Her Las Vegas Wedding Read online

  “Audrey, I need to talk to you.”

  They were only on the appetizer and she was already feeling unfocused and exhausted from being around Shane. Reg had just said something, but she hadn’t really heard him. “Has Shane always been so—” she chose her word “—fierce?” Although she guessed the answer.

  “Since the day he was born.” Reg shook his head. “Our grandmother Lolly, who taught him how to cook her old Irish recipes, used to call him Mr. Firecracker. Of course, since Melina died he’s been grappling with his own demons. Forks are the least of his problems.”

  The loss of his wife had left behind a wounded ogre. Audrey knew the story. The young woman who had been killed instantly in a car accident during a snowstorm in the woods of upstate New York. She hadn’t seen the Murphys very often during that time period, but her dad had sent flowers and reached out to Connor to offer his support.

  Audrey asked Reg, “Does Shane talk about her?”

  Reg dabbed under his nose and sounded exasperated when he questioned, “Why are we spending so much time discussing Shane?”

  * * *

  In his kitchen, Shane took out his frustration on the mint he tore for the salad. With a syncopated rhythm, he ripped leaves from their stems and threw them onto a work board. His preferred soundtrack of hard rock music did little to squelch the thoughts stomping through his head.

  When he’d first heard this master scheme of Audrey Girard being matched up with his brother, he heartily approved. Reg spent far too much time agonizing over spreadsheets, finding fault with staff members and riding Shane about the cookbook or the lagging business. Hopefully a wife would take up some of Reg’s attention and get him off of everyone else’s back.

  But now, face-to-face with Audrey again, the whole idea angered him. Wasn’t she just a little too pretty, a lot too sexy and even a bit too independent to be with uptight Reg? He loved his brother and wanted the best for him, but Audrey was too fine a lamb to be offered up for this sacrifice.

  During the meetings regarding the new restaurant, he’d observed petite but voluptuous Audrey Girard in action. In her tight business skirts, she moved with the charged-up energy to match the clack of her high-heeled shoes. In fact, memories of her would linger in his mind for days after every encounter.

  While Shane wielded his knife to halve the cherry tomatoes, a tight smile crossed his lips. He remembered the first time he’d met Audrey, still in her teens back then, during that summer in St. Thomas when he was doing a promotional stint as a guest chef.

  She had been scared to death of him. Who could blame her? At twenty-four, with his heavy boots and impossible standards, he must have cut a frightening figure. Another sneer broke through as he realized that not much had changed since then.

  Except for two massively successful restaurants that had made his name a household word. Although the world didn’t know that the restaurants had ceased making the profits they used to. Had anyone noticed that he was no longer asked to make appearances on national morning TV talk shows? That the public had moved on to new culinary revelations, new rising-star chefs? One thing they did know was that Shane Murphy had lost his wife to a gruesome death.

  He plated the tomatoes and crumbled cojita cheese on them. Yes, he still remembered Audrey Girard and that midnight ocean swim. He flicked the mint on top of the cheese. Drizzled on olive oil and finished with a dotting of manzanilla olives. He could do this salad in his sleep.

  All afternoon, he had been alone in the kitchen, trying to come up with a fresh idea. Just one new recipe for the cookbook. A start.

  But he’d only spun his wheels. Unable to summon a clear vision. Nothing was right.

  A muse was nowhere to be found.

  “Aha,” Shane heard Reg call out as he entered the dining room with the salads he’d served tens of thousands of in his restaurants. “We were just talking about the cookbook.”

  “What about it?” Shane already knew where this conversation was going.

  “That perhaps we’ll shoot some photos of you on the patio,” Reg said. “Fire up the grill out there, and you can do street tacos with a party crowd surrounding you.”

  Shane placed the salad plates on an empty table nearby so that he could clear Reg and Audrey’s appetizers away before serving. Audrey had only eaten a few bites of the poblano.

  “You didn’t like it,” he announced rather than inquired.

  Audrey looked up at him with her big eyes. He hadn’t remembered how light a brown they were. The color of honey. “It was delicious,” she answered, as if she thought that was something she needed to say.

  “I see.”

  Shane kept his connection with Audrey’s seductive orbs while Reg asked, “Are you any closer to actually finishing the cookbook, brother? Or even beginning it?”

  “Enjoy the salad,” Shane uttered between clenched teeth.

  Back in the kitchen, he dialed up his music even louder.

  Even if he didn’t like it, he could see how the pairing of Reg and Audrey would benefit business. That was an important consideration now that Murphy Brothers Restaurants needed to take a huge step forward. A soaring success here could lead to more Shane’s Table restaurants in other Girard hotels.

  Shane rocked his hips to the beat of a heavy metal song as he deveined the shrimp for the Guatemalan tapado.

  And let’s face it, his brother needed to get married. A woman’s touch was going to be the only way to get Reg to lighten up. Plus their parents, now semiretired, longed for grandchildren. Shane would never marry again or have children. Reg was their only hope.

  His dad and Daniel Girard used to joke around about matchmaking Reg and Audrey, but after Melina’s death the talk became serious. Shane had made an impulsive marriage that ended in disaster. His father probably felt he needed to step in to insure his other son had a more controllable fate.

  After a hand wash, Shane began sautéing the onions and peppers.

  One marriage was quite enough for Shane, thank you very much. He was clearly not to be trusted with the well-being of another person. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about the death that maybe he could have prevented. Had he been a different person. In fairness if Melina had been, too.

  Shane added the coconut milk that was the basis of the sauce to the sauté pan. Mixed in a ladleful of stock. Stirred in his seasonings.

  If a Murphy brother was to marry, it was definitely going to be Reg.

  Then why did he picture Audrey, with those spectacular golden eyes smiling at him, while a voice to the side of them asked, “Shane Niall Murphy, do you take this woman...?” Why was he picturing lifting a white-dressed Audrey up into his arms and carrying her over a doorway threshold into a private suite?

  Tossing the shrimp into his sauce, he reckoned that the prospect of anyone getting married probably brought up twisted wedding images for him. He was just having a distorted waking nightmare about Melina.

  Swirling in a handful of chopped chard, he finished the dish. He portioned cooked rice onto two plates and spooned his stew on top of each. Another recipe he could cook with his eyes closed.

  Coming out from the kitchen with his tapado de camaron, Shane noticed from twenty feet away that Audrey hadn’t finished her salad. Was she one of those girls, who only pecked at food? He’d always noticed the seriously lush curves on that small frame of hers. She didn’t look like a bird who didn’t eat.

  Were his flavors too unusual for her? Was she used to a blander palate?

  He placed the dinner dishes down on the side table.

  “You didn’t like the salad, either.” He hastily snatched Audrey’s barely touched plate. “I sell a lot of them.”

  “It was lovely, I’m just not that hungry,” Audrey sputtered like she was making an excuse.

  Shane served his entrée.

  “Have a seat with us,” Reg instr
ucted, gesturing for Shane to pull a chair over from one of the other tables. Reg refilled his own sangria glass and slid it into position for Shane to have it. Audrey’s was barely touched.

  For all of his brother’s annoyances, Shane respected Reg more than anyone in the world. Reg had provided the necessary foresight and know-how to lift Shane’s Table to fame. Shane could never have done any of it without him.

  Reg had taught him that he had to play the game sometimes, had to make nice with people even when he’d rather be hiding in the kitchen. So he obeyed his brother, turned around a chair and straddled it backward to sit down with them.

  “We need to have a discussion about the cookbook,” Reg said with a concerned look. Had they been spending the whole dinner talking about him? “You know we’ve committed to a date with the publisher and they, in turn, agreed to create a mock-up so we can do marketing with it.”

  “If it’s a mock-up, then it could be filled with empty pages—what’s the difference?”

  “Because you have a contract with them, saying that you’re going to deliver a cookbook,” Audrey added. “They’re not going to go forward if you’re not going to meet the deadline.”

  “The TV taping is going to bring you and the restaurant into the living room of millions of viewers,” Reg said.

  “We’ll not only sell cookbooks,” Audrey said, “but it will bring people to Vegas to eat at Shane’s Table.”

  “You know we all need this,” his brother added.

  “The publicity could put us at capacity for a year,” Audrey stressed.

  Reg and Audrey both paused to take bites of their tapado. Reg gestured his approval while Audrey stayed straight-faced and chewed slowly. Reg asked, “Have you even started it?”

  “Enough already. I get it. I have to deliver the cookbook.” With that, Shane hitched up from the chair and stomped back into the kitchen.

  Annoyed, he portioned the pastel de tres leches he had made this afternoon. He hated being ganged up on like that. Hated all of that aggressive sales-y behavior, even though he knew that was what it took to be successful. Just as he knew he wasn’t at all cut out for it. And as for that smart-talking bombshell Audrey... He’d like to show her how actions spoke louder than words.

  Shane, he reprimanded himself, Audrey is going to be your sister-in-law. You do not kiss your sister-in-law. You do not even think about kissing your sister-in-law. For heaven’s sake.

  Yet he lingered on a mental image of feeding her something delicious with his fingers.

  After he and rock ’n’ roll had cleaned up the kitchen, he’d blown off enough steam to go serve the pastel.

  Assuming this would be the fourth dish Audrey picked at but didn’t finish, he placed the plate in front of her without much enthusiasm even though he knew this dessert was always a hit.

  She gawked at the cake. Took a small forkful. As she slipped it between lips that were as juicy as the plums Shane’d had for breakfast that morning, he could swear he saw her eyelashes flutter. After her bite, she managed, “Wow.”

  “It’s called tres leches because it’s got condensed milk, evaporated milk and cream,” he said of the sponge cake soaked in the custardy milk mixture and topped with whipped cream to make it even richer.

  She took another demure forkful. Which was quickly followed with another, not as ladylike in size as the previous. Both Shane and Reg couldn’t help but watch as she devoured one bite after the next.

  The three chitchatted a bit about a successful New York bakery chain and how they went about their expansion.

  Shane hadn’t seen Reg in a couple of weeks. Something more than his usual worries was bothering him. He’d thought his brother had been in favor of this friendly marriage to Audrey. Maybe something had changed. He needed to speak with him privately.

  But in between snippets of conversation, Audrey took bite after bite of the cake. Until it was gone. She made a final swirl around the plate with her fork to capture any bits that might have been left behind.

  Then she pointed to Reg’s plate. “Are you going to finish yours?”

  Gotcha! A pirate grin slashed across Shane’s mouth. After she’d barely eaten the dinner, he finally had her. “Now we see what you like, Sugar.”

  * * *

  Audrey swiped the key card to her bungalow, opened the door and immediately eyed the cardboard cutout of Shane she had removed from the restaurant entrance earlier. “What are you looking at?” she snapped at the photo, which seemed to have a raised eyebrow she didn’t remember from earlier.

  No sooner had she arrived in Vegas than three handsome men had overwhelmed her. One was her father. She knew Daniel wanted the best for her and his concern for her unmarried status was at least half of his motivation in the matchmaking. Two tall, dark and handsome brothers were the other players.

  The idea of a marriage being arranged and handed to her in a neat organized file was a relief. At twenty-eight, she knew she had decades of work ahead of her to keep up the Girard legacy that her father, and his father before him, had worked so hard to build. Yet she knew that going it completely alone could be a hard path.

  A distant and uncaring mother had cured her of any silly dreams about a love that takes a whole heart. She would never set herself up for that kind of hurt again. Words like allegiance and devotion had been removed from her dictionary. Sensible and logical were welcome.

  Timing the wedding to coincide with the opening was a good move. Audrey hoped Reg felt the same way. He had never gotten around to telling her what he wanted to talk to her about tonight, partially because he became invisible every time his brother burst into the dining room.

  Shane was a thunderstorm of a man, all mysterious dark skies and punishing rain. Obviously still not over the death of his wife, he hulked under a cloud. That obsession with what she was, and wasn’t, eating had been so annoying. Audrey snarked at the photo of him in the corner. How smug he had become when she couldn’t stop eating that unbelievably scrumptious tres leches cake.

  Throwing one of her suitcases up on the bed, she started to unpack as she hadn’t had time to earlier. In a month she’d be married to Reg. There was no reason to care what the other Murphy brother thought of her. Yet when she unzipped the interior, she almost convinced herself that she had to open the flap in a direction that blocked Shane’s photo from seeing what was inside. Was she crazy?

  Okay, Shane. Here it is, she thought defensively as she pulled the first item from the case. Cookies. Yes, she had brought package upon package of her favorite cookies from Philadelphia! She didn’t know if they would carry them in Vegas stores so she had stuffed as many as she could into her luggage. And not just cookies. There were boxes of candy from a famous Philadelphia chocolatier, too. There was no way she could live without those. When she ran out, she’d order more online.

  “I like sweets. So what?” she challenged Shane’s disapproving expression. He had no business becoming the third man prying into her affairs. She should just get that six feet and two inches of cardboard out of the bungalow tonight and be done with it. Hopefully Reg would ask for it tomorrow.

  Yet somehow she liked it right where it was. Those deep, dark eyes of Shane’s were magnets that pulled her in and wouldn’t let go. She wanted to dive into those eyes, to understand the complexity, agony and secrets she knew lay beneath them. As nice as the furnishings in the suite were, Shane was clearly the focal point.

  Once she emptied her suitcases, she picked out a nightgown and went to change in the bathroom so as not to let Shane’s photo see her naked. Bonkers, she confirmed to herself, but did it anyway.

  After she pulled back the covers on the bed and climbed in, she realized she wasn’t the slightest bit tired. So she didn’t turn off the bedside lamp. She examined Shane’s full lips. Wondered how that beard stubble would feel against the delicate skin of her neck. Scratchy and rough in the most di
vine way, she figured. And she pondered his tangle of dark hair, the snug fit of his jeans, those leather cord bracelets!

  No, Audrey didn’t lie down and go to sleep. Instead, she bolstered up her pillows. Leaned back and laced her fingers behind her head.

  She was going to win this staredown with Shane.

  Even if it took all night.

  * * *

  Shane leaned back against one of the archways in the wedding pavilion, an outdoor terrace space shaded by an awning and edged by long rectangular planters filled with desert succulents. The late afternoon sun had moved toward the mountains and he crossed one leg over the other and folded his arms across his chest to settle in for a gander at the spectacle at hand. The pain-in-the-behind photographer who had just tortured him through a session in the restaurant was now at work on Audrey and Reg.

  The guy and his assistant buzzed around like bees. Positioning Reg’s hand a couple of inches higher, repinning one lock of Audrey’s glossy hair, patting Reg’s face with a cloth.

  Shane didn’t like the way Audrey was fashioned today. Was that some stylist’s idea of the blushing bride to be? The updo hair was far too prim for someone as sexy as Audrey. The floral-print dress and pink shoes looked too country club. That sweet image was pretty on some women. But it just wasn’t Audrey. He wanted to smear that pink lipstick right off of her mouth.

  He chuckled to himself as the bees swarmed around the happy couple, posing them this way or that. If it was up to him, he would have Audrey in a bloodred dress cut way down to there, fitted enough to hug every one of her tempting curves. He’d leave that exquisite blond hair unfastened and free. And he wouldn’t allow a speck of makeup to come between her smoothness and his hands or mouth.

  There he went again, conjuring up improper images about the woman who was betrothed to his brother! And even if she wasn’t, he was never going to marry again so he didn’t need to be fantasizing about what his fiancée would wear in their engagement photos. Ridiculous.

  Daniel Girard appeared from the other end of the pavilion nicely dressed in a beige suit.