‘Cassidy is a six, but I’m sure you’ll be able to squeeze into them, won’t you?’ Melissa smiled sweetly as she handed over the shoes, and Noah prepared to dive in and separate them if Eloise finally lost the last scraps of her composure.
She didn’t. Instead, she looked at the shoes in her hand and pulled a face.
‘They have ribbons.’
‘I know! Aren’t they beautiful?’ Melissa squealed. Noah hadn’t really sensed ‘beautiful’ from Eloise’s tone. ‘Go on, put them on. You’ll want to practice the dance in them.’
‘I don’t want to practice the dance at all,’ Eloise muttered as she bent to put on the shoes, but Melissa ignored her.
It took some effort, even Noah could see that, but eventually the shoes were on, ribbons tied, and Eloise was proclaimed ready to dance.
‘Now, it’s a nice simple waltz, really,’ Melissa said. ‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll demonstrate with Noah so you can see what Riley and I will be doing. Then you can step in and give it a go.’
Melissa moved into his arms before Noah could agree to the plan, and Iona started up the music. The familiar theme tune from Melissa’s biggest movie so far rang out through the room and, over her shoulder, Noah saw Eloise roll her eyes. He smirked at her and she returned the smile, her cheeks finally back to their normal colour.
‘Noah! You missed your cue.’ Melissa stamped one dainty foot on the floor and Iona started the music once again. ‘It’s just as well we’re rehearsing today. Obviously you haven’t been practising on your own.’
‘Every morning for twenty minutes, just like you asked, Mel. I swear,’ Noah lied shamelessly. It was a waltz. He’d learned how to waltz for his sister’s wedding when he was eight. If he could do it then he could do it now.
This time, he hit his cue perfectly, sweeping Melissa around the floor easily. But his attention wasn’t on his dance partner. It was on Eloise, watching from the sidelines. Her cheeks might no longer be bright red with embarrassment, but with every bar of the music she grew stiller and smaller somehow, fading away in that ice-blue dress.
That dress. When he’d walked in and seen it, it had blown him away. For all that he’d been spending the last twenty-four hours staring at Eloise, he’d not had a chance to see her in anything that accentuated her figure so well. Even the colour, which he wouldn’t have picked for her, added a strange otherworldliness coupled with her blazing hair. She looked like some mythical princess of ice and fire—and utterly unlike the woman who draped herself in shapeless suits and boring black dresses.
But now, as he whirled around the room with Melissa in his arms, she seemed to be retreating back into herself. She’d said she liked to fade into the background, and he hadn’t thought it possible. Until he saw her in action.
She’d made herself nothing, and he wanted to drag her out into the light again. Wanted to show her off, to see her beauty reflected around her. Wanted to show her how beautiful she was.
But, more than that, he wanted to protect her from Melissa and whatever plans she had that involved making Eloise’s life miserable.
Was this what not sleeping with a woman did to him? He couldn’t have her in his bed, so instead he started finding other reasons to be near her? They’d agreed to be friends, but this felt like something...different. Something that could be a whole lot more troublesome.
Tessa would probably rather he just slept with her and got it over with.
But Stefan the director might not. And until that part was in the bag... Eloise was still off limits. And maybe even after that, if what Tessa said was true. Noah could be staring down a long period of acting-enforced celibacy.
Unless... Tessa had only said to be discreet. He hadn’t thought that could be possible with Eloise, with the world watching them at Melissa’s wedding. But they were supposed to be spending time together. Nobody could talk about that. And seeing her fade into the background, realising how much she truly didn’t want to be watched... If there was anyone he could have a discreet fling with, despite his celebrity, it would be Eloise.
If he could convince her. Which was by no means a sure thing, given her feelings about actors.
The music came to an end at last, and Melissa hugged him close before stepping away again. ‘Right! Eloise’s turn.’ She turned to her maid of honour, smiling in a way that Noah could only describe as predatory.
She was waiting for Eloise to fail, he realised. If it hadn’t been for the world’s media watching, Melissa might even have waited until the day to tell Eloise about the dance and let her humiliate herself in front of everyone. But, since she wouldn’t risk her perfect wedding that way, this was obviously the next best thing.
No wonder Eloise looked as if she’d rather be anywhere but there.
He moved towards her, reaching out a hand to pull her into his arms.
‘I apologise in advance for treading on your feet,’ she said, and he smiled.
‘You’ll be fine. I’m hardly a professional dancer either, you realise? I’m best known for smashing through walls and beating people up.’
‘That’s true.’ She looked rather pleased about that fact, strangely.
‘So you do know my films.’ He grinned, more pleased by the fact that she was looking a little more relaxed at last than by the acknowledgement of his fame.
Eloise rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, fine. Everybody knows Noah Cross. You’re on, like, every billboard and every bus.’
‘Not all of them.’
‘Most, then. All those big budget blockbusters you’re always starring in.’ She frowned. ‘But you didn’t always do those, did you? Didn’t I read somewhere that you used to be on the stage?’
This time, Noah was surprised. ‘Yes, actually. Not many people remember my touring actor days now, though. I did a three-year stint as a stage actor, touring in a company that took Shakespeare all over the States.’
‘Huh.’ She tilted her head to look at him. ‘I suppose I could buy you as Hamlet.’
‘Not Romeo?’ He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and Eloise laughed as the music started up again.
Melissa’s voice rang out around the room. ‘And dance!’
Of course, he hadn’t had time to actually talk Eloise through the steps, since they’d been busy discussing him, but she seemed to have picked up the basics from watching Melissa anyway. ‘You’re a quick study,’ he said as they spun.
‘My mum made me take dance lessons when I was younger,’ Eloise admitted, still looking down at her feet. ‘I did ballet, tap, modern, lyrical and even a couple of terms of ballroom. Apparently I haven’t quite forgotten everything.’
‘Then why were you nervous?’ Noah asked. She’d been terrified at the prospect of dancing; he’d seen it in her face. But why, if she already knew she could do it?
‘It’s not the dancing,’ Eloise admitted. But, before she could tell him exactly what the problem was, Melissa was striding across the floor towards them.
‘You’re doing it wrong,’ the bride said, grabbing Eloise’s arm and yanking her away from Noah.
‘I thought she had it, actually,’ Noah objected, but Melissa had already taken up her ballroom position.
‘No. I’ll show you again,’ she said to Eloise with exaggerated patience.
Noah raised his arms and met Eloise’s gaze over Melissa’s shoulder. She raised her eyes to the heavens, and he smiled.
Maybe he’d tread on Melissa’s toes while they danced. That might persuade her to give up on the lessons.
Or at least put Eloise back in his arms, which couldn’t be a bad thing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MELISSA DRILLED THEM in their dance for far longer than Eloise thought was strictly necessary—she wasn’t that bad, she was sure. Eventually, though, Melissa had to let Eloise go, once she pointed out that if she didn’t
there would be no one to check that everything was ready for the Frost Fair.
Noah took the opportunity to escape too, which Eloise was grateful for. It had felt too good, dancing in his arms. And the connection between them—even if it was born entirely out of mocking Melissa—seemed a little too easy. She wasn’t an idiot; she knew Noah was just playing with her. What she didn’t understand was why he was still bothering. She’d made her position on the subject of having flings with actors painfully clear the night before.
Maybe that was it—the challenge. She could see Noah as the kind of guy who grew tired of always getting everything he wanted handed to him on a plate. Some people were happy to carry on that way, enjoying the ease that sort of life gave them. But Noah... She got the impression he liked to work for things a little more. Hadn’t he said something last night about a new role in a film, something more challenging? Yes, that had to be it. She was a different sort of challenge; that was all. The moment she gave in, all the fun would be gone for him.
She had to remember that.
Dressed again in her navy work dress and chocolate leather boots, Eloise hurried down to the riverbank, her coat wrapped warmly around her. The preparations for the afternoon’s Frost Fair were well underway—which was just as well, as Laurel would be bringing the guests down from the hotel within the hour.
Wooden stalls were laid out all along the riverbank, a temporary street of tempting offerings to eat, drink or enjoy. The river that ran beside the hotel rarely froze and, even if it had, it would have been a health and safety impossibility to hold the fair actually on the ice, like people would have done at the Frost Fairs of old. But, with the rustic stalls, the lute music drifting through the icy air as the musicians warmed up and the smell of the hog roast cooking, it almost felt authentic.
Authentic enough for Hollywood, anyway, Eloise figured.
Pulling out her clipboard, she did the rounds, checking in with every stallholder, every caterer, every entertainer, from jugglers to ice carvers. Everything was looking good until she reached the small stage set up at the far end of the fair, ready for the acting troupe Laurel had hired to entertain the masses with excerpts from Shakespeare’s plays.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked a dour-looking man unloading period costumes and props onto a rack.
Hang on. No, he wasn’t unloading. He was taking the costumes off the rack and putting them back into the suitcase.
‘Not great,’ he said, reaching for another doublet. ‘The troupe minibus gave up the ghost halfway down the M4. The guy they sent out to fix it said it’s dead as a doornail. I’d come on ahead with the costumes and props, but I’m only the stage manager-slash-accompanist. You want period sound effects or music? I’m your man.’ He shook his head. ‘Not a lot of use without the actors, though. Figured I might as well pack up again.’
‘Wait. Don’t... Stop packing up. Please. Just stop it.’ The man held up his hands and stepped back as Eloise reached for her phone.
‘Your call, love, but I don’t see what good they’ll do you.’
‘I just need to make a phone call...’ Turning away, Eloise stabbed at her phone until it rang Laurel, holding it tight to her ear and praying that the wedding planner would have an idea.
Click. ‘You have reached the voicemail of Laurel Sommers, wedding planner.’
Of course, to be any help at all she’d have to actually pick up the phone. Eloise hung up and tried again.
After she got put through to voicemail for the fifth time, Eloise gave up.
‘Okay, look, we’ll sort this out,’ she said, turning back to the man with the props. Except now he wasn’t alone.
‘Alas, poor Yorick!’ Noah held a skull at arm’s length as he quoted the line from Hamlet, looking utterly in his element.
Hadn’t he said he’d been a Shakespearean actor once? Maybe he could be again...
Spotting her, Noah put down the skull and walked towards her. Eloise pasted on her brightest, most winning smile and hoped he still wanted to keep playing their little game. Because she needed a big favour.
* * *
The Frost Fair, Noah had to admit, was quite the set-up. It looked like something from some high fantasy epic movie, rather than a historical. Stallholders were wandering around in that pseudo-period costume that seemed to work for peasants of all eras, mostly in shades of brown and green with the odd berry-red hat for a spot of colour. The river rushed past beside the stalls, flowing over rocks and under bare trees. The spot must be beautiful in the summer, he realised. No wonder Melissa had wanted to come back here.
When he came across the stage, he couldn’t resist—especially when he saw the box of props waiting there, just asking to be used. It might be a cliché, but in his experience it was a rare actor who could resist a bit of Hamlet.
Then he saw Eloise, lowering her phone from her ear, her red hair the brightest thing in the whole fair. Even her sensible brown knee boots and knitted navy dress made him want to reach out and touch her.
And when she smiled...his heart contracted in his chest.
Then his eyes narrowed. That was not the smile of a woman planning a seduction. That was the smile of a woman who wanted something. Well, he wasn’t above giving—as long as he got something in return.
In all honesty, if it was Eloise asking, he’d probably do it for free. Just to see some more of that smile.
‘What do you need?’ he asked as she approached.
Her smile faltered for a moment, then came back stronger than ever. ‘The troupe of actors we’d hired to perform today can’t make it. Their minibus broke down about a hundred miles away.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Noah was pretty sure he could guess now what she wanted, but he was going to make her ask, all the same. Given how incapable of saying no to her he felt right now, it was only fair.
‘I don’t suppose you’re feeling in the mood to reprise some of your more famous Shakespearian roles, are you?’
‘Fancying some Romeo at last, huh?’
‘Or Hamlet, or Benedick, or Puck...I’m not fussed, as long as there’s someone up on that stage performing when our guests arrive.’
‘Aren’t I one of those guests?’
Eloise shook her head. ‘You’re the best man. That means pitching in and fixing whatever goes wrong with the wedding.’
‘I suppose it does,’ Noah said slowly, an idea forming in his mind. ‘And I guess as maid of honour you have to do the same, right?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Well, in principle...but you’re the actor here. This really seems like a job for you.’
‘Ah, but it would be so much better with two, wouldn’t it?’ Noah said. ‘Monologues are so boring. But a good bit of dialogue...that’ll get people watching. So, how’s your Shakespeare?’
‘Rusty. Very, very rusty. I mean, I used to help my mum learn her lines, and she did a few of Shakespeare’s, but that was years ago. As was my A-level English Lit course, for that matter.’
‘Your mum?’ Noah frowned. ‘She was an actress?’ Did that explain Eloise’s strange prejudice against actors? Had one messed her mother around? Or was her dad an actor?
For someone he knew so little about, he felt strangely invested in her past. And in her immediate future, come to that.
‘Of a sort. Look, it doesn’t matter now. The point is, I don’t know the lines. Any lines. For any play.’
‘You don’t need to,’ Noah told her, pushing aside his questions about her parents for a time when Eloise was less stressed. So, some time next year, probably. The woman had been stress incarnate since he’d met her. Strange—that wasn’t something he’d ever found attractive before. ‘We’ll do readings rather than acting out the scenes. It’ll work fine and you don’t need to worry about remembering anything.’
Eloise frowned. ‘I suppose. But...’
Now they were getting to it. ‘So, what’s the real reason you don’t want to do it? Worried I’ll show you up? Trust me, I wouldn’t. It’s a long time since I’ve done Shakespeare too.’
She pulled a face. ‘That’s not it. Well, yes, partly, I suppose. You’re an actual actor. I’m someone who’s just read the plays a few times.’
‘I’m an actor who mostly beats people up in films these days,’ he reminded her. ‘But, actually, I’m looking to get into some different roles, so maybe a change of pace will be good for me. And I think fooling around on stage with me will be good for you too. We can just do the comedies, if you like. It’ll be fun.’
‘Fun? Standing up there with the famous and the beautiful watching me make a fool of myself? Not my idea of a good time.’
‘That’s what you’re worried about? Them?’ Noah shook his head. He knew from personal experience that nobody attending this wedding thought too much about anyone except themselves. ‘I really wouldn’t.’
‘Easy for you to say. I don’t...’ She swallowed and met his gaze. ‘I told you. I really don’t like being the centre of attention.’
So that was it. ‘That’s why you didn’t want to do the dance either,’ he said, remembering how she’d shrunk away, almost disappearing into the wall, when she’d been watching him and Melissa dance that morning. ‘And why you wear such boring clothes.’
‘Leave my clothes out of it,’ she grumbled. ‘Not everyone has to be a peacock like Melissa.’
‘Or a show-off like me,’ he finished for her. ‘But it doesn’t matter. That’s the joy of acting. You’re not the centre of attention at all—your character is. You can be someone else for a while. It’s fantastically freeing.’
‘Really?’ Eloise didn’t look entirely convinced.
‘Sure. Why do you think so many actors are screwed up as human beings? It’s not the job that does it. It’s the reason they choose the job in the first place. Who else would pick a career that lets them escape from themselves?’
‘I suppose,’ Eloise allowed. ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that it would be me up there on the stage. Making a fool of myself.’
Slow Dance with the Best Man Page 8
