His Band of Gold

by Melissa McClone

  “We could eat dessert first.” The words slipped out of his mouth. What was he doing? Thinking? Becoming? He brushed his hand through his hair.

  Her grin widened. She unwrapped the foil and twisted the wire covering the cork. The bottle opened with a pop, and he thought he was going to pop himself. “I like how you think.”

  I like how you think, too. And so much more than that. Trouble, he was in big trouble. Slow down. Forget she’s a woman. Yeah, right. He’d have to be in a coma.

  Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all. He wasn’t looking for forever; neither was she.

  Kelsey filled the glasses, handed one to him and raised her own. “To the future members of the de Thierry royal family.”

  “To…” Will was about to say, “To us.” He felt as light-headed as the bubbles rising in the champagne. “What did you say?”

  “My cousin, Christina, is pregnant and asked me to be the babies’ godmother.”

  He blinked, trying to clear his head. She had to mean, “Oh, baby” not— “Babies?”

  “Twins, actually.” Kelsey grinned. “An heir and a spare according to Christina.”

  He stared at her, confused.

  “But Christina said this is still hush-hush so please don’t tell anyone.”

  “And we’re celebrating her pregnancy?”

  “Yes. I’m going to throw her a shower. Maybe two. One in San Montico, the other in Chicago. There will be so much to buy. Two of everything. Little dresses and dolls if she has girls. Footballs and trucks if she has boys. Maybe she’ll have one of each. That would be perfect. I still can’t believe she’s having twins, and I’m going to be their godmother. That’s such a big deal. I’ll be Aunt Kelsey. An aunt. I never thought I’d be an aunt. Cade’s not planning to get married and have kids. I’ll have to knit booties and little caps. I think that’s what aunts and godmothers do. But I don’t know how to knit. No matter, I’ll figure it out.” She stopped rambling and stared at him. Her cheeks reddened. “Sorry I went on like that, but I’m pretty excited. Was there something else—”

  “No,” he answered quickly, and tried to make sense of it all. This was about babies not baby-making. It took a moment for the truth to set in, and another moment for the disappointment to wash over him. Kelsey wasn’t after him. She wasn’t trying to seduce him. Will had only one question on his mind. Why not?

  What now?

  The celebration over Christina’s pregnancy had taken a strange turn of events, and Kelsey was confused. Very confused.

  Meaningful glances and seductive smiles and an accidental brush of Will’s hand that became a tender touch. He couldn’t be coming on to her, yet she couldn’t explain his actions over dinner. Mind games, over-reaction, too much champagne?

  Too much bubbly was the easy answer.

  But now as she stood at the trailhead across from the inn’s service entrance waiting for Will to return from inside, Kelsey knew it wasn’t the champagne. She had only herself to blame for letting him get under her skin.

  Will had done nothing to fuel her fantasies but be himself. He couldn’t help it if everything he did and said appealed to her on a level she never knew existed.

  It had to end.

  Kelsey might have told herself to keep it strictly business, but she struggled with the task. She needed to put all these fantasies to rest once and for all. And she knew right where to start…

  With his kiss.

  She wanted to kiss Will. No, she corrected herself, she needed to kiss him. She wanted to prove to herself there was nothing between them. No chemistry, no attraction, nothing. That was the first step to stopping this foolishness.

  It had been days ago, but she could close her eyes and still taste him, feel him. Never before had a kiss that meant so little felt like so much. And she wanted a repeat performance. She wanted to prove this mythic-proportion memory was all in her mind. That his kiss wasn’t so spectacular, after all.

  “The coast is clear.”

  Kelsey jumped at the sound of Will’s voice. Talk about having her head in the clouds. She hadn’t even seen him approaching.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  No, she wasn’t okay, but she still nodded. This was bad. She couldn’t let it go any further. She had to kiss him. Tonight. Asking for permission didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. She wasn’t the begging type. Trying to explain the situation was not going to happen. She had her pride. Stealing a kiss was the only way to go. But how?

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Cold?”

  She stared into his eyes. Will’s gaze lingered, practically caressed. A slow heat burned its way through her. She’d never felt more feminine, more desirable, in all her life. This was her chance. Get it over with. Kiss him now so you can start forgetting about him. “N-no.”

  “Come on, the chef is expecting us.”

  As she followed Will across the slush-covered pavement, she noticed a few hotel guests exiting the lobby and milling about the main entrance. She remembered the last time she’d seen people coming out of the inn. It might work again. It had to work again.

  “Reporters,” she whispered, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  Will turned. Before he could say anything she wrapped her arms around him. The nearness of him overwhelmed her. Too bad, she had to get this over with so she could focus her attention on Faith’s wedding.

  “Kiss me.” Kelsey forced the word from her dry throat, and hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. As she raised her lips to meet his, she told herself what to feel—nothing. One kiss and then…

  Will’s lips touched hers. His kiss was as light as a snowflake. Sweet. Okay, she could deal with this. Nice and pleasant, too. Nothing to write home about. Relief washed over her, and she smiled. Now she could get on with the wedding planning and put all this behind her. Kelsey parted her lips to say, “Stop,” but she never got the word out.

  Will deepened the kiss, pressing his lips against hers with a hunger that both surprised and flattered her. Kiss after kiss after kiss.

  The snowflake turned into a blizzard. A total white-out. Kelsey couldn’t see; she didn’t care. She only wanted to feel Will’s warmth, his strength, and soak up the taste of him—champagne and chocolate and something uniquely his own.

  Kelsey was caught in an avalanche of sensation, but she wanted to do more than go along for the ride. She leaned into him, met his kiss with a hunger all her own. As his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, she did the same with an eagerness so unfamiliar to her. Pleasure pulsated within her, and she quivered.

  Will pulled her toward him. She met him halfway, and his arms tightened around her. So strong, so warm, so right.

  Her entire life she’d longed for permanence and stability and family. She found the promise of all three in Will’s arms. Each touch of his hands and his lips shattered everything she’d come to believe over the years. Happily-ever-after. With him. Maybe it was…possible.

  He ran his hands down her back, along the curve of her waist and cupped her bottom. Will pulled her closer, as close as their jackets and clothing allowed. She pressed against him, her body melting against his. She moaned, relishing the feel and texture of him.

  Will dragged the kiss to an end, but kept his arms around her and his face next to hers. His own breath, ragged and hot, fanned her temple. “Are they gone?” he whispered.

  She tried to steady her uneven breaths. Her heart hammered in her ears. Her lips ached for more kisses. “Who?”

  “The reporters.”

  Her pulse went from supersonic speed to a dead stop. Like a snowball hitting her square on the face and breaking her nose, the reality of what she’d done made her stagger backward. She glanced around, not able to focus on anything, not even Will. “I don’t see them.”

  “That means they didn’t see us.” He smiled. “Quick thinking.”

  The last thing she deserved was praise of any kind. She wanted to crawl into the nearest hole.

  He slipped
his hand around hers, and she nearly gasped. “We’d better keep up the appearance just in case.”

  “O-okay.” She forced the word out.

  Talk about making a situation worse. Not only had she lied about seeing reporters, she’d gotten more than she bargained for with the second kiss—make that kisses. This kiss was nothing like the first. At least she’d been right about that. Too bad this kiss was better, monumentally better. And now they were walking into the inn hand-in-hand, as if they were a couple. The worst part was, it felt totally natural. Kelsey suppressed a groan.

  Somebody just shoot her now. It would be the easiest way out.

  Chapter Eight

  February 7

  The next morning he opened a can of food for Midas, and the cat came running as fast as his three legs would carry him. Will dished the food onto a plate and mashed it with a fork.

  A kiss, he rationalized. That’s all it had been, a kiss. Nothing more, nothing less. No reason to beat himself up over it and lose another night’s sleep tossing and turning over it. He’d kissed other women before. He would kiss other women after.

  After Kelsey.

  A heaviness centered in his chest, squeezed his already-aching heart. Up till now it had always been after Sara. Up till now…

  Maybe he was lonely. Maybe his mother was right about that. Maybe that explained all of this. Working too hard, traveling too much, not getting out and socializing enough. He stared down at Midas. “It’s been me and you for so long, I forgot how nice it was to have another person to talk with. Not that I don’t like talking to you, but Kelsey…”

  Midas glanced up from his dish and meowed.

  Will rubbed him, then fed him a forkful of food. “I like her, too.”

  Like, he repeated to himself. Not anything more. He couldn’t let it go further than that. Unfortunately that didn’t explain what was happening.

  Longing and desire. Feelings that had lain dormant for so long were springing to life, thawing his frozen heart in the middle of winter. All of the feelings had one thing in common. All of them surrounded Kelsey Armstrong Waters.

  The out-of-this-world kiss last night that he hadn’t want to end. The way her hand fit so snugly, so perfectly, in his that he hadn’t wanted to let go. The meeting with the chef that had made him feel as if he and Kelsey were the couple getting married not the pair simply planning the wedding.

  The wedding. Faith’s wedding.

  Will was beginning to imagine Kelsey as the bride and himself as the groom. It had to stop. The fantasy forming in his mind had replaced memories of his own wedding with Sara.

  A silver-dollar-size lump of guilt lodged in his throat. Guilt over having such a good time with Kelsey. Guilt over wanting to kiss her again and again. Guilt over putting Kelsey in Sara’s place.

  No, Will corrected himself, where Sara was and would be.

  Today, tomorrow, always.

  Nothing would ever change that. Nothing could.

  Yet these feelings for Kelsey aren’t going away, a quiet voice in his head reminded him. Did it matter?

  Not in the long run.

  Whatever feelings he might have for her were temporary, like the traffic on a three-day holiday weekend after a good snowfall. All would be back to normal come Tuesday. The same would happen here.

  Will’s life would be back to normal come February fifteenth. The battle between what he thought was right and what he felt was right would end in a draw. The wedding would be over, Faith would be a married woman and Kelsey would be long gone, back to Beverly Hills and her dysfunctional family. Back to designing weddings and looking for unhappy endings.

  Not his problem, he told himself. She was a capable adult. He didn’t need to play white knight to her misguided heart. She would figure it out on her own when the time was right. He couldn’t do anything about it.

  Not even kiss her until she saw the light.

  February 8

  Light reflected off the heart-shaped silver frame that Kelsey held in the air. She was putting her foot down about this, even if it went against Starr’s wishes. “No engraving.”

  “We’re discussing minutia.” Will rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s only a frame.”

  “First, it’s not only a frame.” Kelsey placed it on the table. “It’s going to be used as a place card holder at the reception.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I care, and your mother cares.” She understood why both of them were edgy. Late nights, little sleep, lots of work. Not to mention her growing attraction for Will. That alone was enough to make her skin clammy, her stomach clench and her heart pound like the bass drum in a marching band. Anxiety attack? Or an ulcer? Maybe Will had succeeded where his sister had failed. Kelsey pushed her hair behind her ears. “We need to make a decision or we’ll run out of time and it’ll be made for us.”

  Will rubbed the stubble on his chin. He hadn’t shaved today. Normally Kelsey only found clean-shaven men attractive—George Clooney excluded—but Will’s stubble gave him a rugged, earthly appeal. She wondered if it would tickle if it scraped her skin.

  “Buy forty-eight more,” he suggested. “You can always return them.”

  “I don’t want the frames engraved. Period.”

  For the first time in hours, amusement flickered in Will’s eyes. The corners of his mouth tipped upward.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You sound like a bride.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said the words quickly, too quickly.

  “Yes, you do.” Will edged forward in his chair. “That’s why every tiny detail has been discussed to death and taken a major peace accord to decide. These frames—excuse me, place card holders—are the prime example. You sound exactly like a bride who doesn’t want to do what her future mother-in-law wants her to do.”

  He should know better than to tease her about this. He knew how she felt about weddings and being a bride herself. Kelsey swallowed around the lump of disappointment in her throat.

  “I don’t—” Realization dawned, and the protest died on her lips. Kelsey’s jaw dropped. “I sound like a bride. A bride.”

  Will chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. It’s worse than bad. It’s horrendous.”

  “It’s kind of cute actually.”

  “It’s nothing of the sort.” What was happening to her? With her fingertips rubbing her temples, she rose from her chair. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m totally freaked out by this.”

  “I wouldn’t say totally.” His grin widened. “At least, not yet.”

  “And I thought you were a nice guy.” She paced back and forth. “This can’t be happening. A bride is the last thing I ever want to be. I’m a wedding consultant. A professional.”

  “You are a professional.”

  “I was, but at the moment…” She blew out a puff of air. It didn’t do any good. “I’m supposed to be doing my job, not getting carried away as if I were planning my own wedding.” The blood drained from her face, and she stopped. “Do you think I’m turning into a bride wanna-be?”

  Laughter poured from Will. He wiped the corner of his eye. “Trust me, Kelsey, the last thing you’ll ever be is a bride wanna-be.”

  “Thank you.” She took a calming breath. “I was hoping I hadn’t, but I really needed to hear someone else say it.”

  “No problem.” He rose, put his hands on her shoulders and led her back to her chair. “Sit.”

  Kelsey did, and Will kneaded her shoulders. “You’re so tense. Relax for a minute.”

  His touch made her stiffen. She didn’t want his hands on her. What if she really liked it? She was already acting as though this was her wedding. Would she start planning the honeymoon next? “Easier said than done.”

  “Try.”

  “Okay.” Her muscles were tight and knotted, but Will didn’t stop. Slowly, ever so slowly, his skillful hands worked their magic, loosening the kinks. As he continued the massage, all of the tension s
eemed to flow out of her and evaporate. She’d never felt anything like it. She wanted to lay her head down and melt into the dining table.

  “Relaxed?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  They were already closed, but she wasn’t about to spoil the moment. He massaged the back of her neck and moved up, his hands in her hair.

  “I want you to start over,” he said softly. “I want you to tell me about the frames now that you have some distance. Can you do that?”

  As long as he kept touching her this way she could do anything. Kelsey nodded.

  “Now,” he prompted.

  With her eyes still closed, she took a breath. “We need to make a decision about engraving the place card holders.”

  “Tell me why we shouldn’t engrave them.”

  He was doing amazing things with her scalp and hair. Those hands of his, those remarkable hands. She sighed.

  “Tell me why?” he repeated.

  “If Faith doesn’t show up, we can use them for the anniversary party.”

  He removed his hands. “See.”

  She opened her eyes. “See what?”

  “You’re back.”

  Kelsey sat still for a moment and waited. No errant thoughts came to her head. No emotional reasons for any decision to be made. No sign of bridal anxiety. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” He motioned the silver heart on the table. “So the frames…”

  “If they’re engraved, the frames will join the rest of Faith’s and her groom du jour’s cache of engraved favors—five hundred fish bowls, four hundred bottles of champagne and flutes, three hundred sand castles, two hundred gold snuff boxes and another two hundred silver tussie-mussies.”

  “Tussie-mussies?”

  “It’s from the Regency period, Jane Austin times, and shaped like a cone. Ladies used them to hold their hand-tied flower bouquets at balls. Each flower had a symbolic meaning—”

  “More information than I need or want to know.”

  “You asked.” Kelsey, the wedding designer, was back; Kelsey, the overstressed bride, was gone. That wasn’t about to happen again. She tilted her chin. “And now I’m asking. You know what I want, you know what your mother wants. You have the casting vote.”