“Trouble in wedding-planning paradise?” Evan asked, sauntering over.
“Nothing you need to concern your precious billionaire self with,” I told him, my smile more a baring of teeth than a friendly expression. “I’m sure you have lots of manly things to do like bulldoze a forest or kick a bunch of people out of their homes so you can turn them into a strip mall.”
“I find that extremely offensive; my firm invests in many wholesome endeavors.”
“Oh, right, I’m sorry, yes, your hedge fund does own all those magazines, likeVanity Rag,that tell women they just have to eat scallops and cabbage for months and they too will look like Karli Kloss.”
“It’s entertainment,” Evan said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to run a business. You should stick around me—you could learn a thing or two.”
“Yeah, like not to trust people when they promise that they’re going to pay for the services they’ve used. Noted.”
“You weren’t contracted under me,” he hissed. “I refuse to pay for a wedding that Camilla wanted. Besides, I paid you back for the lasagna I ate, with interest.”
“Fine, whatever. I don’t care since you clearly don’t,” I said. “But just know that for the rest of your life, whenever I see you, I’m going to be silently sending bad thoughts your way.”
Evan smirked. “Very scary.”
“Just you watch,” I warned. “You’re going to stop being so sinfully sexy, all your luscious hair is going to fall out, those washboard abs will turn to flab, and when you’re crying at your reflection in the mirror, you’re going to know it was me all along, silently wishing you ill.”
Evan grinned dangerously. “I thought you weren’t looking when I was undressed in your apartment.”
“I tried not to, but how could I when you were practically waving things in my face!” I countered.
Evan caught his lower lip in his teeth then said, “I bet you think about me when you’re lying in bed.”
“I don’t.”
“Admit it.”
“No.”
“I bet you looked when I was showering too.”
“I would never.”
Evan leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I know you could see me, because I could see you through the door.”
“Pervert.”
“Pervert? I’m your savior!” He rocked back on his heels, a smug look on his face.
I glared at him.
“It is obvious that no one is showing up to this little bridal tea. Now I don’t know about you, but I think I can only manage maybe half of that tray of crab cakes. What is Imogen going to say when she has this exquisitely decorated party planned and no one shows? You think she’s bad now?Just wait.”
“You can’t help,” I said, but I was wondering, could he? I’d seen brides go nuclear if even a flower was out of place. Imogen was going to unleash a tidal wave of destruction if no one attended the bridal tea.
I swallowed, refusing to allow Evan to see the uncertainty in my eyes.
“I can have this place packed with well-dressed, fun young twenty- and thirty-somethings that will make this the best bridal tea ever. All you have to do is say the word,” he whispered in my ear like some unfairly tall and sexy Mephistopheles.
I licked my lips. “What’s the word?”
“Well, words.” There was that smirk that I didn’t know if I wanted to slap off his face or kiss.
Kiss? What? No. Nope. No, not happening. Evan is an ass.
Yes, Ivy, he does have a very nice ass.
