by Sey, Susan
“Audrey,” Drew said.
“What?”
“Audrey. Her name is Audrey.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Will shrugged easily. “Okay.”
Bel considered him. “You’re all right with this?”
“With what?” Will asked. “It’s her call. She’s the one who’s going to have to sleep with Mr. Important for the rest of her life. Why should I care?”
“You had a pretty big problem with her the other night.”
“That was different.” Will’s smile was sharp and dangerous. “The other night she’d insulted one of my brothers. And you know what we say.”
“Family first,” Bel said. “Yeah, I’ve heard. But just so we’re clear, you’re going to go back out there, pour champagne and pretend you’ve never laid eyes on that girl before in your life?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped her a smart salute. “Now if that’s all, my audience awaits.” He flipped a crisp white towel over his forearm and disappeared into the dining room to wield a bottle of champagne.
Drew turned troubled eyes on Bel and James. “She wasn’t wearing a ring last week,” he said.
“So?” James asked.
“So Wynton Quist is an ass.”
“Again, so?”
Drew shook his head. “So, what if she doesn’t want to marry this guy? What if she’s doing it for the money?”
James lifted his shoulders. “That’s not our business, Drew. She’s a grown woman. It’s not our place to tell her what to do with her life.”
“It is if she’s doing it because of us.”
James stiffened. “What?”
“James is right,” Bel said quickly. “She’s a grown woman who makes her own choices. There’s no reason to think—”
“Seriously.” Drew cut her off, spoke to James. “What if she’s marrying this guy not because she’s some heartless gold digger but because she’s desperate? I mean, we already know she’s working at least two jobs, right? The strip club and the conference hall? Who does that if they aren’t desperate? What if she was just making it and Will’s little scene last week was the last straw?”
“Drew, come on,” Bel said. “This isn’t some marriage of convenience romance novel. This is real life. Women in tough financial straits have options. They don’t have to—”
James cut her off this time. “You’re really worried about this?” he asked his brother.
“Yes,” Drew said, his mouth set in a stubborn line Bel hadn’t seen before. “I am.”
“What’s it going to take to ease your mind?” James asked.
“We need to talk to her,” he said.
“Oh, no,” Bel said, throwing her hands up like a couple of desperate stop signs. “You two are not tag teaming the poor girl at her own engagement party.”
“And ask her what?” James said, ignoring Bel with an ease that had her molars grinding.
“If she loves him,” Drew said promptly. Bel groaned. This was not happening. Please God let this not be happening.
“Love is not the only reason to get married,” she heard herself say. “There’s trust, compatibility, mutual goals, shared ambitions—”
“I’ll talk to her,” James said.
“You absolutely will not,” Bel told him.
“Thank you,” Drew said. “I couldn’t sleep at night if I thought we’d had a hand in some poor girl having to sleep with that guy for the rest of her life if she didn’t really want to.”
Drew draped a white towel over his forearm, picked up a fresh bottle of champagne and disappeared. Bel turned disbelieving eyes on James.
“You’re seriously going to go out there and ask her if she’s in love with her fiancé?”
James rolled his eyes. “Give me a little credit, huh, Bel? I can be subtle.”
“You can?”
“Sure.” He gave her a grin. “We call it sneaky where I’m from.”
“That I can believe. But come on, okay? I know Drew’s your brother, but do you really believe—”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” James said. “Drew’s our conscience, our heart. If he thinks we have a responsibility here, I’m going to check it out. No—” He lifted a hand as Bel opened her mouth. “—questions asked.”
Bel closed her mouth. “Fine,” she said darkly. “Great. Just remember, this is your career we’re trying to save here.”
“Yours, too.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Careers, if I may be so bold, that aren’t worth a damn if we’re behaving in a way that ruins other people’s lives.”
Bel glared at him. “I didn’t have anything to do with that girl losing her job.”
James returned the glare with an even look. “I did,” he said.
Bel opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort then shut it again. He was right. He personally hadn’t gotten Audrey fired but he’d had a hand in creating the situation. Now he was going to take responsibility for it. How could she argue with that?
“I hate it when you do that,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Blow through life all happy-go-lucky and ignorant then suddenly decide to do the right thing.”
He nodded seriously. “I can see how that would be annoying.”
“Shut up,” she said. “Go be subtle.”
“Right.” He draped a white towel over his forearm, picked up a bottle of champagne and squared his shoulders like he was heading into battle. He turned to her with the devil dancing in his sea-green eyes. “A kiss for luck?”
“You’re pushing it, James.”
“Right. Okay. I’m out.”
And then he was gone, leaving Bel alone with twenty-five gorgeously arranged plates. She only prayed the party would last long enough for the guests to taste them.
In the end, the party lasted through hors d’oeuvres, but didn’t make it all the way to cake.
Bel was head down in the industrial-sized ice maker replenishing the champagne buckets when she first heard the raised voices. She couldn’t understand the words but the tone said everything she needed to know. She scrambled out of the ice machine and raced for the kitchen door.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Wynton Quist demanded, staring at James like an enraged peacock, all puffed chest and ruffled feathers.
James ignored Wynton. He kept his voice low and his gaze steady on Audrey as he said, “Please. I only want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Audrey said, her face stiff and white. Her arms were folded tight under her bosom, her hands fisted in each elbow as if she were keeping them safe but at the ready.
“Come on, Audrey,” James said. “The last time we saw you, things were...messy.”
Wynton’s black stare swung toward Audrey. “The last time he saw you? You know this person?”
“No,” Audrey said.
“Yes,” James said at the same time.
Audrey glared at him. “We’ve met,” she told her fiancé. “I don’t know him. And I don’t care to start now.”
“Fine.” Wynton placed a proprietary hand on Audrey’s elbow and drew her into his side.
She flinched.
Not a lot. Bel saw that. Not like she was afraid. Not like she was hurt. It was more an unintentional grimace of distaste. Probably not for the guy, she told herself. More for the gesture. There was definitely a whiff of caveman to it. Sort of a this woman is mine, all unworthy beta males can go blow vibe. It had to be a little demeaning.
But seeing that tiny involuntary wince wasn’t what had Bel’s stomach leaping into her throat. It was the fact that James saw it, too. Bel saw it register on his face. Saw his jaw go rigid, saw his shoulders square up. He wouldn’t back down now. Not with this tangible piece of evidence that Audrey’s marriage might be anything less than a love match.
Bel broke into a trot.
“Don’t manhandle her,” James said, and t
hough his voice was low there was a menace in it that carried clear across the room. Conversations died and all eyes turned toward the little scene playing out at the head table.
“Excuse me?” Wynton’s lip curled.
“You heard me,” James said. Bel’s desperate glance around the room revealed Drew and Will plowing through the crowd to get to James’ side. Your fight is our fight. She could practically see the Blake brothers’ battle cry in cartoon bubbles over their heads.
She picked up the pace. She had to get there first. She at least had to beat Will.
“I’m sure the lady can move under her own power,” James said. “There’s no need to put the leash on her. Unless, of course, you don’t think she’d stay if you let her go.”
“Why don’t you go pick up your check?” Wynton suggested, his tone icy. “I’m sure we can manage the rest of this afternoon without your assistance.”
Bel bounced off a particularly sturdy woman who’d planted herself in the aisle and was craning her neck for a better view. “Pardon me, ma’am,” Bel said, then stuck her elbow into a stout flank.
The woman didn’t budge. “Like I’m going to miss even a word of this,” she said. “Get your own spot.”
Bel lunged to the left and was hurdling a chair when she heard Will say, “Hey, James.” His raised voice sang into the tense air. “Hey, Audrey. Nice party. Looks like you fell into the honey pot since we saw you last.”
Audrey blanched. Wynton glanced at her. “Have you met the entire catering staff, then?”
“Of course not.” She tilted her chin up, and gave Will a ferocious stare. He smiled at her.
“Aw, now, don’t be like that. There’s no call to be unfriendly.” Will turned his smile on Wynton. “We’re your girl Audrey’s best customers.”
“Customers?” Wynton said. He glanced at Audrey and eased his grip on her elbow.
“Sure,” Will said. “She was our favorite—”
“Will.” James cut him off. “Enough.” He reached an open hand toward Audrey, as if she were a skittish mare. “Please,” he said. “I just need to ask you a question. One question.
Audrey grabbed Wynton’s sleeve and turned huge, pleading eyes on him. “Please,” she said. “Can we just get them out of here?”
Wynton gazed down at Audrey’s pale, perfect face for a long moment. Then he turned his narrow gaze on Will. “Audrey was your favorite what?”
Audrey dropped her head in defeat. Bel shoved aside the chair she’d been wrestling and threw herself into a gap in the gathered crowd. “Nothing!” she shouted.
But she was a beat too late.
Because Will had already said, “Stripper. Audrey was our favorite stripper.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You,” Bel said to James as they hauled trash bags to the Dumpster, “are like kryptonite for weddings.”
“Hey.” He heaved a giant bag over the edge without even a grunt of effort. “I was doing fine. How was I supposed to know Will was going to go all bad cop on the girl?”
“Because,” Bel said. “That’s what Will does. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
“He seemed fine in the kitchen. I thought your speech was very well received.”
Bel glared at him. “No speech is well received enough to squeeze between Will and a brother thwarted, and you know it.”
He hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? Things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. It’s not like I set out to purposely embarrass anybody.”
Bel stared at him. “I don’t think embarrassment is the big problem here.” She jabbed a finger toward the steel door between them and the kitchen. “There’s a woman in there right now whose life is in total disarray because of you. Her engagement is broken, her life plan shattered. And you’re sorry she’s embarrassed?”
“Well, yeah,” he said. “It’s not like Wynton Quist was any big loss.” His brows came down. “I didn’t care for the way he laid hands on her.”
Bel’s mouth dropped open. “How a man touches his fiancée is none of your business, James! If she didn’t like how he touched her, she could tell him that. It’s got nothing to do with you!”
“Unless it does,” he said. “I know this wasn’t how you wanted today to go, Bel, but I did the right thing.”
“Oh my God.” Bel cast her eyes heavenward. “Now we’re back to the marriage of convenience theory?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” James said. He brushed past Bel and headed for the door.
Bel jogged after him. “Oh, no, you don’t. You leave that poor girl alone. Haven’t you done enough?”
“Not nearly. By my lights, I’m only halfway there.”
“What?”
“Seriously. I mean, at this point, the damage is already done, right?” He paused, hand on the door. “I’ll be damned if it’s for nothing. I’m getting my answers.”
He disappeared into the kitchen. Bel ran after him.
Audrey Bing sat on a kitchen stool, staring at the untouched bride and groom cakes on the counter in front of her. She looked like a sculpture, Bel thought. Bride and Fury. Skin like marble, two hectic splotches of color riding high on each elegant cheekbone the only signs of life. Otherwise, there she sat, her heels hooked over the rung of her stool, her knees pressed together, her elbows jammed hard against her stomach, her fingers twisted together so hard Bel worried they might snap off.
She didn’t look up when James pulled out the stool beside hers and sat down.
“Hi, Audrey,” he said. She continued to stare at the cakes. She hadn’t spoken a word since Wynton had dismissed her from her position as The Future Mrs. Quist nearly an hour ago. She’d simply walked into the kitchen and sat down. Bel had put a cup of hot tea at her elbow and let her be.
James pried gently at Audrey’s fingers until they untwisted and he took her hand in his. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Bel wondered if she was beyond caring who touched her at this point, or if she’d simply rededicated herself to hiding her tells since her slip up with Wynton this afternoon.
“Listen, Audrey,” James said. “I’m sorry about today.”
The silence stretched out. Bel didn’t know if the girl had even heard him, but James soldiered on.
“You have every right to be angry with me,” he said to her. “Ending your engagement should have been your choice, done on your schedule. But it needed to end, Audrey. Didn’t it?”
He dipped his head to get a better look at her face, and the depth of kindness in his eyes startled Bel. Not that she didn’t think he was a nice enough guy. Maybe he let his brothers lead him into occasional bouts of madness, but in general, he seemed pretty decent. It was more that the range of emotions he’d displayed thus far—happy, hungry, mischievous, bored, horny—weren’t exactly deep.
So it was understandable, wasn’t it, that the sudden appearance of this vast well of compassion would take Bel aback? Of course she’d be unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of his pirate’s face soft with empathy and concern. Of course her heart would flip over in her chest. It was like watching a toddler recite Shakespeare. Unexpected and bizarre and compelling. But it didn’t mean anything.
But Audrey, Bel noticed, didn’t seem at all interested in James’ remarkable transformation from fraternity boy to man of unexpected depth. She simply stared at Bel’s cakes as if they held the answers to life, death and everything in between. James didn’t push her. He simply sat there, undisturbed by the silence, as patient and companionable as a man keeping vigil at the bedside of a beloved friend.
Bel cocked a brow at James who gave her a beatific smile in return. She turned away.
Will and Drew, with a shocking lack of complaint, helped her scrub the kitchen until she could see her face in every stainless steel surface available. They packaged leftovers and loaded the van while Bel boxed the cakes and locked the doors. When there was nothing left to do but turn out the lights, Bel went back to the counter where James and Audrey still sat.
<
br /> “Ms. Bing,” she said, touching the girl’s shoulder. She might as well have been carved from stone inside that pretty powder blue suit and Bel glared at Will over her head. He lifted one shoulder and walked out to wait in the van. Drew followed, guilt bowing his shoulders.
“Ms. Bing,” Bel said again. “It’s time to go. Do you have family? Somebody I can call for you?”
Bel searched the girl’s perfect face for some sign of life and for a long moment found nothing. She flicked her eyes to James’ and lifted her brows as if to say now what, super genius? Then Audrey spoke.
“You,” she said to James, her voice clear but flat. She turned her gaze on him and it was the same. Precise, focused but utterly without inflection or heat or heart.
“Oh, thank God,” Bel breathed. Audrey Bing was back from beyond. “Ms. Bing? Is there anything we can—”
“Yes,” she said.
James gave her his instant and complete attention. “What do you need, Audrey?”
“A job,” Audrey said. “That’s two you owe me.” Bel shivered. Because since when was being somebody’s fiancée a job? “But I’d be willing to settle for one, provided it pays well.”
Kate Davis presided over Sunday dinner in the Blake House the next night like the feared and honored matriarch she was. She stood at the head of the table, dealing out slices of pot roast and mounds of mashed potatoes with a firm but generous hand. Bob held down the foot of the table, watching Kate with his usual combination of mild amusement and bemused affection. On one side of the table sat Drew and Will in nearly identical sweaters and ties. On the sat Bel with James—also combed and pressed—to her left, and Audrey—pretty and perfect—to her right.
They could have been a Norman Rockwell painting, Bel mused. Except for the fact that, after yesterday’s fiasco, Kate’s judgment dangled over all their heads like the Sword of Damocles as envisioned by Liz Claiborne. There was also the fact that Will’s wine glass was being drained and refilled at an alarming rate. And that James’ brand new personal assistant Audrey Bing was, in lieu of eating, arranging tiny cubes of roast beef into precisely ordered ranks on the edge of her plate where they would, presumably, stage a flanking maneuver on Mt. Potatoes via Lake Gravy.
