Not Another Wedding
Jennifer McKenzie
Sure, Poppy Sullivan believes in love… but love at first sight? Not likely. That’s why she's determined to stop her good friend from marrying the wrong woman. So she sets to work immediately and walks right into the very impressive chest of Beck Lefebvre.Not a good omen, considering how things ended up the last time he was in town. She isn’t surprised to see Beck at his cousin’s wedding, but she’s appalled at his assumption that he deserves a second chance. She's equally appalled at her inclination to give it to him.No way!He shattered her heart once. Poppy won’t let him do it again, no matter how charming he thinks he is.
Yeah, yeah…happily ever after. Whatever.
Sure, Poppy Sullivan believes in love…but love at first sight? Not likely. That’s why she’s determined to stop her good friend from marrying the wrong woman. So she sets to work immediately and walks right into the very impressive chest of Beck Lefebvre. Not a good omen, considering how things ended up the last time he was in town.
She isn’t surprised to see Beck at his cousin’s wedding, but she’s appalled at his assumption that he deserves a second chance. She’s equally appalled at her inclination to give it to him. No way is she falling for his charm again! Although her vow to resist him may be too late…
“It’s good to see you.”
When Poppy made no response, he lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t remember me?”
She opened her mouth to tell him of course she didn’t because she’d never seen him before in her life, when his smirk clued her in. While a man might add six inches to his height, put on thirty pounds of muscle and grow a beard, his mannerisms didn’t change.
Beck Lefebvre.
And just like that, her spark of attraction turned to anger. “No.” She lied, enjoying the surprise on his face.
Of course, she’d expected him to be here. He was Jamie’s cousin. It would have been weird if he didn’t show up. She just hadn’t thought he’d have the nerve to approach her. Or worse, to act like they were long-lost friends having a reunion.
But he merely smiled in the face of her rudeness and stepped closer. “I’m disappointed, Red.”
Poppy bristled. Her hair was auburn with definite shades of brown, not red. She tossed it at him as she walked away.
Dear Reader,
I’ve always loved the idea of old flames reconnecting. There’s something so compelling about people who go their separate ways but somehow find themselves back together. And is there a more romantic setting for them to be reunited than at a wedding?
Picture then, two people catching a glimpse of each other across a crowded room and everything else going quiet as they fall back into each other’s arms with nothing to stand in their way. Now scratch it. Because reality? Never that simple.
Poppy Sullivan is not happy to see her old beau, even if he seems to think she should be. But she needs his help, and the more time she spends with Beck Lefebvre, the more she realizes she might need him, too.
Not Another Wedding was a blast to write. And if you’re wondering what music I played and who I imagined in the roles of the characters while writing, visit my website, www.jennifermckenzie.com (http://www.jennifermckenzie.com).
Happy reading,
Jennifer McKenzie
Not Another Wedding
Jennifer McKenzie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jennifer McKenzie lives in Vancouver, Canada, where she enjoys being able to ski and surf in the same day—not that she ever does either of those things. After years of working as a communications professional and spending her days writing for everyone else, she traded in the world of watercoolers, cubicles and high heels to write for herself and wear pajamas all day. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, eating chocolate, trying to talk herself into working off said chocolate on the treadmill or spending time with her husband.
For my parents, Ron and Colleen, who have been married many long and happy years. May we all be so lucky.
Contents
Chapter One (#u8dcac50f-25d9-5950-b4a1-c668cdc31ac9)
Chapter Two (#u45430f66-03a4-5acb-996f-e6c49aec34e5)
Chapter Three (#u357ca6e6-0cc8-5f6a-9d4d-9a3797821936)
Chapter Four (#u2dc746ae-5df5-508c-b4f5-ebe801b0caf8)
Chapter Five (#uea49d577-3e40-57a3-b33b-2da41731a461)
Chapter Six (#uf282325d-40f0-5a15-b645-dcb0ee6d8171)
Chapter Seven (#ud924a53f-f13f-5c63-b241-f80812800092)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
POPPY SULLIVAN STILL couldn’t believe Jamie, one of her oldest and dearest friends, was getting married in a week. She glanced at the pink-striped wedding invitation sitting on the passenger seat of her car and swallowed the concern souring on her tongue.
Mr. and Mrs. Clive Burnham
request the pleasure of your company
at the marriage of their daughter
Emmy Bianca
to
Mr. James Cartwright
son of Georgia Cartwright
on Saturday 29th June
at five o’clock
Goldfinch Estate Winery
Naramata, BC
The information had been emblazoned on her brain for six weeks. From the moment she’d received the invitation and the sparkling hearts inside the envelope had spilled across her beautiful walnut floors, clashing with her cream decor.
Poppy still hadn’t found them all. One had been grinning at her, as much as an inanimate and juvenile cutout could grin, just this morning when she stumbled toward the kitchen for her first cup of coffee. She knew more lurked, hidden and waiting for the right breeze to waft in and blow them out. She wasn’t about to let them haunt her. Just as she wasn’t about to let a mistake haunt Jamie for the rest of his life.
She pressed the gas pedal harder and watched her speed climb. She didn’t get to drive often in Vancouver, living close enough to her office to walk, so she enjoyed every opportunity she got to take her little blue convertible out. But today she didn’t appreciate it quite so much. Wind funneled through the open window, making her russet hair pop and snap like an angry bonfire.
Jamie and his fiancée, Emmy, had only known each other two months. Hardly long enough to make parental introductions, and who in their right mind decided to get married after eight weeks? It was ludicrous. And Poppy should know. She’d only dated her last boyfriend for a month before they decided to move in together. And look how that turned out.
Not that Poppy’d been able to talk to Jamie about her concerns over his rushing into marriage. No, because whenever she called Jamie, Emmy was with him whispering in the background or giggling and telling Poppy how she couldn’t wait to meet in person. And Poppy refused to tell him through email. This was a serious matter and deserved a face-to-face conversation.
Her fingers tightened on the wheel. Time was officially running out. She had only eight days left to find a way to stop the madness.
* * *
IT TOOK HER longer than anticipated to get to Naramata, BC, the small town where she’d grown up and her parents and older sister still called home. Poppy blamed the out-of-towners who flooded the community during the summer months, tripling the population between June and September. They clogged up the roads driving either too slow—fearful of the twisty, mountainous route—or too fast, flying into the curves indifferent to the oncoming traffic and thousand-foot drop-offs.
She’d left Vancouver before noon, refraining from stopping by the offices of her event planning business and limiting herself to checking email only. But by the time she pulled into her parents’ driveway, she had less than an hour before they were due at a welcome barbecue being held at Jamie’s boutique winery. All wedding guests had been invited, which was pretty much everyone who had ever called Naramata home.
“Poppy, sweetheart.” Rose Sullivan came barreling out of the house, her arms wide, and practically knocked Poppy back into the driver’s seat when she reached her. “What took you so long? We expected you an hour ago.”
“I know.” Poppy had planned her route down to the last detail. Almost. “I forgot how bad vacation traffic is on a Friday.” Apparently, half of Vancouver had headed for the area to spend the weekend lounging by the lake or touring the many wineries in the region.
Her dad, Bob, stood stoically behind, waiting until her mom finished fussing before giving her one of his famous bear hugs that squeezed out any breath left in her lungs, but Poppy didn’t mind. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the pleasure of being back with her family even if just for a week.
“Can I get you a drink?” Rose put an arm around her as she ushered her inside. “You look warm.”
Poppy was warm. The interior of the province ran much hotter and drier than the coast. “No, I need to grab my bags and a quick shower though.” She hugged her mom again. They didn’t see each other enough living so far apart. They kept in touch through regular phone calls and emails, but neither took the place of in-person contact.
“Your dad will get the bags,” her mom said. Poppy glanced behind and found her father already dragging her golf clubs and the three full-size suitcases from the trunk. “Let’s sit down for a minute and catch up.”
Poppy would love to put her feet up and hash over everything in their lives, but she refused to show up at the barbecue with hair that looked as if she had been through a hurricane and mascara that had become a smeary mess on her cheeks. Unless the only thing she wanted to convince Jamie of was that she had turned feral.
She managed to extricate herself after another long hug. “Tomorrow morning, okay?”
“All right. I guess I should get ready for the barbecue, too.” Her mother embraced her again. “It’s so good to have you home.”
It was good to be back.
Poppy’s old bedroom was on the second level and hadn’t changed much in the twelve years since she’d graduated high school and left for university in Vancouver. The walls were still a pale green and the prints were the same black-and-white botanicals she’d picked out when she turned thirteen. She wished she could flop down on her old double bed and rest for a moment. It might not be as comfy as her king-size bed with its four-hundred-thread-count linens in the city, but she’d appreciate the respite. Plus, the room seemed deliciously cool thanks to the air-conditioning.
But duty called.
She didn’t have time to wash and blow-dry her hair, so she twisted it into a heavy knot on top of her head to keep it from getting wet and stepped in the shower. She stayed under the spray long enough to strip the tension from her muscles from the drive and then a few minutes more. By the time she flicked off the water, she felt much improved.
She decided to leave her hair down, letting it frame her face with its natural waves. Poppy had learned a long time ago not to fight her hair. It was too thick and bouncy to fall into one of those sleek, stylish cuts. And when she’d tried coloring it in her youth—once blond and once a disastrous black that had left little patches of dark all along her hairline—she’d looked like death. So she worked with what she had. Though there were still days she wished she’d inherited her father’s straight brown hair, she’d come to appreciate that not everyone had hair like hers.
She returned to her bedroom, discovered the suitcases on the bed and rooted through until she found the one holding her outfit for tonight. The dress was a tight, cap-sleeve, bandage style in dark blue that made her feel sexy and just a little naughty, even though the hem came almost to her knee and the neckline only hinted at the faux boobs her amazing underwire bra created. Wynn had whistled when she’d shown him. And as her best friend, business partner and gay man about town, he would know if it was worthy of a whistle or two.
A quick glance at the clock told her she had five minutes before her mother started making noises that the bus was leaving. No time to bother with much makeup. But since it would be hot outside until the sun dipped behind the mountains about three hours from now, and Poppy had zero interest in running to the bathroom every two seconds to make sure her face hadn’t melted off, she didn’t mind. She only put on concealer to hide the circles under her eyes from the late nights at work this week, a touch of blush and a couple coats of mascara.
Satisfied she no longer looked as if she’d been living in the forest subsisting on nuts and berries for the last year, she tucked her lip balm and face powder inside a gold clutch, grabbed a pair of matching gold sandals and headed downstairs.
There was a wedding to call off and no time to waste.
* * *
BECK LEFEBVRE STOOD at the edge of Jamie’s lawn, which was covered in a blanket of pink flower petals, and frowned. He did not want to be at this wedding barbecue welcome or whatever Jamie called it. There were things to do at the office. Important things, like the delicate deal he was in the midst of finalizing, and now had to manage by phone and email. The Lefebvre Group owned five hotels and would be adding their sixth next month under Beck’s guidance. Not that his mother had cared when he’d explained it to her.
Instead of realizing Beck couldn’t just up and leave Seattle to come to Naramata for a week of wedding celebration for his cousin Jamie, she’d told him as best man he was expected to be in attendance and had laid down one hell of a guilt trip.
As if he needed another reason to avoid family entanglements.
Besides the flowers scattered across the yard, bunches of some filmy white material lay draped over everything that was stationary, including the rows of grapes surrounding the back lawn. A small wooden floor covered the pool and a band in the corner played a mixture of seventies rock and classical music. They wore matching tuxes and had a sash strung over the drum kit proclaiming congratulations to the happy couple. The whole thing was sickeningly sweet. Like Barbie’s Dream Wedding, which Emmy would probably consider a compliment.
Though scarcely past six, the party was in full swing. Jamie told him things started early here, where people farmed for a living and rose with the sun. Beck recognized no one, but that didn’t come as much of a surprise, considering he hadn’t been back for more than ten years.
He was working on finishing his first Laphroaig when his mother hunted him down. He should have seen her coming or heard the sound of her heels, but he’d been entertaining himself by calculating how many parquet squares were on the dance floor and wondering how long he had to stay before he could leave Jamie’s winery located on the bluff and return to the family compound by the lake.
“Beck, darling. What are you doing over here?” Victoria Antonia Lefebvre Jackman Hastings smiled at her only child and reached up to lay a hand on his arm.
“Having a drink.” Beck showed off his scotch, which offered the bonus effect of knocking her hand loose.
Hurt flashed in her blue eyes, but her voice remained friendly. “I meant, why are you standing over here like a lump instead of mingling?”
“It’s not my party.” Beck refused to feel bad. Just because she wanted to pretend they were one big happy family didn’t mean he had to play along.
“You’re the best man.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He turned from her, pretending interest in the scene before them. He spotted Jamie in a white suit, the counterpoint to his own charcoal one, just as Jamie was blond and kind and all things sugar and light, while he was dark and not so kind—all the better not to get run over in business. Beck doubted anyone ever referred to him as sweet.
“A wedding is a big moment in a person’s life. Jamie needs you.”
“Jamie is doing just fine.” Shouldn’t it be enough that he’d shown up a week before the main event?
“Beck.”
“He’s fine.” Beck double-checked to make sure. Jamie stood with his arm around Emmy, who wore a light pink dress and shoes with matching pink polka dots. He knew because she’d pointed them out to him at the start of the night. “He doesn’t need me.”
Victoria tilted her head to meet his eyes. Beck stared back.
“All right.” She sighed, her perfect blond bob swinging. “I’ve arranged for us to have brunch on Sunday with Emmy and her family. You’re expected at eleven.”
“Joyous.” Beck couldn’t wait to spend even more time with his twice-divorced parents, aunt, cousin and his soon-to-be in-laws.
“It’s Jamie’s wedding, Beck. You have duties.”
“Yes, and I’ve already planned the bachelor party.” A tame one, with no strippers, as requested by the groom. This Wednesday, there’d be golfing followed by dinner and drinks. As far as Beck was concerned, the only other thing he had to do was show up to the wedding on time and in his tux.
“Well, consider this brunch another duty. This is our way of welcoming Emmy into our family. Grace will be there.”
Beck kept his face bland. Grace was Emmy’s younger sister, and for some reason his mother had decided they’d make a good match. As if he needed a blonder, sillier version of his cousin’s fiancée in his life. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate your company.”
The hopeful light in Victoria’s eyes dimmed. “Beck.” She laid a hand on his arm again. “I expect you to arrive on time and be polite.”
This time he waited before shrugging it off, then swallowed some of the melted ice from his glass to wash away the bitterness on his tongue. “Aren’t I always on time and polite?”
“No.” Her hand hovered, before she let it fall to her side without touching him. “But I have faith that one day things will change.”
Beck couldn’t return her smile. He didn’t think he could manage the pretense of the friendly, functional relationship she pretended they had.
“Has your father mentioned the potential build he’s considering up here?”
Beck frowned. “Since when do you and Dad talk?” They’d divorced for the second time just after Beck’s eighteenth birthday. As far as he knew, that had been the last of their contact.
She didn’t reply immediately. He started to get a bad feeling. One that increased when a telltale blush colored her cheeks.
“Oh, Christ.” He should have realized something was going on when she’d insisted he stay at the family property this week. Where all three of them were staying. At least he was in the guesthouse and not trapped under the same roof as them. “Are you two getting back together again?”
He did not want to be roped into another wedding.
Victoria maintained her silence, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipping. To the outside eye, she appeared cool and elegant. Simply a woman enjoying a refreshing beverage at her nephew’s engagement party.
Beck knew better. His stomach turned at the thought of yet another parental reunion. Did they think marriage was a game? To be played like baseball where it took three strikes to be out? His skin began to itch under the expensive suit and he looked for an exit strategy. Something to say, somewhere to go so he didn’t have to hear about the latest chapter of Victoria and Harrison Lefebvre’s love story.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” he fibbed, hoping to encourage her to move along.
“You’re pale.” She raised a hand to his cheek.
He brushed away her fingers. “I’m fine.” Or he would be as soon as he downed another scotch...or twelve.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He forced a smile.
She smiled back and smoothed her palm along his face. “Last time I saw you, you were clean shaven.” Beck had been sporting a beard for the last nine months. “How long are you planning to keep it?”
“Until someone convinces me to shave.” It was actually more work keeping the beard neat and trimmed, but Beck liked it. Plus, he didn’t have a shadow to deal with come five o’clock.
She studied him for another moment before nodding. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t forget about brunch.” Like he could be so lucky. She’d probably hunt him down in an hour to reconfirm and maintain the pretense of the perfect family.
“I’ll be there.”
He watched her move off, crossing the lawn to join a small group at the edge of the dance floor that included his father. His dad’s face brightened the moment he became aware of her, and that awful scratching under Beck’s suit started up again. He’d bet good money wedding number three would happen before the year was out. Great.
He supposed he should be thankful he had insisted on staying in the smaller guesthouse instead of taking his old bedroom in the large family home. The guesthouse was still big, close to twenty-five-hundred square feet, but was dwarfed by the main house. Beck didn’t care about the size. He cared that he’d have his own space, away from his parents loving it up inside.
Deciding to skip the mingling, Beck slid over to the bar and let the party swirl around him. The sun still beat down on them, but the heat didn’t seem to keep anyone from enjoying themselves. The crowd continued to increase in size and volume. Their frivolity was giving Beck a headache.
He wished it was dark already so he could slip away under cover of night, but he knew the chance of sneaking past his mother was slim. Still, he was seriously considering the ramifications of what his mother might do even if he did leave early—ground him, tell him he wouldn’t be getting any dinner, send him to his room—when something else grabbed his attention.
Or someone else. A low, pleased thrum echoed in his blood.
Poppy Sullivan. Winding her way through the crowd, hair glowing like a beacon and poured into a dress that begged a man to wonder what was underneath. Beck’s lips curved in the first legitimate version of a smile since he’d arrived this morning. Well, well, well.
And she was coming straight for him.
CHAPTER TWO
POPPY SCANNED THE CROWD, taking note of the “happy couple” as she headed toward the bar. She wasn’t particularly thirsty but the bar offered the best vantage point to keep Jamie in view. She just needed to wait until the horde around him thinned, then she’d capture his attention and drag him away for a private moment.
Having this conversation at a wedding event wouldn’t be her first choice, but Poppy didn’t see another alternative. Time was tight. Though, if Emmy and Jamie remained attached at the hip, the lip and every other body part, it wouldn’t matter if Poppy had a century at her disposal. Even now Emmy put her hand on the back of Jamie’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. The group around them clucked appreciatively. Poppy remained unmoved.
She had no doubt Jamie thought this was true love. The man had the instincts of a puppy. Everyone and everything were wonderful and a new adventure to be experienced. And Poppy understood dating exclusively, even moving in together after only knowing each other a short time—been there, done that—but getting married was a completely different animal. If things ended badly, there would be settlements and splitting of assets, and Jamie was a wealthy man.
Poppy didn’t assume Emmy was a gold digger, but Emmy wouldn’t be the first one to get a glimpse at Jamie’s handsome face and fat bank account and decide theirs was a love not to be denied. Seeing as he seemed incapable of taking care of himself, Poppy would do it for him. Friends kept an eye out for each other, and she and Jamie had been friends since kindergarten.
She’d just ordered a glass of wine when she noticed the tall, dark man watching her from across the patio. His eyes glittered with hunger and naked appreciation, and her breath caught. She didn’t recognize him. Poppy was friendly with almost everyone in town, but judging from the cut of his suit, he wasn’t from the area. Most residents of Naramata didn’t have occasions to wear designer clothes worth thousands of dollars.
She quashed the desire rising in her belly and turned away from the stranger. His black hair was a little too long anyway, the ends curling over his collar, and he had a beard. Though facial hair on men didn’t generally appeal to her, she thought it suited him. He looked like a Wall Street banker gone rogue—one who had been in a brawl or two, judging from the bend in his nose.
Even though Poppy wasn’t here to flirt, she risked another peek but wished she hadn’t when she discovered his eyes still on her. His lips twisted in a half smile, and her face grew hot. She glanced in the opposite direction, willing her cheeks to cool and reminding herself to focus on Jamie and her reason for being here.
Although who knew if she would ever get a chance to speak to him. The crowd around Jamie showed no signs of leaving and neither did Emmy. Poppy sighed. She wanted to do this as soon as possible, but if no one was going to cooperate...
“Poppy Sullivan.”
She turned. Of course, Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous had sidled over to her side of the patio. She ignored the ripple of interest cresting through her and put on her best politely disinterested face. “Excuse me?”
“It’s good to see you.” When she made no response, he lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t remember me?”
She opened her mouth to tell him of course she didn’t because she’d never seen him before in her life, when his smirk clued her in. While a man might add six inches to his height, put on thirty pounds of muscle and grow a beard, his mannerisms didn’t change.
Beck Lefebvre.
And just like that, her spark of attraction turned to anger. “No,” she lied, enjoying the surprise on his face.
Of course, she’d expected him to be here. He was Jamie’s cousin. It would have been weird if he didn’t show up. She just hadn’t thought he’d have the nerve to approach her. Worse, to act as if they were long-lost friends.
But he merely smiled in the face of her rudeness and stepped closer. “I’m disappointed, Red.”
Poppy bristled. Her hair was auburn with definite shades of brown, not red. She tossed it at him as she turned away. The crowd of well-wishers still surrounded Jamie.
Beck laughed, and her nerves clashed. He was laughing at her now? She sniffed. Clearly, he hadn’t developed any charm in the preceding decade. “And here I thought I’d made an impression.” His words whispered against her ear.
She jerked away from him. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He smiled. “Nice night for a party.”
She shrugged, took a step back. He moved with her. Not touching, but close enough that the heat rolling off his body warmed her skin. Silently, they watched the scene playing before them.
Poppy focused on the details of the party instead of the man behind her. Occupational hazard. She couldn’t attend any event without thinking about how she would have done things differently, and taking notes of what she might use in future.
Emmy and Jamie had made smart choices, getting all the key points right. Plenty of light, good flow and loads of food and drink. The other bits were simply details adjusted to suit the client’s personal preference. Poppy wouldn’t have tossed tulle over everything or matched the table runners and flowers to Emmy’s shoes. Obviously, Emmy had chosen the colors with her outfit in mind and Poppy doubted any well-reasoned logic would have convinced her it wasn’t a wonderful idea.
Brides were notorious for being temperamental, insisting on one thing and then sobbing when they changed their minds, as though one minuscule detail meant the difference between a long, happy marriage and one filled with strife. Poppy had stopped planning weddings a couple of years ago for those exact reasons, choosing to focus on business events and functions. Less indecision and no one had ever cried all over her because the napkins at their holiday party were ruby instead of crimson.
“So?” Beck’s voice drew her attention, caused her to turn before she thought better of it. “Aren’t you going to ask how we know each other?”
Oh, he’d like that, wouldn’t he? Though she might not have seen him for years, she knew his type. He prided himself on being unforgettable to women. Well, it was time he learned a lesson.
“No.” But she couldn’t help noting how good he looked. Really good. Though she’d give up chocolate before admitting it.
She turned on her heel, intending to return to the party and find someone—anyone else—to talk to, but his hand caught her bare arm above her wrist. His fingers were warm. She shivered.
“I guess I’ve changed. You’re as gorgeous as ever, Red.” His blatant appraisal of her body should have pissed her off—she was not his to behold. But the attraction sizzling through her was impossible to deny.
Poppy shook the thought off. She did not want him looking at her. Not even a little. He’d lost that privilege years ago, and a bit of sexy banter and warm hands didn’t change anything.
“If you’ll excuse me.” She pulled her arm free and hurried away before he could stop her again. As Poppy made her way through the partygoers, she did her best to ignore the sudden knocking of her heart. But when she sneaked a glance back, Beck was still watching. He even had the audacity to raise his glass toward her as though to toast her running away.
Fabulous.
She got less than halfway across the yard before she found herself smushed into a very large, very pregnant tummy. “Finally. I’ve been looking for you forever.”
“Cami.” She leaned back to get a better look at her older sister, pleased by the hug as much as by the opportunity to shove Beck out of her mind.
Cami looked as she always did, except for her belly, which was nearing the nine-month mark. Her hair, the same color as Poppy’s, was cut in a short pixie style and her gray eyes sparkled. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me, too.” Poppy left her arm around her sister’s shoulders. It was a point of pride that she stood exactly one-eighth of an inch taller. “We don’t spend enough time together.”
They spoke often, sometimes daily, and emailed regularly, but living hundreds of miles apart and leading completely different lives could make staying close tricky. Like their mother, Cami had married her high school sweetheart, settled in her hometown and started a family. Though her mom and sister had never been anything but supportive, Poppy recognized they sometimes wondered why she’d chosen Vancouver to be her permanent home.
“Oh, stop. I’m going to get all sniffly. It’s the pregnancy hormones. They make me emotional.” Cami swiped at her eyes, beautiful even with her nose turning rosy. “When’s Wynn getting in?”
“Not until Monday.” Wynn had remained in Vancouver to manage an event for two hundred happening tomorrow night. Normally, Poppy would have stayed, too, but she and Wynn agreed the Jamie situation was an emergency and couldn’t be put off. Plus, he had the rest of their four-person team to help. “Have you heard about his new boyfriend?”
“What? No, I have not.” Cami clutched Poppy’s hands. “Are they serious?”
“I think so. He hasn’t introduced me yet.”
“Really? I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.” Wynn’s parents had died when he was a teenager and his only sibling, an older brother, worked in the Yukon as a blaster for a mining company. Since the brothers spoke rarely and saw each other less, Wynn had been pseudo-adopted into the Sullivan family. Poppy sometimes teased that he was the brother she never wanted. “We’ll have to grill him when he arrives.”
“Absolutely.” Wynn wouldn’t be able to resist Cami’s pleas for details. Not once she brought out the swollen-feet and aching-back cards.
“What about you?” Cami asked.
“What about me?”
“Any men in your life?”
“Not right now.” Beck flashed through her mind before she shut the thought down. She didn’t know why he’d even approached her. Had he honestly expected open arms and a friendly greeting after what he’d done? “But,” she said before Cami could start lecturing, “I’m going to work on that. Wynn thinks I should sign up for one of those dating services.”
“You should.” Cami was resolute. “It’s way past time you got back out there.”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s been more than a year since you and Evan split.”
“No.” Poppy paused and then sighed. “Okay, it’s been a while.” Ten months. Which was not a year. “I needed some time. But I’m ready now.”
And she would handle things her way, which according to her mother and sister was wrong. But they didn’t understand. They had lived the fantasy of marrying a first love with a white picket fence and kids. She was more practical. And as soon as this wedding was over, she was going to put her way into action and become a dating machine. Or, at least, a dating widget.
“Auntie Pop-pop.” Holly, Cami’s two-year-old daughter, interrupted with a bright giggle. She ran over and held up her arms for a kiss and hug, which Poppy was happy to oblige.
“Hi, Holly Hobbie.” She juggled her niece and the wine she still carried. “I like your shoes.”
Last time she and Cami had talked, her sister had mentioned Holly’s obsession with a pair of hard-soled Mary Janes. The constant tapping was driving her to the brink of insanity. According to Cami, Holly wouldn’t even take them off for bed. So Poppy had gone on a toddler-size shopping spree and sent up three pairs of sparkly shoes, all soft-soled, as well as two dresses, some striped leggings and a matching hat-and-scarf set for winter.
Holly proudly displayed the silver pair of shoes for Poppy to appreciate. Sparkly shoes might not be practical for an active toddler who spent more time digging in the dirt than playing dress-up, but Poppy hadn’t been able to resist. What was the point of being an aunt if she didn’t spoil her niece?
“Beautiful,” she told Holly. “They match mine.” She showed Holly her own glittery heels. Holly oohed and, when Poppy set her back down, petted them.
“You’re creating a monster,” Cami said as she smiled at her daughter.
“Probably, but she’ll be a nontapping monster. Doesn’t that count for something?” Poppy handed Cami her glass when Holly tugged on her dress and demanded to be lifted up for another hug. “Do you like the shoes?”
“Yes.” She wrapped her tiny arms around Poppy’s neck with surprising strength.
“I like them, too.” Cami inhaled the scent of the wine. “And I like this. I want some.”
“Soon.” Poppy untangled herself from Holly’s little monkey arms before they strangled her. “Only a few more weeks, right?”
“I hope not.” Cami sighed and pouted at the glass. “I feel like I’m about to explode.”
“Well, don’t explode here.” Poppy had a sudden vision of her sister’s water breaking all over her expensive gold shoes and having to hustle her off to the hospital.
“As if I would be so tacky.” Cami rubbed her swollen stomach. “Holly, don’t play with Auntie Poppy’s earrings.”
Poppy captured the toddler’s busy hands before she could get a good grasp and pull. “Where’s Mom?”
“She’s talking to the band.” Cami gestured at the foursome. Poppy didn’t spot her mother’s strikingly colored hair nearby, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t around. “She wants to hear ‘Old Time Rock and Roll.’”
Poppy snorted and glanced back at her sister. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Oh, it gets better.” Cami took another sniff of wine. “She’s already made Dad promise to dance with her.”
“Which, of course, he will.”
“Of course.” Cami grinned and rested the glass on her belly. “Don’t worry, I’ve scoped out a corner where we can hide.”
“Will there be room for both of us?”
Cami laughed and pinched her. “That’s for calling me fat.”
“Down, down, Auntie Pop-pop,” Holly demanded and spun in a circle when her feet touched the grass. “I go play,” she announced and darted off into the party.
Poppy watched her run. She was a cute little thing, with her happy laugh and zest for life and shoes. Poppy adored her.
“Who’s the babe?” Cami wanted to know.
“What?” Poppy turned back and found her sister studying her with a knowing eye. “What are you talking about?”
“The babe.” Cami gestured to her left with a cocked eyebrow.
Poppy’s eyes followed the gesture and found Beck staring right at her. Why was he still watching her? Didn’t he have something better to do? Some other unsuspecting woman to stalk?
She made a noncommittal sound and turned away, pretending she had no idea who Cami was referring to even though they’d both gawked at him.
“Don’t play coy.” Cami took a step closer. Her swollen belly bumped Poppy’s hip. “He’s hot.”
“No, he’s not.” She refused to look back at him. Bad enough she still felt his gaze on her.
“Oh?” Cami’s eyes lit up. “I thought you didn’t know who we were talking about.”
“I don’t.” Poppy brushed at her spotless dress. She sensed Cami still ogling Beck as if her life depended on it. She stopped brushing and frowned at her sister. “Quit looking at him. He’s going to think he has an invitation to come over.”
“Good.” Cami upped her bald appraisal.
“Cami.”
“Mmm?”
“Need I remind you you’re happily married with 1.8 children?”
“I’m well aware of that.” A wistful sigh. “Who is he?”
“I have no idea.” Poppy stuck to her lie.
“Right,” Cami scoffed. “I saw you talking earlier and I refuse to believe you didn’t even get his name.”
“Believe it.” If she refused to waver, she hoped Cami might.
No such luck.
“Then I think we should introduce ourselves. He probably doesn’t know anyone. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Cami, no.” Poppy stepped sideways to block her path. She’d rather give up chocolate. And coffee. Forever.
“But look at him standing there all alone. He needs a friend.”
Poppy was immune to Cami’s wheedling tone. “I’m not going anywhere.” Cami’s belly knocked into her, but Poppy held her ground. “And neither are you.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Poppy studied her sister’s face and realized resistance was futile. Cami would keep hammering and pushing until she got an answer. “His name is Beck.”
She banked on the fact that giving in would satisfy her sister so they could shift to a new topic, preferably one that didn’t send her blood pressure skyrocketing.
Cami had other plans. “Beck. Jamie’s cousin Beck?”
Poppy startled. She hadn’t expected Cami to remember his name. She’d been out of high school for more than a year by then and had spent that summer hanging out with her boyfriend and now husband. “Uh, yes.”
“The one you...you know.” Cami wiggled her eyebrows, implying exactly what “you know” she was referring to.
Poppy felt her entire body blush. “How did you...”
“You told me. Back when you were young and foolish.”
“Right. Of course I did.” She eyeballed her sister.
“Poppy, you tell me everything.” She put her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t there some swooning about the scent of sawdust?”
Poppy closed her eyes. She’d forgotten that part. Beck’s family had been building a guesthouse, which he’d taken over for the night, setting out candles and flowers and romancing her out of her pants. Not that it had required much effort on his part. She’d been more than half in love with him even before he told her he was falling for her. She opened her eyes and disregarded the sudden ache in her chest.
“He never did call,” Cami remembered.
Of course, her sister would recall that particularly humiliating part of the story. Poppy snatched her wine back and took a large sip. “It’s in the past. I’m over it, though I’m not thrilled he’s here, so if you can prevent your hormones from introducing themselves, I’d be grateful.”
Cami glanced over Poppy’s shoulder and sighed. “He sure grew up nice.”
“Cami.” Poppy’s voice carried more than a warning note. More like a red alert complete with flashing lights, bullhorn and threats of being surrounded.
“What?” Cami blinked, all innocence. “Maybe he regrets his former actions.”
Poppy doubted that. “Let it go, okay?”
“I thought you said you wanted to get back to dating.”
“I do.”
“So why not start now? It’s a wedding, romance is in the air.”
Poppy stared at her sister. Had Cami forgotten how awful that time had been? How Poppy had cried herself to sleep for two weeks and spent her entire senior year single? The only reason she’d even gone to prom was because Jamie had dragged her. He’d been unaware of what had happened between her and Beck, and she’d been too embarrassed to tell him. “He’s a jerk.”
“A handsome jerk,” Cami corrected.
Poppy didn’t care. “Promise me you aren’t going to try anything.”
Cami continued to gawk at Beck. “I make no promises. Being pregnant makes a woman do crazy things.”
“I don’t think it’s just the pregnancy.”
Cami glared. “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
Poppy noticed Jamie break away from his entourage and head toward the house. Her pulse jumped. This could be her chance.
“Where are you going?” Cami asked as Poppy started after him.
“I’ll find you later, okay?”
She walked off without waiting for an answer.
CHAPTER THREE
BECK FOLLOWED POPPY as she slipped through the crowd. People were getting into the party spirit now, kicking up their heels in time with the band, having a blast. The party was a hit. Beck barely gave it a second thought.
He had other things on his mind. Like why Poppy Sullivan was pretending she didn’t know him. Saucy minx. He knew he wasn’t forgettable. At least, not according to the women he dated.
He watched as she sidled around a large group, nodding cheerfully to those who called out her name, but never wavering in her path toward the house. He trailed after her. She’d grown up nice. Very nice.
She’d always been attractive. He remembered those snapping blue eyes and her shiny fire-colored hair—he’d gotten up close and personal with them one memorable summer. And he wouldn’t be averse to doing it again.
Assuming he could convince her to talk to him. And keep his mother from trying to shove Grace on him.
He’d spotted his mother chatting up Emmy’s younger sister only minutes earlier. He didn’t need to be psychic to know the next phase in her plan would be to drag the poor girl over to him and proceed to try to force them to have a connection.
She’d probably kick her plan into overdrive at the brunch on Sunday.
The thought made the scotch in his stomach burn. While Beck had only met Grace briefly this afternoon, it had been enough to know his mother’s hopes of a love match were unfounded. Even if he did ever want to get married, Grace wasn’t his type. Not even close. She was pretty enough and seemed pleasant, but he wasn’t interested.
Beck watched Poppy’s butt as she slipped through the large sliding doors that led from the patio into the house. Now, there was a woman he found interesting.
He followed behind her a minute later.
The sliding doors opened into a spacious great room with a state-of-the-art entertainment system. Beck knew because he’d personally picked out the equipment for Jamie last Christmas. He might not spend a lot of time with his family, but he never skimped on gifts. He was pleased to see Jamie using it.
The music and chatter from the backyard quieted as he closed the door and moved farther into the house. He knew the layout well since Jamie had grown up here and in the summer Beck had too.
They’d spent their days racing from the pool to the kitchen and back again, sliding across the tile floor and ignoring their mothers’ warnings to be careful or they were going to crack their heads open.
When Jamie had decided to turn the acreage into a winery a few years ago, he’d bought his mother out and moved back in. She’d purchased a small cottage closer to town and her weekly quilting club, which Beck knew only because he’d been roped into helping his aunt move. His insistence that it would cost him less to hire professional movers had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d found himself spending the weekend moving boxes from one house to the other.
Until yesterday, that had been the last time he’d seen his aunt. He should probably make more of an effort. She’d always been good to him. But he didn’t have a lot of free time, and his responsibilities kept him busy in Seattle. He shouldn’t feel guilty because he didn’t spend his weekends flying in to be with his extended family.
No sign of Poppy in the main room or the kitchen, which were attached in one long open space. He headed down the short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom.
And there she was.
Standing in front of the closed bathroom door, her hands locked together in a tight grip. A thin strip of light shone from beneath the door. Obviously, she was waiting. Beck thought she needed some company.
“Hello again.”
She whirled to face him and scowled. “Do you mind?” She stepped back, bumping into the wall. “I’m busy here.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. She didn’t look busy.
“Yes, really.” She scowled and rubbed the shoulder she’d banged. “Go bug someone else.”
He placed his hand over hers. Her skin was soft and made him want to touch. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She shifted to the side, out of his reach. “And do you mind not pawing me?”
In fact, he did mind. But he simply shrugged. He hadn’t come here to antagonize her.
“What do you want anyway?”
Her. In his bed. Again. But he didn’t think she’d like hearing that.
“I came in here for some peace and quiet.” Not a total lie—he was avoiding another run-in with his mother—just not the total truth. “You seem pretty angry with me for someone who claims not to remember me.”
The lines around her mouth deepened. “Fine, I remember you.”
“It’s been a long time.” He leaned back against the wall opposite her. “Do I get a hello kiss?”
She snorted, but he caught the way her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “In your dreams.”
“Come on, a couple of old friends reuniting for the first time in a decade? I think a kiss is required.”
She tossed her hair. “We were never friends.”
True. They’d been much, much more. His blood pounded at the memory. “Oh, I recall us getting pretty friendly one summer.” He peeled himself off the wall and ran his fingers through her fiery mass of hair. Still as silky as he remembered. “Very friendly.”
“Beck—”
“Yes.” He lowered his head. She smelled the same, like lavender. He inhaled, his entire body recalling how her scent used to wrap around him when she laid her head on his chest.
“Get lost,” she told him.
“Hey now. What’s with the attitude?”
Her eyes pinned him, like a bug she’d like to crush beneath those pretty heels. “You seriously don’t remember?”
“I remember a lot of things. Why don’t you tell me which memory we’re talking about?” His particular favorite had taken place in the now-finished guesthouse where he was staying for the week. He wouldn’t mind reliving that part of his youth.
“You never called me.”
He frowned. “Pardon?”
“You never called me. After.” She poked him in the chest. “You didn’t even say goodbye. You just left.”
“I meant to, but my mother—” He stopped. She was right. He’d never called. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“I’m sure.” Her lips puckered and not in the lean-down-and-kiss-me-big-boy way he was hoping for.
“Would it help if I apologized?”
“You have to ask?” She shook her head and her scent rolled over him. “Forget it. It happened a long time ago. I’m over it.”
“I can see that.”
She flicked her hair again. “I don’t want to be friends, Beck.”
“What if I do?”
“Why would you?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Are you trying to flatter me? Is this to show me you still find me appealing?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
She laughed. “Obviously, you haven’t changed. Why don’t you run along, find some other woman to work your charms on?” She made a flicking motion with her fingers. “Maybe she’ll enjoy your attention.”
Maybe so, but Beck wasn’t going anywhere. She’d challenged him. Him and his manhood, and he didn’t intend to back down. “I don’t want another woman.” He placed a hand on the wall. “I want you.”
“I’m not available.”
“You married?” He didn’t do married. Not in any way, shape or form.
There was a small pause, a smaller sigh. “No, but that doesn’t mean I’m available.”
He smiled, more sure of himself now, and edged closer to her. “A serious boyfriend?” When she didn’t respond, he risked touching her hair again. “Not one of those either. You’re single.”
“I’m still not available.”
“I can change that.”
She opened her mouth, no doubt to say something snarky that would be an attempt to put him in his place but would only serve to heighten his interest, when the bathroom door opened.
“Hey, guys.” Jamie stepped out.
Hell. Beck didn’t think of himself as a violent man, but he could have happily punched his cousin for interrupting. He’d just been getting somewhere or, at least, close enough to touch more than her hair.
But now? Now she’d turned all her attention to his cousin, hugging him hello and jabbering about how much she’d missed him. Though Beck did appreciate the view of her dress riding up in the back, showing off her sleek legs.
The two spoke for a minute while Beck waited. He wasn’t finished with Poppy yet, despite the sharp little frowns she kept shooting his way. They didn’t bother him in the slightest. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He had nowhere else to be.
When Jamie finally excused himself to return to the party, Poppy shot Beck an irritated glare.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re a pain in the butt.” Then she stomped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a hard click.
Beck continued leaning. He could wait all night.
* * *
POPPY STOOD OVER the sink, letting the cool water run over her hands, wondering how long before Beck got bored and wandered away. Why was he following her? Did he have nothing better to do?
And what right did he have to interrupt her attempt to have a private conversation with Jamie? She was trying to ensure Jamie wasn’t making a mistake, but she couldn’t talk about anything with Beck hovering.
She pressed her wet hands to the back of her neck. She hadn’t thought about Beck in a long time. She’d heard the occasional update from Jamie when they’d been younger, but she never asked for them and eventually he stopped telling her. She knew Beck ran the family company, a string of hotels in the Pacific Northwest, but other than that, his life was a mystery. Fine with her.
Whatever he wanted, she wasn’t interested.
She dried her hands, feeling calmer already. She would be fine. She’d go back out to the party, hunt Jamie down and, when she got a moment, ask if they might get together for coffee or lunch tomorrow.
She’d have to find a way not to include Emmy. Of course, her whole plan would fall apart if she couldn’t shake Beck. Her hackles rose again and she forced herself to breathe out slowly. No, she’d sliced Beck out of her life more than a decade ago. Simply seeing him here looking all sexy and hungry wasn’t enough to take her back to those days.
She checked her reflection in the mirror, made herself smile, adjusted her dress and unlocked the door. Her smile fell away instantaneously.
“Seriously?” She couldn’t believe Beck still stood there. Surely the man had something to do besides wait for her? “What do you want?” she asked again.
“Anything you like.” His gaze lowered. Rude man, looking at her faux boobs.
She realized she was letting him and started to move. She would not spend the little time she had hanging around a dim hallway with Beck. She had a friend to save.
He walked with her. “I should have called you. You’re right.”
She sent him her best withering stare and sniffed loudly. She didn’t want his explanations. She wanted him to leave her alone.
“I’m sorry. I was young and stupid.”
“You were an idiot.”
“That, too.” He smiled and she felt it all the way to her toes.
She frowned. A bone-melting smile and an apology a decade overdue weren’t enough to earn her forgiveness. No, that would take some begging. “Fine, you’ve apologized. Now go find someone else to annoy.”
“Poppy.” He caught her hand and the sizzle went from her toes through her entire body. Not good. Not good at all. “How can I make it up to you?”
She opened her mouth to tell him he couldn’t. She had things to do this week. Important, lifesaving things, and she didn’t need Beck all up in her space making her forget why she was here. Bad enough she’d given him her virginity. “There’s nothing to make up, Beck.”
They weren’t walking anymore. They’d stopped just shy of exiting the hallway. No one was around. No one could see them. He backed her into the wall, not letting go of her hand. “There must be something I can do.”
The sizzle turned into a flame. Poppy tried to recall the last time her emotions and body had betrayed her like this. Not with Evan. Their relationship had been comfortable, like an old married couple. Not with her university boyfriend, Jason, either. No, there was only one time. One man. Beck. She closed her eyes.
“Tell me.” His breath whispered across her neck, tickling the sensitive spot just below her ear. She loved that spot.
She swallowed, angled her head away from the delicious tickling and opened her eyes. “You want to make it up to me? Okay. You can get me some alone time with Jamie.”
His brow furrowed. He didn’t like that. Not one little bit. Poppy smiled. Good. It would build his character. “What do you want with Jamie?”
“I need to talk to him.”
“About?” He leaned closer so their bodies almost touched.
Poppy reminded herself she’d gone more than ten years without touching Beck. And she’d been perfectly happy. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“It is if you want my help.” He had her there, and she didn’t like it. “Is that why you were stalking my cousin to the bathroom?”
“I was not stalking him.” Beck was the stalker. She was merely a concerned friend.
“Looked like you were stalking him.” He eyed her thoughtfully. Poppy reminded her overheated brain she did not find him appealing. Not one little bit. “Or do you often follow men to the washroom?”
“Okay, no. That’s gross, and why do you care what I want to talk to him about? Or have you and he suddenly become best buds?” Jamie didn’t talk about it much, but she knew he and Beck weren’t close as adults. According to Jamie, Beck had distanced himself from the rest of the family after his parents divorced.
“I care.”
Poppy looked into his eyes, those dark eyes that hid all his secrets, and lifted her chin. “I don’t believe you.”
“Let me convince you.”
She had an idea his convincing would lead to making out somewhere and divesting her of all her undergarments. Been there, done that. “Get me some alone time with Jamie. Private. Just the two of us.”
“And what do I get out of it?” He’d shifted and his words tickled her ear again.
“The pride of knowing you did the right thing.”
He laughed again. “Nice try, Red.”
“My hair is not red as you well know.” And if he thought otherwise, he obviously needed glasses. “Fine, if you won’t help me out of the goodness of your heart or because you care about your cousin, then what do you want?”
“Brunch.”
She blinked. “You want me to feed you?” She didn’t do a lot of cooking, but she was confident she could throw together a breakfast. Especially if it got her what she wanted. “Done,” she said quickly before he added a rider to the demand, like she had to serve him wearing a French maid’s outfit. Or nothing at all.
“No, I want you to have brunch with me on Sunday. With the whole family.” He placed a hand on the wall, preventing her from going anywhere.
“Why?” What game was he playing? And why was she considering joining in?
“You want to talk to Jamie, don’t you? It’s a family brunch. He’ll be there.”
She faltered, confused. “What does brunch have to do with any of this?”
He leaned down as though imparting a secret. He smelled like soap and leather. She tried not to inhale. “My mother has this insane idea of setting me up with Emmy’s sister, Grace. You’d be running interference.”
“At the brunch.”
“Yes.” He brushed the hair off her neck.
She should push him away, should give him a lecture about personal space and appropriate behavior when reuniting with an ex, but instead she enjoyed the moment. Shameful, but true.
Maybe there was something to the claims constantly championed by Wynn and Cami that she needed to get back into the dating scene. Surely, she wouldn’t be having this reaction had she not been single for the past ten months.
“So you can act as a buffer—” she loved his voice, always had “—and I’ll make sure you get a chance to speak with Jamie.”
“Wait.” Poppy swam through the fog corrupting her thought process. “If Emmy’s sister is going to be at the brunch, won’t Emmy be around too?”
“The whole family,” Beck confirmed.
“And how exactly do you propose to get me a private conversation with Jamie?”
“I’ll find a way.” He played with the ends of her hair and Poppy had to grit her teeth to prevent the sweet shudder from overwhelming her. “Think of it as a business proposition.”
“A business proposition.” She stared at him.
“One that’s advantageous for both of us.”
“Advantageous for you, maybe. I come to this family brunch and you what? ‘Find a way’ to give Jamie and me a few minutes together? What’s going to keep you to holding up your end of the bargain?”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Why should I?” What had he ever done to earn her trust? Nothing, that’s what. A big fat nothing. “No, Beck. I think I’ll take my chances and handle this on my own.” She started to walk away.
“It won’t work,” he called after her.
Her footsteps slowed. How was she going to invite Jamie out for lunch and tell him his fiancée wasn’t invited without offending him? Quick answer? She wasn’t.
She stopped, turned to face Beck, ignoring his smirk. “You promise to get us some alone time?”
He crossed the space between them. Even though she wore heels, high ones, he towered over her. “Cross my heart.” He reached a hand toward her.
She swatted it away. “You’re supposed to cross on your own heart.” And tried to ignore the fact that hers now chugged like a freight train.
“So we have a deal?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Deal.”
“Good.”
Neither of them moved and for a minute, one long, steamy minute, Poppy felt certain he was going to kiss her and equally certain she was going to let him.
Everything slowed except her pulse. She remembered his kisses. How they used to make her head spin and her body ache for more. She wanted one now. Just one. Nothing would have to change. Her lips parted.
And Beck pushed away from her. “I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU’RE BRINGING SOMEONE to brunch?” His mother’s voice rose slightly. “A date?”
Beck shrugged and turned back to his laptop. His mother had love on the brain. As usual. A woman who’d been married four times, and twice to the same man—his father—clearly thought about love on a regular basis. Too bad she didn’t put as much thought into who she decided to marry, seeing as she’d also been divorced four times.
He didn’t bother to respond to her query. It was early Sunday morning, a few hours before everyone was due to arrive for brunch, and he’d been sitting at the kitchen table innocently doing some work when his mother barged in under the guise of bringing him some flowers. Like he cared about a bouquet of flowers.
“Beck? Is this a date?”
He shrugged again. It wasn’t not a date. But he and Poppy hadn’t gotten into specifics. If he’d pushed, he was pretty sure she would have changed her mind about attending and he needed her.
Just before he’d dropped his little guest bomb, his mother had made a sly comment about seating Grace next to him at the table. Beck didn’t mind if his mother got her own hopes up only to have them dashed—she’d be bringing that on herself. But he wasn’t comfortable with her getting someone else’s feelings involved.
Grace might be a bit sheltered, but she didn’t deserve to have her head filled with nonsense about how Beck was waiting for the right woman to come along.
He wasn’t waiting for anyone.
“Well.” She clapped her hands together. Oh, yeah. She definitely had flowers, gowns and seating plans spinning through her mind. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
He’d known his mother would behave like this, which was why he’d avoided telling her about his guest. That and the fact that he hadn’t wanted to hunt her down at the big house where his parents were probably mooning over each other. So he’d barricaded himself in the guesthouse.
It wasn’t as if he was hiding. Not exactly. He had a lot of work to do. Firing off emails to his lawyer and real estate agent, keeping in touch with the management at the five other properties the Lefebvre Group owned and drawing up a budget for the proposed renovation once the hotel purchase was completed.
This was the first project he’d be running single-handedly since this was the first hotel they’d acquired in a decade. Under his father’s leadership, the company had maintained its status as purveyors of elegant boutique hotels for the luxury market, but Beck wanted more. To grow the Lefebvre brand into a global vision.
Assuming his mother let him get anything done.
She fussed with the flowers until she appeared satisfied with their appearance. Beck didn’t know why she bothered; he’d forget about them when she left and they’d end up wilting into a sad mess until someone else removed them.
“So this date...” She let the words trail off casually. As though he didn’t know she was already making plans for weddings and grandchildren. “Who is she?”
He said nothing, hoping she’d take the hint and go. Instead, she grabbed a coffee mug and poured herself a cup from the pot he’d made earlier.
“Is this the young woman I saw you with Friday night?” Victoria sat down in the chair across from him. Like they were a couple of old biddies settling in for a good chat. “The redhead?”
“Her hair is auburn,” Beck found himself saying. The thought of Poppy’s scowl whenever he claimed otherwise made some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Poppy.”
“Poppy? The Poppy from that summer?” Victoria’s blond eyebrows shot straight up.
Beck’s stomach knotted. “Yes.” But he was surprised she remembered. She’d been caught up in her own life that particular summer. Before everything had crashed down on them.
“Poppy.” She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “You and she were pretty serious.”
“Not that serious.” He wasn’t sure why he said that. He and Poppy had been serious. First loves, first lovers, first a lot of things. First heartbreak. He sipped from his own coffee, which had gone cold a while ago.
“No, I remember. You felt strongly about her.”
Beck didn’t reply. He’d felt strongly about a lot of things back then. But most teenagers did. His hormones had eventually calmed down.
A smile played around the edges of Victoria’s lips. Clearly, she didn’t have quite the same memories of that time in their lives. “You were upset when we had to leave. You wanted to call her.”
“We didn’t have to leave.” Beck put a stop to her little walk down memory lane. “You decided we were leaving and told me I was coming with you. I didn’t have a choice.”
He recalled everything clearly, even if his mother didn’t. Coming home after dropping off Poppy, plans for how he was going to spend the next two weeks with her by his side filling his head. The night had been cool and cloudless. He’d tried to convince Poppy to stay with him, to sleep under the stars and watch the sunrise in the morning, but she’d told him her parents would kill her and ban her from seeing him the rest of the summer.
They’d kissed for a long time before she’d finally climbed out of the car and skipped up the steps to her house. He’d waited until she’d gone inside and driven home slowly, everything about the night replaying in his head. Life had been good.
And then everything had turned to garbage.
The lights in the big house were all on, blazing a trail across the driveway. Beck had known before he parked that something was wrong. His parents didn’t leave all the lights on unless they were having a party. Or fighting.
He’d thought about heading back down the side path that led to the unfinished guesthouse, grabbing the blankets and pillows, some candles, too, and sleeping on the dock. He could watch the stars and the sunrise on his own.
But he’d heard the raised voices, and he’d known he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Victoria, I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me. I heard the message. I heard her voice. You promised you’d never do that again. Never.”
“I didn’t, you have to believe me.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Victoria...”
Beck had slipped through the front door, but not quietly enough to avoid catching their attention.
“Beck—” his mother’s eyes had been like ice “—pack your things, we’re leaving.”
“But—”
“No buts. Your father—” she’d paused long enough to shoot him a look that probably froze the man’s bits off “—has a friend coming to stay.”
Beck had looked at his father as his heart sank. Again?
“No.” Harrison had shaken his head. “That isn’t true. You misunderstood the message, Victoria. Let me explain.”
“Beck, let’s go.”
They’d left that night, headed back to Seattle, where she’d served his dad with divorce proceedings. It wasn’t the first nor the last time they’d tried to drag him into their mess of a relationship. But it was the first time he’d understood he didn’t have to let himself be dragged.
Rather than staying with his mother in Seattle, watching while she packed up his father’s belongings and stuck them in the garage until he came and took them to his new house, Beck had moved in with a high school friend for the remainder of the summer and then bolted to his university dorm for the start of his freshman year.
Living on campus, away from the parental hubbub, made it easy to avoid phone calls and family dinners. He had essays and labs, finals to prepare for. He told them he wanted to get the full university experience, which wasn’t possible if they called him home every other weekend.
His mother paused midsip and put the cup down untouched. “Beck, I—”
He cut her off. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He didn’t get upset about the past. Not anymore. “It was a long time ago.”
“You’re still upset.”
“I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to have a long, detailed discussion with her either.
“I’d like to talk about it.”
“Another time.” He gestured at his computer screen where his in-box sat empty. “I have to work.”
“Right. Of course.” Her smile, though friendly, didn’t reach her eyes. She rose and carried her cup to the sink. “I’m looking forward to meeting Poppy.”
Beck kept his eyes on the computer screen.
“I want you to be happy.”
He raised his eyes and forced the smile she wanted. “I am happy.” But he’d be a lot happier once this wedding was over and his life returned to normal.
* * *
“ARE YOU GOING to sleep with him?”
“Cami.” Poppy’s cheeks burned, no doubt returning to the red state they’d been in all last night. “It’s just a brunch.”
That’s all it was: brunch. Just because he was still deliciously attractive, the kind of attractive that made a woman consider her stance on one-night stands, didn’t mean Poppy would. He’d hurt her once. Badly. And though she’d moved on and he’d offered up an apology, she wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive him.
Her sister, brother-in-law and niece had turned up at the house about ten-thirty Sunday morning in a whirlwind of pregnant demands and laughter. Holly was currently running around the backyard, entertaining her father and grandparents with her imitation of an airplane, which left the sisters alone inside.
Poppy realized this was all part of Cami’s plan to make sure she was around to check out Beck for herself.
Poppy had tried to figure out a way to avoid the brunch, but had come up with zero options. And when she’d texted to tell Beck she’d drive herself, he’d refused and told her he was picking her up whether she liked it or not. Which was why she found herself now with one ear on the conversation with Cami, and the other listening for signs of a car pulling up. If she was quick, she might be able to get him out of here before the third degree.
“I didn’t mean during the meal.” Cami grinned and settled into one of the chairs around the table in their parents’ kitchen.
“Not any other time either,” Poppy said, though she couldn’t deny the lightning bolt of attraction that zipped through her when she thought of Beck. Whatever. She was an adult now and not interested.
She wore nude-colored heels and a simple green dress with white polka dots that was cinched at the waist with a skinny purple belt. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, showing off the dangling purple earrings that matched her belt. It was going to be another hot day, so she’d decided on a minimum of makeup again. Not that anyone could tell over her blazing cheeks.
“If you need privacy,” Cami continued, a smirk spreading across her face, “I can get Mom and Dad to clear out for the afternoon. You can use your old bedroom.”
Poppy shot her a dirty look. “Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have your own house to eat breakfast in?”
“I do, but I’m too tired to cook, and Mom promised Holly pancakes. So? Should I tell them to make themselves scarce?”
“Of course not.” Poppy brushed at the flirty skirt of her dress. It was immaculate, but she needed to do something with her hands before she strangled her sister.
“Why not? He’s hot. You’re single.”
“We don’t even live in the same country,” she told her sister.
“Who said anything about that? I was just talking about the fling you could have, allowing me to live vicariously through you.”
Poppy stared pointedly at Cami’s stomach. “I don’t think you need to live vicariously through any fling I might have.”
“Who’s having a fling?” Rose stepped into the kitchen, carrying a bouquet of fresh-cut peonies. She pulled a vase down from the cupboard and filled it with water before arranging the flowers inside.
“There’s no fling,” Poppy said.
“Poppy and Beck,” Cami answered. “Don’t you think they make a cute couple?”
“Adorable.” Rose glanced up from the flowers with an interested expression. “Does this mean you’re going to sleep with him?”
“No,” Poppy said, trying not to shout. But really, talking to the two of them was like conversing with a brick wall. “It’s just brunch and I’m not talking about this with you.” Having the sex talk with her mother as a kid had been scarring enough. Wasn’t it sufficient that she knew the basics of how to protect herself and her body? Did she have to share the details of who, when and where too? Even though there would be none of that with Beck.
“Well, if it’s just brunch, there’s no need for you to get so upset,” Rose said, her voice mild as she carried the flowers over to the table, placing them in the center.
“Classic overcompensation,” Cami agreed.
“What part of not wanting to talk about this did you two miss?” Poppy checked the front window, suddenly desperate for Beck to show up. She’d take his sexual baiting over this any day.
“I think you should.” Rose stepped back from the table, admiring her display. “He’s very attractive.”
Poppy shut her eyes and counted to five. She wished Wynn were here already. He had a knack for charming her mother and sister on to other topics. Of course, knowing Wynn, he’d be as interested as them in her sex life. Maybe if she were lucky a giant hole would swallow her up. But when she reached the end of her countdown, her mother and sister both still watched her.
“You know, dear...” her mother started.
Poppy turned a beseeching look toward her sister. “Please, make her stop. You owe me. I found you soft-soled shoes.”
Cami grinned. “Okay, Mom. Stop torturing your younger daughter.”
“I’m not torturing her. I have plenty of knowledge and experience—”
“Ack!” Cami jerked back, causing the chair to squeak across the kitchen tiles.
Poppy clapped her hands over her ears, causing her earrings to slap against her neck. “Stop, I’m begging you!”
“—seeing as I’ve been happily married for thirty some odd years.”
“No more. I give. Uncle. Whatever you want. I’ll do it.”
“You’re going to make my water break all over your nice clean floor.”
“Girls, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. Sex is—”
Poppy was so relieved when she heard a car pulling up outside, she practically ran for the door. Okay, no practically about it. She went into an all-out sprint.
“Where are you—” Rose started to ask as Poppy exited the kitchen.
“He’s here.” The chair squeaked again as Cami pushed herself up. “Go, Mom, go.”
They reached the entryway before Beck had even gotten out of his car. They watched silently as he emerged, all dove gray suit and dark hair. Cami sighed first, followed by Rose. Poppy stared at both of them. “You’re a pair of happily married women.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re dead.”
“We should invite him in for coffee. It would only be polite.”
“No.” Poppy clutched her purse to still the sudden shaking of her hands. He looked good. Too good. She reminded herself it didn’t matter. He was an ex. One she had long since gotten over, and any relationship they had now was a means to an end. As soon as she had her conversation with Jamie and was satisfied he wasn’t making a mistake, this back-and-forth with Beck would end. “His family is probably waiting for us.”
When he knocked, she shooed the other two back before they bowled him over with their enthusiasm, then steeled herself to the inevitable small talk and opened the door.
He grinned down at her. “Good morning, Red.”
“Stop calling me that.” She scowled at him from the doorway and did her best to ignore her mother and sister snickering behind her. When the hyenas showed no sign of letting up, she shot a glare in their direction. “That nickname includes you two, as well, seeing as we all have the same hair.”
They stopped laughing and regarded him with considerably cooler gazes. Poppy scored herself a mental point. See how wonderful they thought he was now.
But of course, he apologized and flattered them, accepted the cup of coffee her mother forced on him, and by the time they left, her mother and sister were practically begging to be his slaves.
“Smooth,” Poppy told him as they pulled away from the house.
He lifted a questioning eyebrow at her.
“Winning over my family. I don’t know why you bothered. This is only for today.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m only going with you so I can talk to Jamie.”
“So it’s like that, Red?”
Obviously he was trying to get a rise out of her. She should smile politely or ignore him entirely, but she couldn’t help her reaction. “For the millionth time, my hair is auburn.”
“Doesn’t have the same ring.” He snaked a glance her way. One that had a shiver trailing its way up her spine. “‘You look gorgeous enough to eat, Auburn.’ Doesn’t work.”
She ignored the banter—she was so above the banter—and curled her fingers around her purse. She didn’t care if he thought she was gorgeous. “Then why don’t you try using my name?” Her smile could have cut glass, which she knew because she caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror.
“Not as much fun.”
She tossed her hair. “You would say that.”
“But I’m willing to cut a deal.” His fingers played over the steering wheel. Poppy found herself watching them as they stroked the soft leather.
“What?” She yanked her eyes away. “You’ll stop calling me that if I sleep with you?” The minute the words escaped her mouth, she wanted to stuff them back in. She blamed her mother and sister entirely. If they hadn’t been harassing her all morning, she would be on her A-game and not thinking about sex with Beck.
“I’m definitely open to the offer.”
“It’s not an offer.” Where was a corner to curl up into a ball and hide in when you needed it?
“It sounded like one.”
She decided to change the subject. “How are you going to get me some time with Jamie?”
“I preferred the other line of discussion.”
“I didn’t.” She forced herself to watch him and not notice the curve of his eyelashes. “Or would you prefer to handle your mother and Grace on your own?”
She saw the small shudder. “Definitely not.”
“Right. So we have an agreement. You help me and I’ll help you.”
His eyes slid toward her. “We have something, Red.”
Poppy thought about that as he turned down the road that ran the length of the lake. It was a gorgeous summer morning and people were already splashing around in the water. Brightly colored kayaks and swimmers dotted the flat surface. It had been a long time since she’d gone for a dip.
He was right. There was something left between them. She just wasn’t sure what.
After about ten minutes, they turned up a winding road. The houses here overlooked the lake and had their own beachfront. They were spaced farther apart, too. Poppy hadn’t spent much time up here. The homes were vacation properties for those who could afford them and, except for Beck, she hadn’t known anyone who lived in them.
She recalled some of the rougher kids from high school used to come up here and drink on their lawns, leaving behind empty beer cans and chip bags as proof of their daring. She’d even come up once with them, shortly after the Beck fiasco when she’d been feeling used and sensitive and hoping to forget everything, but she hadn’t liked it. Not the taste of the beer, the slithery sensation of her date’s tongue or littering on a stranger’s property.
“Here we are.” Beck steered into a curving driveway, past trees and shrubbery, which opened onto a masterpiece.
Poppy had seen a lot of gorgeous homes in her years as an event planner. The glorious historic houses in Vancouver’s Point Grey neighborhood, the elegant penthouse suites in downtown high-rises and the luxurious mansions in the British Properties. But this took her breath away.
All wood and glass, the house seemed to emerge from the trees in bits. Decks and windows and railings, with seats placed perfectly throughout for curling up and enjoying a book in.
“It’s gorgeous.” She itched to see the inside, already certain the interior would live up to the outside. The parties she could plan here. She pictured people spilling across the wide front lawn. Everyone in white, like a Gatsby party, with a jazz quartet playing on one of the lower decks, and champagne towers overflowing.
He pulled the car to a stop and loped over to her side to open her door.
“Thank you.” She allowed him to help her out, stared at him when he didn’t move or let go of her hand. “You’re in my space.”
“Yes.” He leaned harder, pressing her into the side of the car. Their eyes locked. His filled with a gleam she couldn’t identify. Teasing? Tingling? Terrifying? “My mother is probably watching. We need to make this look good.”
“Make what look good? This is just brunch.” But she didn’t move. A bird warbled in the trees. Beck’s head tilted, moved closer to hers. Desire and panic swirled through her. She placed a hand on his chest, surprised to feel the rapid beat of his heart.
He placed his hand over top hers. A pose she was sure appeared intimate from a distance. She should pull her fingers free, step to the side and suck in some fresh air to clear the mental haze from her head, but she stayed where she was, caught in the magnetism of Beck’s eyes.
“If you think I’m kissing you—” she whispered.
He smirked. “I wouldn’t ask.”
Of course he wouldn’t. She glared at him and dropped her hand. “I’m only here to act as a buffer.” To make sure that his mother didn’t try to sic Emmy’s sister on him, though quite frankly, he deserved it.
Beck murmured his assent, but didn’t move, his hips pinning her in place. She couldn’t break their connection without making a big production. And she was willing to do it. Completely willing. As soon as her heart slowed down.
She watched Beck’s head turn to the side. She turned, too, trying to spot whatever, or whoever, he was looking at, but the house remained a beautiful blank facade. Apparently that was enough for Beck.
He picked her hand back up and tugged her into motion. She almost stumbled. Would have had her fingers not been so tightly clasped in his. Or was that the reason she had stumbled in the first place?
She blinked to clear her head as they walked up the driveway to the tall, oversize front doors. But he surrounded her on every level. The sound of his shoes slapping against the pavement, the outline of his body pressed into hers, his soft scent of leather and soap and the sight of his smirk when he turned to look at her.
Maybe she should just focus on the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE HOUSE WAS as beautiful inside as out.
The entry showed off glorious vaulted ceilings, the wood beams exposed, awash with the morning sun pouring through the windows. The pine floors were buffed to a high gleam and a cozy armchair sat in the corner, offering a spot for visitors to sit and slip off their shoes in comfort. A wide staircase spiraled out of sight to the upper levels, while the rest of the house opened up its arms: a dining area and kitchen at the back, an office to the right and a sitting area on the left. Poppy stood and took the sight in.
The white Gatsby party took on a second life.
“Come on.” Beck tugged her hand when she paused to study the space. “My mother will be waiting to meet you.”
“Of course.” Poppy pulled her hand free and brushed her skirt. That’s why she was here. To assist Beck not to think about what kind of party she’d throw if she had access to this house.
“By the way—” his voice was casual, which should have been her first clue “—she thinks this is a date.”
Poppy stopped cold in the middle of the entryway. “Pardon?” She kept her voice pitched low, as every sound would carry to all rooms. She heard voices talking and laughing, the clink of glassware coming from the back of the house. “You told her this was a date.”
A wicked grin crept across his face. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters.” She spun on him. “You didn’t say anything about a date. This was supposed to be a business proposition.” Wasn’t it bad enough she’d brought up sex in the car? Now she had to act as if she was on a date?
“It is.” He brushed her hair off her shoulders, exposing her neck. She had a sudden memory of him kissing it. “And this was the easiest way to explain your presence.”
She swallowed. It did make sense. In a twisted I-don’t-really-like-you-but-I’m-going-to-pretend-I-do sort of way. “Fine. Just don’t try anything.”
“Like what?” His fingertips stroked down her neck and back up.
“Like that.” She jerked her head away and turned toward the sounds of the gathering. “Well? Are we going in?”
He studied her. She refused to drop his gaze. She might not know Beck, but she knew his type. He wouldn’t intimidate her. Not with his hungry stares, his delicious touches or his fabulous party property.
“Right this way, Red.”
The dining area and kitchen were as exquisite as everything else Poppy had seen. But it was the soaring views that left her breathless. Another deck spilled off the back, floor-to-ceiling glass welcoming the outside in. There was a large pool, surrounded by comfortable loungers in blue. A cabana and scattered umbrellas offered protection from the sun on those few months of the year the pool would be in use.
“Poppy, hello.”
She turned and spotted an attractive woman hurrying over to her. Her smile was a replica of Beck’s, though hers didn’t make Poppy squirm.
“Poppy, this is my mother, Victoria.” Beck’s voice was formal and more than a little stiff. She glanced at him before turning her attention to his mother.
“Victoria. Thank you for having me to your home.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Victoria took Poppy’s outstretched hand and pulled her into a hug. “Beck doesn’t usually bring people home for us to meet.”
“Oh.” Poppy wanted to check how Beck reacted to the information drop, but couldn’t without yanking away from Victoria’s warm greeting.
“And this is my father, Harrison.” Beck turned her toward a tall, dark, mustachioed man who welcomed her in an equally friendly manner. Then there were all the other guests to say hello to as well. Jamie and Emmy, Jamie’s mom, Georgia, who Poppy hugged a long time before releasing—she’d always loved Mrs. Cartwright, the scent of cinnamon clung to her even when she wasn’t baking—and Emmy’s parents, Clive and Susan, and her younger sister, Grace.
Poppy studied Grace closely. She was as pretty as her sister. The light caught the highlights in their golden hair giving the impression of halos surrounding them. Beside the sisters, Poppy thought she probably looked as if she’d come from the fires of hell.
Grace was polite but uninterested, which was fine with Poppy. She wasn’t looking to make a lifelong friend.
“Nice to meet you,” Grace said before turning to ask her mother about a shopping trip they had planned for later in the week. She certainly didn’t act like a woman plotting to trap Beck into marriage, but then, he hadn’t said that. He’d told her his mother was the one doing the plotting.
Poppy glanced at Victoria and discovered she was the subject of an intensive stare. She forced herself not to fidget and begrudgingly hoped she met approval. And even when she reminded herself that it didn’t matter if Beck’s mother found her worthy or not, she couldn’t shake the desire to be found suitable. When Victoria smiled, wide and clear of any concern, Poppy felt as though she’d passed a test.
There was a large living room off the dining area filled with soft couches and leather club chairs. A massive river-rock fireplace dominated one wall. They commenced to spend the next few minutes getting comfortable, drinking coffee and chatting while Victoria bustled about in the kitchen.
Poppy had hoped to get a seat beside Jamie—if she was lucky, they might be able to steal a few minutes before the meal was even served—but Emmy wasn’t giving up her spot on the love seat and Poppy had to settle for taking the chair beside it.
Emmy smiled at her. “I’m sorry I missed you at the barbecue the other night, Poppy, but it’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I feel like I already know you from everything Jamie’s told me.”
Poppy wished she could say the same. “Yes, it’s nice to finally get a chance to talk.” She pasted on what she hoped was an open and interested smile. Although she couldn’t ask Jamie what the rush was here and now, that didn’t mean she couldn’t suss out Emmy’s intentions. “I love your ring.”
It seemed an obvious place to start. If the woman was a gold digger, she probably wouldn’t be able to contain herself from bragging about the number of carats. The stone was a round-cut pink diamond surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds. Not Poppy’s style, but it was pretty. Poppy admired it, noting it matched Emmy’s dress.
“I have a thing for pink,” Emmy admitted. No mention of the carats or any of the other Cs.
Poppy let go of Emmy’s hand. “What do you do, Emmy?”
Although Poppy had run Emmy’s name through a search engine when she’d first learned about the engagement, she’d found nothing. No Twitter account, no Facebook page, not a single hit. It was weird. Everyone had an online presence these days. It was a rite of passage into adulthood.
“Oh, this and that.” Emmy waved a vague hand in the air before letting it settle on Jamie’s leg. “Lately I’ve been pretty busy organizing the wedding.”
Poppy tried not to jump to conclusions. “So you don’t work?”
“No, not right now.” Emmy leaned into her soon-to-be husband.
“And before you met Jamie?” Maybe she was a freelancer and her most recent contract had ended and she’d decided not to take another one until the wedding was over. But Poppy didn’t think so.
“Nothing as exciting as you. It must be wonderful to spend your days party planning.”
Check and mate. She’d neatly avoided the question while turning the conversation back to Poppy. But Poppy had a little chess action on her side, too. “It is fun. You’re lucky to be able to fully focus on your wedding.” She let that hang in the air for a moment. “So once it’s over, will you help Jamie with the winery?”
Emmy glanced up at Jamie. “I’m not sure.”
“We haven’t talked about that,” Jamie interjected, laying his hand over his fiancée’s. “But she’s welcome to join me if she’d like.”
The two of them proceeded to make goo-goo eyes at each other that left Poppy nauseated and the rest of the room cooing. Except for Beck, who sat across from her, watching. Why must he always watch her?
She fanned her face, grateful when Victoria called them into the dining room.
“Get the answer you wanted, Red?” Beck whispered in her ear as they walked.
She swatted his mouth away. Couldn’t he see she was trying to work here? She didn’t need him whispering sweet nothings or anything at all in her direction. “Not exactly.”
She sat across from Beck at the long table, which easily sat their group of ten. Harrison was on her left at the foot of the table and Jamie was on her right. Poppy tried not to get excited. Asking him about his fiancée’s financial status wasn’t exactly polite conversation, but at least she’d get to talk to him,
Poppy unfolded the crisp white napkin and placed it in her lap. The silver place settings gleamed and the glassware sparkled. An elegant mix of red and pink roses decorated the center of the table. She was impressed by the balance. The red and pink were harmonious instead of conflicting.
The spread of food was incredible and Poppy helped herself to a little bit of everything. Platters of fresh-baked pastries that would have fit into any French patisserie. Plus, individual onion tarts, quiches, French toast with fresh berries and rashers of bacon.
Her excitement over the seating was short-lived. Although she attempted to engage Jamie in conversation, the table wouldn’t allow it.
“Poppy,” said Harrison Lefebvre. “So how do you know Beck?”
Clearly, dear old Dad wasn’t in on the tangle of relationships at the table. “We met at the barbecue,” she said.
“Remet,” Beck said as his eyes bored into her. “That wasn’t the first time, remember?”
“I remember,” she said. Didn’t he know she’d prefer not to, though? “But we hadn’t seen each other for years. I’m amazed Beck even remembered who I was.”
“There are some things you don’t forget.” Their gazes caught. Poppy had to force herself to blink.
“Good, good.” Harrison did not pick up on the sparks flying between them. “Always nice to have another attractive woman around.”
His eyes slid down the table to his ex-wife, and Poppy was pretty sure Victoria blushed, though it might have just been a trick of the light. Funny, she’d thought Beck’s parents were divorced. She glanced at him, but he was studying his lap, frowning.
“Why did you lose touch?” Harrison’s question opened up all those old abandonment wounds.
She glanced at Beck, but he didn’t look up. So he had never called and disappeared without a word. It was a long time ago and unimportant. “Well, we were teenagers,” she told Harrison with a smile. “And we didn’t know each other that well.”
“Not that well?” From Jamie followed by a chuckle.
Seriously? Now he wanted to jump into a discussion with her? “It was only one summer,” she told them. All of them.
“Beck and Poppy used to—”
“Jamie, would you mind passing me the sugar?” Victoria said before Jamie finished his thought.
Poppy sent her a grateful look, which Victoria received with a slight nod. Poppy decided she liked Victoria. A lot.
“I’d like to hear more about your work, Poppy. Do you own your own business?”
“I do.” Poppy gave a short recap of how she and her best friend and business partner, Wynn, had started the company when they were struggling to find good jobs out of university and how a few years ago they’d been able to focus on it full-time.
“Do you plan many weddings?” Victoria asked.
Poppy noticed Beck’s frown deepen. What was that about? “No,” she answered Victoria. “I’ve done them in the past, but I generally run corporate events.”
Victoria finished stirring the sugar into her coffee and took a sip. “I see. You should speak to Beck about working for the family company. The last holiday party was a disaster.”
“How would you know?” Beck asked. His voice matched his face. Tight and tense.
“I was there,” she said.
Surprise flashed across Beck’s face, and Poppy wondered why he hadn’t been aware of his mother’s attendance. Were they that distant from one another? “That’s a lovely thought,” Poppy thanked Victoria, wanting to dispel the sudden tension emanating from Beck. “But I don’t work outside Vancouver.”
“The company is expanding,” Victoria said. She glanced at her son. “Didn’t you mention you’re buying a hotel in Vancouver?”
“The deal isn’t finalized,” Beck said. He turned to stare at Poppy and she felt that spark reignite. She didn’t like that spark. “But perhaps we could discuss things once it is?”
Too much of an entrepreneur to let the moment slip away even if it had been forced by Beck’s mother, Poppy smiled. “I’d like that.”
He smiled back at her, which had the spark threatening to turn into a flame. She watched while he peeled an orange and slid a section between his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She wondered if the heat cresting from her thighs to her face was a normal response.
When he pushed the tip of the orange outside his lips and then sucked it back in so smoothly that no one else saw, she decided the heat was completely normal for any red-blooded woman. But chose not to look at him again just in case.
* * *
BY THE TIME the brunch wound down, Poppy still hadn’t spoken more than a few words to Jamie and those had been about her and Beck.
She’d already resigned herself to going back to her parents’ place without having any private time with Jamie, when he announced he wanted to go down to the lake. And Emmy didn’t. Anticipation bubbled.
Poppy hurriedly placed the dishes on the counter. She’d offered to help wash the china and glassware that were too delicate for the dishwasher, but Victoria had declined. Now Poppy was glad.
She raised an eyebrow at Beck as she flew past him and out the door where Jamie had exited.
Jamie was halfway across the deck when Poppy realized she’d better step on it or risk being left behind with Beck. Beck and the perverted things he did to poor, innocent pieces of fruit. She reminded herself she did not want him to do those things to her. Ever again.
The sun was at its peak, throwing hot rays on everything in sight. Heat rose through her shoes as she hustled across the pool tiles after Jamie. He was really moving.
“Jamie,” she called, trying to hurry but not wanting to twist an ankle either. Her shoes weren’t made for hiking, unless it was along Robson Street.
He stopped and turned to face her. “Hey, Pop-Tart.”
She grinned at his use of her old nickname. Jamie stopped at the edge of the stones, before the copse of trees that created a barrier and provided privacy from neighbors and anyone at the lake.
“Finally,” she said when she reached him. She checked out the dirt path that led through the trees down to the lake and decided there was no point in keeping her shoes on. She’d only get a heel stuck and take a header. She slipped them off and hooked them on her fingers, linking her other arm through Jamie’s. “It seems like we’ve barely had a second to say hello.”
“Yeah. Emmy’s been keeping me busy with wedding stuff.”
Poppy tried to match his swoony smile, but she was pretty sure she failed. No matter. She wasn’t here to compare expressions.
“How are you holding up?” she asked as they made their way down the path. Jamie slowed his natural pace so she could watch where she placed her feet. Fortunately, the path was well maintained and clear of all branches and other debris. No beer cans in sight.
“Good, really good.”
“Good,” she said, though she didn’t think it was good at all. She glanced up at him, appreciating the sun that filtered through the trees and glinted on his hair. She used to tease him that he looked like an angel. An angel to Beck’s devil. She shook the thought out of her head. There was no room here for anything except Jamie. “You feeling okay about the wedding?”
He nodded. “I guess it’s true what they say about knowing it’s right when it’s the right person.”
Poppy didn’t believe that. And she wasn’t about to let Jamie believe it either. But she didn’t know how to bring up her concerns naturally.
The birds twittered around them and leaves rustled in the gentle wind as they made their way to the dock’s steps. Jamie climbed up first, then held his hand out to help her. She smiled as his warm fingers clasped hers, and she didn’t let go once they reached the top.
She needed to do this. Just jump in and ask.
“Jamie, I need to ask you—”
A loud crack stopped her short. She swiveled her head to look. What the...? And saw Beck crashing through the woods like a poorly trained elephant.
CHAPTER SIX
BECK GRINNED WHEN he saw Poppy glaring at him. She should be thanking him. The rest of the family was only seconds behind him. He heard them thundering down the path.
“Beck—” her voice was tight “—do you—”
“Emmy changed her mind about the dock,” Beck said to Jamie, though he only had eyes for Poppy. “The whole group is coming down.”
Understanding dawned on her face but didn’t stop her from stepping away from him when he tried to sling an arm around her shoulders. Since that only made him want to get closer, he backed her up to the edge of the dock so she had nowhere to go, and wrapped his arm around her side.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered.
“Making it look good,” he reminded her. And if he copped a feel of her lean body at the same time, well, he was only human.
She attempted to shrug off his arm, but Beck wasn’t going anywhere. “They’re almost here,” he said to her. “So you might want to start looking a little appreciative.”
She stiffened. “I was on the verge of success.”
Beck doubted that. If she had been, she wouldn’t be standing here with him scowling as Jamie hurried off the dock to greet Emmy as though the two had been separated by miles and months instead of minutes.
“I was,” Poppy said when she caught sight of his skeptical stare. “We were about to share a moment and then you busted out of the trees and completely wrecked it.” She tried shrugging off his arm again. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”
“I just did,” he said, and settled his arm around her more firmly. “Or were you hoping to have your little talk with Jamie with an audience looking on?”
“You know I wasn’t.” She frowned at him as though this was all his fault.
In truth, he could have let the crowd descend on her while he stayed back at the house, but he hadn’t. He’d tried to be the good guy here, which wasn’t a role he played often.
“Couldn’t you keep them away? You promised to get me some alone time with Jamie.”
“And did you not get some?” By his estimate, they’d had at least five minutes to themselves.
“Well, yes, but—”
“No buts.” Beck shook his head. “If you couldn’t get the job done in the allotted time, that’s your fault.”
He saw her temper flare. “My fault?” She elbowed him in the ribs, smiled when he blanched. “If you hadn’t horned in where you weren’t wanted—”
“Oh, I think I was wanted.” He cocked his head to indicate Jamie. “Did you get a look at his face, Red? He could barely wait to leap into the arms of his one true love.”
“Do. Not. Call. Me. Red.”
“Fine, Auburn.” He noticed she didn’t say anything about Jamie, just looked in his direction with a pinched expression on her face.
“Is it really so bad?” he asked. “They seem happy.” Marriage might not be his thing, but it seemed to agree with Jamie. And Emmy was nice enough.
“Hello?” Poppy whispered. “She’s a gold digger.”
He frowned. “A what?”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard the term before. But Emmy? Emmy was the opposite of a gold digger. Her father owned the company that provided the Lefebvre Group with all their linens, from bedding to napkins. Neither Emmy nor Grace would have to work a day in their lives, but Beck didn’t say anything. If he told Poppy now, she would end their business arrangement.
“A gold digger.” She stared up at him with those bright eyes. “Don’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind. Didn’t you run a background check on her or something?”
“No.” But only because he hadn’t needed to. “Look, Emmy’s not a gold digger.”
“How would you know?” She put her hands on her hips and did her best to stare him down. “You didn’t even bother to look into her background.”
“I just do.”
“Well, I’m not so sure and I’m not about to let Jamie get tied down to someone who’s only interested in his money.”
“Maybe they really love each other?” Beck suggested.
“Right.” Poppy snorted. Beck thought she looked adorable. All fired up and ready to protect her friend. “She just magically met Jamie and fell in love with him as soon as she found out he owned a winery.”
“Not everyone who owns a winery is rich.” He thought it was sweet that she was concerned on Jamie’s behalf. He couldn’t fault her for that, even if she was wrong about Emmy.
Poppy stopped trying to shrug his arm away and shook her head. “We both know that’s not the case with Jamie.”
It was true. Jamie’s father had left behind the land where the winery now stood, and Jamie had turned the business into a profitable one in a few short years. But Emmy still had far more money to her name.
“Poppy, has she done anything to make you think she doesn’t care about Jamie?” Beck hadn’t observed anything, but he wasn’t close to Jamie anymore. He ignored the twinge of guilt in his gut. Emmy might not be a gold digger, but people had reasons other than money to jump into marriage. Most of them bad ones.
“No, but she wouldn’t be a successful gold digger if she did.” Poppy turned to look down the dock.
Beck looked, too. Emmy’s family had started back up the path. His own parents stood off to the side, talking quietly. While Beck watched, his father reached out and stroked his mother’s cheek. He turned away.
“I need to talk to Jamie about it. Just to make sure.” Poppy poked him in the side. “Everything would be fine if you hadn’t intruded.”
Her demand to get some private time with Jamie made sense now, but Beck shrugged off her complaint. If he hadn’t intruded, the rest of the family would have come upon them like a swarm of locusts.
“Seriously,” she continued, “you haven’t held up your end of the bargain at all. You did nothing to get me this alone time. You just sat there molesting that orange while I did all the work.”
“Liked that, did you?” He smirked.
She sniffed. “Not even a little.” But he felt the way her body leaned into his for a moment and the desire of that long-ago summer flooded him.
She’d been so open and generous. Her laugh, her family, her life. And Beck hadn’t been able to get enough of it. Enough of her. He should have called her from Seattle. Should have tried to explain what happened, but it had been easier to ignore. To pretend he was like every other student at university, starting fresh with no excess baggage.
If he’d stayed with Poppy, he would have ruined her.
He’d only needed to look to his parents’ broken marriages to know he didn’t have good genetics when it came to long-term relationships. Falling into the cycle of university life where some people encouraged a no-strings attitude had seemed simpler.
“I’ve been doing my part,” Poppy said, dragging him back to the present. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I wouldn’t say you’ve made it easy.” To prove his point, he tightened his hold on her and brought her around so she faced him. Their hips pressed close together. She tried to wriggle away.
“You didn’t say anything about mauling when I agreed to this.” She continued wriggling. “Quit it,” she whispered.
He moved his head just before she banged hers into his chin. “Quit what?” he teased.
“We’re not dating, remember?”
“I remember.” But he didn’t loosen his grip. She was slippery and would scoot away if given the slightest opportunity. He knew his mother had one eye on them. All he needed was for her to see Poppy publicly end things. He’d spend the rest of the week fending off his mother’s prying questions as to why things hadn’t worked out.
“Then stop crushing me. I can’t breathe.” He wasn’t sure if she was being truthful, but he eased up a little. She made a big show of inhaling, but didn’t dart away. He figured that was a win.
Emmy and Jamie stared out at the lake, when they weren’t staring into each other’s eyes, and eventually called out they were heading back to the house because Emmy was cold. His parents followed suit.
Beck watched Poppy watch them. When they moved out of sight, she tried to shake Beck off again. But he was an immovable object. He could manage her weak attempts with one hand.
“What is the matter with you?” she asked once it became clear she wasn’t getting away from him quite so easily.
“What do you mean?” He played dumb and turned her in his arms so they faced each other again. “All my parts are in exactly the right places.” He leaned toward her so she could check for herself.
“That is not what I meant.” She wedged her elbow between her body and his so he couldn’t press up against her. “Why are you trying to convince everyone we’re dating?”
“That was the agreement.”
“No, the agreement was that I would act as a buffer and you would help me get some time with Jamie. A point at which you failed miserably.”
Beck didn’t think he’d failed miserably. He’d been the one to suggest Jamie head down to the dock to take a look at the view, and then casually mentioned to Emmy it might be chilly with the wind blowing. He’d even tried to prevent them all from coming down, but once his mother had mentioned going and his father had agreed, there had been no way to stop the entire group from making the trek.
But he shrugged in the face of her complaint. “If you think you can manage to get the time with Jamie on your own, that’s fine.”
It was a power play. A subtle one, but a play nonetheless. If she thought she could manage this on her own, she would never have joined forces with him.
“Maybe I will.” She crossed her arms and shot him a challenging look.
He recognized her bluff. Beck had seen enough of them in boardrooms to recognize the signs. The way she held his gaze without even blinking was wholly unnatural and not something a confident person did. If they were to shake hands, she’d probably try to squeeze hard enough to rub his bones together. Plus, she had a pinched curve to her lips and held herself stiffly as though waiting for the anvil to drop on her head.
“Okay,” Beck acceded to her statement. “Then I guess this is it. Good luck.” He stepped back and removed his arms from her, pleased when panic flashed across her face before she replaced it with a tired, been-there-seen-it-all smirk.
“Are you forgetting that you need me to keep your mother from shoving you and Grace into a rushed engagement? You’re trying to fake me out,” she said, taking a step toward him, “but it isn’t going to work.”
“I’m not trying to fake anyone out. It’s only a week. I can put up with anything for a week.” True, but he didn’t want to. This was much more fun. He met her eyes long enough to convince her and took another step toward the house.
She faltered, but recovered with a quick shake of her head as she followed him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want.” He moved down the steps, but instead of taking the path back to the house, stepped onto the small sandy beach.
“Okay, fine.” She charged after him, waving the shoes she still carried. “I still need your help.”
He stopped and faced her. “And what are you going to do for me?”
“I already said I would help with your mother, and I think I got off to a pretty good start today. By the way, what’s going on with your parents? I thought they were divorced.”
Beck stilled. “They are.”
“They don’t act like it.”
“I know.” The words tasted sour. They were acting like a couple of dopey teenagers.
“Are they getting back together?”
“I don’t know.” A lie. He did know. He grimaced. Not asking for outright confirmation didn’t change anything.
She put a hand on his arm. “Does it bother you?”
He didn’t want to think about it because thinking about it meant he had to face his own feelings. That he wasn’t happy about his parents reuniting. That he didn’t want to see them hurt each other again. “Yes,” he said quietly.
He wasn’t sure she heard him, until she slid her arm around his neck and hugged him. There was the sound of her shoes dropping on the sand and then the feel of her lean body wrapping around his. He liked that. Liked it a lot.
They stood that way for a minute. The wind tugged her hair loose so it draped across them. Her scent filled his head. Their bodies pressed together. Some of the ice inside him started to melt.
He pulled her closer. “It bothers me an awful lot.” And let his hands slide up her back to tangle in her glorious hair. “I’m practically devastated, but this helps. You know what else would help?”
“What?”
“A kiss.”
She shoved at his shoulders, but he wasn’t letting go. “Beck.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He dipped his head into the curve of her neck and inhaled. A quiver racked her body and caused an answering one in his own.
“I’m serious.” She turned her head so she could see him, but all that did was bring their lips within touching distance. “I was being supportive.”
“I like supportive.” He ran a hand down her side. Her dress was silky smooth. He moved his lips closer to hers. If he stuck out his tongue, he could lick her.
“About your parents.”
“I don’t want to talk about them.” He had other things on his mind, like seeing if Poppy’s skin felt as soft as her dress and if she tasted as good as he remembered.
“Well, I do.”
“No.” Her evasive games didn’t work on him. “You don’t. So about this help you’re offering me...”
“I’m not offering anything, you forced me,” she reminded him, though she hadn’t made a move to leave his embrace.
He took advantage of that by hauling her closer to him. “You don’t seem to mind.”
“I’m being polite.”
He laughed. “You’re going to have to do more than that.”
“Oh?” Her eyes were wide. If he stared into them long enough he could lose himself.
“You’re going to have to pretend you like me.” He ran a thumb over her lips.
There was a small pause with only the sound of the waves lapping on the shore and the dock. And the occasional speedboat as someone zipped down the lake.
“I like you,” she finally said.
A knot he hadn’t known was in his belly began to unravel. “As I mentioned, my mother thinks we’re dating.” A notion he was increasingly glad he’d let her keep. He touched her lips again and Poppy’s eyes darkened. “You’ll have to play along.”
“Seems like quite a hardship.”
“Well, there’s something hard about it.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Beck laughed softly. “So you won’t have a problem acting like we’re dating?”
He watched the decision play out on her face. She wanted to say yes, that was obvious, but something held her back. He placed a finger on the spot below her ear and pressed gently. She sucked in a sharp breath and closed her eyes. He drew little circles over and over.
“Exactly what would dating include?”
“I’m open to suggestions.” He was open to pretty much anything at this point. He wanted to suck on that sensitive spot, but that was his money shot. And she hadn’t said yes yet.
She opened her eyes. His heart hitched. “And you’ll get me some time with Jamie?”
“Yes,” he agreed before she finished asking. “I’ll find some time for you to have a private conversation.” He didn’t know how, didn’t care. He needed her to say yes. It was vitally important to his health because he was pretty sure if she didn’t, he would be taking cold showers for the rest of his life. “In return, you’ll start showing just how much you really do like me.”
She nodded.
Good. He cupped her face, held her still. “I think we should seal it with a kiss.”
“We should what?” Her tongue flickered out to wet her lips.
“A kiss.” He ran a hand around the back of her neck. “That expression of interest that two people who are dating share.”
“You didn’t say anything about kissing.”
No, they’d just done everything leading up to it. The breeze kicked up again, blowing her hair around them and causing her skirt to twist around his legs.
“Part of the deal,” he told her. “But if you’re not into that...”
She wasn’t going to turn him down. She couldn’t. But she was thinking again. He knew from the small wrinkle between her eyes. “Just kissing?” she asked.
Beck flexed his fingers, massaging her neck, gratified when her eyelashes fluttered. She might not be ready to admit it, but she wanted the kissing as much as he did. “If that’s what you want.”
“Just kissing,” she repeated. This time it wasn’t a question. “And what if I don’t agree?”
He couldn’t believe she was bargaining. He struggled to keep his mind on the basics of their conversation and she hunted for loopholes. “I’m not going to force you,” he said. He couldn’t let her know she had all the power. But he did stroke that spot again.
She let her head lean to the side and Beck smiled. There it was. She was going to say yes. He started thinking of all the ways he planned to take full advantage of the just kissing portion of the agreement.
“So we have a deal?” She melted against him. He remembered how she used to do that. Let herself flow into him so their bodies touched everywhere.
And then she stepped back. He frowned. She smiled. Her eyes darted to the right and the path that led back to the house.
Beck rolled onto the balls of his feet. She was going to try to sidestep him. His frown morphed into a grin. So she wanted to play, did she? He was game for that. “Unless you think the kissing will be too much for you.” He nodded sagely. “Happens all the time. Women, they can’t resist me.”
She shook her head. “I’ll do my best to manage. But—” she pinned him with a look “—just kissing.” Then she smiled, catching him off guard long enough to make the dodge he’d been expecting.
Fortunately, he was tall, with a long reach, and he’d played football in college. His reflexes were still good. His hand snapped out and caught her by the wrist. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“No.” She put her free hand on her hip. He supposed she thought she appeared intimidating. He wondered if she had any clue how she really looked standing there in her bare feet, her dress blown by the wind, showing off all her curves. “You didn’t say I had to kiss you now.”
He pointed to her shoes lying in a heap on the sand. “I meant those—” he hadn’t “—but I’m up for the kissing, too.”
Her eyes flicked toward the shoes, then her feet, then the wrist he still held. Beck tugged, slowly reeling her in, not letting the fact she tried to dig in her heels have any effect. The sand was useless for bracing anyway and he continued to pull until she pressed right up against him.
“You seem to be thinking a lot about the kissing.” He brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen across her cheek.
“I have not.” But her voice was breathless.
He rubbed both her arms as if to ward off a chill, but mostly to touch her and keep her tight to him. “Maybe we should get it out of the way so you can stop thinking about me that way. I’m not a piece of meat.”
“Nice try.” Her eyes met his, their bright blue sheen putting the sky to shame.
“I don’t hear you declining my generous offer.” And before she tried, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“WHAT DO YOU—” Poppy started to ask him what he thought he was doing, but the words never came out, swallowed whole as his lips descended on hers.
Oh. My. God.
It had never been like this at sixteen. No way. She’d remember this. A decade, two decades, a lifetime wouldn’t have been long enough to erase this from her brain. It was as if he burned himself onto her. The searing heat, the way his tongue darted out to lick the inside of her mouth, making her body quiver and melt into his. She shuddered into him.
He growled, deep and possessive, which made her blood run even hotter. It was so, so wrong, but she didn’t care and she didn’t push him away.
Her hands clamped his shoulders, digging and marking. When his arm looped around her waist, slamming her body against his, she felt the outline of his muscles and couldn’t help herself from running her hands all over them.
Hard, hot, dangerous Beck.
It was difficult to breathe. She felt as if she was sinking or floating. Something. Obviously, she was having an out-of-body experience, since she had lost her mind. This was Beck. The same man who had crushed her at sixteen and would no doubt do the same to her twelve years later without even realizing it. Which meant she needed to be strong enough for both of them.
And she would. In another minute. Or twenty.
His fingers played over the spot on her neck, the one that made her wild. Her legs shook as the sensations rolled through her. Oh, she wanted his mouth on it, on her. And once he did that, she would put a stop to this.
Okay, she would kiss him until her heart returned to its normal speed. It couldn’t keep up this runaway-train momentum forever and it wouldn’t be safe to stop before then. Yes, she was doing it for her health. The shock might do permanent damage. So would the loss of his body against hers.
He gripped her thighs, wrenching her up into his arms. She grabbed at his shoulders again, first for balance then because she liked it. She shouldn’t like it. Somewhere in the functional part of her brain that recalled the awfulness of those weeks after he’d disappeared, a voice was telling her to take a step back and assess the situation. The voice sounded a lot like her high school gym teacher, Mrs. Parker, teaching them CPR.
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