by Regina Cole
Once the elevator doors had closed behind them, and Chandler punched the button for the seventh floor, he looked over at his cousin.
“I met this woman on the flight over here, and she’s here for the wedding.”
“Really?” Gregory crossed his arms over his chest, straining his light blue tee over his biceps. Apparently he’d been hitting the gym as hard as Chandler over the last few months.
“Yeah. Her name’s Eliza Jackson. Didn’t get much of a chance to get to know her, though.” The elevator halted, and the doors slid open.
“Eliza?” A funny look crossed Gregory’s face as he preceded Chandler out of the elevator.
“Yeah, that was her name.” Chandler lifted an eyebrow over at his cousin as he walked down the plush-carpeted hall. “Why do you look weird all of a sudden?”
“I don’t. Eliza’s great.” Gregory’s smile looked a little fake, and Chandler’s instincts instantly started prickling.
“What’s the rest of the story there? What do you know?”
Gregory held up his hands as Chandler pulled his room key from his pocket. “I don’t know anything specific, I promise. Just didn’t think she was your type.”
“What’s not to like? She’s hot as hell, bro. We didn’t really get off on the right foot, but I intend to make up for that at dinner tonight.”
Chandler entered the room, Gregory following. The curtains hung open, and sunlight glittered off the clear blue waves outside. Damn, this was nice.
“This is great. Thanks for dragging me out here.”
Gregory waved away Chandler’s thanks. “Don’t worry about it. You need a vacation, I need a best man, it works out.”
He set his suitcase on the table against the wall and a sudden idea struck him. “Hey, Greg, do you think you can do me a favor?”
Gregory leaned against the wall and blew out a heavy breath. “Why do I get the feeling whatever you’re going to ask me is going to get me in trouble?”
“It shouldn’t. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise. Two things.” Chandler held up two fingers. “One, I want to sit next to Eliza at dinner tonight.”
With an eye roll and a shake of his head, Gregory sighed. “No problem. I’ll talk to Bree.”
“Great. Second, I want you to talk to your fiancée. Get me some information on Eliza. What she does, where’s she from, what’s she into.”
At that, Gregory made a strangled sound that turned into a fake-sounding cough.
Scowling, Chandler thumped his cousin in the back. “Are you done?”
A red-faced Gregory nodded. “Sure, fine. Sorry. Yeah, I’ll do that, too.”
The tension that had been lining Chandler’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “Thanks man, I owe you one. Well, another one.”
Gregory pinched his temples for a second, then smiled resignedly at Chandler. “Don’t worry about it. You’d do the same for me.”
“In a heartbeat.”
With a quick fist-bump, Gregory left the room, leaving Chandler to look out over the beauty of the white-sand beach only fifty yards away.
Sliding open the balcony door, Chandler dragged a deep breath of sea air into his lungs. It was cleansing, refreshing, renewing. Tonight was full of possibilities, and he intended to pursue them.
Especially that intriguing possibility named Eliza Jackson.
Eliza bit her lip as she studied her reflection in the hotel room’s full-length mirror. She’d opted to pin her hair up, letting a few messy tendrils fall by her ears. The slinky black dress that the saleslady had assured her wasn’t too low or form-fitting had a neckline that fell to her damn navel, and showed off every curve she’d ever thought about having.
Jerking the neckline up a little, Eliza pursed her lips and blew. Damn it, she was supposed to be owning this. Bombshell, remember? With a roll of her eyes and a “fuck it,” she yanked the dress back where it was supposed to go. With her breasts pushed up by the strapless bra, the sweetheart neckline only served to frame her boobs like they were ready for their closeup. It would have been pretty convincing except for the wariness in her eyes.
Confidence. That was the look she was going for, and she was already blowing it. What about all the single guys whom Bree had promised her would be attending? But as she tucked her lipstick into the tiny silver evening bag, a shiver went straight up her exposed back, one that had nothing to do with the room’s powerful air conditioner.
Chandler’s mischievous grin had popped into her head, and damn it, she wanted to see him smile again. Only this time without her blushing and feeling like a complete idiot.
One last glance in the mirror, a determined squaring of her shoulders, and she was out the door. Head held high, mile-high pumps not showing a trace of a wobble.
As the elevator descended, she practiced some deep-breathing exercises, reciting her personal mantra in her brain.
Nobody knows me here. Nobody knows those rumors Tyler started. Clean slate. I’m confident, beautiful, and I can talk to anyone I want. Flirt with everybody. I’m a fucking bombshell.
She laughed to herself as the doors whooshed open.
“Care to share the joke?”
The deep voice glued her shoes to the floor, and Chandler had to slap his palm against the door to keep it from closing in her face. Clearing her throat, she thanked him, then exited the elevator.
“Sorry, just remembering something funny.” Painting a bright smile on her face, she took him in. A plain white tee stretched over his biceps, dampness nearly turning it transparent. He wore blue swim trunks that slung low on his hips. Sand clung to the bronzed skin of his legs, and he leaned against the door to keep it from closing.
“You look amazing,” he said, a light in his eyes as his gaze raked her up and down. Eliza fought a shiver.
“Thanks. Are you coming to dinner?” She hoped her voice was suitably calm, without the trace of nervous excitement that was currently rampaging through her innards.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit. Lost track of time on the beach. It’s really beautiful out there.”
She imagined Chandler shirtless, swimming through the waves; it truly was a sight to behold. And it would definitely be even better if he lost the trunks. The thought nearly made her swallow her tongue, and she coughed.
“Sorry,” she gasped, doing her best to clear her throat. “I need to grab some water. See you later?”
“Of course, but are you sure you’re okay?”
She smiled, even though her eyes were kind of streaming. Charming, damn it, be charming, you idiot!
“I’m fine. Seriously. See you soon.”
With oxygen finally flowing clearly to her lungs, Eliza gave a jaunty wave and walked away, making sure to swing her hips like the foyer was a catwalk. It took several seconds for the doors to whir their way shut. She allowed herself a small smile of triumph.
Smooth? Nope. But she’d gotten his attention. And it had been less painful than the airport, so things were definitely looking up.
Her heels clicked and echoed down the long corridor, and she gripped her bag a little tighter as she neared the end. A flower-festooned sign beside a set of double doors read “Hough-Trailwick Wedding Welcome Dinner.”
She closed her eyes for a second, and dragged in a deep breath. The first hurdle, seeing Chandler again, had been cleared. Now she just had to enter this room full of strangers and pretend that she was a normal, confident human being. No small task, really.
“I can do this,” Eliza whispered, then gripped the door handle. Music and laughter greeted her as the heavy door swung open, and she walked in like she owned the joint.
“Liza!”
Oh, thank God, it’s Bree. Eliza’s smile turned much more genuine as she wove her way through tables and chairs over to her friend’s side. The redhead had a half-full glass of champagne, and a large purple flower was tucked behind one ear. She grinned as she enveloped Eliza in a huge hug.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Eliza said, wrap
ping her arms around Bree.
“You came! Oh my God, Liza, I’m so glad you’re here. You’re going to have the best time, I promise.” Bree pulled back just enough to grip Eliza’s shoulder. “Holy crap, you look amazing. Where’d you get this dress? I’ve never seen you in something so cute.”
Her cheeks heated a little, but Eliza nodded. “I know. It came from a little boutique a couple towns over, in Hannington. I wasn’t sure about it, but the saleslady said it looked great.”
“She was right. You look like a model.” Drawing Eliza in close to her side, Bree grinned. “And tonight’s the night to look as good as you do. Dinner will be a little bigger than anticipated. A few of Dad’s friends are here, and he invited them to join us tonight. Apparently some of his partners have a time share.” Bree rolled her eyes. “But anyway, there are six single guys here, and they’re all hot. And one of them might already be into you.” Bree winked just as Eliza’s heart leapt straight into her esophagus.
“Really?”
Chandler. It had to be him. She hadn’t met anyone else.
“C’mere. Let me show you where you’re going to sit.”
Bree grabbed Eliza’s hand, and together they made their way through the room. Large floral centerpieces graced three circular tables that edged a central dance floor. The lights were soft pink and purple, and each time they passed below one, Eliza’s sparkly purse threw a glittery pattern on the polished wood dance floor. Bree waved at a couple of people clustered in one corner of the room, then stopped to introduce Eliza to her father. It was a nice conversation, but it seemed to last forever. Once they finally escaped, Eliza glanced at her watch.
Damn, I must have been really early.
She said as much to Bree, who shook her head.
“Nope, it’s good. We planned a cocktail hour before the meal anyway. A few people had delayed flights.” Bree shrugged as she stopped at a table to the left of the center one. “Here you are!”
Eliza glanced at the center table, then back. A little lick of nervousness danced along her spine. “I’d hoped to sit with you.”
With a knowing smile, Bree propped a hand on her hip. “I’m just at the next table. Besides, I think you’re going to be just fine.” She pointed at the name cards circling the table.
The one right in front of them said Eliza Jackson. Following Bree’s finger over to the right, Eliza read the next one.
Chandler Morse.
Her mouth fell open. Holy shit. Could she really be that lucky? Or cursed? Or maybe Chandler had asked to sit next to her. Now, that would be an interesting development. It would have to have happened before he’d seen her in the elevator. She hadn’t even apologized for acting like an idiot, and he still wanted to sit beside her and get to know her.
A warm feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach, and she had to fight the urge to put her hand against her throat and grin like a teenager with a crush.
“Wow,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “That’s . . . wow.”
A happy sigh escaped Bree. “Come on, girl. I think you need a glass of champagne.” She turned toward the door, then stopped short. Eliza almost bumped into her.
“And there’s just the guy to bring you one.”
If she’d been taken aback at how he looked damp and covered in sand, she was stunned at Chandler all cleaned up. His hair was a bit wet, but his khaki pants were pressed and immaculate. A sky-blue shirt was open at the throat, revealing just a hint of his tanned chest. It made his eyes look even greener, somehow. Shiny brown loafers completed the outfit.
Damn. Eliza’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. She’d intended to flirt with several guys tonight, but right now, she doubted she’d be able to look away from Chandler for the rest of the evening.
“Um, I think I’m going to go chat with my cousin for a few. I was going to introduce you, but that can wait for later. I think you’ll be in good hands.” Bree laughed.
“Wait,” Eliza said weakly, but it was too late. Bree was already halfway across the dance floor, and Chandler was approaching her, an appreciative look in his eyes.
“Eliza,” he said warmly.
“Hi, Chandler,” she returned, hoping he couldn’t hear that little nervous squeak in her voice. “Want to get me a drink?” She winked boldly, then inwardly blanched. Oh God, she was so rusty at flirting.
But fortunately, he laughed. “I’d be delighted.” He offered his arm, and Eliza slipped her hand through, resting her palm on his forearm. Damn, the man had muscles on muscles.
This was going to be a really interesting evening, especially if that tingling in the pit of her belly was any indication. Just being this close to Chandler was firing her blood, and she resisted the urge to run her nails up and down his arm.
Easy, girl.
But that sane inner voice wasn’t anywhere near as much fun as the horny devil on her shoulder. And she had a pretty good feeling that tonight the devil would win hands-down.
4
As they walked together across the room toward the small bar set up along the side wall, Chandler tried to decide if Eliza’s mercurial attitude was more surprising or exciting. They damn well tied in his mind. He’d expected to have some resistance to his advances. After all, she’d been embarrassed and prickly the whole time he’d known her.
But when he saw her in the elevator earlier, dressed to kill and flirting with him? Hope had flared. As he showered quickly and threw on some clothes, he’d almost convinced himself that he’d imagined the difference in her reaction to him. But clearly something was changed with her.
“Champagne?” He looked down at her and caught her eye almost instantly. Her cheeks colored and she looked away. Was she embarrassed that he’d caught her looking at him?
“Yes, thanks.” Her soft answer was almost lost against a burst of laughter from the center of the room.
He didn’t suppress the smile that curled his lips. “Two champagnes, please.” The bartender made quick work of pouring, and Chandler tucked a tip into the jar atop the bar before handing one of the slender flutes to Eliza.
She took a sip almost instantly, the glass pressing against her full lower lip. Chandler watched as her throat worked, a small crease appearing between her brows as the bubbles beaded on her upper lip.
“Thanks. I needed that.” The pleasure was plain in her voice.
“Rough day?”
He quirked a brow at her, smiling to make sure she knew he was kidding. The champagne was chilled perfectly, and Chandler tried to focus on that instead of the way Eliza shifted from foot to foot. The room was filling quickly around them, and though what he really wanted to do was grab her hand and lead her outside to the beautiful patio where the view of the sunset glowed fiery red on the horizon, he instead suggested that they go find their seats.
“Sure,” Eliza said, handing him the empty glass he gestured for. “We’re on the other side of the room. You’re next to me, right beside the patio doors there.”
Chandler gave a little laugh as he held their glasses while the waiter refilled them. He passed Eliza’s back to her and they started across the floor. “So you’ve already scoped out my spot, huh. Should I be flattered?”
Her eyes glittered as she tossed a teasing glance over her shoulder at him. “Maybe.”
Anticipation tightened Chandler’s stomach as he followed her. Damn. He’d hoped she’d be interested, but she seemed more than interested. Was she really that eager?
So far this trip was definitely turning out to be worth his while.
“Hey, man,” a voice behind Chandler stopped him. Greg’s hand fell on his shoulder.
“Greg,” Chandler said warmly. His cousin had obviously come through for him with the seating plan. Eliza stopped, hanging back slightly. “This is Eliza. We met on the plane over here. Eliza, my cousin the groom, Gregory Trailwick.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” Greg said, his smile slightly strained as he shook Eliza’s hand. “I’ve h
eard a lot about you.”
“Really?” Eliza’s expression became shuttered, the light dimming in her eyes.
“All good,” Greg said with a nervous laugh. “Mind if I have a word with my best man? I’ll return him quickly, I promise.”
“He’s not mine, so do what you want.” Eliza turned and walked toward the table she’d pointed at earlier, her shoulders hunched forward slightly as if she was hiding from something.
Chandler frowned and rounded on Greg. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. But listen, Chandler, I don’t mean to be prying into your personal choices, just be careful.”
“You warning me away from her?”
“No, I’m not. I’m just telling you to keep your eyes and ears open.”
“I’d be a shit PI if I didn’t.”
Greg laughed, and the sound dissipated a bit of the tension between them. “True enough, man. True enough.”
Chandler glanced toward the head table, where people were beginning to take their seats. “I think your fiancée is trying to get your attention.”
Greg looked in the direction of Chandler’s nod. “Yeah. I’d better get back to work.”
“Work?” Chandler snorted. “I doubt that marrying a woman like that is a chore.”
A half smile curled Greg’s lips. “You might be right. Time will tell.”
With a last slap on Chandler’s back, Greg moved toward the beautiful redhead who was laughing as she accepted a glass of champagne from a short, round woman.
For a moment, Chandler didn’t move. There was something there, some weird undercurrent in the proceedings that needled his senses. That same nagging drive that sent him searching for lies, for half truths and cover-ups. Greg wasn’t himself. Not when he talked about Eliza, not when he looked at his beautiful bride-to-be.
“Excuse me,” a woman mumbled as she bumped into Chandler’s arm.
