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portfolio.
“Yes.” Her mouth was parched, and she licked her lips.
“Every time?”
“Of course not.” Her fingers smoothed over cool paper. “If they’re practical,
reasonable people, they don’t expect perfection. But I try to come as close as possible.”
His eyes held that bit of teasing she liked, that made her insides tremble. She felt
flushed, disconcerted.
The man was too damned close. Delicious male musk drifted into her senses and
starting a spiraling longing that stirred desire within. God, he smelled so good. She
wanted to quench the needs clamoring for appeasement, but knew she couldn’t very well
jump him right this second. There was a good chance that if she did, he would reject her.
“What about Mick and Celeste?” he asked.
She clicked her ballpoint pen and scribbled on a piece of scrap paper to see if the pen
worked. Success. A medium point black line ran over the paper. She hated thin point.
“Mick doesn’t stick his nose into most of the planning.”
“Figured as much.” Craig clasped his hands together. “Men don’t get caught up in
this…” He waved one hand. “Extra…stuff.”
She couldn’t stifle a smile. “You were going to say crap, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, I was.” His gaze narrowed. “You brought me into the planning to torture me,
didn’t you?”
“How’d you guess?”
If he stared at her any more fiercely, she just might burst into flames. God, he made
her hot. “What’s the point, Leigh? Why is it so important I help you with this wedding?”
She sighed. “To loosen you up. Sometimes the poker up your—”
“What?” He sat up straight, eyes no longer teasing, his bearing all manly cop and
indignation. “Give me a break.”
The contempt in his tone surprised her a bit. She hadn’t expected that he’d bristle
like a porcupine. She held up one hand. “Ever since the day I met you, I wanted to know
what it would take to make you lose that stiffness.”
He rolled his gaze the ceiling a moment, then pinned her with an exasperated look.
“Don’t you have enough work to do?”
She deflected his gristle with a grin. “Apparently not.”
Craig grunted in that way only a doubtful male could. He scooted close to her, and
for a second her senses jumped to the heat of his big body, the overwhelming strength he
projected, and his crisp male scent. “Let’s see this list.”
She cleared her throat and flipped through her portfolio to show him the list.
Craig’s glance darted over the charts she’d made showing items finished and what
needed completing. Each item had a drop-dread date. “You’re certainly organized.”
“Have to be. Clients need me to take care of the things they don’t want to worry
about. They need absolute confidence I won’t screw up their big day, and that I can do
the job. Think of it as a well-executed SWAT operation. No room for error, or lives could
be lost.”
Curiosity sharpened in his eyes. “What do you know about SWAT?”
She pursed her lips a little, an odd desire to tease him rising. “You think I could have
a best friend marrying a cop and not have an idea how cops work?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged. “Well, in my case, I do understand cops. Very well.”
“Impressive. I’m not used to women understanding what we do. They like the idea
of it.” A bare bones smile flitted over his lips. “Gets them hot.”
Her entire body flamed, reacting to his statement with an abandon she couldn’t
control. Oh, yeah. Whether she liked it or not, the idea of this cop made her hot.
Amusement glinting in his eyes challenged her, and resentment tweaked Leigh. “Oh,
I see. The mystique. The alpha male stereotype.”
“The alpha male isn’t stereotype.”
She leaned closer, half-conscious of the danger in remaining near an intoxicating
man. “Oh? So you’re an alpha male?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm. Isn’t that a little arrogant?”
“I’m not saying being alpha is better than anything else. I know myself very well. I
don’t pretend to be anything I’m not.”
Leigh drew in a slow breath, aware of reluctant admiration stirring inside her. “I
haven’t met too many men like that.”
“You’re skeptical.”
“Absolutely. A man would have to prove it to me.”
Skepticism lined his own face. “A man shouldn’t have to prove what he lives. He’s
either real or he isn’t.”
Caught in a place where she couldn’t answer without sounding even more cynical or
shrewish, she shifted her paper work and looked down at it. “And what does that have to
do with wedding planning?”
“Nothing.”
Relieved, she said, “This is what I call a blueprint for a well planned wedding. Mick
and Celeste have already finished most of what’s on here. They set the date obviously,
the style and size, which is formal but with no more than a hundred guests. They set a
budget, she had her gown made, headpiece, etc. She’s having her hair and makeup
done—”
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