Читать книгу Not Another Wedding - Jennifer McKenzie - Страница 11

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.”