Before she could squeeze an answer out of Harrison, a man stepped into the room and captured her attention as quickly as Raspberry Sorbet could be flash-frozen.
And what a man he was in a light gray Tom Ford suit and a hot-pink tie. His hair was dark and shiny and cut military short, and he didn’t have so much as a hint of a five-o’clock shadow. His skin was tan and his gray-green eyes sharp. He adjusted the knot at his neck. “I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.”
Kenzi swallowed her tongue in an effort to keep herself from saying something stupid likeI’ve been waiting for you my whole life.Holy cow! This was the man Pamela picked for her? She fanned her face, caught herself, and stuffed her hand behind her back. Wow. Just wow.
“You’re right on time.” Pamela motioned for him to stand in front of Mr. Sutton. “I’d like you to meet Kensington Donegal. Kensington, this is Mr. Nash Westport.”
Kenzi noticed Pamela left off themy niecepart of the introduction. That was fine. She didn’t want special treatment from her aunt, and she especially didn’t want special treatment from her husband because of who she was related to. She was done being judged—incorrectly—by those she was going to marry. Not that she’d had more than one fiancé before, but he’d turned out to be a tool.
Trish prodded Kenzi forward. Her heel caught on the carpet and she stumble-stepped toward the handsome stranger about to be her husband. His hand clasped her elbow to steady her. Strange zigs and zags of energy shot up her arm and made her mouth drop open. “It’s nice to meet you,” she managed, proud of herself for her coherence.
“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Kenzi giggled and slammed her hand over her mouth, mortified. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. It’s just that this is the first I’ve heard of you and we’re about to … to …” She waved her hand in the general direction of the officiator.
Nash smiled as if he did this every day. Maybe he did. A BMB marriage was only for a year, so for all she knew, he could have been married seven times. She eyed him carefully and concluded he wasn’t old enough for seven marriages after college. Five…perhaps? She wiggled her toes, not sure how she felt about being Mrs. Westport Number Six.
Nash watched her carefully. “If you’re having second thoughts or would like to take some time to get to know one another first, I completely understand.”
Kenzi considered his offer and rejected it. “I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of time.”
“Why not?”
She felt four pair of eyes on the two of them. “Can I explain that to you when we’re not standing at the altar? Er, well, desk—I guess?” She glared at Pamela’s antique desk. What a crazy, messed-up wedding day.
Instead of the family pastor presiding over her nuptials, a stranger picked at his fingernails while he waited for her to get her act together.
And instead of her father walking her down the aisle, Harrison glared at the floor.
And instead of a white, flowing gown, she was wearing a hot pinkplaiddress that brushed her knees.
Nash cleared his throat, and her eyes lifted from the edge of the desk to meet his probing gaze. They really needed to have a conversation, but she begged him to trust her for a few minutes—just long enough to get that ring on her finger and the vote in her pocket.
* * *
Nash stared into Kensington’s summer-sky eyes that pleaded with him not to back out. He had no intention of walking away, but neither did he desire to force her hand. If she wasn’t comfortable with a wham-bam ceremony, he certainly wasn’t going to talk her into it. That was Pamela’s job. Then again, Kensington was the one hiring him. What did she have to be worried about? You know, besides the fact that he was an ex-con with a bad reputation whose family wouldn’t speak to him. But other than that … “If you’re ready, I’m ready.”
She nodded, making the edgy waves in her hair sway across her cheek. Her picture hadn’t done her justice. While her beauty was undeniable, the camera didn’t capture the essence of spirit. And boy, did she have spirit. He remembered seeing a documentary on wild horses and being in awe as they ran across the screen, their manes and tails flowing, their eyes wild with the race. Kensington had that inside of her, even though the outside of her was polished and under control.
Maybe she didn’t understand the depth of her spirit. Or, maybe she did and it scared her. It was a proven fact that more people were afraid of success than they were afraid of failure. He’d scoffed at the idea. Who wouldn’t want success? Money? Power? And he’d taken bold leaps in his career—unafraid of falling because he just knew he could fly.
Except he hadn’t.
He pushed the desire to bring out Kensington’s wild side deep down in his belly, where it wouldn’t tempt him.
“I’m ready.” Her lifted chin accentuated the truthfulness of her words.
“Then let’s begin,” said Pamela. She moved to the right of Kensington, her rose-scented perfume trailing behind her like a delicate scarf in the wind.
The officiator cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him as if he were a pious priest in front of a congregation. Nash couldn’t remember his name at this point, because his thoughts were so focused on the woman standing next him. Kensington was an odd mix of woman, businesswoman, wildflower, and shooting star that had him intrigued. And there was that energy that flowed between them when he’d touched her arm—like a live current racing back and forth while drawing them together.
“We are here today to witness the marriage of these two individuals,” the officiator droned on. His monotone voice was either a judgment about this quick marriage or a testament to the number of marriages he had performed.
Nash didn’t care either way. He was done seeking for approval. When it came his turn, he said the obligatory I do. Kensington’s followed shortly thereafter.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may–“
A shrill ring came from Kensington’s small purse. Her cheeks flushed, but she ignored the call. Pamela’s phone began ringing before Kensington’s had stopped, and Harrison’s started as well. The three of them exchanged panicked looks. Kensington’s head whipped from side to side. Her phone started ringing again. Without a word, she turned and ran out of the room.
