Don't Tell the Wedding Planner (7 page)

He tipped back his head and laughed. And once again she was presented with a vision of a strong throat and even, white teeth. The laugh lines around his eyes weren’t as deep as his thirty years would suggest. And Callie wondered if that meant his smile rarely made it all the way to his eyes.

“Because I’m that kind of guy, I’ll let the obvious comeback for that question slide buy.”

“A sign of intelligence.”

“Well—” he stood up “—let’s get the rest of this family hazing over with.”

When they went back inside the restaurant, Aunt Billie wouldn’t let him pay, of course. Callie smothered the smile as Matt wasted ten minutes trying to change her mind, without success. Callie’s grin finally appeared as she watched Matt wait for Aunt Billie to return to the kitchen before he passed by their table and left enough to cover the bill plus a very generous tip. The man never came up against a problem he couldn’t solve.

And what would she do if he finally turned that determination on her?

* * *

Fighting the doubt, Matt hooked his hands on his hips and stared down at the old fiberglass boat tied to the wooden dock. “You sure this thing is safe?”

“Of course it is.”

Callie, loose-limbed and agile, ignored the tiny ladder fixed to the side of the deck and hopped inside the boat with the grace of a cat. Beneath her cutoffs, toned, tanned legs ended in delicate sandals. Her beautiful shoulders now on display beneath a feminine T-shirt. Opposed to Friday night’s arrangement, her hair hung loose.

And, as promised, a heat wave had settled on top of the delta. The muggy temperature was stifling. Although her T-shirt was damp, her face slightly flushed, she didn’t appear bothered.

Man, how did the woman handle the weather and still look so cool?

She turned and looked up at him, a smile on her lips and a challenge in her eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

His lips twitched. “Only to a certain extent.”

Eyes twinkling, Callie remained silent and sent him an I-dare-you hike of her brow. After a moment’s hesitation, Matt let out a light scoff and climbed down into the boat.

“Feel free to drive,” she said. “I get the feeling you like to be the one steering the boat.”

“Was that a metaphor?” Matt said as he sat in the driver’s seat.

“Definitely.”

Surprisingly, the outboard motor of the flat-bottomed boat started easily, and Matt realized that, despite being old, the boat had been carefully maintained. Given the earlier conversation with her aunt, he got the distinct feeling Callie used it more than anyone else.

Curious about why, he steered up the canal while studying the woman up front. Callie had stretched out on the bench on the bow, eyes closed and face tilted into the breeze, obviously enjoying the wind in her hair. In the bright light he could make out streaks of gold mixed with the honey-colored strands.

The towering cypress trees lining the canal blocked most of the direct light, but the lazy heat sat on them relentlessly, the air smelling of damp earth. Spanish moss hung like tinsel in a Christmas tree, adding more of an eerie mood than a festive one.

Matt settled back in his seat, surprised at the stillness of their surroundings. Other than the ripples from their boat, and the quiet purr of the small motor, nothing moved or made a sound. Several minutes passed with the boat following the serpentine path. They rounded a curve and a lake opened out before them. Ten minutes later Callie pointed Matt in the direction of a small boathouse on stilts, blending with the trees.

“Here we are.”

Matt hopped up onto the porch that also served as a high dock. Beside the wooden structure a large rope hammock—looking brand-new and out of place next to the ancient building—stretched invitingly between two oak trees. After securing the boat, he reached down and pulled Callie up onto the dock.

“I hadn’t planned on taking the time to sightsee while in New Orleans.” And yet, here he stood in the middle of friggin’ nowhere, all because he hadn’t had the willpower to resist a day with Callie. “But if I had made plans, I certainly would have chosen something a little less...” He stared across the cypress-tree-lined lake and the lapping water. The endless stretch of nothing but water and trees. “Wild.”

“I promise,” she said, grinning up at him, “when we get back I’ll take you out on the town and show you the best New Orleans has to offer, like a nice dinner out. A little dancing. And if you’re really lucky, maybe even a tour of my condo. But until then—” She backed up slowly toward the edge of the dock, flipping off her sandals and slipping her watch from her wrist, leaving Matt uneasy. The light in her eyes set him on edge in ways that weren’t safe to consider.

“Where are you going?” Matt asked. A thrum of anxiety curled in Matt’s stomach, and he looked out at the water. “I don’t think—”

“Holler when you see a gator.” And with that, Callie pivoted and dove into the water.

The splash came, raining cool drops on Matt’s face and shirt, and he nearly groaned at the brief relief from the heat. In her T-shirt and shorts, Callie swam toward the center of a clearing beneath the low-hanging branches of several cypress trees and turned to tread water, smiling up at him.

“You coming in?” she said. “It’s the final LaBeau initiation rite.”

“What the hell do I get in return for passing all these tests?”

A smile crept up her face. “A permanent spot at the family table at Po Boy’s.”

“If you’re not going to be there, then what’s the point?”

She shot him a you’re-not-funny look, and he decided to let the issue slide.

“Besides,” he said, “I’m not sure that’s an honor the lining of my esophagus would survive.”

“I told Aunt Billie to make yours extra hot.”

He tipped his head as the realization hit him. “Yours wasn’t as hot as mine?”

“Nope. Can’t stand it spicy. I always order it mild.” The playful light in her eyes was almost worth suffering through étouffée that could be used to strip paint from wood.

Almost.

“Coming in?” she asked.

He stared down at her, hands on his hips, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Promise this is the last of the LaBeau family torture?”

“Last one, I swear.”

“Okay,” he said.

The woman clearly felt in her element. And while he might be a bit of a fish out of water in the backwoods of Louisiana, there were still some things that he controlled. Showing the lovely Ms. LaBeau a thing or two suddenly seemed incredibly important.

And too much fun to pass up.

After the years of worry and fear and sacrifice, he suddenly felt the urge to indulge in something just for himself. A moment to be something more than just a doctor, a brother and a stand-in parent. It had been far too long since he’d had sex, and today he was going to leave his many roles behind, save one: that of a red-blooded man in the company of a beautiful woman.

He flipped open his snap. To her credit, she didn’t react except for a slight flaring of her eyelids as she continued to tread water. As Callie stared up at him, he struggled to keep the amusement from his face as he slid the zipper down. He waited for her to say something. A protest. A sound of encouragement. A mocking comment. Or, at the very least, a flicker of her gaze away from him.

Nothing.

Instead, Callie kept treading water, eyes on Matt as he hooked his hands in his shorts and shoved them down, kicking them aside. His briefs clung to his hips and, for a nanosecond, he considered shucking them, too. But he wasn’t prepared for the likely ending to a bout of skinny-dipping. For one split second he mentally kicked himself for not considering the need for condoms. But right now the sun beat down on his back and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and the water looked cool. Even better, the expression on Callie’s face was inviting.

He executed a shallow dive, slicing through the water, and broke the surface just two feet from where Callie continued to tread water.

Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat or the sight of him in nothing but briefs, he wasn’t sure.

“You know,” she said dryly, “I wasn’t kidding before. There are gators in these waters. So you best keep all your dangly bits inside your underwear.”

He laughed, secretly pleased with the first words out of her mouth. “Thanks for the warning.”

Matt fought the urge to cup her neck and drag her close for another kiss. Memories of their time in the fitting room that first night flooded his mind. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her hip.

Good thing the water was fairly cool because spontaneous combustion felt like a possibility. Unfortunately, despite being a strong swimmer he couldn’t figure out how to follow through on the impulse to take that mouth in the way he wanted without drowning them both. Instead, he stretched out on his back to float, biding his time until she climbed out of the water and onto the dock. In wet clothes.

Just thinking about the sight made his groin grow tight.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he stared up at the canopy of cypress trees and the sunlight peeking through the leaves, letting the peaceful scene wash over him. For the ten years since his parents had died and he’d assumed responsibility of Tommy, he’d been living life on edge. The roller-coaster ride of Tommy’s addiction had worn him out, leaving him constantly braced for the next bad happening. Taking a moment to just relax was a revelation.

“This is nice,” he said.

He turned his head and met Callie’s face just a few feet from his, also floating.

“I love Louisiana.” Her smile wrinkled her nose in a way that could only be described as cute. “Never want to live anywhere else.”

What would that be like? To live where you wanted, instead of where you had to?

He’d been stuck with Manford as his home base for so long, looking after Tommy, that he couldn’t imagine a life anywhere else. But nothing about his hometown appealed to him. Never had. Never would. He’d grown up there dying to get out. But when his parents had died during his third year of college, he’d had no choice but to transfer back home before his senior year. To attend medical school and complete his E.R. residency in Detroit. Commuting as much as he could. Sleeping in the on-call room when too tired to make the drive back home.

Sometimes he wondered if his brother’s life would have turned out differently had Matt been around more during Tommy’s early years of college.

He hated those self-defeating thoughts.

“But as much as I love New Orleans—” Callie’s hand brushed his “—every once in a while I have to get out of town and come back here. It’s so...peaceful.”

They continued to float for a few more minutes, and every muscle in Matt’s body slowly relaxed, until he truly felt like a floater, washed up on the beach. No tension. No worries about what tomorrow would bring.

A distant rumble of thunder broke the peace and sent them swimming for shore. Matt reached the dock first, hauling himself up. He turned and leaned down to take Callie’s hand, pulling her up onto the dock...and straight into his arms.

He made no pretense that his actions were an accident. He dragged her dripping body up against his, until the wet T-shirt pressed so enticingly against her breasts was plastered against his chest. His body let out a sigh of relief.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the dressing room,” he said.

She leaned back and eyed him. “I’m guessing your thoughts didn’t include a dock house and a battered deck.”

“The setting is irrelevant.”

Since their kisses in the costume-shop dressing room, Matt hadn’t been able to think of much else besides getting Callie back in his arms. And now that he had her here, he was going to take full advantage.

He swooped in for a kiss, gathering those soft lips against his, and a tiny moan escaped Callie. The sound shot straight to his groin.

Matt pressed his hand to the back of her head and molded himself more firmly against her. Water dripped from Callie’s hair, landing on his arms, and Matt was surprised the drops didn’t hit his overheated skin and fizzle into vapor. The taste and the feel of Callie in his arms were just as good as he remembered. He touched his tongue to her lower lip, and she opened her mouth wide, letting him inside. But, good God, this time it wasn’t enough.

Ignoring the warning voices in his head, he lifted Callie into his arms. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, her body just brushed the top of his hard shaft. This time the groan came from him.

“Callie—”

He eyed the scene and then, decision made, headed for the hammock. Callie pressed herself more firmly against Matt.

“Callie.”

She wasn’t helping his self-control here.

He tumbled her back onto the hammock, the action creating a gentle rocking motion, and caught his weight with his hand. He stared down into brown eyes framed with thick lashes, wet from their swim.

“I’m not prepared for this.” Even as he said the words, he stretched out beside her, covering that soft body with his own. The smell of shampoo—magnolia scented, maybe?—came from her hair.

Stupid, really, to torture himself this way. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I just want to enjoy holding you for a moment.” His lips tipped up at the edges. “Minus the audience on the other side of a dressing-room door.”

“I figured the perv finally wanted to cop a feel.”

The image of doing exactly that left Matt’s chuckle sounding strained. When Callie shifted slightly beneath him, pressing more of that soft body against his, the amusement died on his lips.

“Whatever we do,” he said, “we leave the clothes
on.
I don’t have a condom, but I know I’d have a devil of a time focusing on the technicalities if you were naked.”

Matt swiped his hand down her side, cupping her thigh, and she closed her eyes. “So the clothes stay on,” she said. “Got it.”

The verbal agreement spiked his pulse higher, and he pressed her mouth open again with his, finally realizing the honey-colored hair and the honey drawl matched her honey taste.

Jesus, he needed to touch her.

He unsnapped her cutoffs and flattened his palm low against her slender belly.