“Just what I said.” He didn’t know if it was better or worse that her voice was so flat. No inflection, no hint of where her head was. “As far as I’m concerned, things are the same as they’ve always been.”
Beck thought of her beneath him, that sweet cry of release as he buried himself inside her. The way her arms and legs had wrapped around, pulling him tighter as though she couldn’t ever get enough of him. The breathless sigh when he curled his body around hers and kissed the side of her neck. No, things were not the same. Not even close.
She was talking again. “I thought we were on the same page about this. I had a good time.”
“Great time,” Beck barked.
“I had a great time,” she revised. “But after today you’re still going back to Seattle and I’m staying here. And I’m okay with that. You don’t have to worry about me chasing you down and insisting on a relationship. You can go back home without any guilt.”
It wasn’t guilt twisting through his blood right now. Not guilt that had his hands tightening over those keys so the edges bit into the soft tissue of his palm. “Wrong.”
“Beck, be reasonable.”
He didn’t want to be reasonable. The thoughts spinning through his head, which went something along the lines of dragging her back to her apartment—the wedding could go on without them—and keeping her there until she confessed she felt the same as him, weren’t reasonable.
“You know it wouldn’t work. We’d end up hating each other. Can’t we enjoy what we had and part as friends?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was quiet. “I hope this won’t affect today.”
Oh, it sure would. Just not the way she expected. “I’ll see you later, Poppy.” He hung up before she said anything else.
She might think she’d had the last word, that he was going to roll over and allow her to have her way, but she was sorrowfully wrong.
* * *
IT HAD ALMOST killed Poppy to keep up the facade on the phone with Beck, but she’d managed. And as much as it hurt and was going to continue hurting, she couldn’t regret last night. No, last night would live on in infamy and keep her warm on those long, lonely nights until she got over him.
He didn’t mean it when he said things had changed. He never meant it. And she didn’t want to play, didn’t want to get sucked back into the game, because if she did, she might not get over it this time.
When he’d arrived at the hotel, she’d ducked behind a pillar. Pathetic and cowardly, she knew. But he wore a tux. He was almost impossible to resist in a tux, and her resolve was already so low.
He’d been mad about this morning and she understood why. It was a conversation they should have had in person, but she hadn’t been able to do it. She’d looked down at him, sleeping in her bed, all large and manly and so hers, and she’d known if she didn’t leave immediately, she’d let him do whatever he wanted. And her heart couldn’t bear it.
At least she’d left a note and answered his call. If she copied his M.O., she’d have left town, never contacting him again.
Still, it was hard to hold the moral high ground when she cowered like a mouse. She straightened the folds of her dress, finished checking on the flowers and returned to the suite where Victoria was getting ready.
Beck’s mother looked beautiful. She’d selected a simple white sheath with exquisite lace overlay that covered her shoulders but left her arms bare. A wide silver belt showed off Victoria’s trim waist. “You look lovely,” she told the woman, who was pink with excitement.
Victoria smiled. “So do you. My son is going to trip over himself when he sees you in that dress.”
Poppy smiled. She did look good. Her dress was a neutral golden beige reminiscent of a Grecian toga. She’d pulled her hair back into a sleek knot and hair sprayed it into a helmet that wouldn’t move in a hurricane, and wore only a pair of drop earrings to accessorize. But the simplicity allowed her to blend into the background, too. It wasn’t her moment and she had no intention of outshining the bride.
Not that she could have even if she’d tried.
Victoria was glorious and not only because of the beautiful gown and shoes, or the jewelry or flowers, either. No, it was the joyous love that seemed to surround her. She was a woman who loved and was loved. No dress or diamond on the planet could compete with that.
Poppy kept her sigh internal. Maybe one day that glowing bride would be her. But for today, she needed to focus on making Victoria’s day as perfect as possible.
“Have you seen my errant son, by the way?” Victoria asked as she slipped a knot of diamonds into her earlobe.
“I think he just arrived.” She was not about to confess to hiding and watching him like some sort of creepy stalker. “Did you need to speak with him?” She’d text Wynn and ask him to get Beck. It wasn’t avoiding exactly, it was sharing the responsibilities. Victoria needed her in here.
“Oh, no.” Victoria inserted the other earring. “I wondered if you’d had a chance to talk to him.”
About what? The fact she’d sneaked out of her own apartment this morning like a thief? “Afraid not. Is there anything else I can do for you in here?”
Victoria indicated she had things under control, so Poppy left the suite, careful to check the hall for any sighting of Beck, and headed to the kitchen. She spoke with the serving staff, explaining how she wanted the first rounds of appetizers to come out in the lobby to encourage guests to mill about among the gorgeous tiling and soaring ceiling, and then double-checked that the band had enough space for their instruments.
It was almost six and she’d been here since eight, making sure everything was perfect. The guests were starting to arrive. She was tired, running on adrenaline and fear, but she put on a smile despite it all.
They’d set up white tents and heaters on the garden patio so guests would be comfortable in the cool October evening. As the blooming season was often painfully short in the Northwest, the landscapers had selected evergreens to fill the space, and Poppy had wrapped white lights around the trees and shrubbery. All white and black and green. The effect was stark and ethereal.
As it was her third wedding to Harrison, Victoria had declined the usual wedding trappings. There was no bunting along the aisle or bows on the chairs. Instead, she’d requested simple black chairs, and the only flowers were the two five-foot white manzanita trees planted in black pots bookending the altar.
With a check of her watch and a look at the filled rows of seats, Poppy realized it was finally time to start the ceremony. A trio of two violinists and a cellist began playing at Poppy’s signal. A moment later, Beck and his mother stepped onto the end of the black-and-white damask runner.
Poppy had to blink back a tear when she saw them together. The protective way he escorted her down the aisle and dropped a kiss on her cheek before shaking his dad’s hand and taking his spot to the side. She swore the entire female audience and some of the men had sighed.
It was ridiculous. This wasn’t her first time at a wedding or even a remarriage. But maybe because the participants were more than just clients, it was different. Her eyes landed on Beck, saw him watching her instead of his parents. She made a gesture for him to pay attention, but he kept watching her. He wasn’t happy.
Her pulse raced. He was just upset with her for not bending to his wishes. Nothing more. He certainly wasn’t about to tell her that he’d reconsidered his life choices and realized he did want the same things as her.
Fire licked up the length of her body as he continued to stare, and she had to remind herself last night was last night and today was something else entirely. And he had no right to glare at her. Quietly, without catching the notice of any other guests, she slipped out of the ceremony. When the guests came out, she wanted it to be seamless. The champagne and wine should be poured, read
y to serve. The bartenders should be prepared for anyone who wanted something else. The servers should have the hors d’oeuvres plated, to offer guests in the lobby.
The wine was ready, but the champagne was still on ice when Poppy went back to check. By the time it was uncorked and poured, the fizzy bubbles filling the expensive coupes—she hadn’t been able to resist a champagne tower—the guests were beginning to filter out. She caught sight of Wynn competently maneuvering people through the French doors and into the lobby where a second band, a five-piece swing band, played cheerful tunes about dancing cheek to cheek and being in heaven.
Servers worked the room offering nibbles and napkins while Poppy checked in on the ballroom. Someone had bumped the table that held the escort cards and scattered them into an ugly mess. She tidied them up, riffling through to make sure they were still in alphabetical order.
Everything else was pristine. The tables were draped in black linen, with simple centerpieces of more dark manzanita branches and white orchids. Bamboo-back chairs with white seats circled the large tables. Scentless white candles had been placed in frosted vases and lit to create a stunning effect, while large chandeliers hung overhead, each crystal gleaming.
Beck had done a fantastic job with the renovations. Even though she’d been able to see a lot of it as it was unveiled, the overall effect was breathtaking. The floor was a glorious dark wood, and the walls were painted a delicate, pale gold, offset with strips of wide white wood to create a paneled effect. It was a wonderful place to get married. Poppy’s heart squeezed at the thought.
Satisfied that nothing else required her attention, she slipped back into the cocktail reception. Her phone hadn’t buzzed, but there was always something that needed a second pair of eyes or a confident hand. That was her job. To make sure from the outside it appeared to be a smooth, effortless event. No one was aware that tucked into a side closet she had an emergency kit of the usual suspects, like bandages, cotton balls, emery boards, a needle and thread, mouthwash and antacids, as well as the more unusual, such as extra wedding bands, backs to earrings, a blue handkerchief and a pair of sneakers in the bride’s size.
She circulated, thinking everything was going off without a hitch, when she saw Beck. Her breath caught as he spotted her. He started toward her, intent clear in every movement. She didn’t want to find out what that meant for her.
She turned quickly and headed down the hall toward the bathroom. It was ridiculous, she lectured herself as she pushed open the door to the washroom and locked it behind her. No group washroom at this boutique hotel. They had single units decked out for royalty with gilt walls and oversize mirrors. All the better to see the panicked look on her face.
She knew nothing would come of her and Beck. Had known that for weeks, which was why she’d made certain not to get involved with him again. Except she had last night.
Poppy closed her eyes and sank onto the cushioned settee across from a floor-to-ceiling mirror. She didn’t want to look at herself anymore. Didn’t want to see the naked need shining in her eyes.
Why had she let him come up last night? Why had she let him into her apartment? And why had she taken him to bed?
Because she was in love with him.
Her heart and breath hitched in unison. It was crazy and foolish and would not come to a good end. She knew all that. But she couldn’t help it. Her attempts to put up a barrier had been pitiable at best. She hadn’t even been able to last three months.
Poppy stayed there for a few minutes, grateful that no one else seemed to need her. Then ran a paper towel under cool water and dabbed the back of her neck. She might have fallen apart inside, but she was determined no one would notice.
She’d go back out, smile, make sure everything was perfect for the wedding and then she’d tell Beck goodbye without even a quiver.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to shatter into a thousand pieces.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SHE WAS AVOIDING HIM.
It was obvious to anyone with two brain cells to rub together. But she couldn’t stay away from him forever.
He watched Poppy skirt around a group of gentlemen laughing uproariously over something before turning down the hallway. He didn’t chase her. He didn’t have to. He knew the hotel, having practically lived here every moment he wasn’t crashing one of her dates. There was no other exit from that particular hallway unless she went through the fire exit.
Not only would the alarm signal him, and everyone else, but Poppy would never consider it. A fire alarm would ruin the wedding and she wouldn’t risk her reputation just to stay away from him.
He was counting on it.
What he wasn’t counting on was the fact that as the only child of the bride and groom, people would want a little time with him. They wanted to know more about the hotel, how long it took to renovate, if he had plans for other hotels in the area, if they could book the space for upcoming holiday functions and how happy he was that his parents had gotten back together.
Though he kept his eye on the hallway and even saw Poppy when she emerged a few minutes later, he wasn’t able to extract himself from the clutches of a chubby businessman and his hungry wife. He’d longed to growl an excuse or walk away from them midsentence, but it would get back to his mother and she’d never let him hear the end of it. And he liked this new, less inflammatory relationship they had going on. He wasn’t about to do something to mess it up.
So he listened while the man talked about the new car he’d recently bought and how fast he’d pushed it on the Sea to Sky Highway, while his wife looked longingly at the small bites of food as they passed. But his mind was on Poppy.
Beck kept an eye on her as she worked the room, that sexy gold dress fluttering around her legs, every so often giving him a peek at her thigh when the slit fell open. He wanted to peel the dress off her, yank those pins holding her hair back in that tidy bun and tumble her into bed with him.
He watched her when the doors to the ballroom opened and everyone filed in for dinner. Studied her through his speech about how love was worth taking a chance on, even second and third chances, which got a laugh from the audience and a single tear from his mother. Stared at her while she got the music started and his parents onto the floor for their first dance.
But he didn’t get the chance to talk to her for another hour and a half, by which time he was seriously considering interrupting the whole wedding. The only thing that stopped him was that Poppy would never forgive him for ruining her event.
“Beck, really.” She tried to edge around him when he caught her by the wall near the cake table. “I don’t have time right now.”
“So make some.” He put his hand against the wall in case she had any ideas about dodging him and exiting the room. Half the guests were working off their dinners on the dance floor while the others sat around the tables catching up with old and new friends. “You’ve gone out of your way not to see me today.”
“No, I...” She trailed off when she looked at him. Her chin rose to an irritable jut. “So what if I did?”
She was clearly looking for a fight of some kind. He wouldn’t give it to her. “I didn’t like it.” He kept his voice easy, low-key, very isn’t-this-a-lovely-evening.
“Too bad.” Her chin rose another inch.
“Lucky for you I’m a good-natured kind of guy.”
She snorted. “You? I’m sorry, have you confused yourself with someone else?”
Beck ignored the dig. “Which is why I’m going to forgive you and ask you to dance.” He ran his hand down her bare arm and linked their fingers together.
She stared at their joined hands. Beck prepared to tighten his hold in case she attempted to jerk free. He wasn’t letting her get away, not now. Not ever. But she didn’t pull, just let her fingers go limp. “I’m working, Beck.”
�
��You can take five minutes.” He threaded his fingers through hers, remembering how demanding they’d been last night. She might be playing hard to get now, but she wanted him. He knew she did.
“No.” She met his gaze head-on. “I’m not going to let you do this.”
“Do what?” He was only asking for a dance, five minutes of her time. She should give him that.
“This.” She waved her free hand between them. “I’m not like you.” He saw a flash of hurt in her eyes before she masked it with cool competence. “Last night was—”
“If you say it was a mistake, I’ll be forced to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.” He flexed his hand to indicate this wasn’t a joke. “Don’t push me.”
“Why not?” Her eyes flashed again, with anger this time. “All you’ve done since you walked into my life is push and push and push. When you’re not pulling away and pretending I don’t exist, of course.” She sounded disgusted. He didn’t know if it was with him or herself.
“I was an ass,” he said. “I know that. But, Poppy, please...”
“Beck.” The anger melted away, but it was replaced with something Beck didn’t like. He didn’t like it at all. Resignation.
“One dance,” he said before she finished her thought. “Just one.”
She sighed. “Fine. One dance.”
He led her to the floor, clearing a small space near the edge and taking her into his arms. She felt so right there. She had to feel it, too.
She put her arms around his neck but kept her fingers linked together, so as not to touch him any more than necessary. He reached up and unlinked them, pressing one into the back of his neck. He liked it when she touched him there, when she let her fingers run through his hair.
She didn’t oblige. “Beck.”
“That was quite the little stunt you pulled, running off this morning.”
“It wasn’t a stunt.” She looked at him. “I was busy. I had things to do.”
Not Another Wedding Page 26
