Todd Aston the Third being sensitive? “Okay, now I’m freaked out on two different levels. The contrast between what I’m used to and this, and your emotional perception.”

“I’m a man of great mystery.”

That made her laugh. “Of course you are. Wealth, power and mystery. You should put that on your business cards.”

He led the way around the side of the house toward their cars. “I’m way ahead of you, Marina. I have it tattooed on my back.”

She grinned. “I thought you’d have a stick up your butt,” she said before she could stop herself.

“They know how to fix that now. Isn’t modern medicine a miracle?”

She sighed. “You know what I mean. I thought you’d be…different.”

“Unpleasant?”

“Imperious.”

“I can be, if that would make you happy.”

“No, thanks.” She opened her notebook. “Okay, venue research complete. Which leaves us with food, the cake, flowers, a photographer and all kinds of other messy details.”

“The dress,” he reminded her. “We’ll have to look at something off the rack. There’s no time for a custom gown.”

She glanced at him, surprised he would know that. “Let me guess. More bridal magazine research? Although somehow I can’t see you sitting down with a latte and a bridal magazine.”

“I can’t have a latte then. Black coffee to combat all the girliness. It’s about balance.”

Until this moment, she hadn’t thought of Todd as a person. At first he’d been just a name, then he’d been the guy who tried to break up her sister and Ryan. Then an annoyance who would get in her way about the wedding. But now…

“Why do you hide who you are behind your reputation?” she asked. “The money thing. The model thing.”

He unlocked his car. “I’ve dated maybe three models in my life, Marina. You need to let go.”

“You’re right. I will.”

“Good.” He sat in his car and grinned. “Of course, two of them didn’t speak English.”

They didn’t…Then how…She glared at him. “You had better be kidding. Not speak English?”

He nodded. “I was simply doing my part to improve American relationships with our neighbors.” He smiled angelically. “I know a great caterer. I’ll set something up and get back to you with the details.”

With that he was gone.

Three days later Todd stood in front of the catering office and watched Marina walk toward him. She wore jeans, a UCLA sweatshirt and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Not someone who dressed to impress.

There was also an air of determination about her that made him anticipate plenty of flying sparks. Planning a wedding might not be his idea of a good time, but so far Marina had been a pleasant surprise. Smart and sexy. He’d been looking forward to seeing her again.

When she stopped in front of him, she put her hands on her h*ps and glared at him.

“I looked you up on the Internet,” she said. “The models in question spoke perfectly good English, albeit with an accent.”

“Albeit?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows. “Are we in a Jane Austen novel?”

“What do you know about Jane Austen?”

“Every good useless male who only dates models knows all about chick flicks and Jane Austen. It’s required. I not only saw Bridget Jones’s Diary twice, I’ve seen the special features. Ask me anything.”

She burst out laughing. The sound was light and sexy and made him want to touch her. All of her. Unexpected heat swept through him, startling him with its intensity.

He immediately took a step back, both physically and mentally. He and Marina were on a mission. He was here to protect Ryan’s interests and not die of boredom in the process. If tweaking Marina’s assumptions about him got him through the day, then he was up to the task. But actually enjoying her company—not a good idea. Getting involved with his aunt-by-marriage’s youngest granddaughter wouldn’t be very intelligent.

“This place comes highly recommended,” he said as they made their way to the front door. “It’s supposed to be good food with more choices than beef or chicken. If this is the one we pick, we’ll be able to customize the menu. Or in our case, argue over food options.”

“You think we’re going to argue?” she asked.

“I’m counting on it.”

“I’m a pretty agreeable person, but I’m sure you’re difficult,” she said as he held open the door. “I’ll be flexible on food, but not the dessert thing.”

“What dessert thing?”

She smiled at him. “That we have dessert. It’s one of the great thrills of a wedding. You get dessert and cake. How often does that happen in life?”

“Far be it from me to get between a woman and her sugar fix.”

“Pretty and smart,” she murmured. “How impressive.”

“I know.” He turned his attention to the receptionist and introduced them.

“I’m Zoe,” the woman said with a smile. “We’re ready for you. If you’d come this way?”

They were led in to a small room set up like a dining area. The table for six had two place settings at one end.

Zoe seated them, then pointed out the menu printed on a single sheet by the plates.

“We’ll go in order,” she said. “We’ll start with soups, then the salads and so on. Please make notes or write down any questions.”

She left and then returned immediately with three small bowls for each of them.

“Lovely presentation,” Marina said as she picked the sprig of garnish out of one of the bowls. “Why do they have to put some garden weed on top of a dish? What is it? How do we know where it’s been?”

“The not knowing adds to the thrill of the moment.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes wide. “Are you thrilled?”

She was close enough that he could see a couple of pale freckles on her nose and hint of a dimple in her cheek. Once again he thought about touching her…and didn’t.

“Beyond words.”

“Liar,” she murmured, then took a taste of the first soup. “Split pea with something else. Not bad.”

He tasted it and shook his head. “No, thanks.”

They both passed on the creamy mystery soup, while he liked the chicken vegetable and Marina complained it was too healthy.

“We’re at a wedding. Do we really have to get our five servings of fruits and vegetables in the first course?”

He poked around the bowl. “Not a lot of fruit that I can see.”

“You know what I mean.” She set down her spoon. “What about tortilla soup? Or a quesadilla? Doesn’t that sound good?”

“You want Mexican food at your sister’s wedding?”

Marina’s shoulders slumped. “Not really, but I could go for some right now. I should have eaten before coming here. I’m really hungry.”

“So you like food.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Yes, some women eat. I eat. Shocking, but true. I also run every day, so I can pretty much eat what I like and enjoy it. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Running with that chip on your shoulder must help with your workout. The extra weight would increase intensity.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “You’re saying I’m a little sensitive about the food thing?”

“Would I say that?”

“You’re thinking I’m overreacting because you date models and I don’t feel I measure up to their ideal.”

“You’re doing all the talking.”

“I’m not intimidated. Mostly not. Sometimes, maybe a little. But I’d like to point out that these are my skinny jeans. They’ve fit all week and they look fabulous on me.”

“Yes, they do.” He’d admired the curve of her h*ps and her long legs when she’d first walked up. He was willing to take another look, if that would make her happy.

“I don’t seek approval from anyone but myself.”

“Why would you?”

She smiled. “You’re humoring me.”

“It seems safest. You have some attitude on you.”

“I know. I don’t get it. I’m actually a fairly calm person. I’m not sure what it is about you that pushes all my buttons.”

“It’s because I’m so smooth and handsome,” he said as Zoe came in with several salad plates, along with a basket of rolls. “You’re uncomfortable.”

Marina waited until they were alone to respond. When Zoe had picked up the soup bowls and left, she said, “I’m not uncomfortable. You have an ego the size of Antarctica. You’re not that special.”

“Of course I am. You researched me. Who was the last guy you researched?”

“The men I know are totally normal. Researching is not required. You make me crazy.”

“Then my work here is complete.”

She shook her head. “Eat your salad.”

He took a bite of the first salad. There were a lot of strange looking lettuces and shavings of things he didn’t recognize. Salad was highly overrated, he thought grimly.

“Think about the guys you usually date,” he said, enjoying the fact that he could get to her. “Scruffy, poor grad students. When compared to me, they don’t have a chance.”

She glared at him. “Oh, right. Why would dating the next brilliant man who will change the course of history by improving the world be considered interesting?”

He picked up a roll and leaned toward her. “They’re nerds. They’re not interesting yet and they’re not good in bed. Admit it.”

Fury darkened her eyes. She opened her mouth, probably to yell at him. He stuck the roll between her lips.

“Not bad,” he said, pointing at the second salad. “I like the blue cheese. What do you think?”

She pulled the roll away and glared at him. “I think you’re a pompous, egotistical ass.”

He tasted the third salad and grimaced. “So you like me.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course you do. But I was asking about the salads. What do you think?”

She pointed at the one he’d tasted third. “That one works.”

He shook his head. “Not a good idea. There’s too much garlic in the dressing.”

“Since when do you know anything about cooking?”

“I don’t.” Could he help it that she set him up with one good line after the other? Sometimes a guy couldn’t help cutting a break. “But I do know about weddings.” He glanced around, then leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Kissing. Lots and lots of kissing at weddings. You don’t want the guests to have garlic breath.”

Awareness crackled in the room. He thought Marina might get nervous or change the subject, but her gaze never left his. The humor was gone, replaced by a tension that quickly flared into need.

What would it be like to kiss her? What would her mouth feel like against his? How soft? How hungry? How sexy?

Was she the kind of woman who took charge, or did she like to be convinced? The possibilities were endless and suddenly he wanted to explore them all.

“I think you’re overstating the problem,” she said. “I don’t think the garlic is that big a deal, but if it is, we could simply change the dressing on the salad.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he said and leaned in farther, then brushed his mouth against hers.

There was heat and need. They competed for his attention. Marina didn’t move, but he heard her breath quicken. But before he could take things to the next level, Zoe returned.

“What did you…Oh. Sorry. Should I come back?”

Todd straightened. “No. We know what we need to do.”

Three

Marina felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. Well, that wasn’t right, she thought as she blinked to bring the room back into focus. Nothing bad had happened and she certainly wasn’t squished. But she was out of breath and feeling a little two-dimensional all the same.

Talk about wow. The heat, the tingles, the need to jump Todd’s bones and make him have his way with her. All from a teeny, tiny, innocent kiss. What would happen if he kissed her like he meant it?

A dangerous question, she told herself. Todd was nothing like she’d imagined. He was funny and charming. Too charming. She had to remember that any contact with a woman was just a game with him. That he had the emotional depth of a cookie sheet. She should enjoy the superficial attraction for the momentary pleasure and let the rest of it go. He didn’t do relationships and she didn’t do anything else.

Although technically she didn’t do relationships, either. It was the whole fear thing. She didn’t want to get lost in a man.

They sampled several entrées, which were okay and the desserts, which were great.

“Are you going to finish that?” she asked, eyeing his barely tasted dish of chocolate mousse.

Todd pushed the bowl toward her. “You’re welcome to it.”

She dipped her spoon into the creamy, foamy delight and then savored the burst of rich chocolate on her tongue. He watched her, his expression unreadable.

She wanted to think he found her passion for chocolate fascinating, but no doubt he was comparing her normal appetite to his dates’ lack of appetite and finding her just a little odd.

“Finished?” he asked when she’d scraped the last of the pudding from the bowl.