The show must go on.
Tyra Brown, wedding planner extraordinaire to the filthy rich, had told herself that more times than she could count over the course of her ten-year career. But in the case of the Westwood wedding, she wasn’t counting on it. Ariana had been missing for more than forty-eight hours now; no one had a clue where she was and general mayhem had ensued.
It had been Tyra’s job to handle Claire Westwood, a figure worthy of a starring role in Dynasty, a groom who seemed to have checked out of the entire process and a father who appeared to think ordering her to do something meant she had a secret bride locating technology in her toolbox that would magically unearth Ariana Westwood.
She knew the stunning, black-haired, violet-eyed, soon-to-be bride well enough to know she wasn’t coming back until she was ready. So best to turn her attention to her next most pressing issue—the several-hundred-pound bears tearing the contents of her massive reception tent on the lakeside apart each evening.
Thus how she found herself stepping out of a boat in front of a big Do Not Disturb sign on Riley James’s private island and wobbling precariously over the rocky shore in Louboutins that had cost more than her entire month’s rent. Riley James, local conservation officer, bear whisperer and apparently a grizzly, cranky divorcé, was the only man who could ensure the bears didn’t make an unexpected appearance in her wedding photos. Unfortunately he was on vacation for the next two weeks and this ill-advised, counseled-against visit to his private domain was her attempt to flush him out.
She picked her way up the grassy hill to the impressive-looking, rustic structure built out of logs. Riley James had told the owner of the property she was renting for the reception, “Hell would freeze over before I interrupt my vacation for that goddamn nuisance of a Westwood wedding.” Daunting? Yes. Stopping her? Hell no.
She knocked on the sliding-glass doors at the front of the house. Silence glared back at her. A loud, thumping sound came from the back. The crack of an axe?
She rounded the house and stopped dead in her tracks as she came face-to-face with the most beautiful male back she’d ever seen.
Bare. Sweaty. Defined, chiseled muscle. Finished off by a pair of faded jeans that left little to the imagination.
This could not be Riley James.
The urge to turn around and leave had the soles of her feet pressing into the ground. She reminded herself why she was here. This was about saving her party favours from the grizzlies. To save something about this God-forsaken wedding before it was too late.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked a wide circle around him, given the piece of dangerous equipment in his hands and the force with which he was using it.
Her heart stalled in her chest as she took him in. Okay so the grizzly part had been right if this was Riley James. He wore a few days’ stubble…and he wore it well. But the six pack could have come straight out of a men’s fitness magazine and those eyes—a piercing green—they were gor—
Hostile. Distinctly hostile.
He threw down the axe, pushed his long, shaggy hair out of his face and glared at her. “You’re on private property.”
Her stomach clenched, but she pushed her chin out defiantly. “I’m looking for Riley James.”
“Doesn’t matter who you’re looking for. You can turn around and leave the way you came.”
“I can’t.”
He took a step closer, menacing and overtly male in a way that made her pulse race. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
She laced her hands in front of her. “I have five hundred people coming to a wedding on Saturday. Bears are destroying my reception tent. I need them gone.”
He walked over, picked up his T-shirt and wiped it across his face. “I’m on vacation. I can’t help. So,” he stated, quirking a brow at her, “Ms….?”
“Brown. Tyra Brown.”
He nodded. “So, Ms. Brown. You can see yourself out.”
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. “I need your help. You’re the only one who can get rid of those grizzlies.”
His gaze ripped over her in a scathing appraisal. “They’re black bears.”
“I still need them gone.”
He picked up a piece of wood and set it on the chopping block. “Are you deaf, Ms. Brown? I said I can’t help.”
She waited until he’d swung the axe and separated the log into two before she stepped back into his line of sight. “I have a proposition for you.”
His piercing green gaze slid over her in a perusal that was both intimidating and hot. “I can pretty much guarantee that I still won’t be interested.”
She swallowed hard. “Pete told me you’re hosting the annual hunter’s association meeting and you hate planning that stuff.” She took a deep breath and held his gaze. “If you help me, I’ll do the whole thing for you.”
He rested the axe on the ground, his mouth twisting. “You think the bears are bad, Ms. Brown? Those guys eat little girls like you for breakfast.”
Her mouth curved. “I’m desperate, Mr. James. Pulling this wedding off is worth keeping a few uncouth men in line for a weekend.”
She thought she saw him smile. Just a bit. He chopped the rest of the pile, dropped the axe and pulled on his T-shirt. “All right, Ms. Brown. You happen to be in luck. That meeting was dropped in my lap by someone who is a worse planner than I am. I could use your help.’
She blew out a breath, her mouth curving in a brilliant smile. “Thank you. I swear you won’t regret it.”
“I’m pretty sure I already do, Ms. Brown.”
***
They met at the lake that night where the massive reception tent sat illuminated by the moon. Midnight, one o’clock, two o’clock passed as they waited in the shadow of the trees for the bears to make their nightly appearance.
“Maybe they’ve gone on vacation, too,” Tyra quipped.
Riley tried to ignore the way her smile lit up everything around her. As it had this afternoon at his place. Tyra Brown wasn’t beautiful in a knock-your-socks-off kind of way, but there was something about how she’d stood up to him that drew him in.
Another half an hour passed. Tyra stretched and stood. “I need to use the bathroom. Be right back.”
She was halfway across the clearing when Riley saw the bear. “Tyra, freeze,” he growled. “Don’t make a move.”
She stood there as still as a statue. Her back was to him but he could read the terror in the tight lines of her body. And he didn’t blame her. The bear was a massive five-hundred-pound female with cubs loitering behind her. Deadly if Tyra got between them. Minutes passed before the bears ambled into the tent and out of sight. Riley sprinted from the trees, scooped up a frozen Tyra and carried her back to safety.
He held her until she stopped shaking. Until her teeth stopped chattering. She felt soft and good against him, and he realized he’d forgotten how sweet a woman could smell.
Or how easily he could fall for a pretty face.
And if that seemed complicated, better not to tell Tyra he was harboring her fugitive bride.