Three Grooms and a Wedding

by JoAnn Ross

  “True. But most of it goes for things like those Jackson Pollock paintings in his office and the remodeling of his place in Aspen.”

  “It was a family studio.”

  “The definitive word there is was.” His dark eyes turned so dark as to be almost black. His chiseled jaw hardened. “The guy can’t seem to get it through his head that Xanadu is no longer his personal piggy bank.”

  When she’d first met Connor Mackay, he’d been masquerading as the temporary handyman at Bachelor Arms. At the time, she’d thought that there was something about the man that didn’t quite fit his alleged profession. Now, looking at the intelligence, and the determination in those dark eyes, Blythe could easily see him as the multimillionaire wheeler-dealer he’d turned out to be.

  “You said that was one of the reasons.”

  “Another is the studio’s choice of subject matter. I’ll be the first to admit that films like Expose, Night Stalker, and Bomb Squad make money. But there’s plenty of room to make other films as well. Films with social conscience. Or, strong, character-driven stories like the one you and Sloan are working on.”

  Blythe relaxed. She’d been so worried that Connor might not continue to support her project. “You’ve no idea what a load that is off my mind,” she admitted.

  He looked surprised. “I told you I liked the idea, Blythe.”

  “True. But I thought perhaps, because of Lily—”

  “That I would compromise my beliefs?” he interrupted. “No. I love Lily to distraction. But if I’d been reluctant to continue with your Alexandra project, Blythe, I would have told you straight out.” He flashed her the quick, warm smile that Lily had, against her will, found unable to resist.

  “I’ll admit that the way we met doesn’t say much for my credibility, but I’ve always prided myself on being straightforward.”

  Understanding the tangled web of lies he’d inadvertently gotten himself into in an attempt to win over a romance-shy Lily, Blythe returned his smile with a warm one of her own.

  “I know. Cait and I were saying just this morning how lucky Lily is to have you.”

  “I’m the lucky one.” The smile warmed his eyes. “To have Lily. And Kate.” Blythe knew that Connor had been the one to insist on naming the baby after Lily’s mother.

  “There’s another reason Stern has to go,” Connor revealed. “Have you met Brenda Muir?”

  “The would-be actress living at Bachelor Arms? Bubbly, naive and gorgeous?”

  “That’s her. She recently had an audition with Walter.”

  “Ah.” Blythe nodded. “And Walter, being Walter, couldn’t resist trying to get her onto his casting couch.”

  “You don’t sound surprised.”

  Blythe shrugged. “I was fifteen years old when he first tried that on me. He showed up on the set one day, visited me in my trailer and tried to rip off my blouse.”

  Anger stirred. Connor quenched it, reminding himself that the guy was on his way out. Having always looked toward the future, it was not in his nature to dwell on the past.

  “What did you do?” He hoped this would not be some tawdry tale of teenage rape. Because then he would not only have to fire Stern, but punch him out for hurting his wife’s best friend.

  “I gave him a black eye. Then told my father, who threatened to file charges.” A much admired entertainment attorney, David Fielding was one of the few people in town who possessed clout equal to that of the studio owner. “Dad also, as a side note, threatened to kill him if he ever laid a hand on me again. I don’t know if Walter was more afraid of the scandal or death, but he pretty much left me alone after that.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Unfortunately, not every young woman is as gutsy as you, and Brenda fortunately turned out to be.”

  “Some are more desperate. And unfortunately, although it’s not talked about out in the open anymore, sleeping your way to the top didn’t end with the studio system.”

  “True. But it’s not going to be the way business is conducted at Xanadu. Not anymore.”

  “You’ve just made the female employees, not to mention half the actresses in town, extremely happy.” That brought up another question. “What about Margaret?” she asked, concerned for the ultraefficient secretary’s future.

  “I’d planned to ask her if she’d consider becoming my personal assistant.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “It’s the logical thing to do,” he said, shrugging off her compliment. “I need someone familiar with the day-to-day business of running Xanadu. And hiring Margaret Nelson appears to be one of the few good judgments Stern’s made during his tenure here.”

  “It’s still a nice thing to do.” Once again, Blythe thought how fortunate Lily was to have found this man. How fortunate they were to have found each other.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to keep you.” Connor stood up. “I just wanted to fill you in, since you’re going to be out of the country when Stern’s shown the door.”

  “With a golden parachute,” she guessed.

  “Movies may tend to put things in nice, neat little boxes, where the good guys are rewarded in the last reel and the bad guys run out of town on a rail.

  “Unfortunately, life is messier than cinema. Stern will be leaving with a generous buyout. But at least he’ll be gone. And that’s the important thing.”

  Connor had made the only decision possible, Blythe thought as she drove back through those elaborate gates personally designed by the first Stern to run Xanadu. Still, even knowing Connor Mackay’s brilliant business reputation, she feared that getting rid of Walter Stern III would be easier said than done.

  Like his father, and his grandfather before him, the man was infamous for fighting dirty when something he wanted was at stake. She had an ominous feeling that her friend’s husband-to-be was in for the battle of his life.

  2

  A STORM WAS BREWING. Dark clouds were building up on the horizon, the air had turned electric. Telling himself that the painful needles beneath his skin had everything to do with the weather, and nothing to do with the fact that tomorrow morning he was leaving for Greece with a woman he could not get out of his mind, Gage Remington dragged a duffel bag from beneath the bed and began throwing underwear into it.

  He’d always prided himself on his control. During his days on the force, patrolling the gang neighborhoods of South Central L.A., he’d developed a reputation for being tough, fair and unflappable.

  It hadn’t taken long for the word to get out: if you were looking for a cop to defuse a dangerous situation, Gage Remington was your man. Control had been his watchword; patience his forte.

  Unfortunately, when it came to Blythe Fielding, control and patience were proving to be in scant supply.

  Not since his testosterone-driven teenage days had he felt so damn horny. He went to bed each night with his groin aching and woke up each morning hot and hard. And unfulfilled.

  “Damn her!”

  He dragged his hand through his black hair and cursed. He had a job to do. She was only an employer. And even if the lady had him burning from the inside out, to get involved with her would be madness.

  If it was merely physical, he could handle it. From that first moment they had met on his boat, the chemistry had been instantaneous and undeniable. And if that kiss he’d stolen the day after the earthquake was any indication, the sex between them would be incomparable.

  Having experienced the seamy underbelly beneath the city’s glitter, Gage knew, better than most, that Hollywood was a place of images and illusions. But, if her uncontrolled response to him that afternoon was any indication, amazingly, Blythe was even more passionate than the sultry femme fatale roles she invariably played up on that oversize screen.

  Just as he hadn’t been able to get their steamy kiss from his mind, neither had Gage been able to forget the way she’d felt beneath him when they’d been knocked to the ground by the earthquake’s first massive jolt.

  Be
neath the ivory satin wedding dress, her body had been lush and fragrant; her voluptuous curves had fit against his body so perfectly she could have been designed with him in mind. Ever since that day, as hard as he fought against it, the seductive thought of being surrounded by that hot feminine flesh had kept him in a constant state of near arousal.

  The problem plaguing both his waking and sleeping mind was that Gage feared that a great deal more was involved here than chemistry.

  Blythe Fielding was the kind of woman who could not only get under a man’s skin, but infiltrate his mind, and even worse, his heart. And for a man who’d always managed to avoid emotional entanglement, Gage was finding that idea even more dangerous than anything he’d ever faced during his days on the force.

  “She’s just a woman,” he muttered, the same damn thing he’d been telling himself for weeks. “A gorgeous, sexy woman, granted. But this town is overflowing with gorgeous, sexy females.”

  So why did Blythe Fielding have his insides all tied up in knots?

  The first time Blythe visited Cait at Bachelor Arms, she’d experienced a sudden, unbidden feeling of déjà vu. As impossible as it seemed, each subsequent time she pulled up in front of the Mediterranean pink house, with its turquoise trim, lacy iron grillwork, balconies and odd turret, rather than diminishing, the strangely familiar feeling intensified.

  And if she’d felt uneasy visiting Cait, as she headed down the hallway and approached Gage Remington’s apartment door, Blythe was strangely torn between walking right in without knocking and running away.

  She really was in trouble, she considered as she rapped at the door. When even the man’s apartment made her feel so uncharacteristically ambivalent.

  A sound at the door broke Gage’s frustrated thoughts.

  Hell. As if conjured up by his mutinous mind, the object of all his consternation—and desire—was standing in his doorway. She was wearing a red silk blouse and a pair of taupe linen slacks, but she would have been no more alluring had she been draped in Salome’s diaphanous veils. Even as simply dressed as she was, she still managed to exude pure, undiluted sex. Looking down at her, Gage discovered, all too painfully, that hunger had claws.

  “This is a surprise.” Tamping down the pleasure, he concentrated on control.

  “Hi.” Her voice was more breathless than it should have been. Her nerves more tangled. “I hate people who drop in without calling, but I was in the neighborhood, and, well, I remembered something I wanted to discuss with you before our flight tomorrow.” She took a breath that was meant to calm, but didn’t. “So, I took a chance you might be in.”

  She wasn’t fooling either of them. Gage knew that whatever Blythe wanted to talk about could have been handled over the phone. But, encouraged by the fact that she was no more able to stay away from him than he was able to stop thinking about her, he opened the door wide.

  “Come on in.” Even with his rigid self-control, Blythe could literally feel the energy humming from every pore. A force that was echoed deep inside her. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “I was just packing.”

  “Oh.” She glanced around the apartment with idle curiosity, remembering when she’d first visited it with Cait. It had been vacant then. When her gaze settled on the oversize mirror that literally dominated the room, she tensed. A frisson of something that could have been expectation or fear skimmed up her spine.

  “I’d forgotten about this.” As if drawn by an extrapowerful magnet she crossed the room and stood in front of the silver-backed glass.

  “Sounds as if you’ve seen it before.”

  “Cait showed it to me.” Unable to resist, Blythe ran her fingers over the pewter frame, tracing the elaborate scrollwork.

  Although she told herself that it was only her nerves, stimulated as they always were in Gage’s presence, she could have sworn she felt the metal roses warm beneath her touch. “Did anyone tell you about the legend?”

  “Jill seems to have left that out.”

  Gage’s tone was thick with disbelief. He hadn’t liked the mirror, which was the focal point of the apartment, the first time he’d seen it. These past weeks living with it hadn’t changed his mind. If he could have taken it off the wall, he would have. But for some strange reason, the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Not wanting to ruin the plaster wall, he’d learned to almost ignore it.

  “According to Cait, some people have seen a woman in it.”

  “Sounds like some people were smoking stuff you can’t get from any vending machine.”

  “Perhaps.” Blythe decided not to reveal that both Cait and Connor had seen the mysterious vision. Such stories were their own to tell. “It gets even stranger.”

  Gage came up behind her. Her scent, a dark, mysterious fragrance that suited her perfectly, filled his senses like a drug and threatened to cloud his mind.

  “Why am I not surprised by that?” Personally he figured any alleged legend was something the owner had concocted to give the place some Hollywood pizzazz. Something to go along with the words scratched beneath the plaque on the front wall: Believe the legend.

  Blythe could feel the warmth emanating from him. It crept into her bones and made her knees weak. Little flickers of flame licked at her stomach, sparked along her skin. Heaven help her, it was happening again! She felt herself on the verge of losing control.

  “The legend says if you see the woman in the mirror, your greatest wish could be granted. Or your greatest fear realized.”

  Tempted to turn around and fling herself into his arms, Blythe resisted looking up at him. Instead, she met his steady, unwavering gaze in the mirror.

  Lord, he was incredibly sexy, Blythe thought, not for the first time as she stared at their reflections. Black Irish, with lush jet hair and pale, silvery blue eyes that had a way of looking at her as if they could see all the way to her soul. He was wearing a faded gray police academy T-shirt with a pair of low-riding jeans. His feet were bare and although she told herself that she was losing her mind, even the sight of his long straight toes made her blood swim a little hotter.

  The words rang a deep and distant bell. Telling himself that he’d obviously overheard one of the other Bachelor Arms tenants discussing the alleged legend, Gage shrugged the inexplicable memory off.

  “Have you seen her?” he asked.

  “No.” Blythe sternly reminded herself that she was an engaged woman. “But I know people who have.”

  She was a talented actress. But as hard as she was trying to keep things on an even keel, Gage would have had to have been deaf not to hear the unmasked desire in her voice. He would have had to have been blind not to see the need rise in eyes that were nearly as dark as her hair.

  Reigning in his own unruly desire, Gage shrugged. “The power of suggestion can prove surprisingly strong.”

  “I suppose.” She dragged her gaze from the mirror, turned around and forced herself to look up at him.

  “The reason I dropped by was to ask if you’d talked to your contact in Greece about Natasha’s whereabouts.”

  As if the elderly woman jumping ship wasn’t bad enough, Gage’s last report was that her lover had taken her off on a sight-seeing trip of nearby islands.

  “Last I heard she was on Seriphos.” He’d been right. He could have answered the question over the phone. “But don’t worry, we’ll find her, wherever she is. It just might take a little more time.”

  That was exactly what she was afraid of. “How much time?”

  “Beats me.” Gage idly fantasized keeping Blythe away from Los Angeles—and her stuffed-shirt fiancé—forever. They could lie in the sun, swim in the Mediterranean, feed each other fat succulent grapes, drink ouzo, and dance until dawn in some rustic taverna. And make love, all night long. “I hadn’t realized you were pressed for time.”

  “You knew I’d hoped to get my movie shot before I have to show up on the set for Expose.”

  “Don’t worry, Boss Lady.” He skimmed a finger down the
slope of her perfectly formed nose. “Remington Investigations is on the case. And we always get our man. Or, in this case, our woman.”

  Blythe smiled, as she was meant to, and tried to relax.

  But later that evening, as she packed for her trip, she realized that as tightly focused as she was in regard to her career, when it came to her personal life, she’d been drifting.

  Although she’d begged off having dinner with Alan, claiming the need to finish up some paperwork and pack, Blythe knew she couldn’t leave for Greece with Gage without first talking face-to-face with the man who, had it not been for the earthquake hitting during the wedding ceremony, would now be her husband.

  Lately, after innumerable conversations with Cait and Lily, Blythe had been forced to take a long hard look at her upcoming marriage. In the beginning, having always prided herself on her commonsense approach to life in a town that seemed to go out of its way to avoid rational behavior, she had considered the handsome, wealthy plastic surgeon a perfect match.

  They both had careers that demanded a great deal of time and energy, they were both independent, strong-minded individuals and neither possessed the type of clinging personality that needed constant ego strokes from a spouse. Most importantly, Alan was at the age when a man began to think of establishing a dynasty while Blythe, who’d always wanted a large family, was finding the idea of motherhood increasingly appealing.

  Although Hollywood definitely had its share of single parents, Blythe had been surprised to discover that she possessed a deeply traditional streak. Not that she had any intention of staying home and baking chocolate chip cookies while wearing high heels and an apron like Mrs. Cleaver. Having worked all her life, from the time she’d been cast as an Ivory soap baby while still in her cradle, she had no intention of giving up her career.

  But, having observed several of her friends struggle to be both mother and father to their children, Blythe had come to the conclusion that when possible, two parents were better than one. Watching Lily and Connor share both the responsibilities and the joys of their new infant daughter had only solidified that belief.