Brice Masterson was also smiling, but his handsome face looked a little lost at the commotion around him. Until he laid eyes on his new wife. Then a look of such devotion covered his features that Lila had to turn away, as if a hand was pressing down on her own heart. To have a man look at her like that, now that would be something.
Janna's father, a tall man with a slight paunch and a twinkle in his blue eyes, was regaling the crowd about his little girl's notorious inability to choose a direction in life. Lila was familiar with Janna's struggle. They'd been classmates at the local community college when the attractive redhead had decided to join the culinary arts program. Unlike Lila, Janna's heart hadn't really been in cooking, and before long she'd been off on another tangent, transferring to the university to pursue a PhD in biology. Still, she and Lila had become fast friends for the couple months they'd had classes together. Janna was smart, quirky, with a good sense of humor and more tenacity than most. She'd kept in touch after she'd transferred, and now she'd asked Lila to cater her wedding.
And what a wedding it was. Or reception, actually, although Lila assumed the church ceremony had been lovely. She'd been unable to attend, too busy getting things ready. In truth, she hadn't wanted to brave the church with its horde of paparazzi and curious public stationed outside, cameras clicking and the crowd clamoring for a glimpse of the couple. But the Masterson estate was surrounded by security so no uninvited guests could get close to the private reception. Lila was uncomfortable around crowds and abstractly terrified of the press so she was grateful that the reception was calm and smallish, unlike the media circus she'd visualized the wedding being.
Lila took in the scene around her. Dozens of well-dressed people were seated at the multitude of white-draped tables that dotted the lawn. Expensive flower arrangements bloomed all around them, and paper lanterns and lights were strung above them, ready to be lit when the sun set and the dancing began. Not that Lila would be dancing. She'd be back in the kitchen, finishing up the last preparations and then beginning the massive task of cleaning up her mess.
She didn't dance. Unless you counted shaking her wide hips to her iPod while baking. But she never danced with a partner, and that wasn't going to change tonight.
She caught sight of the happy couple again. Janna was burying her face in Brice's broad shoulder as laughter shook her at her father's words. The older man winked in their direction as he wrapped up his speech. "Although she might never find the right career for herself, it seems Janna had no problem picking the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with."
Lila watched Brice's slow smile as Janna's father raised his glass. The crowd resounded with their applause "to the Bride and Groom." Lila turned back to the double doors that led inside to the kitchen's welcoming heat. But before she could enter, a deep melodic voice drew her attention back to the festivities.
"I'm probably the last person you're expecting to hear give a toast," the voice said, "since it's well known that Brice and I have been rivals since college. It's a testament to just how special Janna is that I'm here speaking to you now."
Lila's heart sputtered in her chest as her gaze settled on the speaker. To say the man was handsome would be like saying the devil was a naughty boy. He was tall, at least six feet, lean but well-muscled. His hair was dark and thick, midnight brushing the golden skin above his collar. He had a dangerous air, and when he smiled he stole Lila's breath.
She'd never seen a more attractive man, and her intention of returning to work disappeared. She couldn't take her eyes off him.
"It's no secret that Brice and I are competitive. He's lost more than one lady to my superior charm." Lila's eyes flicked to the head table. Brice's face was tight, his eyes wary. It was clear that he didn't entirely trust the speaker, and a thread of unease worked its way up Lila's spine.
"I'm not gonna lie," the handsome man continued, and Lila thought she recognized a hint of a southern drawl in his words, "when I met Janna, I had every intention of stealing her from Brice. And who could blame me? She's smart, sexy, and possessed of a host of talents ranging from biological research to abstract painting. Her taste in movies is sophisticated as well, as evidenced by her liking of the Die Hard series. Just the first two movies, of course."
Light laughter rippled through the crowd. A grimace took up residence on Brice's face until Janna stroked his cheek and his expression melted into a gentle smile. Lila wished then that she had a man to touch like that, a man who would look at her with the light of love in his eyes. It wouldn't hurt if that man was also brutally handsome with a southern drawl.
Lila fanned herself. The heat's made you delirious. But she wasn't in the kitchen. And it was a different kind of heat.
The dark-haired gentleman continued his toast, the cocky half-smile on his face changing as he became serious. "Although I thought about stealing her at first, I quickly realized that she wasn't the type of woman who could be stolen. Janna became my friend, something I have few enough of, and something I cherish now. So Brice, you better treat her right, or so help me I will steal her from you!"
The laughs were louder this time. Lila thought she saw Brice's expression tighten, but it gave way to a chuckle after Janna kissed him on his cheek. The look that passed between the happy couple made a surprising burn of jealousy flare up inside her belly. Lila frowned and turned back to the house, trying to ignore her envy.
Janna deserved the love of a handsome millionaire, and love her he obviously did. But handsome millionaires didn't grow on trees, and most seemed to be reserved for beautiful women like her friend. That meant some women would have to go without.
Lila held back a sigh as she retied her apron strings and opened the stove. At least her tarts were beautiful.
* * *
Alexander Drake stood against one of the pillars that supported the second-story porch, taking in the scene around him. Holdin' up the wall, his momma would have said, meaning that he should have been doing something useful and not something unnecessary. At least, that's what he'd always assumed she'd meant.
His date had deserted him after the wedding ceremony. An alleged event that she was contractually obligated to attend. But it could have been the lack of press and looky-loos at the reception that had hastened her exit.
Alana Morgan, his girlfriend of a year and three months, liked having pictures taken of her. He supposed it was a good thing in her line of work. But the cameras were absent from the reception, save the ones belonging to the wedding photographer, and those pics wouldn't be made public.
So he was here alone, watching what he'd once considered his nemesis getting married to someone who might just be his best friend. It could have felt awkward, especially following his toast, but instead he felt empty. He was thirty five and had built an empire that made him one of the wealthiest men in the country. He'd achieved every goal that he'd set for himself. And lately, it felt like he'd been passing time.
Maybe this wedding was the inspiration he needed. Since college Brice Masterson had been the yardstick he'd measured himself against, even if he didn't always like to admit that fact. And now Brice had found a lovely woman and had accepted the shackles of matrimony. Alex didn't think he'd ever seen someone so happy to be lugging around a ball and chain. Still, it had prospects.
Perhaps he was aging out of the millionaire playboy set as well. His relationship with Alana might be telling, as it had lasted over a year and he hadn't broken it off yet. He wasn't so blind to his feelings to think he was in love with her. Alana was beautiful, skilled with the press, and exactly the kind of arm candy a man like him needed for the endless parade of social events that had started taking over his calendar as his bank account had grown bigger. But Alana didn't have his heart.
Alex wasn't sure if any woman ever would. That's fine. It's stupid to mix love and business anyway. It always makes your bottom line suffer.
Still, marriage might not be a bad idea. He'd had a steady string of lovelies since the press had st
arted paying attention to him, after he'd ruthlessly taken over the stumbling business of a former frat brother whose father happened to be the Governor of great state of Louisiana. It had caused him perverse joy to dismantle the empire their family had been building since the Civil War, likely off the backs of misguided taxpayers who'd kept voting one corrupt family member after another into office since 1872.
Alex smiled at the memory, but the recall no longer caused the rush he associated with his self-righteous revenge. He'd felt less and less of anything lately, no cresting adrenalin, in his career or his social life. Although he'd never been without a body to warm his antique canopy bed, he'd never made a long-term commitment to anyone. Most assumed he was enjoying his carefree lifestyle, a roguish bee buzzing from flower to flower, sampling each but never spending much time with one in particular.
Until Alana. Their relationship had lasted longer than any of his others since high school. Although he felt a fondness for her and some attraction, there were no deeper feelings. Alana knew how to network, how to greet a fellow member of the fashionable set -- a kiss on the right cheek, then the left, then the right again -- and how to shine on a red carpet. Those qualities would be beneficial as a mogul's wife. She generated enough positive press to make up for her lackluster performance in bed and his absence of affection.
Not to mention that they'd been together long enough that it was expected they'd either marry or split up soon. A sliver of guilt made him consider the splitting up option. Alana deserved a husband that was in love with her, didn't she?
Does that mean you deserve a woman who's in love with you?
A corner of his mouth tilted into a wry smile at his inner voice's protest. Love wasn't likely, not the kind of love like Brice and Janna had found. Not with his predilections and his position in society. A marriage of convenience would be simpler.
It wasn't as if other women hadn't offered their love to him before. But it has never felt genuine. It was the fantasy of love prompted by the illusion he presented to the public. The cultured, urbane millionaire, ruthless in the boardroom and matchless in the bedroom. At least that was the impression he was trying to put out. But it was only an impression, only half the story of his life. And a woman who told him she loved him when she'd only knew half the man wasn't one that he kept around for long.
At least in Alana he knew he'd found a kindred spirit. It was all about branding, and Alana Morgan protected her image as fiercely as a mother bear did her cubs. Her moves were always made with an eye toward public perception, and while they might sometimes seem risqué or counterintuitive, she always ended up with the spin in her favor.
If he asked, Alana wouldn't turn him down. Despite the fact that he'd never said the L-word to her. Miss Alana Morgan knew what she wanted, and her actions made it clear that money and notoriety were higher priorities than affairs of the heart. She was the type to entertain herself when he was called out of town on business, to turn a blind eye if he decided to stray.
The thought made him lean his head against the pillar and stare at the coming twilight.
Not long ago, he'd intended to seduce the blushing bride in his customary attempt to cause Brice Masterson misery. He'd never once considered Alana's reaction if she'd discovered his indiscretion with Janna. Was it because he didn't care about the model's feelings? Or because he knew she wouldn't care about his actions? Which was worse?
Alex ran a hand through his hair as if he could brush these thoughts out of his mind at the same time. The last few months he'd found his thoughts turning maudlin more and more often. Perhaps he was losing his zeal for empire building. And sleeping around. And the desire for revenge against Masterson and his ilk that had burned so hotly for most of his twenties had diminished over the years until he wondered if the coals had gone out at last.
Enough of this weepin' and wailin'. Stick to facts, like the columns of a balance sheet.
Alana would make a decent wife for a man in his position. If he left her, he might not find another so well suited to handle his lifestyle but self-absorbed enough to require very little of his time. Although he'd had other women who were just as polished as the supermodel, they'd almost all wanted more of his time, more of his affection. More of him. Much more than he was willing to give. He grimaced at the thought of another decade breaking hearts and making mortal enemies of his female peers.
If he married Alana instead of leaving her, he wouldn't have to put any effort into finding the next Alana to string out until his boredom or her expectations drove them apart. Besides, there was always speculation when a man decided to remain a lifelong bachelor. Better to avoid such unpleasantness and get himself hitched. Maybe start a family.
The thought brought no satisfaction beyond the relief of having made a well-reasoned decision.
First things first, he reminded himself. Talk to the lawyers about the prenup.
Alana would be thrilled. She'd been hinting about moving in lately, about making things more permanent. He'd ignored her. Half the time they were together he spent ignoring her. The other half was spent trying to keep straight never-ending name list of designers, photographers, magazine editors, and others Alana both knew and loved, knew and hated, or wanted to know.
It would probably get worse when he told her she had a wedding to plan.
As if to reward himself for a decision made, Alex grabbed another tart off a passing tray of and popped it into his mouth. "Mmm..." He couldn't stop himself from moaning out loud.
"Good, huh?"
Alex opened up eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed in ecstasy and caught sight of the bride with a smirk on her face.
"They're like an orgasm for your mouth."
They both laughed at his inelegant description. "I don't think I've ever seen you enjoying yourself like that," Janna pointed out. "I guess food is the way to a man's heart."
"Who said I had a heart?" he countered. "Still, I might grow one if fed a steady diet of these delights."
"I'll let the chef know you liked them." Janna's face turned serious. "Thank you for your toast. I thought Brice was going to blow a gasket for a moment there. He still can't let himself trust you fully, despite your help during the Chester thing."
The Chester thing. A simple term for the events that led to Alex and Brice's reconciliation. Chester, Masterson's cousin, had kidnapped Janna to hurt Brice after he'd had Chester's father prosecuted for the illegal mining of land Brice had donated for a state park.
Perhaps it had been Brice's vulnerability that had finally allowed Alex to get over his hatred for the other man. Even the rich had fucked-up families. Alex had helped him locate his cousin, which had led to Brice's daring rescue of his sweetheart and an uneasy truce between himself and Masterson.
"I couldn't leave without giving my best girl a toast," he said, putting an arm around Janna's waist. "And besides, you handled him well."
Alex watched as Janna's gaze sought out her new husband. The tall blond man was speaking to an older woman whose gray hair had started escaping her elegant bun. The look in Janna's eyes when Brice caught her watching and sent her a smile prompted a strange sensation to attack his stomach. He covered it by snatching up another tart and chewing it thoughtfully.
Brice was a lucky bastard, finding a woman who could fulfill his fantasies in the bedroom and out of it. Janna was perfect for him, an once-in-a-lifetime match. Alex wished the couple well, even as his own plans now seemed somewhat tawdry. A sham. He pushed away the thought with a distraction.
"You must give me your chef's information. I've got an important party coming up and I need a caterer."
"An important party?" Janna asked, at last pulling her attention away from her groom. "Do tell."
"An engagement party."
Janna's blue eyes went wide. "Engagement party? For whom?"
Alex laughed. "Who do you think?"
"Not you?"
Her disbelieving expression annoyed him. "Why not me?"
"You...and
Alana?"
Alex's eyes narrowed. "Of course, me and Alana. You're not the only one capable of getting married, you know."
"I know. I just didn't expect..." Janna trailed off, giving him a hard look. "I didn't think you and Alana were that close."
Alex frowned. "They can't all be love matches, sweetheart." His voice was rougher than he expected.
Janna's frown mirrored his own. "But if you don't love her, then why...?" Her voice trailed off as she gave him an assessing look. "More camouflage?"
Alex knew Janna understood. She'd been unsure of herself, nervous around the wealthy folks who made up the majority of Brice's acquaintances. He'd taken her under his wing, admittedly with the thought of using the opportunity to seduce her at first. Instead, he'd seen a lot of himself in her. He'd had to learn how to swim among the high society sharks himself. To become one. Women like Alana, his intended, were just another trapping he needed to fit in.
"Alex." Janna's voice was soft, and it made the corners of his mouth turn down. "You don't need camouflage, not anymore. Why tie yourself to someone you don't love?"
Alex shrugged. "It's time to get married. She's a beautiful woman, one who knows her way around a charity function or client dinner. I could do worse."
The way her eyes narrowed said that Janna didn't agree with his assessment. Before she could retort, the band began tuning up, one of the groomsmen tapping on the mic to draw attention his way. He announced that it was time to begin the dancing, then called Janna and Brice to the floor. The look in her eyes, the gentle smile on her face, caused a hard knot to form in Alex's throat. He looked away, finding another tray of desserts instead of dwelling on what he couldn't have.
* * *
The last dishes had been prepared and Lila was supervising the clean-up. The kitchen was ordered chaos but she was undaunted. She'd just reloaded the gleaming stainless steel dishwasher when the bride walked in and tapped her on the shoulder.
Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) Page 52