Made to Love Her (Book 7: A Steamy Denver Wedding Drama Romance)

A Denver wedding unravels when the groom vanishes. Maggie must fight for love as chaos, passion, and secrets explode in Book 7 of Steamy Destinations.

I sigh heavily. This is my first answer to Maddie’s or Allie’s question—I still can’t tell Vince’s sisters apart. There are three of them—Lexie, Maddie and Allie. Each has bleached blond hair, a tiny mousy face and speaks in high-pitched voice that gives me a headache. At least now I only have to contend with two of them. We’re back at the bakery. We were here yesterday for six hours. One of Vince’s sisters—Lexie, I think—stomped out in a huff because I didn’t want a wedding cake with red roses on top. I didn’t care if they tasted like cherry meringue. I don’t know much about weddings, but I do know enough to realize that red roses do not go on top of wedding cakes, at least not the non-tacky ones. I feel as if they have been trying to sabotage me from the beginning. Today is Tuesday. We started the whole wedding planning process from hell together Monday of last week. We’ve been aided by a mysterious wedding planner named Lily, whom I’ve yet to meet. The only reason I believe she exists is that lying to me about her would be an elaborate scheme. Vince’s clan can’t really hate me that much. Could they?
The wedding cake specialist rubs her brow as if to ward off the same headache that I have. “So, Maggie, are you ready to make your final decision on the top tier?”
This is our second day of taste-testing cakes and selecting fillings. I’m starting to think that we’ve eaten enough cake to compose one gigantic wedding cake.
I open my mouth to speak but Vince’s sister throws her hand up in front of my face in a pretty rude manner. “Lily wholeheartedly suggests the chocolate layer on top,” Maddie says. I’m pretty sure she’s Maddie, the one who always wears the white pearl earrings.
“But I don’t like chocolate cake, and neither does Vince. What’s wrong with all-white cake with buttercream frosting?” I say.
She blows sharply through her nose. “Vince does like chocolate cake.”
“No. He does not.” I check my watch. I can’t believe that I’m participating in an argument over cake.
Speaking of Vince, I’m pissed to the umpteenth power at him. He was supposed to arrive yesterday at eight o’clock. I’ve been trying to call him for the last eighteen hours. At first, the phone rang three times then went to voicemail. Now my calls go straight to voicemail. I might have thought he was cheating on me if I didn’t know for certain he wouldn’t do that. Before flying out to Denver, we spent three beautiful weeks together in Hawaii. Vince and I had the time of our lives. Instead of fighting LA traffic and rushing to staff meetings, we did sunset yoga every morning and paddle-boarded afterward. Each day, Vince flew us to a new island in his helicopter. That was one of many new things I learned about him on our trip—he has his pilot’s license. We explored the volcanoes, tropical forests, and beaches like there was no tomorrow. At night, I would throw on a tank dress and flip-flops and Vince would wear Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt. Then we would drink mai tais at a tiki bar by the beach. For the most part, we kept busy surfing, dancing, mountain climbing, hiking, and swimming—doing anything but making love. It’s been so very difficult to keep the pact to not make love until after the wedding. I had to keep reminding myself that celibacy was my very bad idea. I almost reneged on it more times than I can remember.
“Excuse me, but can I have your complete and undivided attention just for this one moment please,” the sister says.
Thank goodness I’m not one for turning red, but I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with their rudeness. I think back to the promise I made to Vince: I would be cordial no matter how far they pushed me. At least he hadn’t tried to convince me that his sisters would be a joy to be around. They hate the fact that I’m marrying their brother. When he called to invite them to the small ceremony I was planning in Southampton, New York, his mother, Anne, nearly choked on her gasps. By the end of their conversation, she had laid such a guilt trip on Vince that he convinced me to have the ceremony in Denver and to let his sisters and mother help plan it. That was on a Friday. On Sunday, we flew to Denver. They had me scheduled for dress fittings on Monday morning. Every single dress the saleswoman showed me was horrendous. On Tuesday, she showed me another load of frumpy dresses, and Wednesday was the same. Thursday, I called one of my best friends, Hannah, who’s a professional fashion stylist. She gave me the name and address of a friend of hers who owns a boutique downtown.
I left early that morning to meet Kara Zane of Zane Dress Studio, which is located downtown. I tried on two gorgeous dresses before I discovered the perfect one. Of course, the sisters were angry that I found a dress without them, and they ratcheted up their passive-aggressive campaign.
On top of that, Vince flew back to New York later that day. A photo surfaced of Reno Nelson, the lead actor of the Firescape sci-fi/action thriller series, kneeling over a dead rhinoceros, with a rifle tucked under his arm. As a result, every single advertiser of the television show pulled out. I was still fighting the urge to fly to New York to figure out the fastest way to save the show. But the incident was too close to home. It felt like a Mo&Ma matter, and I’m just not ready to go back to shoveling the shit high-profile people find themselves buried under.
However, at the moment something clicks inside me. I’m looking into the sister’s eyes, and I see her disdain looking back at me. How many times have I handled difficult clients like Maddie or Allie? The trick is to not smile—not yet.
I calmly stuff my phone back into my purse and make sure I’m not looking at her as if I think she’s a crazy person. I place a hand on my chest. “Listen, I like chocolate cake,” I lie. “Vince, however, doesn’t have many requests regarding the planning of this wedding, but not having chocolate wedding cake is one of them. So let’s just do no chocolate cake for him. He deserves it, don’t you think?”
The sisters look at each other. They have a way of communicating with their facial expressions, and I’m starting to decipher them. I guess it’s my survival instincts. Their raised eyebrows prove what I thought. They’ve been screwing with my head, which is easy for them to do now that Vince isn’t here to side with me.
One of the sisters grunts as if she’s just been defeated. “Okay.”
The other scratches the back of her head. “Maddie, let’s just get all white with lemon cream at the top, white chocolate mousse filling in tier two, strawberry glaze for tier three, and blueberry compote at the bottom and be done with it.”
Maddie glances at me then puts her hand over the receiver. “But that’s not what Lily wants,” she whispers.
I ready my lips to say, “Fuck Lily!” This is my wedding not hers.
But Allie whispers, “Screw Lily” instead. “At least on this. Vince likes all those fillings.” Allie crosses her arms defiantly. “I’m going with what Vince likes on this one. Period.”
I raise my eyebrows, intrigued. I think I may have discovered an ally, and her name is Allie.
Maddie tells the wedding planner that we have the whole cake situation under control then hangs up the phone. We confirm the cake filling along with the white cake for the top three tiers and chocolate cake at the bottom. I would still rather have all-white cake and buttercream frosting, but I figure we all have to compromise—even if I’ve been doing most of the settling.