Wedding Survivor Read Free Page B

their mothers—it felt like hundreds were competing for the same few openings.
    Weeks went by without a nibble, and her unemployment status at last led to her greatest humiliation yet—having to move home with Mom and Dad. But she hadn't had a choice—she couldn't pay her rent and she couldn't pay her credit card bills, which were, she was embarrassed to note, pretty damn high. Honestly, she'd not realized how large she'd been living on her humongous dot-com salary before the company tanked.
    So after about three weeks with Mom and Dad, when Marnie was contemplating living under a bridge on the Santa Monica Freeway, she'd seen the ad for the wedding planner certification class.
    Wedding planner
. The term had sort of circled around and tickled her thoughts for a while. It actually sounded fun. Who didn't like a wedding?
    So she'd taken the class. At the very least, it got her out of the house and away from the TV, and Mom and Dad, and Mom's book club. And though she'd never really envisioned herself a wedding planner, once she got into it, she was sucked in by all the beautiful white dresses and lovely cakes and flowers and fancy china—not to mention all the fabulous high-heeled shoes.
    And she suppressed a shudder of delight just thinking about the sparkly wedding shoes Olivia Dagwood would wear on
her
third walk down the aisle. Or was it her fourth? She'd have to check E! Online.
    The Lincoln turned again, and she had the sensation they were traveling up and around. Then the car slowed and made a sharp left. Eli lowered his window. They were at a security box. He punched in a code, then raised the window as the driver eased the car forward, through the gate, coasting down a hill and stopping in a small parking lot.
    Eli lowered the back windows; the driver stopped the Lincoln and got out. "Wait here," he said to Marnie as the driver opened his door. "I'll be back for you in a minute or two."
    "Where are we?" Marnie asked.
    He got out, stuck his head back inside, and said, with a sexy, lopsided grin, "We're here," and shut the door.
    "Thanks for the info, Chuckles," Marnie muttered as he walked in front of the Lincoln in a pair of faded Levi's—which looked damn good on his butt—and disappeared into what looked like a garden path or something.
    Marnie sighed, looked down at her hat, her melon, and the straw bag full of giant oranges, then leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and mentally reviewed her best selling points.
     
    WHILE Marnie was mentally preparing herself, Eli walked around the six-car garage of the Vittorio Bel Air estate, past the service entrance to the house, and down the garden path to a little pavilion where the guys were waiting for him.
    "You get one this time?" Jack asked with a chuckle. He'd thought it was hysterical that the last candidate had refused to get in the Lincoln with Eli.
    "Yeah, I got her all right," Eli said, and perched against the railing of the pavilion. "I was right—this one's a talker. I already know half her life story."
    "Good," Cooper said as he pushed away from the post he was holding up. "Maybe that will save us some time. So come on, let's get this over with. I've got a meeting with DreamWorks later. What do we have on girl number four? And please tell me it's not one of those giant photo books of weddings like the other two brought."
    Michael pulled out a PDA and his stylus, punched a couple of buttons, and squinted at the screen. "Marnie Banks. Thirty-four years old. Recently laid off from a six-figure job at a dot-com that developed security portals for other dot-coms."
    The guys looked questioningly at one another; when it appeared no one knew what the hell that meant, Michael shrugged and continued. "Up to her eyeballs in debt, living with Mom and Dad, and driving a BMW."
    "Figures," Jack muttered with a roll of his eyes.
    "Interesting—no actual wedding gigs, according to her resume" Michael added, and flipped the PDA closed, looking at the guys. "But she