Her lips quirked. “A normal one?” she suggested.
“I’ve never been accused of being normal,” I admitted.
“Why?” she asked, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Why did you really come?”
I should have had a smooth answer ready. Some charming deflection or witty comeback. Instead, I told the truth. “Because you needed me.”
Her lips parted, her eyes widening a fraction. We were standing close now, close enough that I could see the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose that she usually covered with makeup. Close enough that if I leaned down just a little...
“There you are!” The mother of the bride burst into the room, her voice shrill with panic. “The DJ is playing the wrong father-daughter dance song! It’s supposed to be ‘Butterfly Kisses,’ not ‘Unforgettable’!”
Anica stepped back quickly, the moment shattered. “I’ll take care of it right away.” She glanced back at me, her professional expression firmly back in place. “Thank you again for your help. I should go?—”
“Come to my island this weekend,” I blurted out, surprising myself as much as her.
She froze. “What?”
“My island. In the Caribbean. Private getaway to recover from this chaos.” The words were tumbling out now, beyond my control. “No wedding talk, no bride hunting. Just... a break. White sand beaches, crystal clear water, staff that will cater to your every need. I have a jet. We could leave Friday, be back Sunday night. Completely separate bedrooms,” I added hastily. “Unless—I mean, not that I’m suggesting?—”
She stared at me, clearly shocked by the invitation. “Callan, I can’t just?—”
“Why not?” I challenged. “When was the last time you took a day off, let alone a weekend? You deserve a break, Anica. And I happen to have a very nice island with excellent break-taking facilities. Devonna and Mari can handle a week without you. Mari owns half of the company anyway, right?”
She hesitated, and I could see her weighing all the reasons to say no. I mentally prepared for her rejection. It’d been too spontaneous. I knew that. I just had hoped that maybe–
“Okay.”
Now it was my turn to be shocked. “Okay?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Okay. But just as friends.”
“Of course,” I agreed, nodding a bit too energetically. “Just friends. Taking a completely platonic, friendly trip to a private island. Friends do that all the time. I took Kris to the Maldives two months ago. Very platonic. We braided each other’s hair and everything.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained. “I should go fix this song situation before the mother of the bride has an aneurysm.”
“Go save the day,” I said. “Again.”
She started to walk away, then paused, turning back to me. “For the record, I’m glad you left your date to come help.”
“For the record, so am I.”
She hurried off to handle the music crisis, leaving me standing alone in the room, trying to process what had just happened. Shit. I’d invited my wedding planner to my private island. And she’d said yes.
The guys were going to have a field day with this.
CHAPTER 11
Blue Drinks and Ancient Shirt Law
ANICA
“My suitcase looks like it’s having the same existential crisis I am,” I muttered, staring at the chaotic heap of clothing I’d packed, unpacked, and repacked three times already. “Half professional retreat, half ‘help-I’ve-agreed-to-a-tropical-getaway-with-a-hot-billionaire-and-don’t-know-if-I’m-supposed-to-pack-condoms.’”
“The answer is yes on the condoms,” Mari declared from where she lounged across my bed, mimosa in hand at eight in the morning. “Always yes. Even for funerals. Never know when a sexy mourner might need consoling.”
“Not helping,” I snapped, meticulously rearranging my neatly folded clothes for the fourth time. I’d been agonizing over the appropriate wardrobe for a “just friends” weekend on a private island with a client for approximately six hours, and my sanity was hanging by a thread thinner than the lingerie Mari kept trying to sneak into my luggage.
“You know what would help?” Mari asked, sipping her drink. “This.” She reached into a shopping bag beside her and pulled out what could generously be described as “dental flossmasquerading as a bikini” but was actually just three triangular fabric scraps held together by wishful thinking.
