Page 81 of The Rented Bride

As she approached, he refocused his camera on the wedding party.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“The bride and groom are going to want pictures of their guests, not the event planner,” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He had the nerve to pretend he hadn’t just taken her picture.

“Just point your camera in that direction.” She nodded at the bride and groom, who were seated at their table. “The bride and groom expect to know the people in the pictures.”

“They know you,” Isaac said. “I can think of several people who would be interested in my pictures. There are some high profile guests here tonight.”

Cassie closed the space between them. “We have a contract. A contract that clearly states the Bello family owns all copyrights on the wedding photos.” Because of the senator, professional athlete, and famous singer, Cassie had made sure all employees associated with the event signed confidentiality agreements.

“Absolutely,” he said. “The wedding photos belong to Eterio.”

“Do your job,” she flatly stated. Cassie pivoted on her heels and a different kind of dread settled in her belly. Maryanne’s hands were moving a mile a minute, and Trent laughed at the words spilling from her lips.

Please don’t be talking about me. Please don’t be talking about me.

Cassie rejoined them.

“I was shocked when she finally pulled up to the church,” Maryanne was saying. “She had all eight groomsmen with her!” Maryanne and Trent laughed, and she added, “They just kept spilling out of her little car.”

“Okay, no more stories.” Cassie stepped between them.

Trent shifted closer, claiming her with a hand around her waist. The warmth of his palm penetrated the fabric of her dress and she wanted to melt into the carpet.

“Did you give him hell, the way you did Calhoun?” His lips twitched into a smile.

“My list of pet peeves is much longer than my list of virtues. Incompetence is at the top of the list.” She sipped her mojito.

“I’ve experienced your virtues.”

Maryanne’s eyebrows shot up. “Now that is a story I would like to hear.”

Trent laughed. “I’d say tenacity is at the top of her list of virtues. At our first meeting, she immediately started giving me orders.”

“That wasn’t my fault. He looked like a delivery guy not a….” She wanted to say sexy billionaire playboy. She shifted to meet his gaze. “I guess I didn’t expect Mr. Trent Weston to be wearing torn jeans and a t-shirt.” She hadn’t expected hard steel and sex appeal, either. Or dark lashes framing brown eyes. Her gaze shifted to his white teeth, visible behind his slightly parted lips. She touched her tongue to her lip, remembering the taste of his kiss.

He touched her cheek. “It’s getting late. Come home with me tonight.”

Home? Brettonwood? She shifted her head, hoping Maryanne couldn’t see her face and telepathed with her eyes, You can’t talk about ‘home’ here.

“Go on, Cassie,” Maryanne said. “I’m sure Trent’s Miami home is as nice as his Colorado home—well, maybe not. You don’t have a castle in Miami, do you, Trent?”

To Cassie’s relief, he laughed and said, “No. In fact, my Florida residence is in the Keys.”

“Ohh, the Keys. There you go, Cassie. A couple of days in the Keys will do you good. Well, you two work it out. This party is about wrapped for the night. I know where I’ll be once the bar closes.” She winked at Derrick.

Cassie shook her head. “Sorry, but I have to be here early to set up and oversee brunch. The clients insist on my being here on premises for the duration of the festivities, so I’m staying at the hotel tonight.”

He angled his head. “I understand. At least dance with me once more before I go.”

Caught between a rock and the devil. If it were anyone else, she would say yes without hesitation. To refuse would only put Maryanne more on alert than she already was. The thought of spending the night with Trent appealed far more than Cassie was ready to admit, and dancing with him would simply tempt her too much. She wondered if Trent didn’t suspect that as well.

Cassie smiled. “Sure. One last dance. But I’m tired enough that I might step on your toes.”