Slow Dance with the Best Man

by Sophie Pembroke

  Seven years ago, it wouldn’t have done. Granted, seven years ago Melissa and Riley had probably been teenagers, but still. Back then, Noah had been a nobody, desperate for his big break but secretly afraid it was never going to come—the same as everyone else in town. He’d been living with his best friend Sally, sharing stories of awful auditions, commiserating over rejections with a bottle of cheap wine and trying to pretend that he wasn’t crazy about her. Seven years ago, he’d been looking at a future of giving up, going home and admitting to his family that he’d failed, just like they’d said he would.

  Then that fabled big break had come—the same day that everything else had been taken away from him.

  Noah shook his head, trying to send the memories scattering. He didn’t need them today—or any day, for that matter. Life was about the here and now, not the past.

  And right now he was about to spend five days in some fancy hotel with a selection of the most beautiful women in the world. Surely he’d be able to find some way to pass the time.

  The car turned off the main road onto a long sweeping driveway and past a pale sage-green sign with grey lettering, proclaiming the entrance to Morwen Hall. They were there.

  Shoving the script back in his hand luggage, Noah peered out of the front windscreen, looking for the Hall itself. He hoped it was as nice as Melissa insisted it would be. He needed a break, a chance to unwind—preferably with company. It had been a long eighteen months making back to back films, plus the promotional efforts. Five days in the middle of nowhere didn’t sound all that bad, really. Even if he did have to spend them with Melissa.

  The car broke through the last of the trees surrounding the hotel and Morwen Hall loomed into view—all grey stone and huge windows, reflecting the weak winter sun. It looked like something out of a bad Gothic movie, with its turrets and arched windows, and Noah couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. Ostentatious, over the top and not quite the romantic vibe she thought she was going for. It suited Melissa perfectly.

  ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s just as I remember it,’ Melissa squealed, and Noah recalled that Morwen Hall wasn’t just a venue for her. She’d lived there, or worked there, or something of the sort when she was younger.

  Noah looked at the building again and wondered what spending significant time in such a dramatic place would do to a person. Then he looked at Melissa again. Question answered.

  ‘Look, honey, Laurel’s come out to meet us,’ Riley said and Melissa’s face soured.

  Noah looked to where Riley was pointing and saw two women standing on the steps outside the huge Gothic front door, a wooden creation with twisty ironworks over the top. He couldn’t make out their features through the tinted glass, but presumably one of them was the hyper-efficient wedding planner, Laurel, who’d been sending Noah updates and asking him questions for the last six months.

  He made a mental note to stay out of her way as much as possible for the next five days. Efficiency grew tiring quickly, he’d found.

  The driver opened Melissa’s door and the bride swept out. Noah opened his own door and followed, wishing he’d brought his sunglasses as he lost the protection of tinted glass and squinted into the winter sun, looking up at the Hall.

  Yep, still just as Gothic.

  But the women standing on the steps... The tinted glass definitely hadn’t done them justice.

  One was a petite brunette, all curves and smiles and bounce as she came down the steps to welcome Melissa with a hug. He hoped that was Laurel, who he’d vowed to avoid. Because the other...

  The other stayed standing on the steps, her smile fixed and her hands clasped in front of her. She looked uncomfortable, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. As if she was trying to fade into the background—something Noah wasn’t used to seeing in the circles he hung out in these days.

  She’d never manage it, though. She had to be nearly six foot in her sensible black heels, almost as tall as he was, and her pale features were topped with a cloud of blazing red hair, pinned tightly back to reveal the classical beauty of her features. He couldn’t see the colour of her eyes from this distance, but he wanted to. He wanted to know if they were as striking as the rest of her.

  Then she turned to look at him and he knew it didn’t matter what colour they were—if this woman was looking at him, he’d never see anything else.

  This woman would never disappear into the background anywhere.

  And Noah hoped to be seeing an awful lot more of her over the next five days. Maybe he’d even get to find out what that beautiful hair looked like tumbling around her naked shoulders...

  Shouldering his bag, he put on his most charming smile, hoped that the effect of the champagne had mostly passed and strode towards the imposing front door of Morwen Hall, and the equally imposing woman standing in front of it.

  Maybe this wedding wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.

  * * *

  Noah Cross. Noah freaking Cross.

  Okay, breathing was becoming an issue now. She really had to get hold of herself.

  Eloise broke away from staring at the ridiculously handsome Noah Cross and sucked in a good lungful of crisp December air to replace all the oxygen that had been knocked out of her at the sight of him.

  She was being ridiculous. Of course he was good-looking. He was a movie star. It was part of the deal. It definitely didn’t mean anything important—that he was a nice person, or someone she wanted to spend time with. In fact, in her experience, it meant the exact opposite.

  No. She was not her mother. She would not let her head be turned by the first attractive—gorgeous—man who looked her way. Hadn’t she just decided that dating wasn’t for her?

  He probably wasn’t even looking at her. He was probably looking at Morwen Hall. It was, after all, even more striking than her red hair, and considerably more beautiful.

  That thought sobered her right up and knocked her back into business mode. She had a wedding to host, and an arch nemesis to deal with while she was doing it. She did not have time to get sidetracked ogling movie stars—especially given how many of them would be arriving later that afternoon.

  Making sure her best fake smile was still in place, Eloise descended the front steps to join Melissa, Laurel and Riley on the driveway.

  ‘Eloise!’ Melissa cried, with what had to be phoney enthusiasm. ‘It’s just so wonderful to see you again, honey.’ The ‘honey’ was new, Eloise noted, as Melissa leant forward to kiss the air a few inches away from Eloise’s icy cheeks. Presumably something else she’d picked up in Hollywood, along with the fiancé.

  ‘You’ve seen me on video calls for the last six months, Melissa,’ Eloise said, still smiling so hard her cheeks ached.

  ‘Oh, but that’s not the same thing at all.’ Melissa stretched a slender white arm around Laurel and Eloise’s shoulders. ‘Isn’t this just perfect? My oldest friend and my favourite half-sister, working together to give me the wedding of my dreams.’

  ‘It sure is perfect, honey,’ Riley agreed, his southern accent far more pronounced than in his films.

  Of course she’d think it’s perfect, Eloise thought. She’s got the two people she wants to make miserable most in the world waiting on her hand and foot as the culmination of six months of demanding the impossible from them. It’s her every dream come true.

  Apparently Hollywood stardom wasn’t enough for some people. They had to come back and crush the little people they left behind too.

  She glanced to her left and caught Laurel’s eye, wondering if the wedding planner was having the exact same thoughts. Even if she was, neither of them would say anything, not with their careers riding on this. That was probably what Melissa was banking on. That, or she honestly thought they were grateful to her for condescending to use their services for her wedding.

 
Actually, knowing Melissa, it was probably the latter.

  Eloise bit her tongue all the same, reminding herself of what really mattered: her promotion. If she pulled off this wedding, Mr Richards, who owned Morwen Hall, had promised her that she’d be made permanent manager in the New Year. Not to mention the huge boost the hotel would get from the exposure. That was a good thing. A good, secure job with a hotel that was doing well. That was a sensible career goal.

  All she had to do was make it through to January the first without telling Melissa what she really thought of her, or giving her any reason to complain about Eloise’s professionalism. How hard could that be?

  Oh, yeah. Very.

  But Eloise was determined to do it all the same.

  ‘This is quite some place, Melissa. I can absolutely see why you chose it. It’s perfect for you!’ Noah Cross’s voice was weirdly familiar from those times she’d sat in cinemas watching him beat up bad guys and seduce beautiful women on screen. It was just plain odd to hear him apply those dulcet tones to Morwen Hall. ‘Moody, well built...and I guess it has one hell of a history.’

  His upbeat tone made the comment sound complimentary but, as he met her eyes, Eloise realised he knew exactly what he was saying. The humour in his gaze only grew as Melissa frowned—not enough to cause lines, though—and said, ‘Well, yes. It is quite special.’

  It was a shame Noah Cross was an actor, Eloise thought. Otherwise, she had a feeling he might be exactly her sort of person.

  ‘Why don’t you all step inside?’ she said, deflecting Noah’s observations. ‘It’s freezing out here and I’d love to show you all around the old place, tell you a bit about its history.’

  Noah sprung up the steps beside her, even as Melissa said, ‘Of course, I already know everything there is to know about Morwen Hall.’

  Eloise’s smile became a little more fixed. ‘I think you’ll find we’ve changed a few things since you were last here, Melissa.’ Eight years ago.

  ‘Well, I for one can’t wait to learn all about this place.’ Noah slapped his hand against the heavy wood of the front door and the ironwork rang out an echo. ‘And whether or not there are any vampires hiding in there waiting to suck my blood.’ He flashed a smile that Eloise couldn’t help but return.

  ‘No vampires,’ she promised. At least, as long as you didn’t count Melissa. ‘But I can’t promise you might not see the odd ghost.’

  Noah raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Eloise grinned back at him. ‘Better just hope they don’t believe in film stars either.’

  Noah laughed, warm and dark and deep, and Eloise tore her gaze away from him. She didn’t need to notice the way he tipped his head back when he laughed, or the long line of his neck, or his designer stubble. It was all totally irrelevant to her, and her job.

  But she stole another look before heading back inside all the same.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE INSIDE OF Morwen Hall was rather more what Noah had been expecting than the weirdly Gothic exterior. With its calming pale green walls and dove-grey trim, the luxurious but comfortable velvet and leather sofas in the main lobby and the deep pile rugs laid over the original stone floor, it was hard to believe Eloise’s stories of ghosts. Inside, Morwen Hall could be any luxury five-star hotel anywhere in the world. Still, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be more to this house, under the surface, than its owners wanted anyone to see.

  And more to its manager too. Noah found his gaze fixed on Eloise as she shrugged off her pale grey coat, revealing a demure charcoal skirt suit beneath that went perfectly with the sensible black heels. He supposed that with such arresting hair and eyes brightly coloured clothing was just overkill.

  Still, he couldn’t help but imagine what she’d look like in the sort of dresses the actresses he knew wore on the red carpet. Something that showed off her figure instead of hiding it. Noah was a connoisseur of women’s figures, and Eloise’s definitely looked like one he’d like to explore further.

  ‘Melissa, Riley, would you like me to show you to your suite?’ Eloise asked. Noah supposed it was only polite to deal with the bride and groom first. Besides, it would mean she had more time for him afterwards—and more time for him to talk her into having a drink together later.

  Melissa frowned ever so slightly, a tiny line appearing between her eyebrows. ‘Actually, I need to speak with my wedding planner.’ She slipped a hand through the crook of Laurel’s arm and led her off to the side. ‘Why don’t you get our best man settled first?’

  Noah hefted his carry-on bag over his shoulder. He hadn’t seen his suitcase since the airport so he assumed it was being dealt with somewhere, and would magically appear in his room when he needed it. He loved hotels. They were almost as good as film sets for having your every need seen to before you even knew what you needed.

  ‘You’ll turn into one of those puffed up idiots who don’t know the value of a hard day’s work.’

  His dad’s voice in his head made Noah scowl, as it always did, but he shook the expression away before Eloise turned to face him and replaced it with his habitual charming smile.

  ‘Right. Okay.’ Eloise surveyed him with something akin to displeasure on her face, which gave Noah slight pause. Usually, women were delighted to score some alone time with him. And, from the way Eloise had stared at him on arrival, he’d naively assumed that she’d be the same.

  Apparently, he was missing something here.

  ‘If you’ll just follow me, Mr Cross?’ Eloise said, every inch the professional, as she headed for the elevators at the back of the lobby. They had a Gothic-style metalwork design painted on the doors, which amused Noah. As an attempt to make them fit in with the rest of the surroundings of Morwen Hall, he supposed it was as good a try as any.

  ‘Guess these didn’t come with the building, huh?’ he asked as she pressed the button to call one. ‘The elevators, I mean. Sorry. They’re “lifts” here, right?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Eloise said with a nod. ‘And no. They didn’t have lifts when Morwen Hall was built.’

  From her tone, Noah suspected she was already writing him off as a dumb American movie star. Well, she wouldn’t be the first—hadn’t his own father done the same? And there had been plenty more since—journalists, interviewers, all sorts. It was always fun to prove them wrong.

  ‘Gothic revival, right? So, nineteenth-century? I’d guess...1850?’

  If she was surprised Eloise didn’t show it. ‘1848, actually. At least that was when work started.’

  ‘Sounds like you know a lot about the place. Have you worked here long?’

  The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Eloise motioned for him to enter first, which he did, then she stepped in behind him, pressing the button for the top floor.

  ‘Since I was sixteen,’ she said as the doors swished shut.

  Of course. She was Melissa’s oldest friend. She, and the Hall, were presumably the reason they were having the wedding in England in December in the first place. ‘And that’s when you met Melissa, right. Nice of her to want to come back here for the wedding, I guess.’

  ‘It’s just lovely,’ Eloise said, her tone flat.

  Noah was beginning to suspect that ‘oldest friends’ might not be the most accurate of descriptions for Eloise and Melissa’s relationship.

  ‘She must have a lot of fond memories of working here,’ he pressed.

  ‘I’m sure she does.’ Eloise didn’t place any extra emphasis on the word ‘she’, but somehow Noah heard it. From what he knew about Melissa, he wasn’t overly surprised. Oh, she was sweetness and light to directors, producers and other stars, but he’d seen her berate one of the catering assistants for not having exactly the right kind of chia seed for her salad. He knew that sort of person—who could be a
nything you wanted if you mattered, and hell on wheels if you didn’t. Hollywood was full of them.

  He prided himself on trying not to ever become one of them. Whatever his father thought.

  He’d learned how to be a star and still be gracious from watching Sally. It was one of the many lessons his best friend had taught him. After she got a recurring role in a weekly drama, she’d still been, well, Sally. Lovely and sweet and kind and patient with everyone from her co-stars to the guy on the street begging for enough quarters to buy a coffee. Sally had been the most genuine person he’d known in a city full of actors.

  Just remembering that much pricked at his heart and Noah knew it was time to change the subject.

  ‘Enough about Melissa,’ he said as the elevator reached its destination and the doors parted again. ‘So you’ve worked here, what, eight years?’ He’d guess ten, based on Melissa’s age, but everyone liked a little flattery, right?

  ‘Ten, actually,’ Eloise corrected him, and he hid a smile. He still had it.

  ‘Must have seen a lot of changes here.’ That was a given too, right? Everything changed. Whether you wanted it to or not.

  ‘Yep. Melissa left, for one.’ Eloise shut her eyes briefly. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ Noah insisted. Not least because it was the first real thing she’d said since they’d met and for some reason—perhaps because he’d been remembering Sally—Noah wanted her to be real. Maybe it was just that he had enough fakes in his professional life already—not that it usually bothered him. People who were putting on an act, being who they thought you wanted them to be, never wanted you to look too deep or get too close, so they never looked too deep or too close in return. And that suited Noah perfectly.

  Too deep and too close led to the sort of pain he wasn’t willing to feel again.

  But Eloise... Maybe it would do him good to see some reality again. As long as he wasn’t the one getting real.