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  This one is for the people in my life who have to suffer through the “writer’s existence,” right along with me. There is not enough praise or gratitude in the world for your endless support.

  acknowledgments

  I am forever indebted to my wonderful editor, Monique Patterson, for the way this trilogy came about. It was a golden opportunity to present the initial proposal, and I’m so thrilled it hit all the right notes. The entire process was fantastic, and I’m so happy we connected through this story.

  I am also grateful to my agent, Sarah E. Younger, for seizing the opportunity to hook me up with Monique. It came about unexpectedly, but offered me the chance to stretch my writing wings and delve into a meaty series. Thanks, Sarah!

  I’ve met some of the St. Martin’s team, and have thoroughly enjoyed those interactions and appreciate all that you do. For those I haven’t met who are working behind the scenes, thank you so much for your support and enthusiasm.

  To my family and friends, I love you.

  To my readers, old and new, I am always in awe of your dedication, and I thank you greatly for your support and your wonderful e-mails! Please keep sending them!

  To Stephenie Meyer, who wrote a gripping series that made me fall in love with dark, gothic heroes, you created memorable characters that live on.

  chapter 1

  “Where’s my groom?” I muttered under my breath.

  Tamera Fenmore tore her gaze from the dark clouds rolling in—the same ones I kept my eye on. “Just saw him a few minutes ago.” The tension in her voice mirrored mine.

  She was the officiant I’d subcontracted for this extravagant creekside wedding at a renowned resort in the intimate upscale community of Sedona, Arizona. Unfortunately, our unpredictable monsoons made late summer a sketchy time of year for outdoor events. A torrential downpour could obliterate this ceremony with very little warning.

  That was only one of my worries. We were surrounded by lush green grass, full sycamore trees, and breathtaking red-rock canyons, yet all was not right with this scene—and it wasn’t just the crackle of electricity and the scent of rain hanging in the air that set me on edge.

  Keeping my voice low, between us, I said, “My groomsmen are missing, too.”

  I’d only turned my back briefly to mend the strap that had pulled too tight and snapped on the maid of honor’s dress. Suddenly I was missing half of my bridal party.

  Tamera frowned. “Now would be a good time to panic.” Even her lovely British accent couldn’t mask her dread.

  “This can’t be happening.” My stomach knotted.

  Sure, I’d dealt with MIA grooms before. Ones who’d had their bachelor parties on the eve of the big day—never a good idea—and ended up in the emergency room after a barroom brawl, passed out in a back alley or on a great escape to Sin City.

  I hadn’t considered Sean Aldridge a flight risk. My bad, because he and his buds were nowhere in sight. While two hundred guests waited for the nuptials to begin, nervously stealing glances at the increasingly ominous sky.

  Tamera was all set to head to the front of the event lawn just before the sun started its gradual descent, hopefully breaking through the cloud cover to splash radiant color across the white caps of the flowing rapids. The sound of water rushing over smooth rocks filtered through the trees, mingling with the rustle of leaves as a breeze picked up. Another bad sign. If a storm hit, microbursts and downdrafts could rip through the partially covered east patio where the cocktail reception was to be held, effectively destroying that portion of the evening as well.

  Inclement weather had posed a threat for me before, but this was my biggest event thus far and the last thing I needed was drenched and disgruntled guests glaring at the wedding planner—even if it was the bride who’d waved a dismissive hand when I’d repeatedly warned her of the dangers of monsoon season. For fear tents would mar the scenery she’d insisted none be erected.

  Meghan Delfino currently paced the polished wooden floor of the elegantly rustic cottage the resort had comped her, so no one caught a glimpse of her stunning one-of-a-kind Carolina Herrera gown. Not until that precious moment when Meghan stepped out of the thicket and paused at the top of the short set of stone steps built into the grassy knoll above the lawn.

  Even the steel-nerved father of the bride was ready to walk his pride and joy down the aisle that was lit by ornate lanterns and accented with dozens of elaborate sterling silver and white rose bouquets. Though his patience crept toward agitation, if the darting of his alert hazel eyes was any indication. And they kept landing on me.

  Tamera consulted her platinum boyfriend watch. “We’re straight-up seven o’clock, Ari. Sun’ll be on the move in eleven minutes.”

  “Damn it. They must be in the bar.” I whirled around and marched off. My low heels crunched the underbrush of the nature trail woven through the heavily wooded property and I dodged wayward branches that jutted out onto the path. The wind whispered through the trees, taunting me with its potential to become a menacing howl. Deep-vibrato, rust-colored chimes hanging from limbs added a ghostly effect to the overcast evening, bringing on a razor-sharp vibe. Or maybe that was just my nerves getting the best of me.

  I reached the outdoor dining area along the water’s edge, the servers already cranking down the tall umbrellas to keep them from toppling over if a violent gust whipped along the creek.

  I required less than forty-five minutes of tame weather—the ceremony was to be a quick one. I could move the predinner reception inside if need be, but I desperately wanted the vows to be as Meghan had envisioned.

  Not to mention, I needed referrals from this wedding. Bridal consulting wasn’t exactly a lucrative business in such a small town, especially when you were an independent planner. And rent didn’t come cheap in Sedona.

  I blew into the bar with a stiff draft that sent cocktail napkins flying from tables. Gazes snapped to me, but I ignored them, due to my current tunnel vision.

  As I’d suspected, I found the rest of my wedding party congregated around two high tops they’d pushed together in the middle of the bar, slamming shots of tequila.

  My pulse racing, I simply said, “Gentlemen, tick-tock.”

  “Hold up. I’ve got one more round coming,” the groom told me before sucking a wedge of lime between his teeth. As though time were not of the essence here.

  “You’ve got a bride ready to say I do,” I pointed out, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice. “And a storm brewing.”

  Sean seemed like a good kid. At twenty-two, he was four years younger than me. Fresh out of college. A bit too early in his adult life to tie the knot, in my opinion, but with his twenty-year-old girlfriend of eight months in her first trimester, it was no surprise a shotgun wedding had been in his immediate future. Especially when said girlfriend was the former Valedictorian of a legendary all-girls Catholic school and the only child of a global communications tycoon.

  “
Join us, Ari,” insisted Kyle Jenns, the best man. He was an easygoing sort, with sandy-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, an athletic build, and a gorgeous smile, all pearly white and vibrant. A college friend of Sean’s whom I’d just met when the whirlwind planning had begun. They’d both attended Arizona State University in Phoenix, played football together, and belonged to the same fraternity.

  Today was the first time I’d seen Kyle in something other than a tight T-shirt that showed off all of his muscles, the hems of the sleeves always straining against his bulging biceps. Even wearing a tuxedo now did little to conceal his solid frame. Obviously, he hadn’t quit the gym after his last season as quarterback.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” he said in his amiable tone. “One for her, too,” he told Grace Hart, the bartender setting out the shot glasses.

  “Hi, Ari.”

  “Nice to see you, Grace.” She and I had gone through senior year of high school together. Like me, Grace was one of the very few who’d stuck around after graduation, despite the sparse career opportunities a community of eleven thousand offered. Some of us just couldn’t shake the allure of what USA Today called the most beautiful place in America.

  “You sure you want one?” she asked.

  “If it’ll get them closer to the altar, bring it on.”

  Kyle’s grin widened. “Now that’s a wedding planner, people. One who’ll do a shot with the groomsmen.”

  Sean nodded. “Give Ari three weeks and you, too, can be on your way to wedded bliss—in first-class style from start to finish.” He didn’t bother hiding the grimace—not at all directed at me. I couldn’t fathom the pressure he was under with his new Forbes list in-laws and a baby on the way. I empathized with Sean, having high hopes for this marriage.

  I had high hopes for every marriage. An inherent dream following the horrific parental breakup and subsequent financial fallout I’d lived through years ago. The exact reason why I wouldn’t be escorted down an aisle anytime soon. As in never.

  “How many has he had?” I asked Kyle.

  “Going on his second one. Sean won’t slur his vows, I promise. Just needed a little fortification so he doesn’t sphincter up when the I now pronounce you husband and wife part comes.” He winked. “Couple of wedding-day jitters, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Hey, I love Meghan,” Sean assured us. “But, come on—she’s only two months pregnant. What’s the rush?”

  Kyle snickered. “You’re a lucky SOB and you know it. Meg’s a knockout and you’re marrying into a crazy-rich family. Too bad she doesn’t have a sister. But, hey, if I catch the garter, that means I’ll find my own pretty little love slave, right?” His gaze swept over me.

  “Use a condom,” Sean lamented. “That’s all I’m saying, man.”

  Kyle leaned in close—too close for comfort, making me flinch. I didn’t like anyone invading my personal space unless invited.

  Despite being good-natured, Kyle exuded enough self-confidence to convince me he had a way with the ladies—and wasn’t the least bit hesitant to use that particular gift to his full advantage.

  So my nerves jumped to attention when he gave me a suggestive look.

  “I’d be your love slave,” he said in a low tone. “You can tie me to the bedposts, if you want.”

  “That’s, um … not really my thing.”

  “You’re not married, are you, Ari? Or otherwise spoken for? ’Cause there’s a whole night of dancing ahead of us—”

  “Dude.” Sean fake-punched his best man in the arm. “She’s my wedding planner. Don’t hit on her. At. My. Wedding.”

  Kyle said, “Weddings are the perfect place to meet new women, amigo. And this one’s beautiful, smart, possibly single. So why wouldn’t I find out if there’s something to pursue here?”

  I suddenly felt another set of eyes on me. From behind. It was an eerie yet unmistakable feeling.

  As Sean and Kyle bantered like I wasn’t standing next to them in earshot, I glanced over my shoulder. And lost my breath.

  The argument faded into oblivion as my pulse echoed through me, drowning out all other sounds, thoughts, everything.

  In the corner up front sat two men, paperwork sprawled across their table. One salt-and-pepper-haired, distinguished looking, older. The other dark-haired and dressed all in black—jeans, boots, and a button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal impressive forearms. Late twenties, maybe thirty. He had a very mysterious air about him, and he was staring at me.

  Right at me.

  His onyx hair was sexily tousled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed with a woman who’d enjoyed mussing the thick, silky-looking strands. His piercing green eyes held a hint of intrigue and a hell of a lot of don’t mess with me. Contradictory signals that sparked my interest.

  His face was a chiseled masterpiece. He had strong features with a stone-set jaw, balanced brows, not too thick, not too thin, and a nose that might have been punched a time or two, given the slight bump close to the eyes, but which still managed to look specially crafted to keep harmony with all the sculpted angles. A mouth that easily drew my attention, my gaze lingering on it until I caught myself.

  All in all, he was devilishly handsome. Darkly beautiful.

  It struck me that I would never consider a man beautiful, thinking it would undermine his masculinity. Not so with this one. He was beautiful and virile. Downright heart-stopping.

  I felt a peculiar stirring deep within me. An innate reaction to his edgy perfection.

  It seemed as though the blood moved a bit slower through my veins. Thicker, warmer. Molten.

  My gaze lifted, our eyes locked, and I was riveted. I still couldn’t breathe.

  Something flickered in those hypnotic emerald pools of his. Something curious, like a warning to be heeded. Not menacing, but … definitely intimidating.

  Unnerved and surprisingly, intensely aroused, I tore my gaze from the sexy stranger just as Grace brought my shot.

  “So, bottoms up,” I said as I reached for the tequila, my voice a bit shaky from the unexpected encounter. I finally pulled in a long breath, then gave a quick toast, brevity being the order of the moment. “May the new Aldridge family be blessed with a lifetime of health and happiness.” We all touched rims and threw back the booze. Even the burn of alcohol couldn’t compete with the simmering inside me created by that heated gaze. But I had business to focus on and resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder again. “Okay, guys. Showtime.”

  “Damn, you love to crack the whip,” Kyle said. “Maybe you ought to rethink your stance on bondage.” He raised a hand as though to rest it at the small of my back and escort me out. I instinctively leapt a bit too far out of his reach—and stumbled into a trio of men just coming through the door.

  One of them caught me around the waist and held on tight. “Hey, hey there, pretty lady.”

  Behind us, I heard the scrape on the stone floor as a chair shoved back. A powerful sense of awareness jolted me. I knew exactly who was about to intervene if anyone got too touchy-feely.

  But why?

  Mumbling an apology, I wrenched free from the semi-embrace of a twenty something with spiky blond hair and an intricately designed diamondback snake tattoo slithering up his neck. A lascivious glint lit his brown eyes, pricking my nerves. He spared a glimpse at Kyle and the others, then asked me, “Looking for real men to party with, sweetheart?”

  The entire atmosphere turned tense and everything that followed happened quickly.

  Kyle came immediately to my defense, saying in a suddenly sharp tone, “Back off, pal.” His chin lifted, his chest puffed out.

  Snake-tat guy grabbed me again, more forcefully than I thought he’d intended. I winced as he tugged me to him. “Doesn’t look like she was interested in leaving with you, pal.”

  Three groomsmen instantly threw off their jackets, fueled by tequila.

  “No fighting!” I cried out, panic shooting through me. I’d never get another planning
gig in this town if I delivered a bloodied bridal party to the event lawn—the Delfinos would make sure of it.

  The darkly handsome stranger swooped in, pushing Kyle to the side with a solid palm to the pecs—clearly agitating Kyle further, because his fists balled at his sides. A breath later, the stranger had the spiky-haired blond by the forearm.

  “Hands off,” he all but growled.

  Alarm flashed in the blond’s eyes at the sudden and vehement reaction from the intruder—and likely his commanding presence. Snake-tat guy released me instantly. Even his friends backed off.

  The stranger twisted the blond’s arm and jerked it behind his back before slamming his shoulder to the table, as if freeing me wasn’t justice enough.

  “Jesus, Bax,” the salt-and-pepper-haired companion grumbled, a hint of admiration mixing with his shock as he scrambled to collect the papers getting crinkled.

  In a deep, rough voice, the man called Bax said, “Doesn’t look like she’s interested in leaving with you, either.”

  Air rushed from my lungs. I stood so close to him, I felt his heat, inhaled his expensive-smelling cologne, absorbed his raw intensity. He glanced my way, his green eyes entrancing, though something foreboding edged the rims of those brilliant irises.

  A scowl darkened his visage even more, turning him dangerous in a recklessly thrilling way. I wasn’t the reckless sort, yet a scintillating sensation flared within me.

  His gaze remained connected with mine as he spoke to the spiky-haired guy. “I think you owe the lady an apology.”

  “I didn’t know she came with a bodyguard,” the blond ground out. Craning his neck to look around the broad-shouldered man caging him, he acridly added, “Sorry, sweetheart.” The stranger released him and stepped away. The blond skulked off with his friends, muttering “Asshole” under his breath.

  “Come on, Ari,” Sean said as he gently took my hand—the first wholly innocent gesture in this incident.

  Yet I recoiled again, breaking the trancelike gaze with emerald eyes I would never forget, and hissed out, “Everybody stop touching me.” My heart thundered as anxiety mounted.