by Melody Grace
She shook her head. “Like I said, I’m not feeling so great. Stress, and work . . .” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”
“Poor baby.” Riley pulled her closer and gently cradled her in his arms. “It’s OK if you’re not up to a crowd. I’d rather be here with you, any day.”
Brooke relaxed in his arms. She shouldn’t let herself get used to it, but he felt too good to resist. Solid, and stable, holding her against him. Riley stroked her cheek. “How about I take care of you?” he said, with a smile that took her breath away. “I’m guessing you don’t let anyone else do it.”
“What gave me away?” Brooke managed a faint smile, and he chuckled.
“Lucky for you, I came equipped.” Riley picked up a bag from beside the doorway, and held it up. “I stopped for supplies. Aspirin, vitamin C, and Summer’s famous peach cake.”
“You covered all the bases,” she said, feeling a wave of affection.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brooke stood aside and let him in. He set the bag down and looked around. “Now, you get to bed,” Riley told her, “and let me take care of the rest.”
Brooke did as she was told. After running around all week, it was a relief to go sink into her fresh sheets and listen to him pottering around outside. Soon, Riley appeared in her bedroom doorway with a tray. He set it down on the nightstand, and she scooched over, making room for him beside her on the bed.
“There,” he said, setting a plate of cake between them on the covers. “All the best parts of the party, without the chaos.”
Brooke relaxed back against her pillows. “You’re sweet.”
“Shh.” Riley winked. “Let’s keep that between us. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
She laughed. “Don’t tell me the smooth-guy routine is just a front, and you’re really itching to settle down with two kids and a dog?”
“Right.” Riley laughed along, but there was a look on his face she couldn’t decipher, and it reminded her of when she and Max had been teasing him the other night.
“Hey, you know I’m only kidding.” Brooke nudged him gently. “I think it’s great you’re so honest about who you are and what you want. I’m guessing you save everyone a lot of heartache this way.”
Riley nodded slowly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth instead.
“I wish everyone could be so upfront,” she added, feeling a pang. “Just say, ‘this is a fling,’ instead of pretending it ever meant more.”
“Like your ex?” Riley asked slowly.
She sighed. “He wants to talk,” Brooke admitted. “He’s texting, and calling. I wish I could just make him disappear, but it’s not so simple.”
Riley seemed to tense. “Do you still love him?”
“No,” Brooke answered honestly. “But it still hurts to think about. That’s how it works, right?” she said ruefully. “Breakups take time. You can wish someone was covered in honey, stranded in a pit of killer ants, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still feel the pain at everything you went through.”
“That’s a pretty specific revenge fantasy,” Riley said, with a glimmer of a smile.
She grinned. “I had a lot of time on the road between Chicago and the Cape. Believe me, killer ants are only the start of it.”
He chuckled, pulling her closer. “I’d say you’re doing pretty well getting over him.
“Thanks to you.” Brooke tilted her head up to face him. “Seriously. You were right from the start. This is exactly what I needed. No strings, no drama. Just fun.” She kissed him, glad he was with her, and after a moment, Riley kissed her back.
Brooke sank into the moment: the sweetness of his embrace, and the low heat that sparked between them, every time. He eased her lips wider, and stroked his tongue into her mouth, and she shivered at the intimacy, the feel of his body, hot and taut against her.
Riley shifted, scooping her into his lap to straddle him. Now, Brooke had free rein to cup his face in her hands and press closer, loving the feel of him, hard against every inch. His hands slipped over her back, her hips, straying to her chest to gently stroke and tease her through her tank. Brooke gasped against his mouth, and she felt his lips curl in a smile.
“If you’re getting sick, you shouldn’t exert yourself,” Riley said, drawing back to give her a wicked smile. He brushed hair out of her eyes, and Brooke melted at his touch.
“No?” she asked.
He shook his head, teasing. “You need to conserve your energy.”
In one swift movement, he rolled them to the side, tipping her under him so he was braced above her. He kissed her again, lazy and hot. “You should be relaxing . . .”
Brooke felt his hands slide over her again, purposeful this time. Her pulse kicked. There wasn’t anything relaxing about the desire snaking through her, already tight and craving for more. Riley lavished her with kisses, slowly peeling her clothes away until she was naked on the bed. His touch was incredible, but she needed to feel everything, so she tugged at his shirt.
“Play fair,” she whispered. He grinned, and stripped off his own clothes so fast, she had to laugh. He quirked an eyebrow, and she shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Really?” Riley teased, gently caressing over the swell of her breast. “This is doing nothing for you?”
Brooke bit her lip. “I didn’t say that,” she breathed, as he toyed with her nipple, sending tiny shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through her body.
“No?” Riley dipped his head, licking over her skin.
She shuddered. “What do you think?”
He closed his mouth around her, and she moaned.
“I think we can do better than that.”
Riley sucked softly, and then there was no time for teasing words, not with his mouth hot against her, and his tongue doing wicked things, and his hands—oh, his hands—sliding over her stomach and easing her thighs apart. Brooke moaned in pleasure, loving the feel of him, how he knew just the way to touch her to bring her closer to the brink. She reached for him, stroking until he groaned against her, and he pinned her wrists to the bed, holding her back as he panted for air. Brooke shuddered, her body electric beneath him, needing more. But Riley made her wait, teasing her with kisses, watching her come apart. His eyes were dark in the dim light, and Brooke could have lost herself right then and there, but there was still a hunger burning in her bloodstream, and only one thing would take over the edge.
He slowly entered her, and everything fell away.
Brooke gasped, feeling him move inside of her. Thick, sweet pleasure, rocking higher, filling her up. It was incredible, how he could do this to her, the way their bodies fit so perfectly, every inch driving her closer to the brink. She surged against him and felt Riley tense, every muscle in his body rigid under her hands. He rocked into her again, and Brooke whimpered, clutching hold of him for dear life as the pleasure blossomed and bloomed, an inferno crying out for release.
It had never been like this before, not with anyone, and even as Brooke tried to cling hold of her reason and keep from falling into Riley’s steady gaze, remember that this was just fun and games and nothing she could hold onto, she couldn’t help it. She surrendered to the moment, lost herself in him, over and over, until there was no holding back, no hiding from the pleasure and the deep, aching connection that seemed to surge between them, her heart laid wide open and bared for him to see.
“Riley,” she gasped, overwhelmed, and he thrust inside her again.
“I’m here, baby,” he groaned against her. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.”
He plunged deep, so deep, just right, and Brooke wanted to believe. For that moment, in that pure, sweet rush, he was hers.
She came apart, crying out his name, and held him through the rush. And when it was over, her blood thick with a hazy glow, she held him, and never wanted to let go. There, in the darkness, tangled up in each other’s arms, it felt right. It felt perfect, even though she knew it wa
sn’t real.
It was sex. Fun. Pheromones seducing her with a glimpse of forever when she already knew forever wasn’t on the menu at all.
But for tonight, just maybe, she could believe.
20
T he day of the Cartwright wedding dawned cloudy and overcast, with dark grey clouds looming over the water and rain already spluttering from the sky.
“It’s a disaster.” Bitsy was waiting when Brooke arrived, at seven a.m. sharp. “I mean, just look at it! Someone leaked to the press, those vultures are lined up outside, and this weather!”
“Good morning,” Brooke managed, shaking off her jacket. “Ready for the big day?”
“It’s raining!” Bitsy squawked. “The hair will be ruined! Did nobody check the weather reports?”
“Three times,” Brooke reassured her. “Which is why I know it will clear by lunchtime. And if it doesn’t, I have a canopy and tents on standby. Everyone’s hair will be beautiful.”
She headed for the lobby, but Bitsy trotted alongside. “Tents aren’t good enough. I heard there was a hurricane warning!”
“We have plenty of time.” Brooke tried to keep her voice even. “The ceremony’s not until two. That’s seven hours for the storm to pass. Have you had breakfast?” she swiftly changed the subject. “There’s a wonderful buffet being laid out in the main dining room. You should go have something. It’s a long day ahead!”
She nudged Bitsy towards the dining hall and quickly changed direction, joining the rest of her staff, who were waiting in the conference room. “OK, listen up.” She clapped her hands, and all eyes turned to her. “We’ve got a lot going on today, but I don’t want anyone to worry. This is just another wedding, and we’ve done a dozen already this year.”
She could tell from the dubious faces they weren’t buying it—and she didn’t blame them. Most of their events didn’t come with trained security details and a who’s who of Hollywood’s A-list stars.
“Who am I kidding? This is the big one. But I believe in you guys. If we stay calm and professional, and all do our jobs, this will be the best day of Lila Moore’s life. OK?”
They nodded.
“Let’s get to it!”
“Umm, Brooke?” Neil caught her as the room emptied. “Richie called in sick. And Brent too. They were at some rock show last night in Boston, they say they won’t make it back.”
Her bartenders. Brooke took a deep breath. “OK, thanks, I’ve got this.”
She tried calling a few back-up options, but they wouldn’t be free until the evening, so she dialed the first person in her phone. “Save me,” she said to Riley.
“Always,” he chuckled. “What dragon do you need slaying this time?”
“She’s in pink Chanel, but I can handle her,” Brooke said, thinking of Bitsy. “I need your expertise.”
“Really?” Riley drawled, so suggestive that Brooke blushed.
“Your bartending expertise,” she explained quickly. “Both my guys are slacking off sick. Any chance you can come tend bar for a few hours from noon until the cavalry arrive? I’ll pay.”
“No need,” Riley assured her. “I’ll be there in twenty. To tell you the truth, I’m curious about this whole party. It’s not every day we get Hollywood royalty descending on this part of the world.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Brooke breathed a sigh of relief. “What would I do without you?”
“Pray, nightly, to meet a man like me,” Riley joked, and she laughed.
“Easy there. OK, I better get back to it. Wish me luck!”
She hung up and turned her attention back to the well-orchestrated circus currently taking over the hotel. She ferried guest requests, kept the press at bay, and deftly kept champagne flowing in the dining hall, until the entire building was decked out in fresh lilacs and silk streamers, a picture of cool elegance. By the time Lila and Justin emerged from their wedding brunch and another round of photographs, the storm had passed, and the clouds were parting to reveal another warm, sunny day.
“Everything looks so beautiful,” Lila said, looking around. “Thank you. I can’t imagine what you went through to get all this done last-minute.”
“Of course she got it done,” Bitsy sniffed beside her. “We’re paying them enough.”
“Mother!” Justin looked mortified.
Brooke cleared her throat. “I’m glad you like it,” she said. “Now, let me get you ladies settled in the salon to get dressed for the main event. Justin, you and your groomsmen are in the library.”
“That’s great.” Justin gave Lila a kiss. “See you at the ceremony, sweetheart. I’ll be the one with a tux, at the end of the aisle.”
“I’ll try not to miss you.” Lila smiled, but Brooke thought she detected a flicker of apprehension in her eyes.
Uh-oh.
“This way!” She quickly led Lila and her bridal party to the salon, now transformed into a confection of white, lilac, and pale blush pink. Tiny tables were set with delicate finger sandwiches and cakes, and there was even more champagne waiting. The group cooed and immediately started snapping photographs. “Your makeup artist and stylists are en route, they’ll be here any minute, and if you need anything at all, just let me know.”
Bitsy peered at a fork. “Has this been polished? I see smudges.”
Brooke whisked it out of her hand. “I’ll send fresh ones immediately.”
She closed the double doors behind her and let out a breath.
“Demanding, much?”
She turned. Meredith was standing with a phone in one hand, a clipboard in the other, and a Bluetooth headset fixed to one ear.
“Oh no, it’s fine,” Brooke said quickly. “Lila’s actually great. Really relaxed.”
“I wasn’t talking about the bride,” Meredith said, and Brooke allowed herself a grin.
“She’s certainly . . . challenging.”
“And I thought I had to deal with divas all day in Hollywood.” Meredith intercepted a passing waiter, snagged a glass of champagne, and downed it in one.
Meredith and Brooke stood for a moment, watching the hustle of activity out on the lawn. “You ever think you put so much energy into planning everyone else’s life so you don’t have to focus on your own?” Meredith asked suddenly.
Brooke sighed. “All the time.”
They were silent, until Meredith’s phone began buzzing angrily. She lifted it, not even pausing to answer before snapping, “No, I told you, the contracts were for six percent.”
She stalked away, and Brooke went back to her schedule. Soon, it was almost time for the vows, and they began ushering guests outside to take their place in front of the gorgeous oceanfront wedding arch.
“Brooke? There’s a guy in the lobby to see you,” one of her clerks said, looking about as harried as Brooke felt. She headed over to see what the latest demand was, making a note to do something special for the staff when all this was over, to thank them for all the late nights and overtime. Spa vouchers, maybe, or a big dinner out somewhere, off the clock—
“Hey baby,” a male voice cut through her thoughts. “Surprise.”
Brooke froze. For a moment, she couldn’t look; just the sound of his voice sliced clean through her, baring her wounds again, raw and bloody as the day he’d broken it in two.
Archer.
She couldn’t believe it, but there he was, standing in the middle of the lobby like he had any right at all. “What . . . ?” she stammered, her heart racing. “What are you doing here?”
“You wouldn’t answer my messages, so I had to come talk to you face-to-face.” Archer strolled closer, clean-shaven and smartly-dressed in a button-down and pants that perfectly fit his tall, limber frame. He fixed her with a melting smile. “You look great, baby. God, I’ve missed you.”
He reached out, and Brooke flinched back at the touch. How many nights had he reached for her, just like that?
How long was it the only thing she wanted in the world?
She finally
found her voice: stern. “You can’t be here.”
“Look, I know we’ve had our . . . misunderstandings, but you can’t stay mad at me forever.” Archer looked at her from under his shock of dark hair, those eyes full of affection and regret. “Let’s just talk, it’s all I’m asking. Hear me out, baby. Please.”
“No. I mean, you can’t be here,” Brooke repeated, trying her best to keep it together. “Everyone coming in and out of the hotel needs a security clearance. How did you even get past the doors?”
“I have my ways,” Archer grinned. “You think I was going to let a couple of rent-a-cops keep me away from you?” He reached for her again, and Brooke had to slap his hand away.
Hurt flashed across his face. “Hey, look, I know you’re mad, but I came all this way to see you. The least you could do is give me a chance to explain.”
Brooke stared at him in disbelief, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Somehow Archer always managed to glide his way through any situation; flip things around so neatly, you couldn’t resist the full force of his charm. Brooke had admired him for it, once. He’d handled VIPs and janitors with the same deft charm. But she knew the dark side to that silver tongue now, and he wasn’t ever “handling” her again.
“I’m busy. I’m working. Please leave. Now.” Brooke drew herself up to her full height and glared at him, right in those dark, soulful eyes she’d adored. “Don’t make me call security.”
“Baby.” Archer looked wounded, and she had to grit her teeth.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, doing her best to keep her voice down. Wedding guests were meandering through the lobby, heading outside; she could see Meredith and Bitsy arguing about something in the corner. They were twenty minutes away from the wedding ceremony—it was the worst possible moment to be faced with the ghosts of heartbreak past, but somehow, Brooke was going to get through it. “I’m not your baby, and I never was. Go tell it to your wife.”
She turned on her heel to walk away, but Archer caught her arm, pulling her back. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, but you can’t believe her,” he implored Brooke. “She’s crazy, vindictive, and bitter. She’s trying to break us apart, and you’re letting her!”