Rolling back her shoulders, she walked up to the reception desk. “We have an appointment to speak with Ms. Moreau. It should be under King.”
The receptionist greeted her with a smile. “Yes, she’s very excited to meet you. Please, follow me. She’s expecting you.”
Casting a glance at Darian, she trailed their perky guide.
“I hope we’ll be able to help you plan your special day,” the woman said as she held open the door.
“Oh, not me,” Allison tried to say, but the receptionist had already left them. Checking over her shoulder, she saw Darian staring at her in amusement.
He leaned down. “Not eager to be a blushing bride?” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin.
A shiver ran down her spine. “Trust me, my ‘special day’ would never include this much tulle.”
“I always knew you were a sensible woman.”
Sensible. That’s exactly what she was, but for some reason, standing in the midst of this wedding chaos, the idea grated.
I am the perfect assistant, she reminded herself. How else would I like him to see me?
That was a dangerous question, but luckily the woman coming toward them was an excellent distraction.
“Mr. King, a pleasure to meet you,” Molly said when she reached them.
Allison scanned the woman from the top of her expertly coiffed salt and pepper hair to the tips of her designer pumps. Business must be good for the wedding planner.
She wasn’t the only one making assumptions, however. The older woman’s eyes flicked between her and Darian with a hint of confusion.
Allison’s annoyance bubbled once more. She might not be a leggy blonde, but there was no need to be so confused at the idea of a woman like her being with a man like Darian.
“Ms. Moreau, thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” he said.
“How could I refuse?” she asked, shaking his hand.
“Allow me to introduce my assistant, Ms. Reed.”
“Assistant.” The confusion on her face cleared. “Of course. Please, won’t you have a seat, and we can discuss what has brought you in today.”
Allison pasted a polite smile onto her face. There was no need to feel so irritated that she was a believable assistant but not a believable bride.
“I’ve recently found myself in charge of planning my sister’s wedding,” Darian said as he folded his large frame into one of Molly’s pink and silver chairs. Instead of looking ridiculous in the parlor of all things girly, he was utterly at ease. The calm, half smile on his face was an expression Allison recognized when he was after something and wanted to suss out his quarry before making a move.
“How lovely,” the wedding planner replied.
“The wedding is less than a month away,” Allison added, taking her own seat.
Molly made a disapproving sound, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that will severely constrain what your options are. Even at this time of year most of the venues around San Francisco will be booked. Fall themed weddings have almost completely taken up my schedule.”
“We understand there may be some challenges to overcome—”
“You could say that,” Molly cut in. “Such a tight timeline will put some of our more…elaborate ideas out of the question. But let’s worry about that later. What sort of wedding were you thinking of having? Is there a theme you’d like to incorporate?”
“Classic,” Darian said. “Elegant.”
“Of course. Will it be a small affair?”
“Unlikely,” he replied. “But money is no object.”
That brought a grin to Molly’s face. “Well, we offer full service wedding planning. Everything from booking the venue to tipping the caterers.” Molly pulled a large binder from under her chair and started flipping the pages. “Much will depend on your budget, of course, but in a month we could probably throw something together along these lines.” She turned the binder around and pointed to the blown-up picture on one page.
“That’s…nice,” Allison said. The image showed a rustic wedding. A happy couple exchanged vows in what appeared to be a repurposed barn. She knew immediately that all the twinkle lights in the world would not win Darian over to this idea.
“It’s just outside the city limits, so still easily accessible for your guests.”
“No.”
Both she and Molly looked up from the binder.
“What do you object to?” Molly asked.
“My sister is not getting married on a farm.”
“I assure you it will be—”
“Show me your city venues.”
Molly’s smile slipped slightly. She flipped another two pages and started explaining the benefits of the alternative locations she had in her arsenal.