The Tycoon and the Wedding Planner. Kandy Shepherd

feelings that had erupted so easily. She needed time to get over the Jesse thing, to plan where she went to next. Not straight into another impossible crush, that was for sure.

      Having Sam around was a distraction. He didn’t look like the man who had battered her young heart—and a good portion of her soul—eight years ago when she’d been twenty, but he was the same type. Sam had that outrageous masculinity; the untamed, ‘don’t give a damn’ look that sang to something wild and feminine and reckless in her—a part of herself she thought she’d long suppressed.

      Panic started its heart-stopping, breath-stealing, muscle-tensing attack on her. She took in a deep breath that came out halfway to a sob.

      ‘You okay?’ Sam’s deep voice was warm with concern.

      She pretended to cough. ‘F-fine thanks,’ she said. ‘Just...just a tickle in my throat.’

      She dropped her hand from his shoulder and stepped away so his hand fell from her waist. She immediately felt bereft of his touch. With hands that weren’t quite steady, she switched her handbag to her other shoulder.

      ‘Let me carry that bag for you,’ Sam said, taking it from her, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her arm. It was just a momentary touch but she knew she’d feel it for hours.

      ‘Th-thanks,’ she stuttered.

      He heaved the bag effortlessly over his own shoulder. ‘It weighs a ton; what on earth do you have in it?’

      ‘Anything and everything. I like to be prepared in case anyone needs stuff. You know—tissues, insect repellent, pain-relievers, tamp— Never mind. My bag’s a bit of a joke with my friends. They reckon anything they need they’ll find in there.’

      ‘And they probably rely on it. I get the impression you like to look after people.’

      ‘I guess I do,’ she said. There was no need to mention the accident that had left her sister in a wheelchair when Kate had been aged thirteen, or how her father had left and Kate had had to help out at home more than anyone else her age. How helping other people run their lives had become a habit.

      ‘So what’s in the folder?’ he asked.

      ‘The master plan for the wedding. The documents are on my tablet too, and my PC, but I’ve got backup printouts just in case. There’s a checklist, a time plan, everyone’s duties spelled out to the minute. I want this wedding to run like clockwork. I’ve printed out a running sheet for you too, to keep you up to speed, as they’ve made you part of the meeting.’

      Schedules. Plans. Timetables. Keep the everyday aspects of life under control, and she’d have a better chance of keeping errant emotions and unwelcome longings under control.

      She couldn’t let Sam Lancaster disrupt that.

      * * *

      Sam noticed that as Kate spoke her voice got quicker and quicker. She was nervous. Of him?

      Had she somehow sensed the tight grip he’d had to keep on himself to stop from pulling her into his arms?

      He hadn’t been looking for a relationship—especially not when everything was up in the air with the business. Selling it would impact not only on his life but also on the lives of the people employed by his company, including the contractors, suppliers and clients. It was important to weigh up the desire to free himself from the hungry corporate identity that had dominated his life since he’d been a child with the obligations due to those loyal to the company. He owed it to the memory of his father to get such a momentous decision right.

      But in just the few short hours he’d been in Dolphin Bay Kate Parker had wiggled her lovely, vivacious way under his skin. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else but seeing her again since he’d said goodbye to her at the restaurant.

      And now he wanted to take her hand and walk her right past that boathouse—past the meeting she’d scheduled for a big wedding the bride and groom didn’t seem to want and onto the beach with him, where she could ask him any questions she wanted and he could ask her a few of his own.

      But he would not do that while there was any chance she could be involved with his good friend.

      Again, she glanced down at the watch on her narrow wrist. ‘C’mon, I can’t bear to be late for anything—and especially for a meeting I arranged.’

      He liked the dusting of freckles on her pale arms, so different from the orange-toned fake tan that was the standard for so many Sydney girls. He liked that she was so natural and unaffected, unlike the girls his mother, Vivien—she’d never liked him calling her Mum—kept trying to foist on him ever since the big society wedding she’d wanted for him had been called off.

      ‘Let’s go, then,’ he said, trying to inject a note of enthusiasm into his voice. When they started talking flowers, caterers and canapés, he’d tune out.

      Dusk was falling rapidly, as it did in this part of the world. The boathouse ahead was already in shadow, the lights from the windows casting a welcoming glow on the sand. There was music and the light hum of chatter. He thought he recognised Ben’s laugh.

      As Kate walked beside him, he realised she was keeping a distance away from him so that their hands would not accidentally brush, their shoulders nudge. He didn’t know whether to be offended by her reaction to his closeness or pleased that it might indicate she was aware of the physical tension between them.

      It was torture not knowing where he stood with her.

      As they got within striking distance of the boathouse, he couldn’t endure not knowing any longer. He wanted to put out his hand and stop her but he didn’t trust himself to touch her again. He halted. She took a few more steps forward, realised he’d stopped and turned back to face him, a questioning look on her face.

      Before she had time to speak, he did.

      ‘Kate—stop. Before we go any further, I have to ask you something.’

      ‘Sure,’ she said, her head tilted to one side. ‘Fire away. We’ve got a few minutes left before we’re late.’

      He prepared himself for an answer he didn’t want to hear. ‘Kate, what’s the story with you and Jesse?’

CHAPTER THREE

      KATE’S FACE FROZE in shock at his question. For a long moment she simply stared at him and Sam waited for her reply with increasing edginess.

      ‘Me and J...Jesse?’ she finally managed to stutter out.

      Sam nodded. ‘You said you were just friends. Is that true?’

      ‘Yes. It is. Now.’

      ‘What do you mean “now”?’

      ‘You mean Jesse didn’t say anything?’

      ‘About you? Not a word.’

      Kate looked down so her mass of wavy hair fell over her face, hiding it from him. She scuffed one sandal in the sand. Sam resisted the urge to reach out and push her hair into place. She did it herself, with fingers that trembled, and then looked back up at him. Even in the fading light he could see the indecision etched on her face. ‘Do you want to hear the whole story? It’s...it’s kind of embarrassing.’ Her husky voice was so low he had to dip his head to hear her.

      Embarrassing? He nodded and tried to keep his face free of expression. He’d asked the question. He had to be prepared for whatever answer she might give him.

      Kate clutched the purple folder tight to her chest. ‘Our mothers were very close and Jesse, Ben and I grew up together. The mums were always making jokes about Jesse and me getting married in the future. You should see the photos they posed of us as little babies, holding hands.’

      Sam could imagine how cute those photos would be, but he felt uncomfortable at the thought of that kind of connection being established