To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(11)

“Yeah?”

“Welcome to the Wedding Belles.”

Forty-five minutes later, Brooke had practically memorized the file on Maya Tyler and Neil Garrett that Jessie had Dropboxed her.

Not that there was much to memorize on the latter. Alexis had been right; there wasn’t much to know on the guy. The Wedding Belles’ details on the man were sparse, and though a thorough Google session had turned up plenty of Neil Garretts, none matched the description Maya Tyler had provided of her fiancé.

Brooke wasn’t worried. This early on in the process, it was rarely about the groom anyway. Especially when the bride came from money—big money.

Booking the Wedding Belles was not a cheap endeavor—Brooke’s rather impressive salary told her that. But looking through the photos of Maya Tyler that Alexis had pulled, Brooke didn’t think budget was going to be an issue. Brooke’s designer-trained eye spotted an awful lot of Armani and Jimmy Choo, and the woman had a definite affinity for Louis Vuitton.

By the time two o’clock rolled around, Brooke was all but rubbing her hands together in excitement.

She could work within a budget, of course. Some of her favorite weddings had been the sweet, smaller affairs. But Brooke couldn’t deny that the opportunity to have a blank check and access to all of New York’s most glamorous vendors was an excellent way to salvage her career and start her off on the right foot here.

Jessie gave Brooke a quick tour of the consultation room that was off the main reception area.

No wonder the Wedding Belles have exorbitant fees, Brooke thought. There was an espresso machine, eight flavors of macaroons delivered daily. Multiple French champagne options.

The Belles had sophisticated luxury down pat.

“So, you think you can hold down the fort?” Jessie asked as they went back into the main reception area. “I got a text from Alexis. Still no luck on the missing bride, and she wants me to go check the ex-boyfriend’s apartment.”

“Yikes,” Brooke murmured. “Let’s hope she’s not there.”

“Right? Talk about an OMG sitch,” Jessie said, pulling her curly red hair into a stubby ponytail. “Wish me luck that I don’t find her. Not there, at least. Maybe she decided to get a last-minute Brazilian, you know? For the honeymoon? But you’re good here?”

“Absolutely,” Brooke said.

And surprisingly, she meant it. This may be her first New York wedding consultation, but she felt 100 percent in her element.

There was nothing Brooke couldn’t handle. She’d seen it all. Experienced it all.

She was going to own this.

Not two minutes after Jessie left the office, there was a chiming sound at the main door. What better way to demonstrate top-tier service than to open it herself and dazzle the clients from the get-go? Brooke sashayed over to the door and swung it open, then promptly realized that there was one element to wedding planning that she’d never experienced, and it was a bad one.

A really bad one:

Wild, instant attraction to the groom.

The man standing on the other side of the door made Brooke’s stomach flip in a way she hadn’t felt since . . . ever.

Her mouth went dry. Her palms grew sweaty. Her breath drew up short.

It wasn’t just that he was gorgeous in the stop-and-stare kind of way, although he was certainly good-looking. His light brown hair was just slightly windblown, with just the subtlest amount of curl.

The long wool coat was perfectly tailored to his lean body, and the navy color made his light blue eyes look all the more piercing. The nose was just a touch long, the brow just a bit intense, and the mouth unsmiling and sexy as hell. His skin was the vaguely gold tone of someone who tanned easily.

But it wasn’t his good looks that had her feeling a bit short of breath. It was the look in his eyes—the look of surprise that she knew mirrored her own. Surprise that a perfect stranger could cause such a fierce stab of want.

And he was someone else’s fiancé.

No, her client’s fiancé.

Crap.

Even Brooke’s “look on the bright side” mantra couldn’t fix this.

“Hi, you must be Neil,” Brooke said, forcing a smile and extending a hand.

“No.” His voice was low, his enunciation precise.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not Neil.”

Brooke blew out a slow relieved sigh, then quickly tried to cover it up with a little cough.

He wasn’t Neil Garrett.

Which meant he wasn’t getting married. Which meant . . .

Knock it off. You’re so not in a place to be man-hunting right now.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were my two o’clock appointment,” she said.

“I am your two o’clock,” he snapped.

The man was literally staring down his nose at her as though she were the ultimate nuisance. Clearly, Brooke had been wrong about their attraction being mutual.

He started to brush past her, but Brooke shifted to block his way. “I don’t think so. Not if your name isn’t Neil Garrett, and not if you’re not marrying a Maya—”

“Maya Tyler,” he finished for her.

Brooke’s eyes narrowed, but she moved to let him inside, ignoring the way his closeness made her heartbeat quicken.

She shut the door and turned to find him holding out his jacket to her.