Chapter One

"Here comes the bride!"

I smiled to myself as I watched Clarissa make her way toward my office door. We had been great friends for years, and I'd been so excited when she'd finally announced her big engagement.

But I'd been even more excited when she'd hired me as her wedding planner. Ever since I'd gotten that call, I'd been daydreaming about Clarissa's wedding, wondering how it was all going to look once everything was set in motion.

I just couldn't help myself. I loved my job. I loved helping blushing brides and grooms try on different gowns and suits, and I loved putting all the pieces together; the music, the venue, the bouquets, the table settings, the catering, the lights, the sounds, the magic.

What could I say? I was a sucker for a great wedding.

And every wedding was a great wedding if I had anything to do with it.

"Raven!" Clarissa excitedly shouted my name as she stepped into my office. "Chicken or steak?"

"Chicken?" I guessed, unsure of what she was asking me.

She beamed. "Wrong. Both."

"I'm sorry. I don't think I know what you mean--"

"Trent and I have decided on a buffet for the reception," she explained. "That way, everyone can have a little bit of what they like. Isn't that such a good idea?"

"No." My response was flat. "No, Clarissa. That's an awful idea. That's a no-good, rotten, awful idea. That's the kind of idea that causes economies to collapse. That's the kind of idea that brings down nations. That's the kind of idea that threatens the very thin fabric of society that we're all holding onto with our bruised, calloused fingertips!"

"Christ, Raven," Clarissa said. "You're making it sound like a buffet is the end of the world."

"That's because it is the end of the world!" I replied. "No offense, Clarissa, but I've spent the past three months planning your wedding down to the very last detail, and I did not plan on a buffet being the centerpiece of your reception." I took a step closer to her. "And why are you being so calm about this buffet thing anyway? I thought you wanted to have a huge seafood spread. What made you change your mind?"

"Nothing," she answered quietly.

I knew that she was lying by the way she averted her eyes from my gaze.

"Clarissa, tell me the truth."

"Fine!" Her voice turned grumpy. "Trent told me that if I could find a way to cut costs on the food, then he wouldn't mind if I spent whatever I saved on my dress."

"Are you telling me that you'd make all of your guests eat from a buffet spread at your wedding, just so you can spend an extra grand or two on your dress?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I'm sorry. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No." I grinned. "That makes you a fabulous person. But if we're going to be spending an extra thousand on your dress, we should really get something with crystals--"

"I was thinking crystals in the veil--"

"Crystals in the veil! What are you? A fucking visionary?" I quickly headed back to my desk, eager to give the bridal shop a call. "Are you still a size eight? Or do we need to size down the dress?"

"Size down the dress?" Clarissa placed a hand over her heart. "Raven, that's so sweet." She firmly shook her head. "But no. For the love of God, don't size down. I need to be able to breathe on my wedding day, or else, I'm going to pass out like Patricia Gwen."

"Patricia Gwen may have passed out, but you can't say that her wedding dress wasn't gorgeous," I said as I pulled the bridal shop's number up on my phone. "But mark my words, Clarissa Doyle, you are going to outshine Patricia Gwen in every possible way, even if that means passing out in an even more gorgeous gown."

"I don't want to pass out. I just told you I don't want to pass out." She grimaced. "Fine. I'll pass out. Put me in a size six. Extra crystals down the back."

"That's my girl." I offered her a thumbs-up as the shop's phone rang on the other line.

"Why is everyone talking about passing out? Do I need to call a doctor or something?"

Just then, a man I'd never seen before walked into my office.

And in a moment of pure shock, I immediately hung up on the bridal shop.

Holy hell.

This guy was runway-model-in-Paris beautiful, with a perfect swoop of hair to match his perfect eyebrows. In fact, the only thing that stopped me from thinking that he modeled professionally was the way his muscles bulged beneath his dark gray top, letting me know that he was way too jacked to be a sample size.

As I looked him over, my mind started to race with possibilities. I thought about what it would feel like to run my fingers underneath that gray top, not stopping until my hands were at his shoulders. After that, I would playfully pull that same top over his head, revealing what I imagined was a six-pack, washboard stomach. I'd run my hands down toward his jeans next, hooking my fingers through the loops, suggesting he take them off without saying a word.

He'd get the message, pulling down his jeans, and his boxers, too. I wouldn't hesitate to get on my knees and take him into my mouth. I wouldn't care that we were in my office. I wouldn't care if anyone was watching, either. I just wanted to put my lips around him.

I wanted to hear him moan my name.

"Raven and I were just making plans for my wedding," Clarissa replied to the man. "Passing out is just par for the course."

"Sorry. I didn't realize that being unconscious was such an integral part of the wedding ceremony." The gorgeous stranger smiled over at Clarissa, the expression on his face just as beautiful as he was.

I felt like I was going to pass out.

How was this person so hot? How was it possible that someone this hot even existed on the same planet as the rest of us?

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Sky." Clarissa nudged him on the arm. "Why are you here, anyway? Did Trent send you here to spy on me?"

"Trent sent me here to make sure you didn't go overboard with the wedding planning," Sky explained. "He mentioned something about you not spending more than $5,000 on your dress. But that number can't be right."

"You're right. It's not $5,000 anymore. It's $7,000." Clarissa smiled.

Sky looked as if he was going to be sick. He shot a look over at me, filled with confusion and fear. "That number has to be wrong, right? There's no way people are spending that much money on a dress they're only going to wear for one day?"

"I... I don't know..." I suddenly found it hard to form coherent sentences.

"Oh! That's right. Sorry for being rude." Clarissa nodded over at Sky. "Raven, this is Sky. He's Trent's cousin, and one of the groomsmen for our wedding." Then she nodded over at me. "And Sky? This is Raven, my wedding planner. If you have any questions or concerns or complaints about the wedding, I literally never want to hear them. Take all that shit right to Raven."

"It's nice to meet you, Raven." Sky held out his hand for mine.

I gave his hand a small, awkward shake, my mind still reeling from his very existence. "It's nice to meet you, too." I quickly pulled my hand away from him. "Uh, sorry about the weird handshake. I don't really shake hands too often."

Sky seemed amused by my response, his hand still out in front of him. "No need to apologize for that. But you might want to work on your handshake a little. You never know when the handshake police are going to be out in full force."

"The handshake police?" I played along. "Are they the ones who have the words 'Handshake Police' written on the backs of their uniforms?"

"That's them." He smiled again. "They're also the ones who make the handcuffs that go around each individual finger instead of your wrists."

"Wait. Couldn't they just use the regular handcuffs? For restraining people's hands?"

"Yeah, that's what they thought, too, until they met the Handshake Bandit," Sky replied. "He was a maniac when it came to shaking hands. He'd go left. Then, he'd go right. He was just doing whatever the hell he wanted."

"That sounds serious." I somehow managed to suppress the urge to chuckle, wanting to come off as if Sky was telling a genuine story and I was enraptured by it. "What happened to him?"

"No one knows..." Sky's words trailed off. "Some say he headed for the northern border, where he's still shaking hands to this day. And some say he's still right here in town, creeping up on unsuspecting people, shaking their hand again even after they've already shaken hands once..."

Sky paused for a moment before he suddenly reached out for my hand again, taking it into yet another handshake.

I jumped in surprise, not expecting to feel the sensation of his palm again so soon.

I started to laugh as I finally put two and two together, realizing that Sky's nonsensical story about the Handshake Bandit was his way of breaking the ice.

"Sorry." He was laughing now, too, as he pulled his hand away from mine. "That was just an old prank my dad taught me."

"That was pretty funny," I replied with a smile on my face. "Are you usually that funny?"

"I think the first rule of being funny is that you can't go around saying that you're funny," he answered as he turned toward Clarissa. "But yeah. I mean, I think I'm pretty funny. What do you think, Clarissa?"

"I think it's time for you to go, Sky," she scoffed. "Don't you have somewhere to be? I thought you said you usually have video conferences in the afternoon."

"You're right. I do. Thanks for reminding me," Sky said, already walking toward the door. He turned back around, his focus fully on Clarissa. "Please don't bankrupt Trent. If he ends up broke, he's just going to come crying to me, and I'd rather not get involved--"

"I'm not going to bankrupt Trent!" Clarissa seemed more annoyed than ever. "Just go!"

"Okay..." Sky's tone suggested that he didn't trust her, but he left my office anyway.

"Sky seems nice--" I started.

"No," Clarissa interrupted me.

"No?"

"No. As in, no, you two can't flirt back and forth in your office. No, as in, you two can't do anything with each other, not until after my wedding." She groaned. "Besides, Sky is straight. I think."

"You think? You don't know for sure?" I pressed.

"No. I know. He's straight. I think," she added. "But that doesn't matter anyway because you and Sky won't be talking to each other until after my wedding."

"And why do we have to wait until after your wedding?"

"Do you really think I want to be upstaged at my own wedding by a hot couple getting together?" Clarissa groaned again. "Especially if they're both guys. Especially if one of them is straight."

"Yeah, I don't think someone can still be straight if they're in a same-sex relationship--"

"I don't make the rules, Raven! I just follow them!" Clarissa's voice sounded strained. "Please. Just... keep it in your pants until after my nuptials, okay? We have a deal?"

"Nope." I grinned.

Clarissa looked like she wanted to skin me alive. "I swear to God, Raven, if you convince Sky to come out of the closet at my wedding, I'm going to--"

"You can't come out at someone else's wedding. That's against the rules," Briar chimed into our conversation as he shifted past Clarissa and walked up to my desk.

Briar was one of my best friends, and unlike Clarissa, he wasn't interested in getting married at all. The only thing Briar seemed to care about was business, which explained why he was already flipping through the manila folders I'd laid on top of my keyboard, without stopping to ask me a thing.

He was also the caterer for Clarissa's wedding, a role he'd taken just as seriously as any other. It was amazing to watch him create a menu for a ceremony, going through the couples' likes and dislikes, eventually settling on a theme that blew people away.

I watched him read through an open manila folder and it occurred to me that I needed to tell him about Clarissa's sudden change in reception plans. "Briar?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes still glued to the folder in front of him.

"Clarissa wants to change her menu."

"That's a good call," he continued. "I was thinking that the lobster bisque was a little boring. I know it's a staple for seafood lovers, but I just can't wrap my head around doing something so basic for such a special occasion--"

"Clarissa wants a buffet." I ripped off the band-aid as quickly as I could.

"Hmm," Briar hummed, looking up from the folder, his gaze drifting over toward Clarissa. "May I ask you a question?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Do you hate me?" he asked. "Did I do something to you, in a past life or even in this life, that would warrant such extreme abhorrence?"

"Briar," Clarissa started. "I don't hate you. I just wanted to spend a bit more on my wedding dress--"

"And so, you cut me off at the knees," Briar suggested an end to her sentence. "Oh, don't worry, Clarissa. I understand your decision. I just don't respect it."

She pouted. "Are you still going to cater my wedding?"

"Of course." He shrugged. "You already paid the deposit, and even if I'm serving up my food buffet-style, it's still going to kick ass."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Clarissa ran toward Briar, pulling him in for a hug. "I can't wait to see what you come up with!"

"Yeah, same." He broke off their embrace and looked over at me. "Anyway, I think this breaking news update warrants a drink. Meet me at Neon City later? Let's say, around five?"

"Ooh, I'll come, too!" Clarissa beamed. "That way, I can let you know what I'm thinking should be on the menu for the reception. I was actually thinking about having a soup station, you know, tomato, chicken noodle--"

"Please! Just... let me have a drink first," Briar begged.

I chuckled at their interaction, even though in the back of my mind, my thoughts were still consumed by the handsome stranger.