Can't Buy Me Love

by Beth K. Vogt

  “Thanks, Lis.” Bellamy accepted a glass of white wine from a passing waiter. “I didn’t expect quite this many people.”

  Elisabeth quirked an eyebrow. “You come from a family of ten. You, of all people, should know how to manage a crowd.”

  “And you, of all people, should know how I feel about being ‘the end’ kid in my family.” The sip of chilled fruity wine eased the tightness in her throat. “I’m the one who gets lost in a crowd of incredibly talented, intelligent people.”

  “Well then, let’s do what comes naturally and get lost in this crowd and enjoy ourselves until your fiancé comes and finds you for the gift-opening festivities.”

  Elisabeth linked their arms and wove their way through the guests. Music floated through the house, mingling with the ebb and flow of conversation. Had Bellamy ever known anyone who owned a house with an actual music room? Her parents sat on a curved-back sofa in ice-blue crushed velvet, talking with Reid’s mother and another couple. The shoulder of the woman’s black dress was adorned with a large jewel-encrusted brooch shaped like a peacock. Her siblings—and Bridget’s and Keagan’s spouses—did what the accomplished, self-assured Hillmans did. Mingled—and made it look easy.

  Once outside, Bellamy took a deep breath. September was one of her favorite times in Colorado—the weather just about perfect. Beneath an oversized tent, tables decorated with vivid purple irises and white roses covered one area of the lawn, while guests helped themselves to an array of hors d’oeuvres. Reid’s mother had arranged for everything from shrimp cocktail to bacon-wrapped dates to crab-salad canapés. At one station, chefs made fresh sushi, and at another, a bartender poured drinks. When she’d arrived earlier, Reid’s mother had shown Bellamy the selection of miniature cakes and pies that would be served after she and Reid opened the tower of gifts. Some guests had adorned their packages with different types of brooches or sparkly earrings. The “stash,” as Reid had called it in a whispered aside accompanied by a soft chuckle, was all arranged in front of the tall natural stone fireplace in a room off the formal dining room. And somewhere in the midst of all this celebration, a photographer was capturing pictures of the guests, the family members, her and Reid, the scenery. Bellamy hadn’t met him—or her—yet, but as his father hauled him off for the first of many “vital” conversations, Reid had tossed her a quick warning that photographs were being taken at the request of his mother.

  “I think the Stantons invited anybody they knew in the Springs and Denver to this party. So much for Reid’s hope to keep our wedding low-key by having a destination wedding in Manhattan.” Bellamy handed her half-empty glass to another waiter who hovered nearby. Since she couldn’t manage to pick up anything from a tray with her new nails, she had to be careful not to drink all her calories. She needed to request a ginger ale. “After his sister’s engagement and wedding attracted so much media attention, all he wanted was to somehow maintain our privacy.”

  “Is that his sister, Lydia, over there?”

  Bellamy couldn’t help but admire how comfortable Lydia Webster was as she worked the crowd like a pro. And to be slender—not skinny. “Yes, that’s Lydia.”

  “I thought she and her husband lived in England.”

  “They do, but he’s away on location filming his latest movie—some action film that’s already getting buzz. She said Lincoln would try to make it, but it doesn’t look like it will happen.”

  “How fun for you—you’ll be Lincoln Webster’s sister-in-law.”

  “In the most distant way possible. Most important, I’ll be Mrs. Reid Stanton. How did I get so lucky?”

  “Reid’s the lucky one.”

  “Spoken like a true best friend.”

  “Only because it’s true. You are made in God’s image—and that is just one of the reasons Reid is attracted to you.” Elisabeth held up her hand, holding off Bellamy’s comment. “And now I’m changing the subject again so you can just agree with me. How about I get us some sushi?”

  “Sounds perfect—with an extra dash of wasabi.” Bellamy held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. “I’m starving here.”

  As they made their way to the tall table where a group gathered as two chefs created sushi, a man with long hair brushing the collar of his dark suit jacket intercepted them.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Nick. Can I get a few photographs?” He tapped the side of his camera, which hung from a black strap around his neck.

  Bellamy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. At least the curls she’d worked so hard for hadn’t wilted yet. And she couldn’t say no when this was part of the engagement party “fun.” “I guess so. How about one of me and Elisabeth?”

  “Elisabeth?” The man fumbled in his pants pocket. “You’ll have to remind me just who this other lovely lady is. I seem to have misplaced the list of people Mrs. Stanton requested be photographed. Of course, there’s no mistaking the bride.”

  “Elisabeth Straker, my maid of honor.”

  “Of course. Why don’t we walk over here so the Kissing Camels is behind you?” He indicated the distinctive red rock formation beyond them.

  After a few photographs, the man nodded toward Bellamy. “Now a few of just the bride-to-be.”

  “Of course.” Already Elisabeth was backing away. “I’ll go get the appetizers for us, Belle.”

  Bellamy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait and I’ll go with you—”

  “I’ll return you to Elisabeth in just a few minutes. Let’s change locations. Can’t do the same thing over and over again. No ‘Been there, photographed that,’ if you know what I mean.”

  Nick placed his hand against her back and ushered her to a corner of the yard, close to where Lydia stood talking with a trio of older women.

  “You have a great smile.” Nick took two quick pictures and then motioned toward Reid’s sister. “Your future sister-in-law is in the wedding party, too, isn’t she?”

  “Lydia? Yes, she’s the bridesmaid.”

  “Well then, we need to get a couple of shots of the two of you—bride and bridesmaid as well as future sisters.”

  What did she know about the photo list? “I suppose that would be okay.”

  Nick followed, waiting while Lydia finished her conversation and turned toward them, leaning to give Bellamy a hug.

  Click.

  Since when was her backside considered an attractive photo op?

  “The photographer your parents hired for the party—” Bellamy stepped away from Lydia. “—wanted to get a photo of the two of us.”

  But Nick was already taking pictures, his camera whirring.

  The smile on Lydia’s face faded as she advanced upon the man. Even as Nick stumbled backward, he kept taking photos.

  “Hey!” Lydia’s hands went up in front of her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Within seconds, a tall man with a dark crew cut appeared behind Nick. Placing a beefy hand on his shoulder, he stopped the photographer’s retreat.

  “I’ll take that camera.” Crew Cut’s voice was a growl. “Now.”

  The photographer tried to shrug out of the other man’s grasp—and failed. His hair fell forward across his eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m not giving you my camera! Do you know how much a photo of Lincoln Webster’s wife is worth?”

  Lydia yanked the camera from his hands as Crew Cut removed the strap from around his neck. “It’s bad enough you parasites hound me and my husband on the street. This is a private party—”

  “Everybody has a price, baby.” The photographer’s smile morphed to a sneer.

  “Well, I hope you can manage without a paycheck.”

  With a few quick motions, Lydia deleted all the photographs on the card and the camera’s internal hard drive.

  “Hey! I had other pictures on there—”

  “Too bad.” Lydia tossed the c
amera into the air, not even watching to see if the man caught it before turning away. “Eli, show the man out—but first, make sure you check his pockets for anything he may have stolen.”

  A small crowd had gathered while Lydia took on the imposter photographer. People moved aside as Eli—and just who was he?—none too gently led him away.

  “I’m so sorry.” Bellamy tried to figure out how many different ways she could apologize. “I didn’t know . . . he said he was the photographer—”

  “He’s just another person who thinks he has every right to make his living off me—because I’m married to Linc.” Lydia paused, shaking her head, causing her chandelier earrings to sway. “And here comes the cavalry.”

  Reid and his father, followed by Bellamy’s father and two of her brothers, made their way past the murmuring crowd. Mr. Stanton spoke first.

  “What is going on?”

  “Nothing Eli couldn’t handle, Daddy.” Lydia patted his arm and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. “And before you ask, yes, I will stop fussing about the security guard that Linc insisted on hiring.”

  Eli was Lydia’s security guard?

  “Are you okay?” As Reid placed an arm around her shoulders, the scent of his understated cologne wrapped around her.

  “I’m fine.” She relished the warmth of his solid embrace. “I can’t believe I was that naïve.”

  “There was no way you could know he wasn’t the family photographer.” He clasped her hand, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle on the back of her hand. “I didn’t mention that Francine Frey has taken our family’s photos for years. She photographed Lydia’s wedding last year.”

  A personal photographer. Mrs. Stanton had a personal chef. And a chauffeur. Mr. Stanton had a private pilot to fly his personal plane. Her whirlwind romance with Reid kept bringing her back to these questions: How long would it take for her to fit into the Stantons’ lifestyle? What other mistakes would she make before she did?

  She allowed Reid to lead her away, waving off her brothers and father. Let them talk to Lydia. She didn’t want to handle the barrage of questions that was sure to come either now or later. She’d take later—much later. Or somehow manage to avoid it all.

  • • •

  A few more miles and they’d be at Bellamy’s—well, at her parents’. Reid couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips whenever he thought of Bellamy living over her parents’ garage—it was so old-fashioned. Bellamy said it was a great way to save money, but readily confessed that somehow her savings account never quite grew the way she anticipated.

  “All in all, the engagement party went well.”

  Bellamy remained quiet, her eyes closed, her head resting back against the seat of his car, her long curls wilted around her shoulders. Was she asleep?

  Then she half turned to face him, her face hidden in the shifting light and shadow of the moving automobile.

  “I’m sorry about what happened—”

  “Bellamy.” He covered her hands with one of his, his palm brushing against her engagement ring. “You’ve apologized to me. To Lydia. To Francine. To my parents—and to anyone else you could think of. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I just feel so stupid.”

  “No more apologies. It was a small part—a very small part—of our celebration. I had a wonderful time showing you off to my friends and colleagues.”

  “Showing me off—right.” Even as she shrugged off his comment, her fingers tightened around his.

  “I meant what I said about showing you off. You’re lovely. Charming.” The tires spit out loose gravel as he turned the car onto the unpaved road leading to the Hillmans’ house, causing Reid to decrease his speed. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips adorned with those unexpected red nails. “You had everyone laughing while we were opening presents. You were gracious. People now know several reasons why I am marrying you.”

  “Because I make you laugh.”

  “There is that. For the past few years, I’ve been so focused on work it’s as if I’d forgotten how to have fun. You’ve reminded me to slow down and make time for the good things in life.” Reid parked the car alongside the garage, turning the engine off. Leaning toward her, he caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. “Think one of your parents would come out and check on us if we do a little passionate necking in the car?”

  “Reid Stanton! You are a grown man!”

  “Exactly—a grown man engaged to a very beautiful woman whom I haven’t kissed once today.”

  “That is not true. You kissed me when you picked me up.”

  “I did? That was hours ago. You’re going to have to remind me.” He curved his hand around her neck and urged her closer.

  “Reid—” Bellamy pressed her hand against his chest, as if she was fending off his advances.

  “Kiss me first. We can talk later.”

  Her kiss ignited a delicious burn inside him. Her lips were soft against his, flavored with a faint tart taste of lemon and sugar from the dessert Bellamy had indulged in. Kissing his wife-to-be was his own sweet indulgence, and he shifted, tightening his arms around her and weaving his fingers through her hair.

  A few seconds later, she broke away, burying her face in his neck. “Stop. Be good now.”

  “I was trying to do just that—” He tried to capture her lips again for another kiss, but she eluded him, turning her face away, her hand clasping the lapel of his jacket.

  “You want to tell me what that sigh was for, Belle-love?”

  Her voice was low. “I hope your parents were happy with how today went.”

  “You do not have to worry about my parents. You were nervous before we even drove past the gate guard at Kissing Camels. You’d think that guy was going to interrogate you.”

  “I don’t think your father approves of me—”

  “Of course he does.” Reid tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—the same curl she’d tucked behind her ear again and again during the day. “Besides, I’m a grown man, you know. I don’t need my father’s approval to marry you.”

  Another sigh, but Bellamy let the issue drop. “Walk me to my door, please?”

  “If I must.” When she looked at him again, he traced the outline of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Will you promise me another good-night kiss?”

  “If I must.” She slid out of the passenger seat, tossing him a saucy grin over her shoulder.

  He tucked her hand inside his, navigating the narrow wooden steps leading to the quaint carriage house apartment above her parents’ garage.

  “Only three months.” Reid admired Bellamy’s silhouette framed by the porch light.

  “Yes—and still so much to do.”

  “You’ve got your dress. I’ve got my tux. What more do we need?”

  “For a Stanton wedding in Manhattan? Are you kidding me?” She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “I just ordered the wedding invitations, but I still need to get the envelopes to the calligrapher. Your mother mentioned today she wants a formal portrait of me in my wedding gown. We need to decide on gifts for our attendants. And we need to think about the wedding cake—”

  Reid stopped halfway up the stairs. “Bellamy.”

  “What?”

  “It’s late. You’re tired. I’m tired. We are not talking about the wedding tonight—unless you want to tell me your favorite gift from today.” Reid continued his way up the stairs. “Thanks to my mother agreeing to keep the presents at their house until after the wedding, I have only one thing left to do tonight.”

  “And that is?”

  “Kiss you good night again.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Standing two steps below the landing just outside her door, Reid slipped his arms around Bellamy and pulled her close. Perhaps he could entice more than one good-
night kiss from his fiancée. “I love you. We’re good together.”

  “I love you, too, Reid.”

  Just as he was about to kiss her again, Reid stopped. “Oh, one more thing—”

  Bellamy rested her head against his shoulder. “I thought we were only kissing good night.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I? But I promised my mother I would remind you about the charity auction in November.”

  “The charity auction?”

  “To benefit the children’s hospital, remember? She heads up the committee and the entire family attends—we sit at a table front and center and have fun bidding on items.”

  Bellamy leaned back so she could look into his eyes. “I remember now. It’s early in November, right?”

  “Yes. Another chance to dress up. I’ll be wearing a tux—kind of a preview of our wedding day.”

  “Wonderful—but you don’t want to see my wedding dress.”

  “Nope. It’s tradition. But no matter what you’re wearing, you’ll be the most beautiful and gracious woman there.”

  The memory of Bellamy’s kisses lingered as Reid drove home.

  How ironic that he’d found his future wife covered in dog hair—after he’d agreed to pick up Wiley, his mother’s much-loved mutt, from his weekly bath. Bellamy’s hazel eyes and welcoming smile had him volunteering to both drop off Wiley and pick him up the next week. And then he’d shown up the next day—without a dog on the leash—and invited Bellamy out for coffee after work. And she’d said no.

  “No?” Reid’s skin warmed, a sure sign he was blushing like a middle-schooler—a family trait he couldn’t conquer even at almost thirty. He struggled to find a way to back out of the veterinary clinic—to retreat to the shelter of his car—and then call his mother and tell her that she could take her mangy mutt to the groomer herself.

  “I mean, I’d love to have coffee with you.” Bellamy’s smile appeared again as she reached out her hand across the counter that separated them, as if sensing his desire to escape. “But I, um, have to clean the kennels in the back first. You don’t want to wait around while I do that.” She motioned to his pressed pants and button-down dress shirt. “It’ll take me a couple of hours.”