Читать книгу Wedding Promises - Sophie Pembroke - Страница 15

CHAPTER FIVE

‘THAT IS A very boring dress,’ Noah said as he handed Eloise a flute of champagne. He’d been watching her since he’d arrived at the bar for the welcome drinks, and she hadn’t welcomed a single drink yet. She had to be desperate for one. He knew he was.

He’d intended to stay away from Eloise this evening, despite his promise of a flirtation earlier. Tessa had sent him a pointed text message saying she hoped he was behaving himself, as she had a call booked in with Stefan about the audition. Clearly she was serious about this, and so he would be too.

But then he’d spent an hour making small talk with the other wedding guests and, by the end of it, he was desperate for a conversation with somebody who had never even wanted to be in a film. Which, at Melissa’s wedding, basically left Eloise.

When had this sort of event grown so meaningless? All industry chatter and gossip, and nothing of any substance. Unlike Eloise’s boring black shift dress which, in his opinion, had far too much substance. It could have done with a little bit of sheer fabric somewhere, or even just a little less weight. It hung over her body like a sack. Eloise’s body, Noah had decided from watching her move around the room, needed the sort of fabric that flowed, that moved with her, showing off her long, lean lines and gentle curves.

From the way Eloise was scowling at him, he guessed she disagreed. Oh, well. He was getting used to it.

‘I didn’t realise we’d reached the stage in our acquaintance where you felt comfortable insulting my fashion sense.’

‘I like to skip ahead to the good parts. Why waste time on the small talk?’ He flashed her his most charming smile and she just rolled her eyes.

Eloise Miller was going to be a challenge to win over—especially if he wasn’t allowed to seduce her. Fortunately, Noah loved challenges.

‘Well, you’ll get to see me in the hideous concoction Melissa has chosen for the bridesmaids soon enough,’ she assured him, then raised the champagne flute to her lips to take a sip. ‘Hopefully, that will be an interesting enough dress to keep you satisfied.’

Noah had a feeling that whatever dress Melissa had picked, it wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to satisfy him. Even standing beside Eloise, just watching her cool, pale skin and her blazing hair, he felt too warm, as if he might get burnt if he touched her. But that didn’t stop his whole body aching to reach out anyway. What was it about this woman? She wasn’t even trying—and he’d had enough women try with him to know—and yet she kept pulling him into her orbit, keeping him tethered there until it was physically hard to pull away.

The room was filled with beautiful women, yet the only one he could see was Eloise.

And that was going to be a problem. Because he really couldn’t sleep with her. He was being discreet—and that definitely meant no public fling with the maid of honour.

‘I’m sure the bridesmaids’ dresses will be lovely,’ he lied, trying not to imagine Eloise in something slippery, something low-cut, something that just fell off her skin as he pushed it aside...

‘No, you’re not,’ Eloise cut into his thoughts. ‘You know as well as I do that Melissa will have chosen something designed to make her look even more beautiful. Which, given the A-list beauty status of the rest of her bridesmaids, means that we’ll all be wearing sackcloth and ashes, or whatever the modern wedding equivalent is. In this case, something in blue-green satin and chiffon, I believe.’

‘You’d look good in anything,’ Noah replied without thinking, and she looked at him with wide eyes.

‘Thank you,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘But I’d reserve judgement until you’ve seen the dress, if I were you. Melissa is not above using her powers of fashion for evil.’

They stood side by side, observing the room, and Noah wondered if she was supposed to be working, doing something, instead of standing here with him. Then he wondered if, actually, he was meant to be doing something, in his capacity as best man. Then he decided he didn’t care. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

‘Did you know about those two?’ Eloise nodded across the room to where the little wedding planner and Riley’s brother were talking with the parents of the groom. As they chatted, Dan reached out and rested his hand at the small of Laurel’s back and she leant against him, apparently finding strength and support in his nearness.

For a moment Noah couldn’t help but think that looked nice, having that sort of connection. And then he remembered the price and shook the thought away.

‘No. They’re together?’ That hadn’t come up in any of the emails and schedules Laurel had been sending over for months.

‘Apparently.’ Eloise’s gaze didn’t move from the group across the room, but Noah couldn’t be sure if she was watching Laurel and Dan or taking in Melissa’s mother’s thunderous face. It looked as if someone else hadn’t known about the relationship either. He wondered if the bride knew yet... That could be interesting, when she arrived. Melissa believed in making an entrance, and that required being fashionably late. ‘I don’t know if it’s serious. I mean...it’s not like Melissa and Riley, is it? Another showbiz marriage destined to fail.’

‘Not all marriages end in divorce,’ Noah said mildly. ‘Only, like, half. Maybe three-quarters, in Hollywood.’

The look Eloise gave him was scathing. ‘That’s a rousing argument for the institution of marriage.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s not really my thing.’

‘Yeah, I get that.’ She tilted her head a little to the side as she considered him. Noah tried not to shift from one foot to the other, giving away his discomfort. Usually, he was used to being scrutinised from the other side of a camera or a screen. Up close and personal, it felt a little invasive. As if Eloise was looking deeper than he wanted her to know existed. ‘So, how did Riley rope you into being best man, then? You guys must be pretty close, I guess.’

‘Not really,’ Noah admitted, glad the focus had shifted away from him and onto Melissa and Riley for a while. Their wedding was a much safer topic. ‘I mean, we’ve made a few movies together, done the press junkets. But that’s about it.’

‘Huh.’ She was looking again. Studying him.

‘What?’ Noah shifted his weight from one foot to the other and swapped his empty champagne flute for a full one as a waiter passed.

‘I just figured...the way they both talked about you when we were doing the planning—especially Riley—I figured you were a bigger part of their lives.’

‘Riley said that? I mean, he made it sound that way?’ He’d always assumed that Melissa had insisted on Riley asking him, purely for the celebrity cachet that came with having Noah Cross as best man. But maybe he’d been wrong. After all, as his agent had pointed out, he wasn’t always the best at connecting with people on a deeper level. Even his friends.

‘Yeah. He did.’

‘I...I don’t usually like to get too close to people I work with,’ Noah said, wondering why he felt as if he needed to make excuses to this woman. It was her eyes, he decided. The way they seemed to look right into his soul—assuming he still had one after a decade in Hollywood. He was pretty sure some of the women he’d dated would claim otherwise.

‘Or anyone else,’ Eloise suggested.

Noah tried to ignore her remark but, seeing as it came so soon after Tessa’s comments on the phone, he couldn’t help himself from asking, ‘What makes you say that?’

‘I’ve seen the photos,’ Eloise said with a shrug. ‘All those pictures of you with a different woman every week. Not exactly the hallmark of a guy who gets up close and personal. At least, not in the non-physical sense.’

She sounded too casual as she said it, too desperate for him to believe she didn’t care what he did with women. And, on less than twelve hours’ acquaintance, why would she?

But she did. Noah was almost certain of it.

And he couldn’t do a single thing about it.

‘There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun,’ he said lightly, watching her face carefully to read her response. ‘As long as everyone involved knows that’s exactly what it is.’

‘Just fun. Casual. Meaningless. Shallow.’ She met his gaze with her own fierce blue-green eyes. How was it she seemed to see right inside him, yet he couldn’t read her at all? He prided himself on his ability to decipher people—to read enough to understand them without ever needing to get too close. But Eloise was a mystery.

Noah hated mysteries.

‘That’s right.’ He moved a little closer, slowly, so as not to spook her. Just enough that the sleeve of his jacket brushed against her bare arm.

She flinched.

He was right. She cared, for some reason. His inability to even contemplate monogamy bothered her, and he could not begin to understand why.

But he intended to find out. If he understood her, maybe he’d stop being so obsessed with her—stop feeling the need to be near her, to question her, to deepen their acquaintance. Because deep and meaningful was the last thing he wanted, with any woman. Whatever Tessa said.

Eloise’s tongue flicked over her lips as she raised her eyes to his then looked away again.

Perhaps he was making this too complicated. Maybe Eloise’s problem had nothing to do with deeper motivations at all.

Perhaps she just wanted him the same way he wanted her.

And if that was the case he had an even bigger problem.

He had to be sure.

‘A fling is always good for making a wedding a little more entertaining, don’t you find?’ he asked, and watched her cheeks turn pink.

Gotcha.

She wanted him. And he really wanted her.

Okay, so he couldn’t have her. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t play a little. Just to keep in practice.

He could find out exactly what issues she had that stopped her from even contemplating a bit of fun. He might even get her to lighten up a bit.

It would be his good deed for the day or something.

Even Tessa would have to approve of that. Right?

* * *

He was flirting with her.

Noah Cross, Hollywood heart-throb and womaniser extraordinaire, was flirting with her.

She hadn’t been sure earlier, couldn’t quite tell if his easy charm was just something he pulled out for all the ladies. Sure, it felt personal and attentive and tingly—no, not tingly. She didn’t do tingly. Anyway. She hadn’t been one hundred per cent certain that his flirtatiousness had anything to do with her exactly. He could have been like that with every woman he met for all she knew. In fact, he probably was.

But this, now; this was personal. Focused. He was staring deep into her eyes, as if he hoped to find the meaning of life there—or at least a way into her underwear.

Well. Noah Cross was going to be sorely disappointed.

‘I’ve never had a fling at a wedding,’ she said, purposefully omitting the ‘before’ from the end of the sentence. ‘Before’ implied she was thinking about doing it this time, and she wasn’t.

Oh, all right, she was. Any straight woman with a pulse would at least think about it if Noah Cross propositioned her, she was sure. But thinking was as far as Eloise was willing to go.

‘Don’t you think you should give it a try? Just once?’ Noah leaned in a little closer. ‘How else will you know if you like it or not?’

Eloise pulled back, fixing him with her sternest manager stare. This would all be so much easier if her whole body didn’t hum at the very sight of him. ‘And who, exactly, are you suggesting I have this fling with?’

Noah attempted a self-effacing look, which—kudos to his skill as an actor—almost looked realistic. ‘Well, there is always that old tradition about the maid of honour and the best man. But really, the whole room is full of attractive men—or women, if that’s your thing. All of them famous and at least half of them single—or acting as if they are, anyway.’

‘I don’t date actors,’ she said, the response as automatic and instinctive as saying yes to a cup of tea. ‘And I definitely don’t have meaningless flings with them.’ That wasn’t who she was. She’d worked hard to shake off the assumptions people in this town had made about her, based on her family and her upbringing. She wasn’t about to abandon her reputation now for one night with a movie star, just because he made her body respond in ways she’d forgotten it could.

Except he’d only offered himself as one possibility, hadn’t he? Clearly he wasn’t overly invested in this flirtation. It was all probably just a game to him. To get the repressed hotel manager to cut loose and go wild.

Well, not her. Not a chance.

‘Never?’ Noah raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow. What did we poor, defenceless actors ever do to you?’

‘Not to me. I told you. I don’t date actors.’ It was technically true—Derek hadn’t been an actor when she’d started dating him. He’d been a director. But then the leading man had fallen sick and he’d taken on the role—starring opposite Eloise’s mother. And from there it had been an old, familiar story.

She didn’t want to get into what so many actors had done to her mother. Or, more to the point, what her mother had done to them—and, by extension, what she’d done to Eloise and her father. Derek, the boyfriend her mother had stolen from her, had only been one in a long list of leading men she’d seduced then cast aside. If Eloise had needed proof that actors were all the same, she could pull out the box of old programmes her mother had kept from her amateur dramatics days and put together a list of names that made her point for her. And that was just in her home town. How much worse must Hollywood be? She didn’t want to find out.

And Noah didn’t need to know her sordid history. Especially since she absolutely was not going to sleep with him. No matter how much she wanted to.

A waiter passed and Eloise grabbed another glass of champagne. Melissa was paying for it, and it was her fault that Eloise had found herself in this position in the first place.

‘So, you’ve never dated an actor but you hate us all indiscriminately anyway. Interesting.’ Noah leant back against the bar behind him. ‘Care to tell me why you cling onto this prejudice so tenaciously? Especially since we’ve established that any fling at this wedding won’t be happening between us?’

He wasn’t the sort to give up—Eloise knew that after only a day in his company. If she had to guess, she’d say that Noah was the sort of guy who liked to understand something well enough for his own purposes and then move on. He was only interested in the surface knowledge, enough to fake a part, she supposed.

Well, surface she could do. She just didn’t want to get down to the deep, painful memories that lay underneath it.

Of course, she was pretty sure Noah didn’t want to either. If she actually broke down and gave him her sob story, he’d run in the other direction. That was something to keep in reserve, in case she needed it.

‘You’re all the same,’ she said with a shrug. ‘You fall in love for the length of time it takes to get a movie made, or to star in a play. Then, once it’s all over, you’re onto the next leading lady or love interest. Half your relationships are film promo, as far as I can tell.’

Noah raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow. You really do have a chip on your shoulder about this.’

‘Tell me I’m wrong,’ Eloise challenged. ‘You said yourself you were just looking for a fling.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with a fling, as long as both parties know what they’re getting into,’ Noah said mildly.

‘Which is what, exactly?’ Of course he’d think that. It was the perfect justification for never having to have a real relationship. ‘A meaningless encounter with someone you never really get to know?’

‘What’s so wrong with that?’ Noah asked with a shrug. ‘Maybe we’re not supposed to know the innermost depths of everyone we meet.’

‘Perhaps not. But...don’t you want that connection?’ Eloise had to admit she did. Which might be the reason she didn’t date so much. She hadn’t met many guys over the past few years she wanted to get to know that well. But that sounded a bit too much like conceding the point, so she didn’t say it.

‘Real and deep doesn’t mean for ever, Eloise.’ There was a harshness to Noah’s voice she hadn’t heard before. ‘The most real and important relationship of my life lasted barely twenty-four hours.’

She blinked. That was definitely new. ‘That must have been...intense.’ She couldn’t imagine it. From his tone she could tell that, whatever the relationship was, it had mattered—and mattered deeply. She couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to have that and then have it taken away again. What had happened? She wanted to ask but, before she could find a way to phrase the question, Noah spoke again.

‘It was.’ He flashed her a smile that was so at odds with the conversation Eloise wondered for a moment if she’d missed the joke. ‘Enough for one lifetime, anyway. Which is why I prefer things my way these days—fun, light and easy.’

‘And never getting in too deep,’ Eloise said, frowning.

‘That way you don’t drown,’ Noah joked. ‘I know when I’m out of my depth.’

She wanted to ask more, wanted to try and understand his attitude. Not to understand Noah himself, exactly, she realised, but to try and get some perspective on her mother. Was this how she’d felt? Or had she just been incapable of real love, as Eloise had always believed?

Maybe Noah was too. In which case, it was just as well she had no intention of getting any closer to him. A fling might be his sort of thing, but it wasn’t hers. It never had been.

And she was firmly ignoring the small voice at the back of her head whispering, How will you know if you never try it? Especially as it sounded exactly like Noah Cross.

‘So, who was she?’ Eloise asked, but Noah wasn’t listening any more. And, as she followed his gaze to the doorway, Eloise forgot what she’d been asking about.

Melissa stood in the entrance, arms wide, wearing a stunning forest-green gown that left her shoulders and a great deal of cleavage bare, before nipping in at her waist and following every curve down to her knees, where it flared out again.

‘Now that is not a boring dress,’ Noah murmured. ‘Of course, it would look better on you.’

‘Liar.’ Melissa looked as if she’d been born to wear that dress, and the smile on her face said she knew it.

‘It’s true.’ Noah pressed up behind her as the crowd gathered around the bride. ‘You have the height to pull it off—your legs would look endless. And that colour...made for a redhead.’

‘Maybe.’ But she’d never have the confidence to wear it. Not in a million years.

‘Of course, you’d have to wear your hair down,’ Noah added, touching the hundreds of pins that kept her hair firmly out of her way when she was working. ‘Which would be an added bonus.’

Clearly the guy had a thing for redheads. Which was funny because she’d never seen him with any on the red carpet.

‘I thought we’d established that we weren’t going to be having any sort of fling,’ she said drily. ‘I’m pretty sure that means you can stop with the compliments now.’

Noah shrugged. ‘I figured we could be friends instead. Friends compliment each other.’

Did they? Eloise wasn’t sure she’d know. But that might just be because Melissa had always been her baseline for friendship.

‘Friends?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Friends. Think you can manage it?’

‘I’ll give it a try,’ she replied drily. Friends with another Hollywood star. Hopefully this one would go better than her friendship with Melissa.

‘Everyone! My fiancé and I are just so delighted to welcome you all here to celebrate our wedding.’ Melissa beamed around the room and Riley stepped out of her shadow, looking awkward in a dinner jacket, and gave a little wave. ‘I hope you all have just the best time—’ She cut off abruptly, her smile replaced by a sudden scowl.

Eloise tried to figure out what had changed, and followed Melissa’s gaze to...oh, dear.

Dan had his arm around Laurel and, from where Eloise stood, she could see him staring up at Melissa, a challenge in his eyes.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Melissa asked, her hands on her hips.

‘Guess we weren’t the only ones who didn’t know about Laurel and Dan,’ Noah murmured as Eloise headed into the fray to smooth over the situation.

Playtime was over.

* * *

Noah sighed, putting the script to one side again, and wished that the curtains of the four-poster bed didn’t feel as if they were closing in. He had shut them to try and give himself a cosy cocoon in which to read through the script for Eight Days After again, looking for those deeper resonances he knew he’d need to hit to get the part. But instead he just felt trapped.

Maybe Tessa was right. Maybe this wasn’t the part for him. He was a good actor, he knew that. But this role...maybe it cut a little too close to home.

He thought back over his conversation with Eloise. Now there was a woman who believed in deep and meaningful. He almost wished he could just get her to explain it to him, so he could fake it well enough to get the part without ever actually having to feel it himself. If there was a woman in the world who could do it, Noah would place money on it being Eloise. There was something about her eyes, her expressions. The way everything she felt or thought was telegraphed out to her audience in her face. He could almost see the thoughts floating across her eyes, like subtitles on a foreign movie.

She didn’t think much of him—that was certain. Which was a shame, given his body’s automatic reaction whenever she was near—but also probably just as well, under the circumstances.

No, it was just as well they’d established the ‘no fling’ ground rules. Not only was he not in the market for it right now, but she was clearly out for love, marriage, the whole shebang. And he most definitely wasn’t. Noah wasn’t the sort of guy who’d let a girl carry those sorts of hopes into bed with her, even if it was the only way to get her there. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t worth it. He was always very clear about what he was willing to offer.

And he’d only ever offered more once. Only to have it all taken away twenty-four hours later.

Suddenly restless, Noah pushed the curtains aside and jumped off the bed, heading for the minibar.

He shouldn’t have mentioned Sally to Eloise. Oh, he might not have said her name, might not have gone into detail, but Eloise was the sort of woman who asked questions. She’d want to know more and, given how much time they were likely to be spending together over the next few days, she’d try her hardest to find out. Noah foresaw a lot of time spent sidestepping questions in his future. Good job he’d had all that fancy media training. Avoiding Eloise’s questions would be as hard as any interview he’d ever sat.

He supposed he’d started it. He’d wanted to play, wanted to pick at her secrets and truths. It was only fair she got to do the same in return.

Noah poured a healthy measure of whisky into one of the glass tumblers on top of the well-stocked refrigerator, then bypassed the sofa to head back to the bed, leaving the curtains open this time. He took a sip, savouring the burn of the alcohol in his throat. This was what he needed to focus on—the here and now, the current moment. Not a woman seven years dead, or the future he had lost that day.

Eloise might think that all actors were only in it for the cheap thrill, the quick, meaningless satisfaction. But she was wrong. He’d wanted more once—and he’d had it too.

Just not for very long.

He’d spent his whole teenage years in love with one woman. And when she finally realised she might feel the same...he’d let her down, just when she’d needed him most.

He knew how it felt to have his heart ripped from his chest, and he wasn’t about to go seeking that again.

He took another gulp of whisky. He didn’t need the memories tonight. He needed to focus on the script and how to fake those deeper emotions he’d locked away inside the day Sally died. Because he had no intention of ever feeling them again.