Читать книгу Wedding Promises - Jennifer Faye - Страница 17

CHAPTER EIGHT

ELOISE REFUSED TO dwell on the memory of Noah’s kiss, instead throwing herself into traipsing around the Frost Fair to make sure that everything was going perfectly. Then, when the stallholders started looking irritated at her interference and Laurel assured her that she had everything in hand, Eloise stormed off back to the hotel to get out of her ridiculous costume and into something more appropriate for Melissa’s hen night.

By the time the bride, bridesmaids and other favoured female guests were gathered for games, pink drinks and the wearing of feather boas in the main bar that evening, Eloise could still feel the memory of Noah’s lips against hers.

How was she supposed to think about anything else after a kiss like that? She’d barely managed to focus on her job long enough to check everything was in place for the hen night. And choosing a dress... Well, what did one wear after wearing Juliet’s best frock all afternoon? Eloise’s wardrobe certainly had nothing so fancy. In the end, she’d settled on another navy dress—one of four in her wardrobe. This one, at least, was made of more slippery material than her thick, knitted work one, and it skimmed over her body in a way that suggested that she might actually have some curves under the fabric. Somewhere.

Just in case Noah felt the sudden need to reprise their roles of Romeo and Juliet, she told herself. After all, if it was Juliet kissing Noah rather than Eloise, that couldn’t be so bad, right?

No. That was crazy. And that was exactly the sort of thinking that had seen her mother fall into affair after affair with her leading men.

Eloise had sworn her whole life that she wouldn’t make the same mistakes. That she wouldn’t get caught up in the spectacle of a love affair and miss the reality underneath. She’d rather a boring, predictable romance to the high drama of the ones her mother had enjoyed anyway. And she wouldn’t let movie star good looks and charm sway her from that.

No matter how incredible his kisses were.

They’d said friends. That was what she had to stick to. That was what she needed to get her through this nightmare of a wedding—a friend.

‘Of course, Eloise had loads of practice at being on stage, didn’t you?’ Melissa waved her champagne flute across the table in Eloise’s direction as she spoke, and Eloise scrambled to try and catch up on the conversation she’d been ignoring in favour of reliving Noah’s kiss.

‘Sorry?’

Melissa rolled her eyes. ‘The girls were just talking about your performance at the Frost Fair this afternoon.’

‘You were fantastic!’ one of the guests Eloise had met only briefly, and didn’t recognise from the movies at all, said. She had a feeling the woman was the wife of a director or something similar. ‘You really brought the whole Frost Fair to life.’

Eloise looked down at her hands to try and hide her blush.

‘And I was saying how you’d had lots of practice on the stage,’ Melissa went on. ‘Totally different to the movies, of course. But all those years taking part in those local plays with your mum was obviously good for something, wasn’t it?’

Melissa’s gaze met hers as she spoke, and Eloise felt the threat in her words as she mentioned her mother. A chill ran through her at the calculating look in Melissa’s eyes. The unspoken message was clear: upstage the bride again, and everyone would get to hear about Eloise’s mother’s antics.

Everything Eloise had spent the last ten years living down would be public knowledge all over again.

‘Perhaps it’s time for the first game?’ Eloise stood and clapped her hands together, deflecting the conversation away from herself.

Melissa, mollified for the time being, beamed as her guests threw themselves into games that thrust her back into the centre of attention. Eloise, meanwhile, found herself watching from the sidelines, noting every other instance of Melissa manipulating the evening to keep herself on top. Like the way the bridesmaids were all just slightly less beautiful and famous than she was. Or how guests with little to give in a professional sense were kept on the outskirts of the gathering, while much attention was given to those in power—directors, actresses with more Hollywood pull. The tiered system Melissa had in place was obvious, now she knew what she was looking for.

Clearly Melissa had managed to keep her reputation for sweetness intact in the film industry, the same way she always had when working at Morwen Hall. But Eloise was sure there must be people in Hollywood who had experienced the other side of Melissa too—as she had all those years ago.

She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if one of those people suddenly became more famous and powerful than Melissa.

‘Time for Balloon Question Time!’ Laurel, official hen party planner, clapped her hands and distracted the group from laughing at the male body parts they’d all been making out of modelling clay for the previous game. Eloise, having observed their efforts, was glad of the change of pace.

‘Now, this game has a bit of a twist,’ Laurel said, looking at Eloise with an apology in her eyes as she spoke. ‘We have twenty questions in these twenty balloons in the net. The pink balloons hold questions for the bride. The purple balloons have questions for the bridesmaids and maid of honour to answer.’

Eloise groaned, hoping the sound was covered by the excited chatter of the other hens and the music playing in the bar. Just what she needed—more attention.

‘So, ladies, line up and prepare to pop balloons! Bride, bridesmaids and maid of honour, come on down!’ Melissa, Iona and Caitlin followed Laurel’s instructions and took their seats on the barstools lined up on the platform by the bar. Eloise followed more slowly.

‘Want to give me a heads up?’ she whispered to Laurel as she passed.

‘Sorry, no can do. I didn’t set the questions. Melissa did.’ Laurel patted her on the arm. ‘On the plus side, if you refuse to answer any of them, you get to drink a shot.’

More alcohol. That would help.

The first few balloons went well. Each guest took a turn popping one, then reading out the question inside, directing it at the bride or attendants depending on its colour. Melissa answered questions about her first boyfriend—where she shot a warning look at Eloise before lying through her teeth—and the role she’d most like to play on film, Marie Antoinette, which Eloise could totally see. Caitlin answered the question about her biggest regret, and Iona one about her favourite memory of Melissa.

And then, with the next purple balloon, it was Eloise’s turn.

‘Well, this seems very appropriate today,’ Laurel said, grinning. Eloise felt something inside her relax. Laurel obviously felt that this was a safe question. How bad could it be? ‘Eloise, tell us—in detail—about your best ever kiss.’

The room burst into laughter—all except Melissa, who sat stony-faced beside her. She must have written the questions before the Frost Fair, Eloise realised. Laurel had been setting up the games while the festivities were still going on, so she must have had the questions beforehand. There was no way Melissa wanted to draw attention back to Eloise and Noah’s kiss.

‘I think we all saw the answer to that this afternoon!’ Caitlin said, and took another sip from her bright pink cocktail. ‘So, tell us! How did it feel?’

Melissa snorted—which led Eloise to assume she’d had one too many cocktails. ‘As if we don’t all already know that? Noah Cross must have dated almost every woman in this room.’

‘I went to an awards ceremony with him,’ Iona said. ‘But he never kissed me like that.’

‘Or me,’ someone else piped up.

‘He didn’t kiss me at all,’ another woman added. Eloise frowned. She might think that Noah’s playboy reputation was a lie, except anyone who kissed like he did had clearly been practising a lot.

‘It was just a kiss,’ Eloise said, realising that the hens were still waiting for an answer. ‘It wasn’t even a real one. We were acting.’

‘Looked pretty real to me,’ Caitlin said.

‘That is sort of the idea, Cait,’ Melissa snapped. ‘Although I appreciate you might not have reached that lesson in your drama training yet.’

There was a moment of stunned silence, and Melissa obviously realised she’d stepped out of her perfect friend character. She turned to Eloise and beamed. ‘It did look very real though, I suppose. But then, that shouldn’t be such a surprise, should it? It must be in the genes.’

Iona frowned. ‘In the jeans? They were in period costume.’

‘Genes with a G,’ Melissa said sharply. ‘Eloise’s mother was an actress too, you see, locally, anyway. And she was absolutely famous for her ability to make all her leading men fall in love with her. Wasn’t she?’

Eloise froze, the shame and humiliation cresting over her like a wave, just at the reminder. Melissa knew every single story that had ever been told about Eloise’s mother. Her own mother had been the one spreading the rumours, most of the time.

She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter—that these people, flown in for the week for a wedding, would be out of her life in just a few days. They didn’t care about her, didn’t care about her past. They had no importance in her life.

But knowing that didn’t make any difference. The humiliation she’d endured at the hands of her mother’s behaviour for so many years hadn’t faded, even now. She wouldn’t ever shake those painful memories, she knew. The whispers, the whole town talking about her, casting sympathetic—or worse, mocking—glances at her father. Everyone she knew expecting her to turn out the exact same way.

‘She sounds like quite the lady,’ Caitlin said, eyeing Eloise with more interest than she’d ever shown previously. ‘Did she ever try to make it professionally?’

‘She used to be a dancer in London, didn’t she, Eloise?’ Melissa asked lightly. ‘You know the sort.’

‘Sure.’ Iona laughed. ‘Well, everyone has to start somewhere.’

‘And those without the talent stay there,’ Caitlin finished, sending a ripple of amusement through the crowd.

‘It was sad, really,’ Melissa said. ‘She must have been quite beautiful once, I suppose. But you know how older women get sometimes, when they’re worried about being left on the shelf, or can’t find satisfaction in their marriage. They start running after everything that moves, no matter how ridiculous they look. She even went after your own boyfriend once, didn’t she, Eloise? And got him too, as I recall.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor woman; she clearly had issues.’ As if that false sympathy, tacked on the end, somehow made up for the fact that she was trashing Eloise’s mother’s name—and Eloise’s reputation at the same time.

‘Does Noah know about your family tendency to seduce co-stars?’ Melissa turned her most innocent smile and wide eyes on Eloise.

Eloise couldn’t take it any more. ‘Melissa, could I please have a word with you outside?’ she ground out between clenched teeth.

‘But darling! We’re all having so much fun here!’

‘I just remembered something about the arrangements for the...ah...photo shoot tomorrow. I’d hate for anything to go wrong.’

Melissa rolled her eyes and slid off her barstool. ‘Oh, fine. Honestly, finding capable people these days... You guys all carry on having fun! I’ll be right back.’

Eloise stalked out of the bar into the empty corridor, breathing deeply in the hope that she’d be able to talk to Melissa rationally and calmly. Like a grown-up. Like she’d never managed to do with her before.

‘So, what’s the problem?’ Melissa asked, all trace of her affected friendliness gone.

‘I’d rather you didn’t bring my mother into conversations, please,’ Eloise said as calmly as possible. ‘My family history has no bearing on this wedding, and I’m sure your friends don’t care about who my mother slept with over a decade ago.’

‘I’m sure they don’t either,’ Melissa said, her tone sharp. ‘Your mother was a slut and a disgrace, but who cares about that now, right? But if you’re sleeping with Noah Cross, you can bet everyone in Hollywood will care about that. It’ll be the biggest story of my wedding—and that is unacceptable.’

‘I’m not...I’m not sleeping with Noah. I only just met the guy,’ Eloise said, taken aback.

‘So? What difference does that make?’ Melissa asked. ‘He’s a huge name, he’s gorgeous, he’s loaded and he’s interested. Of course you’re going to sleep with him. You’d be an idiot not to. But not at my wedding, okay?’

Melissa turned and strode back into the bar, her perfect smile in place on her perfect face. Eloise stared after her, stunned.

‘But... But I’m not sleeping with Noah Cross,’ she said again, to the empty hallway.

‘And isn’t that a crying shame?’ Noah said from behind her.

* * *

Noah hadn’t meant to gatecrash the hen night. It was just that he felt about ten years too old for the stag do. Not in actual age, he supposed, but in maturity. And, given that he regularly expected to be the least mature guy at the table, that was saying something.

Riley might be getting married, but he still seemed like a kid to Noah. It was as if the whole wedding was a game, another act. That at the end of the day he could take his ring off and go back to being just Riley again—no harm, no foul.

Marriage meant somewhat more to Noah. That was why he had no intention of ever entertaining the institution.

Still, even knowing that not everyone in Hollywood shared his opinion on the importance of marriage, he hadn’t expected the stag do to feel so...shallow. Meaningless.

Irrationally, he blamed Eloise. She was the opposite of shallow. She’d given him false expectations for the rest of the world.

He hadn’t even been looking for Eloise, particularly. He’d been looking for a drink—a proper one, not a cup from the keg Riley had insisted on, as a homage to frat movies past. But when he’d heard Eloise’s voice...he had to admit that maybe it had been her he’d been looking for all along.

Melissa spat out something hateful about Eloise’s mother, and Eloise responded with a denial. Noah moved in closer, in time to hear Melissa rate all the things about him that mattered in her world, none of which were anything he’d want to feature in his obituary.

Then she left, and Eloise was alone in the hallway.

‘I’m not sleeping with Noah Cross,’ she said.

Noah stepped out of the shadows. ‘And isn’t that a crying shame?’

Eloise spun round, her eyes wide. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Just looking for a drink.’ Was it the lights, or was that something akin to lust that he saw in her eyes? ‘And you.’

‘Why?’

He didn’t have an answer. It should have been easy—I want you. I desire you. He’d been sure that was all this was, this strange attraction between them. A game, a flirtation. A friendship with edge, that was all. At least until the kiss they’d shared at the Frost Fair.

Now...now he had no idea what this was, or why the need to be with her was thrumming through his body like a second heartbeat.

But it was. And he did need her. Right now.

Discretion be damned.

Noah moved forward, closing the distance between them in just a couple of steps. Eloise licked her lips, just a quick brush of her pink tongue against her lower lip, but it was enough to drive Noah wild. Enough for him to imagine those lips on his own again. To imagine them on his skin, covering his body, while his own mouth touched every single inch of her...

No, he had no idea what this was between them. But he knew he was done fighting it.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, just as he had on the stage that afternoon. But this time there were no costumes, no parts. No Romeo, no Juliet. Just Noah and Eloise.

She stared up at him, her lips parted, her pupils so large they almost eclipsed the blue-green of her beautiful eyes. She wanted this as badly as he did; he could see it.

But the most frightening thing was, he wasn’t sure that a kiss would be enough. Or one night. Or several nights.

He wanted her body, sure, but what scared him was how much more he wanted. What was it about Eloise that made him want to look deeper? To know more, to understand?

Deeper was off the table—and had been since Sally.

But if it hadn’t been...he had a feeling that Eloise was a woman he could have shown every inch of his soul, and come to know hers in return.

He shook his head, just an inch or so, just enough to dismiss the thoughts. He’d known the woman a couple of days. That wasn’t what this was about, for either of them.

All he needed to concentrate on was kissing her again.

He didn’t say anything—words were unnecessary now. As he stared into Eloise’s eyes he knew she understood everything he wasn’t saying. He tilted his head, lowering his lips to hers, and she rose up on her toes to meet him, pressing her body against his. He could feel every inch of her pressed against him, warm and soft and wanting where they touched, and he couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. It took everything he had not to sweep her up against the nearest wall and make love to her, without a thought for who might see or what they’d think. Or what might get back to Stefan, the director, who needed to believe that Noah could control his baser instincts.

Usually, he could, Noah was sure. He remembered having control, willpower, restraint once. Before he’d met Eloise.

He’d never felt this before—this desperate, unthinking desire. He’d dated the world’s most beautiful women and he’d had true love, yet none of them had ever inspired this sort of passion down deep inside of him.

Noah didn’t want to think too much about what that meant. He just wanted to enjoy it.

But then Eloise pulled away.

Noah let his hands fall from her waist as she stepped back, staring up at him, her mouth half open as if she wanted to talk but couldn’t quite get the words out. After a moment of wordless staring, she swallowed and said, ‘Not here. Please, not here.’

‘Right. Of course.’ This was a bad idea. This was everything he’d sworn he wouldn’t do this week. ‘I should go.’

But then Eloise met his gaze and shook her head before she turned away, stalking up the hallway towards the stairs.

He watched her go, his whole body at war with his mind. His feet ached to follow her, his arms to reach out and grab her. But his mind told him to stop this now, before it grew too much. Too dangerous.

Never mind that it could jeopardise the first movie role he’d been excited about in seven years. As much as he wanted it right now, the film seemed like the least important thing in his world.

There was a reason he didn’t normally feel this way about women—he didn’t let himself. But Eloise had pierced through every defence he’d ever built in less than forty-eight hours. How much more damage could she do with another day?

His eyes fell shut as he willed his body to leave it be.

But this time his body won out.

It took seconds to catch her up, halfway up the stairs to the third floor, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. Which at least meant she wasn’t sending him away. In silence, they made their way up the stairs, down darkened hallways, to a room at the far corner of the hotel.

Eloise’s hands shook as she reached for her key, and he leaned over to take it from her without thinking. She rested against the door, her back to the wood as she looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable now. Wary.

‘I said I wouldn’t do this,’ she whispered. So had he. But some things couldn’t be denied.

‘Because you don’t want to?’ he asked softly. ‘Or because Melissa told you not to?’

‘Because I’m not normally this person.’

‘Do you want to be?’

If she said no, he’d walk away. The frustration might kill him but he’d do it. But he didn’t think she would. He’d seen something deeper in her—something more than she’d admit to. She might try and hide herself in those dark and dull dresses, might pin her beautiful hair back so it didn’t blaze so brightly, but she couldn’t hide who she really was for ever.

And Noah had a feeling that the real Eloise Miller would be spectacular.

How could he not want to see her in all her glory?

‘If you ask me to go,’ he said, his voice hoarse, ‘I’ll go.’

She bit her lip, then reached out to take the key from him again.

‘Don’t go,’ she whispered, and Noah’s whole soul sang.