a perfect stranger could cause such a fierce stab of want.
And he was someone else’s fiancé.
No, her client’s fiancé.
Crap.
Even Brooke’s “look on the bright side” mantra couldn’t fix this.
“Hi, you must be Neil,” Brooke said, forcing a smile and extending a hand.
“No.” His voice was low, his enunciation precise.
“Sorry?”
“I’m not Neil.”
Brooke blew out a slow relieved sigh, then quickly tried to cover it up with a little cough.
He wasn’t Neil Garrett.
Which meant he wasn’t getting married. Which meant . . .
Knock it off. You’re so not in a place to be man-hunting right now.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were my two o’clock appointment,” she said.
“I am your two o’clock,” he snapped.
The man was literally staring down his nose at her as though she were the ultimate nuisance. Clearly, Brooke had been wrong about their attraction being mutual.
He started to brush past her, but Brooke shifted to block his way. “I don’t think so. Not if your name isn’t Neil Garrett, and not if you’re not marrying a Maya—”
“Maya Tyler,” he finished for her.
Brooke’s eyes narrowed, but she moved to let him inside, ignoring the way his closeness made her heartbeat quicken.
She shut the door and turned to find him holding out his jacket to her.
Seriously?
Brooke had no problem taking her clients’ jackets. Or making them coffee, or pouring them champagne, or frankly, jumping through whatever hoops they wanted her to as long as it related to the wedding.
But something about this man’s entitled attitude set her on edge. No, scratch that. Everything about him set her on edge.
She ignored the jacket. “And you are?”
Their eyes locked and held for several moments. God, he was good-looking, in a pretentious, head-of-the-boardroom kind of way.
He tilted his head just slightly, a knowing look on his face as though reading her thoughts. Brooke finally grabbed at his jacket, needing an excuse to turn away from him.
“I’m Seth Tyler,” he said quietly as he watched her hang the jacket on a hook near the door. “Maya’s brother.”
Ah. That explained his sense of entitlement. The man was one of the richest people in the country.
And actually, Brooke was a little surprised she hadn’t recognized him. She followed the social scene fairly closely—there was plenty of crossover between the New York and Los Angeles social elite.
But then again, while Maya Tyler made frequent appearances at all the big-name events and dated a handful of celebs, her brother kept a relatively low profile, at least on the social scene. She’d heard his name, certainly, but never seen a picture. Brooke was certain if she had seen a picture, she would have remembered.
“A bride’s brother,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s a new one. I’ve had sisters tag along before. Mothers are almost a given. Dads, too, given the whole father-of-the-bride thing. But a brother . . . that’s a definite first.”
Seth’s eyes never left Brooke’s. “Maya doesn’t have a sister. Or a mother. And as of eight months ago, she doesn’t have a father, either.”
Brooke forced herself not to look away in embarrassment.
He was trying to make her feel like a jerk, and it was working. She’d forgotten that Maya’s file indicated both parents were deceased. She certainly hadn’t meant to remind him about Hank Tyler’s recent death, but her comment had been insensitive all the same. She was usually much better at details than this.
Still, she wasn’t about to grovel beneath his icy stare, so instead, she gave a small nod. “Well then, Maya’s lucky to have you.”
His eyes narrowed as though assessing her statement for mockery, but Brooke merely smiled. Just let him stew on whether or not she was being sarcastic.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “A cappuccino, water, champagne?”
He glanced at his watch. “Champagne? It’s barely past two in the afternoon.”
Ugh. So he was like that.
A total stiff.
Good thing he was a ten physically, because his personality was trending toward the negative.
“It’s also a special occasion,” she said softly. “Your sister is getting married.”
Seth grunted and tore his light blue gaze away from hers, and Brooke’s curiosity spiked. Whatever Seth Tyler’s reasons for being here, they certainly didn’t involve being excited about his sister’s upcoming nuptials.
Brooke tilted her head slightly and considered him. “You don’t want to be here.”
His eyes snapped back to her. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Really,” she said, crossing her arms. “So you’re telling me that you want to be standing inside a wedding planner’s office right now, gearing up to talk about canapés and bustles and