by G. K. Brady
“Speaking from experience, Beck? The roughshod part, I mean.”
“I’ve taken a few steps in his loafers, not that I’m proud of it.”
“Look, I’ve spent the last five Thanksgivings at his folks’, so the invite’s out of habit.”
“Maybe he hasn’t told them. Did you think about that?” He harrumphed. She could almost see his pout; she tried not to picture how adorable it was.
“No, I try not to think about any of it. It’s too depressing. But I am toying with Seattle. Being with Gwenn and her family might be the fortification I need for December.”
He was quiet a moment, then cleared his throat. “What’s December?”
“It’ll be the first Christmas and New Year’s without him.” Her heart squeezed, and her throat unexpectedly felt scratchy. “Um, and we’ll finalize the settlement, which is the second-to-last nail in the coffin of our dead marriage.”
“Hey, pixie,” he coaxed. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“I always have second thoughts, Beck. I won’t lie. This is hard. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with this man, and now not only have I failed at Plan A, I never made a Plan B.”
“You failed at nothing, Andie. He failed because he was too fucking stup—sorry. He was too stupid to appreciate what he had. So look at it this way: he was your dress rehearsal. Plan B is your original Plan A: marrying the right guy.”
“I can’t ever imagine getting married again,” she chuckled through her tears. “I think you’re supposed to wait at least ten years between, right?”
“There’s no rule about time, pixie,” he sighed. “I’ve known people who married the day after their decree was final.”
“That seems so … tawdry.”
“You find that right person, you go for it. Or so I’ve been told.”
Beckett dishing out romantic rah-rah? The irony must have escaped him, and she couldn’t bring herself to point out that a commitment-averse manwhore was not the best candidate for relationship advice—unless, of course, it had to do with STDs. He was so sweetly, so solidly in her corner, no questions asked, and she loved him for it, even if she found it a bit misguided.
As if he read her mind, he said, “You still with me, pixie? You’re probably wondering how someone like me can go all Dear Abby on you. It’s your own fault for making me watch all those goddamn romantic comedies.”
“Only two, Beck. Speaking of movies, maybe it’s time we started this one?”
“Sure. But first I want to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“So I’ve been invited to this fancy New Year’s bash at the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs. It’s a big deal, and some movers and shakers are attending. I was hoping you’d be my date and keep me out of trouble.”
“Do you need my help to stay out of trouble?”
“Always.”
“Why me? Are all your playmates busy?” She regretted the sarcastic words as soon as they left her mouth.
Something akin to a hissing balloon came from the other end. “I don’t have any playmates. Look, I’ll get us two rooms, and I promise to behave. I am now holding my hand up in a scout salute. I’ll send you a selfie.”
She bit her lip to keep her laugh contained. “I remember your last pledge. When you stayed over? Boy scout is not what comes to mind.”
“It was just a hug. And I was drunk.”
“No, you weren’t. And that’s no excuse anyway.”
“Shit. I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”
“A little hard to ignore.” She swallowed her snicker.
He guffawed. “Not sure what to say to that. Busted, I guess. It was a moment of weakness brought on by whatever the hell perfume you were wearing. Just don’t wear that fragrance, and you’ll be safe.”
“I wasn’t wearing perfume. Maybe a suit of armor is in order. Is this a dress-up affair?”
“Black tie. If you have a dress—or a suit of armor—to show off, now’s the time.”
She didn’t have a dress to show off, but she perked up at the thought of shopping for one in Seattle with Gwenn. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Oh. You weren’t serious?”
“I’m as serious as a game misconduct. I just didn’t think you’d agree.” He rumbled a laugh.
“I have a closing coming up. I’ll use some of that money to buy something fancy.”
“Yeah? Is it that little place in North Park Hill?”
“The same. Little house, little commission, but—”
“Hey! Celebrate your victory. Little commissions add up to big commissions. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”
It was worth more than she’d expected. A blush rose from her toes to her scalp. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet.”
“It will. You’ll sprinkle your pixie dust and make it work. You always do.”
She swallowed the “aw, shucks” on the tip of her tongue and said instead, “That’s very sweet of you to say, Beckett.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let the word get out, or you’ll ruin my reputation as a womanizing asshole. Now stop talking so we can watch the movie.”
“What movie?” she giggled.
“I have no fumbling clue.”
.~ * * * ~.
Paige and Gwenn were trolling Northgate Mall, dodging frenetic Black Friday shoppers who all seemed to walk five abreast as though they were human fences.
“I’m not sure how much of this I can take, Gwenn.”
“Lightweight. I’m going to maximize every minute without the kids, especially with this one on the way.” She patted her slightly swollen stomach. “Come on. There’s Nordstrom. They’ll have something slinky.”
“Not sure how slinky I want to go.” Too slinky and I could unintentionally invite Beckett to bring on his alpha male. Not sure my shaky defenses would withstand the onslaught.
Gwenn pinched Paige’s sleeve and dragged her into the store. Soon they were delving into racks of evening wear. With an “ooh” and an “ah,” Gwenn pulled out an ultramarine lace sheath with a deep neckline.
“Oh my God, Paige, this would be gorgeous on you!”
“It’s pretty,” Paige agreed. Then she glanced at the tag. “It’s almost four hundred dollars!”
Holding it up by its hanger, Gwenn turned it this way and that. “Well, of course. It’s a Tadashi. I bet it fits like a glove. And this blue with your coloring is perfect. At least try it on.”
“Are you buying?” Paige scoffed. Tentatively, she inspected the elegant dress.
“No, you are. And just think how Beckett’s jaw will drop when he sees you in it.”
“I don’t want jaw droppage. Hand and lip roaming might follow.”
Gwenn cackled. “You really expect him to keep his hands and lips to himself? You agreed to spend the night with him, which begs the question, do you really want him to hold back?”
Paige’s eyes widened. “Yes! To both questions! And I’m not ‘spending the night.’ Just sleeping in the same hotel.”
“Well, that sounds boring.”
“I’m still married,” Paige protested.
“In name only. Live a little, Paige. You deserve a fling. And what better man to have a fling with than the ‘All-Nighter’?” Gwenn pulled out two more dresses and thrust them at Paige.
“Gwenn, it’s not like that. We’re just good friends,” Paige spluttered.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, sweetie.” She flapped her hand at Paige. “After this, we head to Victoria’s Secret. Your underwear has to be deserving of the new dress. In case you get in an accident, of course.” She winked.
In the dressing room, Paige was down to the last dress—the Tadashi. She wriggled into it and twirled in front of the mirror, willing herself to dislike what she saw, but the dress was everything its price tag promised.
“What do you think, Gwenn? The black one’s nice, and it’s two hundred bucks cheaper.”
Gwenn stood
and grasped Paige’s waist, the swell of her baby bump grazing Paige’s hip. She peered over her shoulder so they both looked at Paige’s reflection. “Listen to me, girlfriend. This dress is perfect on you. It emphasizes your tiny waist, which I’ve always hated you for, by the way—especially now. It also shows off your girls without making you look slutty. And the lace is feminine but classy, like you.” Gwenn squeezed Paige’s bare arms and kissed her cheek.
Hours and hundreds of dollars later, Paige shared a table and a veggie pizza with Gwenn at California Pizza Kitchen.
“I don’t know how I let you talk me into all this,” Paige grumbled.
Gwenn took a sip of soda. “I didn’t talk you into anything. You needed a nice dress … and heels to do it justice.”
“Yeah, and the underwear, and the sweater and new jeans, not to mention the cute boots to go with the jeans—”
“And Beckett will appreciate every inch of you, even without a peek at the sexy lingerie. And who knows? You might meet someone you really like there. Subject closed.”
“That would be a terrible thing to do to Beckett. Besides, I really like him,” Paige blurted. Gwenn arched an eyebrow. “You know what I mean, Gwenn. I’ve gotten to know a different side of him, a side I bet not many see. He’s funny and sweet and smart and down-to-earth. And considerate.”
Gwenn frowned. “He sounds like Henry.”
“His ‘normal’ side is like Henry—and much more likeable than his glamor-boy, ‘I’m-so-sexy’ self.” Paige nibbled a piece of crust and stared out the window at nothing in particular. “You know, maybe since he’s lost everything, he’s returned to simpler roots.”
Gwenn pointed a pizza slice at her. “So does that mean he’ll revert to a bad boy if he’s rich again?”
Paige shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it. He says there are things he enjoyed about the lifestyle—cars, houses, his hockey camp, jetting around—and things that weren’t great. The hangers-on, lack of privacy, how everything’s blown out of proportion, how he never knows if someone likes him for himself or for what they want from him.”
“The drugs and women were in the plus column, no doubt,” Gwenn said.
Paige let out a wry laugh. “We don’t talk about the women unless we’re discussing not knowing who’s using you. But he did say the temptation with the coke was a huge downside. And when he tried to kick it, friends and dealers hounded him.
“He says that’s the silver lining. When the money disappeared, so did the leeches. It woke him up, although he wishes he could have woken up before he lost absolutely everything, including his ability to work in the NHL. I think that bothers him more than anything. He really misses playing.”
Paige’s phone vibrated on the table. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Beck. Whatcha doing?”
“Nothing. Just hanging with the family and thought I’d call and see how you are.”
“How’s that going, seeing everyone?”
He laughed. “It’s got its moments, but it’s good. Saw my grandparents, some cousins, my stepsiblings and their families, and of course Cooper and Emily. Where are you? Sounds noisy.”
“Gwenn and I are having lunch after shopping for the fancy-shmancy banquet.” Gwenn waved. “She says hi, by the way.”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt girl time, so I’ll let you go. Tell her hi back, and I hope she talked you into something really sex—uh, fetching.”
Paige laughed. “Fetching? I’ll tell her. Thanks for calling, Beck.”
“Yep. I’ll call you after I get home.”
Paige hung up and glanced out the window again.
“If you could see yourself.” Gwenn gave her a wily grin. “Just friends, huh?”
Paige realized she was wearing a wistful smile and quickly dropped it. “What?” She felt her cheeks pink.
“You don’t fool me, even if you’re fooling him—and yourself.” Gwenn’s light expression transformed with concern. “Just watch your heart, okay?”
Paige gave her an eye-roll. “With my sucky track record, I think I’ve learned my lesson. Falling for Hugh Hefner’s understudy would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, bar none. Believe me, no way am I falling for him.”
If only she believed that herself.
CHAPTER 16
Something Just Like This
Paige marched from her office, down the hall, pivoted, stalked to the kitchen, and started all over again. The Killers sang “The Man” in the background, keeping time with her agitated steps. Beckett wasn’t due for another thirty minutes, which meant he’d arrive in twenty, so why was she pacing like Tyrone?
She double-checked the contents of her overnight bag to keep herself distracted. When her fingers brushed her waffle-weave long johns, she groaned. “Too practical, too ugly. God, too white.”
I have no sexy sleep clothes.
The realization that Beckett had doubtless seen more than his fair share of every type of lingerie—and the women in it—collided with the notion that she had no intention of showing him hers. She shook herself out of her daze and snatched a silky black slip from her lingerie drawer, tucking it into the bag by the matching bra and panty sets from Seattle. Definitely overthinking the underwear thing. Although if I’m unconscious and paramedics have to cut my clothes off …
Outside, a late-model black Cadillac Escalade parked at the curb, and Beckett popped out of the driver’s side. Paige threw open the door despite the chill, giddy to see him for the first time in weeks. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“Welcome back, stranger!”
He reached her quickly, a wide grin splitting his face. Diffused morning light played on his chiseled features, layering shadows that highlighted his chin and cheekbones. He towered over her.
“Can I give you a hug?” he asked.
She flung her arms wide and high, and he swept her off the ground and crushed her to his chest. “God, it’s good to see you,” he murmured into her hair.
He held her tight, stealing her breath away. The embrace remained fast for several beats, becoming charged with intimacy. She wriggled out of his hold and took a step back, scanning him from his short brown hair to his boots. Clean-shaven, he wore a fleece-lined denim jacket over jeans and a black sweater with a slice of white tee showing at the neck. The jacket matched his eyes.
Wow. Just … wow. “You look good, Beckett.”
He shrugged his shoulders and tugged his collar. “I feel good.”
From the hallway behind her, Right Said Fred growled about being too sexy for his shirt. Laughter bubbling up, a hot blush rushing from her chest to her scalp, she ruffled her hair and pulled him inside. “Come in. It’s too cold to stand out here.” As she did, she shot a quick glance over her shoulder at the Escalade.
“Nice wheels.”
“I bought it off T.J. He got a different ride in San Jose.”
“It’s yours? You holding up banks now?”
“Ha. No. I’m actually drawing a salary now. Nothing compared to the old days, but it’s getting better. We’re doing well enough to open a Denver satellite office. As of next week, sales and marketing moves from its current location at my dining table.”
“Wow, Beck, that’s fantastic!” She pulled her suede coat from the hall closet.
He took the coat from her and slid it up her arms and over her shoulders. “Yeah, the demand is overwhelming. A good problem to have, but it hasn’t left me much time for training.”
Her eyes roamed over his muscular frame. Could’ve fooled me. She cleared her throat, trying to clear the fizz from her bloodstream. “Maybe you’ll find some investors among all the high rollers at the party tonight.”
He touched the tip of her nose. “That’s my plan. I hope you don’t mind mixing business with pleasure.”
“Of course not.”
He reached for her bag, looking surprised. “This it? Just the one?”
She slung her purse over her shoulder. “That’s it.”
“I guess pixie
s wear pixie-sized clothing.”
Beckett guided her to the curb, one hand holding her elbow. He opened her door, then stowed her bag and slid behind the wheel. His eyes sparkling, he reached for her hand and kissed it. His warm lips on her skin sent a shudder up her arm. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she rasped. Just what she was ready for, however, she had no clue.
As they drove, they chatted about Christmas, DeFunked, and sports. Once they’d merged onto the freeway, he turned to her. “So tell me how business is going.”
“Well, I closed my deals and got one under contract. And, um, I’m considering buying a roofing company.” She held her breath.
His mouth curled up on one side. “Yeah? Tell me.”
Beckett’s reaction, so different from Adrian’s snide comment last summer, sent a warm thrill along her arms, pricking her skin into gooseflesh. She threw herself into her answer.
“Norm’s uncle has a company he’s been trying to offload. They had a good reputation, but he got sick, and his kids ran things into the ground the last few years. Anyway, it’s a fire sale, and he’ll carry the financing for three years. I figure I can turn it around and make a few bucks while reroofing my own projects at cost. Roofing’s a lucrative business here.”
“So will you meet the customers, do the estimating?”
“To start, I’ll go with Norm or his uncle until I learn. I haven’t crawled over many roofs, so they’ll teach me what to look for so I bid correctly. Then I’ll keep estimating until I can justify hiring someone else. Why? Do you want the job?” she teased.
“No, though I wouldn’t mind having you boss me around. Seriously, if I were you, I wouldn’t hire anyone else.”
“Why not?”
“Not to sound sexist, but you’re a woman in a male-dominated industry. And a cute one too. Between that and the fact people trust you, you’d write more business than anybody you hire. I bet you a dinner at Morton’s you turn that company around in six months.”
“Really?” The high pitch of her voice made her flush.
