The Wedding Planner's Secret – Part 1: Cancelled

Carmen had planned four hundred weddings in Seville, and she had never once cried at one. Not even the time the cake collapsed onto the bride's grandmother, or the year the flamenco dancers arrived on the wrong day.

So when the bride's phone call came at seven on a Saturday morning, saying the wedding was off, Carmen simply said, "Of course it is," and put the kettle on.

The venue was a palace garden near the cathedral. Forty white chairs, a string quartet on standby, two hundred roses flown in from Valencia. The groom had walked out at six-thirty without saying a word. The bride had locked herself in the bridal suite with her mother and a bottle of sherry.

Carmen was packing up the ribbons when a man appeared at the garden gate.

He was tall and sharp-featured, in a charcoal suit that had clearly been tailored for him, and he wore the expression of someone who had been looking for a fight since breakfast.

"You're the planner," he said.

"I'm the planner," said Carmen, and tried to look as if she had not been up all night. "And you're?"

"Diego Reyes. Marco's brother."

"The groom who isn't getting married today."

"That's the one." Diego came through the gate and stopped a few metres from her, glancing around at the empty chairs. "I'd like to know why my brother ran. I think you'd know more than anyone."

"I'd know the schedule," said Carmen. "I don't know his heart."

"Then tell me about the schedule," Diego said. "Every detail. Who approved the menu, who changed the flowers, who sent the final invoice."

She tilted her head at him, a little amused, a little wary. He was very good at looking calm. She suspected he had been raised for it.

"Would you like coffee?" she asked. "You look like you need it more than I do."

Diego's mouth twitched. "I'd like the truth more than coffee."

"Then you'll have to buy the coffee," said Carmen, and walked towards the café across the square. He followed, a half-step behind, and she could feel his gaze on the back of her neck the whole way.

In the café, at a small table under a striped awning, he finally smiled. It changed his whole face. She had to look away.

"You're not what I expected," he said.

"What did you expect?"

"Someone who would hide behind the clipboard," said Diego. "You're looking straight at me."

Carmen felt a flush climb up her neck. This was dangerous. She had one rule, and it was a good one: no clients, ever, no matter how attractive. And Diego Reyes was not, strictly speaking, a client any more.

"I'm not in the business of hiding," she said. "Ask your questions."

"Did my brother ever tell you why he was really getting married?"

"No," said Carmen. "But I think you're going to tell me."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his eyes steady on hers.

"Because our father wanted him to," said Diego quietly. "And I've been trying to stop it for six months. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Carmen's chest tightened. "Then you're not here to blame me."

"No," said Diego. "I'm here because you're the only person in this city who didn't cry this morning."

She laughed, unexpectedly, and something loosened between them.

"Green?" he asked, and his voice was rough and unexpectedly gentle.

"Yes," said Carmen. "Green." Then, more carefully: "Diego, I don't date clients."

"Good," he said, smiling. "Then I'll try very hard not to be one."