Not Another Wedding

“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.