Taste of Temptation by Moira McTark Page A

noon. Blissful Brides Inc. listed as the contact for arrangements. Jason had been staking out the lobby since six-thirty, and as a precaution he'd left instructions at the desk that when Laine came in, she was to be sent directly to his apartment. Now, at eight-thirty-six, the wedding planner finally strolled in, arms laden with a confusion of papers, looking almost put together.
    Connie, not Laine.
    Jason's brow furrowed. He didn't want to get stuck with the old crow playing intermediary between them, but nothing else had worked. He needed to know if Laine had passed off just this job or all of her weddings booked at the Henley.
    Connie Bliss was only in her late fifties but smoking and sun had added more years than any plastic surgeon could remove and, with her over-processed helmet of hair, she looked like the nasty grandmother no one wanted to snuggle. Watching her brittle steps through the lobby, Jason thought it smart business that she kept to the management end of Blissful Brides and let her more approachable associates handle the people part.
    He took a few strides up to her. “Connie, I thought we had a deal about Laine. She handles all my accounts, and I refer all inquiries to Blissful Brides. Where is she?"
    "There you are, Jason. Nice to see you again,” she said, bustling by, before she stopped and squinted at him. “Good lord, what happened to your nose?"
    Damn it. “Bar fight."
    She nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “It's a shame about Laine, but some people just don't have what it takes for this business. Have you got some kind of space I can set up in? Our bride's special day is going to have to roll smoothly on its own—it'll take a few weeks for me to familiarize myself with each gal's requirements. You know how much of a hassle these needy girls can be."
    "Hold on, Connie, let me help you with this stuff.” Knowing it would warm her up, he grabbed a loose stack of papers that appeared to have spilled out once or twice already. Wet coffee saturated the corners of several sheets and crumbs sprinkled out of the stacks as he straightened them. “What are you talking about with Laine? Where is she?"
    Connie arched an eyebrow, sizing him up. He met her demanding stare and raised it.
    Connie gave first. “She wasn't up for the job, dear. She flat out refused to follow my direct order about some rather unpleasant business with the wedding last weekend, trouble with a groom, you know. You'd think she'd have some respect for the years I've put into this business, but she wouldn't listen to reason. Ran off and spilled to the bride against my express orders not to. What did it get her? Nothing but a sad girl in a white dress going through with the wedding anyway. Knowing her man was swapping spit with a groomsman instead of her. Hmph. I've seen everything. If I'd been the one meeting with those two, I would have known in an instant that he swung the other way, and ... I would have known the bride knew about it too."
    Jason's mouth hung open as he listened to Connie go on about the events of last weekend like they were nothing. Laine had confronted the bride after all. No wonder she looked so sad when he came back. And he'd just blown past her. She'd risked her job—"Did you fire her?"
    "No, so back off, big boy. I didn't have to. Not that I really would have anyway—you and I had a deal, after all. The girl knew weddings and brought in business. Got it done all right.” Connie sighed and looked up at him like maybe he could shed some light on the situation. “She quit on me. Told me she didn't respect the fact that I wouldn't be honest with my brides. Fed me a bunch of malarkey about lives and futures and happiness on the line. Saving families from being the ones to break the bad news later or some such bunk. I asked her if she knew what she was doing, and she said yes. She offered to give me a month, but I let her out. Like I told you, she was soft. This business eats the soft ones for lunch."
    Jason was