Read Online Planning for Love by Christi Barth - Free Book Online Page A

crack staff hasn’t let you down. Mr. Westcott is one of us. Well, if you only count his actual work as a videographer, and overlook his slimy employer.” No use beating around the bush. Gib would ferret out Ben’s job whether she mentioned it or not. Better to bring it up now and control the spin. She put a hand on each man’s arm. “Gibson Moore is the manager of this lovely facility and one of my dearest friends. Gib, meet Bennett Westcott, who as of about fifteen minutes ago, can proudly state that he no longer works for Wild Wedding Smackdown .”
    Gib’s hand was outstretched, ready to shake until she uttered the name of the vile show. Smoothly, he reversed direction to adjust his pinstriped grey pocket square as though it had been his intention all along, and not an evasion. “Are you a guest here at the Cavendish?”
    “I am. But you can relax—I don’t have any screaming, hair-pulling brides with me. The bridal party is all staying at the Park Hyatt. We try to maintain a buffer zone from the people we film when not actually at the wedding. Learned that the hard way when a pissed-off maid of honor stole all our equipment one time in Denver. I promise your hotel will remain classy and quiet, exactly like every Cavendish Grand around the world.”
    “Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Westcott.” Gib thawed his icily professional smile by a few degrees and shook the offered hand.
    “Call me Ben. Any friend of Ivy’s, right?”
    “Indeed.” That assessing grey gaze that so eerily matched his surroundings swung back and forth between Ivy and Ben. “So what brings you two here in the shank of the evening?”
    “Ivy’s had a long day. Thought I’d get her off her feet and relax her with a little bubbly.”
    “Off her feet? I see.” Gib shot his cuffs. He often used the gesture to give him a minute to assess. His eyes slid down to take in Ben’s fingers intertwining with Ivy’s despite her attempts to hide their hands behind the folds of her gown. For she knew Gib’s reserve to be, at best, a complete sham. By breakfast he would’ve used his considerable network of connections in town to spread the word far and wide about her date with Ben. Mocking would ensue, followed by merciless teasing and lots of searching on YouTube for the most reviled, most embarrassing quotes from WWS to rub in her face.
    “We can certainly accommodate you in the Ascot Lounge. Please enjoy a drink with my compliments.” A flick of the wrist produced a card he slid into Ben’s lapel pocket. “As you say, any friend of Ivy’s…” He trailed off, full lips twisting into the restrained, British version of a smirk.
    “Thanks, Gib.” Ben gave him a hearty man-clap on the shoulder. “This is a great way to let off some steam, put the day behind us.”
    Her oh-so-polite friend inclined his head an inch, the picture of a perfect gentleman, as opposed to the virulent gossipmonger he’d turn into the second they crossed the lobby. “I’ll be in touch, Miss Rhodes.”
    “I have no doubt.” As Ben led her away, she craned her neck around so she could stick out her tongue. Sure enough, Gib’s calm façade had crumbled, and his mouth gaped open. He held one hand at his ear in the gesture used by teenaged girls everywhere indicating that she should call him. Fat chance he’d get any details out of her. At least, not without serious bribery, something on the level of dinner at Vinci on their next wine night.
    The Ascot Lounge featured lots of burgundy leather with gold accents, from the deep couches, to the wall of matching books, to the ottomans in front of the fireplace. The only people in the room were the bartender and a tired-looking waitress rolling a stack of silverware into napkins at a table. Ivy sat on a barstool, relieved beyond words to be off her feet. But her physical relief quickly disappeared beneath the weight of anxiety as she watched Ben place their order with the bartender. The intimate bubble in