Mrs. Bello, Shelly’s grandmother, sat in a leather wingback chair near the fireplace with a plate of ginger cookies on the table beside her. The spot allowed Mrs. Bello to see everyone and everyone to see her. Anthony stood near Shelly, the two of them canoodling. He whispered in her ear and Shelly laughed, her blonde hair glinting in the light. They’d returned from San Francisco the day before and were now engaged and happy. Shelly glowed with a strong comfort she’d not had leading up to the holidays.
Max, Aubrey and Justin’s teenage son, stood at the back of the room with two friends. The boys were tall, with an awkward gawky adolescent stance, wearing their growing bodies like ill-fitting clothes. Max was all Travati. He looked just like a younger version of Justin, except for his eyes. Max definitely had his mother Aubrey’s eyes. Would the baby have those bright blue eyes? Stunning. Max was a good kid, and he seemed to be adjusting well to having a full-time dad, the idea of a new sibling, and a move from a farm in Kansas to New York. Such big life changes could have made him an impossible adolescent, but he wasn’t, he was simply a good gawky kid.
Gwen set the tray on the table in front of the couch. She straightened the cocktail napkins, making certain they were perfectly fanned. A party’s success, once the party began, was about details. Millions and millions of details. Her gaze darted across the room to where Devon, the youngest Travati brother, chatted up a smart looking brunette…was that Bianca Delmont? Her mother, Mrs. Delmont, had been Gwen’s very first client when Gwen started her event planning business. A baby shower for Mrs. Delmont’s niece, which had lead to a bridal brunch for Mrs. Delmont’s friend, then a wedding that led to a dozen weddings in the first two years Gwen had been starting out. If not for Bianca’s mother taking a chance on Gwen, she might still be toiling away at the bridal shop in the Village.
“Hey beautiful, how are those napkins holding up?”
The voice was a wished-for caress against Gwen’s skin. She turned. Leo stood behind her, drink in hand, with a typical flirty McFlirts-a-lot grin on his face.
“It’s not the napkins I’m worried about.” She leaned toward Leo and lowered her voice. “I just hope we have enough liquor,” she whispered.
“You’re kidding, right? Obviously you haven’t seen Justin’s private stash.”
“Private stash?”
Leo’s wicked grin widened. “If you’re a very good girl I’ll show you.” He turned, lifting his hand to crook his finger over his shoulder, beckoning her to follow.
Yee gads, her girl parts tingled with the simple thought of following Leo anywhere. This friend-crush she had on Leo was getting worse. She straightened the skirt of her dress and glanced about the room to check which pair of eyes, if any, might see her sneaking away from the party with Leo. While her girl parts might want more than just insight on Justin’s stash of booze, she knew booze was the only thing she’d be tasting. Her business depended on her relationships and the opinions of those she planned parties for, and she didn’t want anyone thinking… Her eyes darted toward Leo, now standing in the hallway waiting for her. Not that anyone ever would or could think that she, Gwen Fleming, was Leo’s type, but she didn’t want people speculating that she was involved with him.
She slipped into the hallway behind Leo and followed. Her gaze dropped to Leo’s round, very muscular bottom. Her breathing stalled in her chest. So absolutely gorgeou—
“Back here.” Leo looked back at her over his shoulder. Gwen jerked her gaze up from his derriere. Again he shot her a knowing grin.
Heated flamed across her chest and up her neck. Caught. He’d completely caught her staring at his ass. He cocked that eyebrow of his, the one that seemed to say he knew every secret that any woman might ever have.
“In here.” He pushed open a big, imposing door. They stepped into a cool brick room. A wine cellar in the penthouse?
“How didn’t I know this was here?” Gwen spun about to survey the brick-walled room, which was as big as the dining room. It was as though she’d been transported from a high-end upper east side penthouse to a cellar in France.
“No one knows it’s here. Well, I do, and Anthony and Devon. I don’t even know if Justin’s told Aubrey about this.”
Gwen shook her head in disagreement. “Really? You actually think he’d keep this kind of secret from his wife?’
“No, I guess I don’t.” Leo walked to the wall and opened a built-in cabinet. “I don’t think either of my fallen brothers can keep anything from their brides.” He sighed.