grow hot to the touch?

He shifted, seeming restless, and she jotted down his measurements, relieved to finish that task. The urge to jump his bones had nearly overwhelmed her.

But that would be a mistake on so many levels. Aunt Dottie’s rules on being a lady played like a moral compass in her head. Rule number eight:
Never get involved with a married man.

And Levi was almost married.

Levi silently cursed himself. Hell, he’d enjoyed Izzy’s hands running all over him so much that he’d had to think about mundane things like roping a calf or mucking stalls to stifle his hard-on.

He had to get a grip. He couldn’t screw this case up just because he was a sucker for a pretty woman with blue eyes.

And Izzy looked beautiful today. That short, black dress hugged her body, and those red heels elicited images of the two of them making love with her wearing nothing but those wanton shoes.

Voices echoed from the coffee corner. Two of the ladies he’d overheard gossiping at Lulabelle’s Diner were buying cinnamon rolls and turnovers. They gave him curious looks. Daisy leaned over the glass display case and must have explained who he was, because both women waved at him and giggled as they paid for their pastries.

Izzy led him over to a white-laced table tucked in a private corner and separated from the coffee area by a folding screen adorned with ribbons.

An assortment of appetizers filled a tray, and white candles in silver candleholders glowed from the center of the table. Two place settings of silver-trimmed white china awaited along with champagne glasses filled with bubbly.

Feeling awkward, he claimed the groom’s chair, tugging at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt so tight it was choking him. Those damn roses smelled sickeningly sweet, too.

“We’ll start with the appetizers,” Izzy said. “Then move on to the main entrée, wedding cake, and desserts.”

Levi nodded and took a sip of the champagne to settle his nerves, but his vision blurred, and for a millisecond he envisioned kissing Izzy.

His gaze met hers, heat sizzling between them. Her lips parted slightly on a shaky breath, and he imagined tracing his tongue over her mouth and claiming her as his.

Background music flowed through speakers, some ridiculous romantic tune that made him think of riding horseback at sunset or taking a boat ride in the moonlight.

Izzy scooted her chair closer to his so their arms were almost brushing, then raised her glass for a toast. “To you and Elsa.”

He nearly choked on the champagne. “Right. To me and Elsa.”

Izzy licked her lips. “Since you didn’t request a special menu, Daisy prepared a variety. Those are bacon-wrapped scallops, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and shrimp bruschetta. She also made barbecue sliders and Texas caviar in honor of your and Elsa’s home.”

Levi’s mouth watered at the delicious smells. “They all sound good.”

“Do you want a sit-down dinner or buffet?”

Levi shrugged. He had no idea. “What would you do?”

“Both are nice, but I prefer the idea of the buffet with a choice of at least three food stations,” Izzy said. “Of course, we can have a server offer trays of appetizers and drinks while you finish pictures. We can also open up the stations so guests can serve themselves and start eating while you and Elsa enjoy some alone time. We’ll prepare you and Elsa a private table so you can eat before you greet everyone.” A mischievous look flickered in her eyes. “You might even want to slip away for a quickie to consummate the marriage before joining the party.”

The idea of a quickie with Elsa was so ludicrous he couldn’t help but laugh. But he choked on a mushroom, and started coughing.

Izzy jumped up and pounded his back. “Are you okay, Levi?”

He caught her hand, her warm palm eliciting erotic thoughts of how her hands could pleasure him. And how his hands could pleasure her.

Tension stretched between them as he looked up at her. An image of rushing somewhere private to have a quickie with Izzy taunted him.

She would be a tiger in bed.

“Levi?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He dropped her hand, and gulped down his water.

Thankfully, she had no idea where his imagination had led him. So she took her seat again and they returned to business. He sampled salmon in a white wine sauce, prime rib, shrimp and grits, pulled pork, and a southern chicken dish.

“Any preferences?”

“Everything is delicious, but my favorite is the prime rib and pulled pork.”

“Just as I expected,” Izzy said with a smile. “But you might want to give the guests a choice.”

There weren’t going to be any guests.

“How about either the shrimp or salmon to go with the prime rib and pulled pork?” Izzy suggested. “Surf and turf.”

“Perfect.” Although hamburgers or barbecue sandwiches and coleslaw would work for him.

Daisy swept over, removed the food trays, and brought dessert.

“This one is Decadent Chocolate Kahlua cake,” Izzy said as Daisy bustled away. “It’s my favorite, but you probably want to offer a traditional white cake as well. Maybe one with a cream or raspberry filling.”

Lulabelle had talked about Daisy’s chocolate cake.

Izzy scooped up a bite and held the fork to his lips. Mesmerized by the sensual glow in her eyes, he closed his mouth around the cake, hungry for her instead of food.

Izzy’s gaze met his again, and something wicked and wanton flickered between them. Need and desire surged through him, overriding his good sense, and he leaned toward her.

Her lips parted on a breathy sigh, and he closed his mouth over hers.

One taste and his heart pounded, his body hardening with need. God help him, but he wanted Izzy Sassafras.