Pale blue porcelain fire pots lit the path to the lone dining table, small clusters of seashells encircling the base of each pot. All around the entertaining area, tiki torches had been placed in seemingly random places in the sand, their flames swaying in the breeze.
The table had been set up with low ottoman-style pouf chairs done in clean, unembellished linen. It was adorned with a white linen tablecloth, and a burlap runner ran the length, anchoring a fresh flower arrangement done in a long, low style that would allow guests to easily converse over it. From the place settings to the crystal to the candlelight, the presentation was immaculate. Every color was precisely what Ella had ordered, right down to the shade of navy blue in the accents, the bright white hydrangea, the pale ivory of the calla lilies and the rich colors of local flora.
“This is amazing,” she breathed, her fingers tightening on Liam’s arm as she sought to slow her breathing. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be beyond okay if the resort’s planning crew could pull off something like this. “Absolutely amazing.”
The bride’s taste was disturbingly similar to Ella’s, and, seeing it all come together, she had the briefest flash of what her own wedding would be like. Someday. Far, far away. Probably around the same time she became eligible to collect retirement.
Forcing herself to let go of Liam’s arm, Ella strode forward to check the silver pattern. She was almost to the table when Arvin, the event coordinator, intercepted her.
He gave a small bow and, just beyond the firelight’s glow, musicians began to play softly. The classical piece drifted across the air. Arvin rose and met her gaze head-on. “It is my sincerest hope you will find everything to your approval. My staff and I worked straight from the specifications and sketches you provided prior to your arrival.”
He wrung his hands as he spoke, his wide, bright eyes searching her face. She took his hands in hers and squeezed gently. “It’s positively the most beautiful setup I’ve ever seen, Arvin. I mean it. The entire presentation is stunning. It’s like you crawled inside my head and looked at my imagination’s snapshots. I’m certain the bride and her future husband will be thrilled. You and your staff should be commended on doing such a spectacular job. In fact, I’d like the name of your supervisor. She, or he, needs to know what incredible talent this resort possesses in you, your leadership and your people.”
He closed his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Thank you, Ms. Montgomery. I want to apologize once more for the misunderstanding regarding whose wedding had brought you to the resort. I spent the afternoon calling all over the island trying to secure another room, but there isn’t a single vacancy. I even tried a couple of homes with rooms for rent, but everything is booked. I would willingly offer you the bedroom in my home if you find yourself strongly opposed to the current arrangement.”
Disappointment spiked through her—a way out of her current situation when, in truth, she no longer wanted one. She hesitated, not sure what to say, when a deep voice drifted through the dark and saved her.
“That’s very generous of you, Arvin, but we’ll manage the current arrangements without any trouble. And in regards to the current setup, Ms. Montgomery is right in saying that you and your staff have done a beautiful job. We’ll only make a few minor changes.”
Ella spun, the sand churning under her feet and tipping her off balance. She grabbed Liam’s arms to keep from falling. Looking up, she searched his face. “Changes? What changes? This is precisely what your sister asked for. It’s her dream setup.”
“You’re right. It’sherdream, Ella. But it’s certainly not her groom’s vision of the perfect wedding. My sister discussed her wishes with her fiancé, and there were a few things in particular he wanted to see changed or added.”
“I need that list,” she all but growled. “Now.”
“As agreed, I’ll provide it after dinner.” Adjusting her hold on his arm, he gently turned her toward the table. “Where would you have us sit, Arvin?”
“You may choose whichever seat you prefer, but I had planned for you and Ms. Montgomery to sit in the seats reserved for the bride and groom. The northern seat places the bride closest to the water with a slightly better view of the performers.” He pulled out one of the two ottoman-style seats and gestured in a genteel way. “Once you’ve been seated, madam, sir, I’ll have the meal served. We’ve adhered to your request for local custom and cuisine. The chef will serve pork, chicken and an optional fresh-caught parrot fish, all locally sourced and cooked in a traditionalhimaa, a pit dug in the ground and heated with volcanic rock. There are marinated plantains for those who prefer a vegetarian or vegan diet. The central proteins will be accompanied by dishes ofpo’e,fei,uruandfafa. The drink served with the meal will bemiti haari, which is coconut milk diluted with spring water and lime. We will, of course, also provide a variety of beer in the bottle and a selection of white wines. Champagne will be chilled and provided later in the meal for the traditional toasts to the bride and groom.”
Ella relaxed fractionally at the realization that the meal was exactly what she’d asked for—local tradition combined with a handful of dishes that would cater to Hollywood’s particular, more diet-restrictive tastes. “It sounds divine.”
“We’ll want to ensure that a bottle of that new sports drink—what’s it called? Power something—is at each place setting.” Liam dug out his phone and thumbed through a couple of screens before nodding. “Here it is. Yes, it’s PowerBoost. The company is the groom’s newest sponsor, and he wants them represented. He’s asked that place settings alternate flavors between Manic Melon and Electrified Kiwi.”
A faint film that tasted suspiciously like shock seasoned with a hefty dose of denial coated Ella’s tongue. “No. That shit is either fluorescent pink or neon green.”
Arvin paled.
Liam shrugged. “And?”
“It’snotgoing on these tables.”
“Groom’s wishes. Bride concurs.” Liam tapped his phone screen, and it went dark. “Shall we eat?”
Liam wrestled dueling urges: he wanted to cringe at his undiluted lies. He wanted to laugh at the look on Ella’s face. Neither won. Instead, he smothered both urges with brutal efficiency.
Murdering emotions and flights of fancy. A new tagline for my personality type.
His mouth tightened until he felt the corners curl down.
Sitting next to him, Ella made small talk, guiding the conversation with an easy grace through each course, from appetizers through salad and well into the main course. She was a great conversationalist, seeming to truly listen to what Liam had to say and asking intelligent questions in turn. She was an anomaly, a complete about-face compared to the women he typically entertained, who were interested in his money and his social status and focused almost exclusively on what he could do for them. They were piranhas in Prada, jackals in Jimmy Choo. They looked at him and saw unlimited dollar signs and a season’s pass into society’s elite, whereas Ella—without knowledge of who he really was—saw a relatable man.
It dawned on Liam that, for the first time in his life, he had the chance to get to know a woman without presumptions laid out by society matrons and their husband-hunting daughters. Those women had proven time and again that they’d do anything to become Mrs. Liam Baggett, and he’d shut them down, each and every one. Yet now, having met a woman who genuinely piqued his interest, he was unable to capitalize on the opportunity.
My, how the tables have turned.
“Liam?”
He glanced up. “Beg your pardon?”