“Well, the plan only says that I need a face-to-face meeting, it didn’t mention whether it should be sitting or standing.” He pulled out the printed email and showed it to her. “See, I’m up to step two.”
“You skipped step one,” she said. It was hard to tell whether she was playing along because she wanted to talk to him. Her usual spark was hiding behind an impassive, neutral expression that told him absolutely nothing.
“I attempted step one.” He raked a hand through his hair, trying to remember all the things he’d planned to say. But words vanished around her, because they didn’t feel important. The thunderous beating in his chest, the fire burning in his blood, the itch in his palms that compelled him to reach out to her—those were important. “So, according to this plan, step three is ‘give her a chance to have her say.’ Apparently, it will be natural for me to want to defend myself but this is her time to air her concerns.”
“I wrote that, huh?” She studied him, her arms folded across her chest. The defensive position wasn’t a great sign, but there was a softening in her face. A slight dimple in her cheek that hinted a smile might be close. “Too bad you’re using it on the wrong girl.”
“I’m not, McKenna. The only thing that’s wrong about this situation is that I didn’t figure it out sooner.” He dropped the piece of paper onto the desk that had her brushes neatly laid out.
“Figure out what?” Her eyes tracked him as he moved forward, darting back and forth as if she were assessing her risk. Assessing whether she should run.
This was the bit he couldn’t seem to work out. The right words to say, ones that would adequately express all the new and confusing things he felt. His insides were tangled up, like a bunch of wires. But that didn’t sound right. His heart was like a sledgehammer pounding through a wall. But that wasn’t right, either.
He wanted to say something profound and important and insightful. Something that would show her he regretted every moment that he’d been running in the wrong direction. Every second he’d wasted chasing after the wrong thing in life, hurting her in the process.
“I care about you,” he said eventually. “I care about you more than I feel is logical.”
Her lip quivered. “You care about me? How? In what way? More than you feel is logical…what does that even mean?”
“It means I don’t understand it. But I feel it.” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I don’t have flowery descriptions, but I know not being with you made me more miserable than anything else I’ve ever experienced.”
“Really?” Her eyes shimmered as she looked up, meeting his gaze head-on in a way that made him feel like he’d been struck by lightning. The power of it was like a sign. This was where he belonged. With her. Talking to her. Feeling out of his comfort zone with her.
“That day you knocked on my door changed everything,” he said. “You changed me.”
…
McKenna was worried about the very real possibility of her fainting for a second time in Beckett’s presence. This time she didn’t need the sight of blood, the feeling of it leaving her head was reason enough. Because she wanted so hard to believe he was the right man for her—that he did care for her in a way that was more than friendship. That they were more than people who waved in the hallway. Who said hello in the mailroom.
She wanted it all with Beckett—all the things she’d dared not wish for because she thought she’d never be good enough. But he was the one who’d told her she didn’t need anyone’s validation to know that. Not her boss’s, not her family’s.
Not even his.
“You’ve changed me, too,” she said. “I’m not scared to aim high anymore. I’m not afraid to go after what I deserve instead of settling.”
Heat simmered in his blue gaze. Against the stark black-and-white tux, they gleamed like jewels. A perfect marriage of turquoise and teal. Vibrant. Intense. But it was the feeling behind them that got her this time. He’d lost his wall, that impenetrable mask that had always kept her at arm’s length. Now emotion rolled over his face like clouds blowing on the wind. He was letting her see everything. Laying himself bare.
“Good.” He nodded. “I want you to have it all.”
“So you broke things off for good?” she asked after a heartbeat or two. She had to know, because this time she wouldn’t deal with the uncertainty. The doubt.
“I did.”
“What about your business?”
“I went back to the venture capital firm and I agreed to their conditions.” He nodded slowly, as though he were still coming to terms with his decision. “I’ve agreed to some of the changes they want, negotiated a few more.”
“And their cut?”
“The same as they offered me before.”
“But that’s not what you wanted?” Despite it all, she felt bad knowing how much power he’d given up. Whereas Lionus Aldridge would have given him free reign, working with a venture capital firm meant being held to constraints. Conditions. Losing control.
“No, but I’ll make it work. It’s a compromise, but it means that I can have the other things I want.” He reached for her hand, his grip warm and secure. “It means I get to be here, asking you to forgive me for being a blind idiot.”
“Technically, you haven’t asked yet,” she said, smirking.
“McKenna Prescott, will you forgive me for being so stupid and rigid that I almost threw away what will surely be the very best thing in my life?”
His words were like a strike to her heart. “Wow,” she breathed. “When you do say something, it’s worth the wait.”
“Well?”
“I forgive you.” She stepped closer and pressed her palms to his chest, breathing in the scent of rain on his hair and the faded cologne on his skin. “See, told you the plan would work.”
“I have one more step.” He brought his lips down to hers in a probing kiss, soft and yet desperately raw. Her fists curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. “Step four.”
“Make a commitment,” she whispered, remembering the hollowed-out feeling plaguing her as she’d typed that email. If only she’d known it would bring him back to her. “It needs to be concrete.”
“I promise that I’ll do everything to make you feel like you’re my top priority at all times. I promise to spend time with you, to communicate with you, and to always accept your mail, even if it’s really weird.”
A laugh burst forth, and she shook her head. “Don’t you knock Mr. Whopper. He’s the reason we’re together now.”
“Tell him he’s been replaced.” Beckett’s teeth nipped at her ear. “You’ve traded him in for the real thing.”
Beckett backed her up against the door, his hips pinning her.
“Don’t mess up my makeup,” she said. “I’m supposed to look professional.”
He planted a hand by her head, bringing his lips down to her neck. “There’s no makeup here.”
She moaned and let her head fall back against the door while he feasted on her. She couldn’t wait for the wedding to be over, so they could finish what he’d started. Something told her that she wouldn’t mind Beckett grunting in that scenario.
As he popped the buttons on her blouse, his lips chasing her exposed skin, McKenna sighed. The sounds of the old building came alive in their silence, broken only by his moan as his lips reached the edge of her bra. Sure, it wasn’t a word but she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing it.
“Maybe we should come up with a new story on how we met,” she said, her eyes flittering shut as his palm cupped her breast. “You know, in case we do need to explain it to your family. Or mine. Oh God, what if my mother—”
“Shhh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “We’ve got twenty minutes, max. Let’s not waste it talking.”
She could be quiet for now. But the second she got Beckett back to her place, she was going to scream every word she knew, starting with yes.
Epilogue
Six months later…
�
��You’re not supposed to see me in my dress before the ceremony.” McKenna’s voice floated through the closed door.
Beckett grinned. It wasn’t him seeing her in the dress that she should be worried about. It was more trying to avoid his attempts to get her out of the dress.
“Pretty sure that’s only for the bride and groom,” he replied. “And doesn’t extend to the bridesmaid and her plus one.”
The door opened a fraction and McKenna stuck her head out. For once, her makeup was subdued. None of her usual fringy eyelashes or glitter, which apparently had been at the order of the bride. But he liked her all ways—made up, au natural, and everything in between.
“All right, troublemaker. What do you want?” She looked him up and down, nodding in approval. He’d wanted a basic black suit but McKenna had talked him into a gray with baby-blue pinstripes. “Looking good, by the way. I can’t believe you wanted to get another black suit.”
“Lucky I have you to talk me out of any potentially boring decisions,” he said drily. “Now come out here.”
“Please don’t tell me we have to talk again,” she teased. “All you want to do is yap, yap, yap.” She made a talking motion with her hands. “I can’t stand it.”
“Don’t make me gag you, again,” he growled as she stepped out of the bridesmaids’ room. “I had entirely too much fun listening to you try to talk with all that silk in your mouth.”
“Mr. Walsh,” she admonished in a mock serious tone. “I am a lady. Here you are, trying to corrupt my sensibilities.”
“Sensibilities?” He pulled her to him and she squeaked, her gaze darting down the hall to see if anyone was coming. “I don’t remember you being too sensible when you let me get into your skirt at my sister’s wedding.”
“Hoping for a repeat?” She raised a brow, but her eyes were wide. Her cheeks flushed. She wanted this as much as he did.
“Not hoping.” He led them farther into the hallway, toward an alcove he’d spotted that had a rather dense-looking plant. “Planning.”
She smacked his arm. “And here I was thinking that you were a nice, upstanding gentleman who was going to make an honest woman of me one day.”
He pulled them into the alcove and cupped her face with his hands. “I can’t wait, McKenna.”
“I can’t wait, either.” The cheeky smile softened and she tipped her face up to his. “I love you.”
Her eyes widened as the words popped out. They’d been dancing around it for some time, the urge to say those three little words sitting ever-present in the back of his throat. But they’d taken things slow, getting to know one another.
Last week she’d moved into his apartment when her lease had ended. It wasn’t a big change, since she slept over often. But making it official had been like a great big check mark next to their relationship. Sacrificing control with his business to have her in his life had been the best decision he’d ever made.
“I love you, too,” he said.
He pulled her deeper into the alcove to punish that beautiful mouth of hers. “You sure we can’t ditch this thing and head back to the room?”
“I don’t think Isla would be too happy about that,” McKenna murmured.
Beckett’s thumbs grazed her temples as he held her in place, coaxing her lips open for a deep kiss. “You know, we could make this our thing.”
“Getting naughty at other people’s weddings?” She giggled.
“And hopefully at ours one day.” He rested his forehead against hers. “But I’ll wait until after the ceremony then, I promise.”
“Shhh.” She pressed a fingertip to his mouth, joy filtering through her body at the thought of their future. It seemed so bright. So sparkling. It was everything she’d been looking for.
His lips curved into a wicked grin as he lowered his head to hers, capturing her mouth and pinning her to the wall. For the first time in her life, McKenna was totally happy not to be talking.
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Acknowledgments
My makeup journey has been full of inspiration from the industry greats—Kevyn Aucoin, Bobbi Brown, Pat McGrath, and the creators of MAC: Frank Toskan and Frank Angelo. Your artistry and wisdom has opened me up to a vibrant and colorful world.
Thanks must go to my mother, for teaching me about makeup in my early years, for always being happy to talk about lipstick, and for supporting my decision to go to makeup school.
Thank you to all the women who have lent their faces over the years so I could hone my skills. A special thank you to my sister, Sami, who always sat patiently through makeup applications whenever I felt the urge to create.
Huge thanks to the team at Entangled, especially to Alycia Tornetta and Liz Pelletier, for supporting my stories and giving them such a wonderful home.
And to my incredible agent, Jill Marsal, thanks for putting all my deadlines into a spreadsheet so we could figure out when on earth I was going to write all these books.
As always, I have to mention the love and support of my husband. Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for your unflinching belief that I can do anything no matter how crazy my schedule gets.
About the Author
Stefanie London is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romances with humor, heat, and heart.
Growing up, Stefanie came from a family of women who loved to read. Thus, it was no surprise she was the sort of student who would read her English books before the semester started. After sneaking several literature subjects into her “very practical” business degree, she got a job in communications. When writing emails and newsletters didn’t fulfill her creative urges, she turned to fiction and was finally able to write the stories that kept her mind busy at night.
Originally from Australia, she now lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is currently in the process of doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges in her passions for good coffee, lipstick, romance novels, and zombie movies.
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Trouble Next Door Page 17
