“No,” he said let his mind wandered around the idea of being Belle’s boss. Might be nice, unless she was dating Marco.
“Of course you wouldn’t. You understand that everyone needs to relax—or at least, everyone else. I’d bet money you’ve called your office more than once since coming to Cancun.”
He’d called Katrina twice about Belle. So yeah, his mother would have cashed out on that bet.
“I want you to promise me,” his mother went on, “that you’ll spend less time at work and more time with Belle.”
He dropped his gaze to the comforter. How could he make that promise? Belle wanted to be with Marco, not him. But how could he not grant his mother any promise she asked for? He didn’t say anything.
His mother picked up on his hesitation. “You do love her, don’t you?” she asked, weighing his reaction.
What could he say to that? “I think about her nonstop. I can’t take my eyes off her when she walks into a room. And I hate the thought of her with any other guy.” Especially Marco.
“Sounds like love.”
Yes, it did. But it shouldn’t. He hadn’t even known her that long. Besides, he couldn’t have those feelings. Yet, somehow, he still did. The realization made him want to curse. How could he have let himself fall for a woman who had no interest in him?
His mother leaned back onto her pillows, apparently satisfied with his answer. “Don’t be afraid to marry. Look at how happy your sisters and Marco are.”
Well, Marco probably wasn’t the best example of marital bliss right now.
His mother closed her eyes. “I worried when Marco married so young. But you know him; once he knows what he wants. He goes after it and he gets it.”
Her words were not helping Flynn feel better. As soon as Marco knew the truth about Belle, he’d want her—and then he’d go out and get her.
His mother shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Nothing stops Marco,” she murmured.
Flynn resisted the urge to scowl.
She opened her eyes and turned to him. “I’m still waiting to hear you promise that you’ll spend less time working and more on your relationship.”
“I promise.” He didn’t say Belle’s name, but when he said the words, it was her face he saw.
Chapter 20
Felix called Belle Wednesday night while she was getting ready for dinner. “How’s the vacation going?”
Odd of him to ask. No doubt he was really calling about some work-related task he needed help with.
“Cancun is beautiful.” She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and brushed lipstick across her bottom lip.
“You said you met Flynn Dawson at the resort. Are you by chance going to speak with him again?”
“Possibly.” Definitely. He’d be here to pick her up for dinner any minute. “Why?”
“I’ve talked to Bainbridge’s representatives,” Felix said, a hint of reproach in his tone. “They’re low-balling me. You must have said something to Dawson to make him think the company isn’t doing well.”
She pressed her lips together to even out the lipstick. “I wouldn’t have said anything about Fontaine at all if I knew you were selling it. You should have let me know.”
“The damage is done now,” Felix said, still reproachful, “but you can make it up to me by letting Mr. Dawson know that I have another interested buyer. I can’t name names until the offer is official, but they’re willing to pay the asking price. If Bainbridge wants Fontaine, they’ll have to sweeten their offer. You let him know.”
Not likely. She’d made it clear to Flynn that he didn’t have to buy Fontaine in order for her to go along with his ruse. Belle wasn’t about to encourage him to offer more money. She closed the lipstick and went to the closet to find her sandals. “Shouldn’t your broker be handling the negotiations?”
“He is, he is. But you can give Mr. Dawson insider information, just like you did before. Only this time, you’ll be helping Fontaine instead of hurting it.”
Yeah. The last time she’d gone out of her way to help Fontaine, she’d ended up in a nearly see-through evening gown. Besides, she hadn’t really hurt Fontaine by talking to Flynn. She’d only hurt Felix’s asking price.
“Will I get the promotion to Senior Designer before you sell?”
“Sure. That’s in the works. I just have to hammer out some details with HR. You know how slow they can be.”
In other words, no, she wouldn’t. He’d keep stringing her along at a lower pay scale.
“Great,” she said cheerfully. “As soon as I get that promotion, I’ll tell Mr. Dawson about the other offer.”
“Belle, be reasonable.”
He didn’t mean reasonable. A better descriptive term would be a willing dupe.
A knock sounded on the door. Flynn.
“Got to go,” she said. “Let me know when HR promotes me.” Then she hung up.
Honestly. Felix knew she was mad about his selling Fontaine, yet he’d tried to enlist her help to get even more money from Bainbridge?
She slipped the phone into her purse and answered the door.
Flynn stood on the other side, wearing black slacks, a gray button-down shirt, and a black tie. A sophisticated, tailored look. Either the guy had style, or he listened to someone who did.
“Hi.” He smiled at her, but the look was strained. He was clearly unhappy about something.
“How’s your mother?” she asked.
“Hopefully up to dinner.”
“I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to upset her.”
Flynn thrust his hands into his pockets. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ll all just have to be careful not to say that anything is fine around her.”
“Maybe I should skip dinner. Your family needs to be together right now.” She’d texted Flynn as much earlier, but he had vetoed the idea.
“If you don’t show, she’ll think her talk with you about Daisy was for nothing.”
Belle stepped into the hallway, resigned. The door clicked shut behind her. “All right. I’ll come for her.”
“What, not for Marco?” They headed down the hallway. “You’re not looking forward to seeing him?” Flynn’s voice was teasing, but it had a hard edge. Perhaps he couldn’t tease when he was still thinking about his mother.
“I’m not looking forward to seeing Marco until Saturday,” Belle said. “That was our deal.”
“Oh, now you’re remembering our deal. Good.” He sounded moody and annoyed, but then, she supposed he had reason to be.
They rode the elevator in silence. They were going to one of the nicer restaurants at the resort, a terrace that looked out over the beach. The place specialized in expensive seafood and served drinks with exotic-sounding names.
During the elevator ride, Belle kept stealing glances at Flynn. His eyes looked tired, with lines between his eyebrows that she wanted to caress away. A foolish notion, of course. She could only imagine what he’d say if she leaned over and rubbed between his eyebrows.
As they made their way to the restaurant, she said, “You have a wonderful family. I know you don’t feel like life has dealt you a good hand lately, but you’re actually quite lucky.”
“You’re wrong,” he said. “I’ve always known I was lucky.”
He caught sight of his family sitting across the room on the other side of the dance at a floor. “Speaking of luck,” he said. “Looks like the seating gods have smiled in your favor.”
Two chairs at the table remained empty, one beside Marco, and the other across from him. Either way, she’d be within talking distance of him.
“Too bad the seating gods didn’t move Daisy somewhere else,” Belle said. Her old roommate was seated on Marco’s other side, so she was also within speaking range.
The family had probably left those seats empty so Belle and Daisy could sit close together and make up. Mrs. Dawson sat on Daisy’s far side, near enough to the two that she could oversee their conversation.
Gr
eat. Belle got to spend all night pretending she got along with Daisy. “I knew I should have skipped dinner.”
Flynn took her elbow and guided her that direction. “Sitting next to Marco seems like a bad idea, but if you sit across from him, you’ll be kitty-corner to Daisy. No matter which seat you take, what are the chances a scene won’t erupt?”
“Hey, I tried to make nice with her already. You heard me apologize over the phone. She called me a vengeful, backstabbing tramp.”
“All right. How about you sit next to Marco, and we’ll hope Daisy doesn’t peer around Marco to talk to you.”
“Fine.”
They were almost there. Flynn leaned closer. “Remember the coin toss. You’re the ideal girlfriend now.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’ll be sure to call you snookums several times.”
“That would make you the ideal girlfriend for a guy named Billy Bob who lives in his truck.”
They drew too close to the table to continue the conversation. Flynn pulled Belle’s chair out for her. She appreciated that about him—that he treated her like a lady. Then he went around the table and to sit down.
Marco turned to Belle. “You look lovely tonight.” He was only being polite. Still, the sentence sent a warm rush through her.
“Thanks. You look nice tonight too.”
He smoothed his suit lapel. “This is probably the first time you’ve seen me in something other than a T-shirt.”
“Might be.”
“That’s the real reason I became a doctor. Scrubs are the only things more comfortable than T-shirts and jeans.”
Flynn flipped through the menu in front of him. “You shouldn’t say those things to a fashion designer. Men like you could put her out of business.”
Belle ran her gaze over Marco, measuring him with her eyes. Not an unpleasant task. “I could find some comfortable business casual clothes for you.” She imagined him in soft cotton polos. Light blue, to bring out the color of his eyes. “But you’d have to relinquish some of your T-shirts in exchange. The one you wore yesterday, for example.”
“My Broncos T-shirt?” Marco asked in mock horror. “Never.”
“And the one you wore on Monday—that has to go too.”
Daisy leaned over to speak to the group, probably so she could possessively put her hand on Marco’s arm. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Belle wants to get me out of my T-shirts,” Marco said.
Daisy stiffened and sent Belle a glare. He must not have realized how that sounded. Or maybe he did. Maybe Daisy’s scene from the other night had shown Marco the easiest way to get back at his ex-wife.
“Why am I not surprised?” she said.
Marco’s gaze snapped to Daisy in shock, then returned to Belle apologetically. He really hadn’t known how his words had sounded. He flushed with embarrassment. “I guess most fashion designers want to do away with T-shirts,” he said, trying to smooth over his mistake. “Flynn probably doesn’t have any left in his closet, does he?”
Flynn obviously did, since he’d already worn some to the reunion. Belle didn’t point that out. “He does have good taste in clothes.”
“And in women,” Flynn added.
Was he trying to compliment her? Maybe he was commenting on his usual preference in women, the sort who didn’t crash family reunions to stalk his brother.
A waiter appeared at the other end of the table and began taking orders. Belle turned her attention to the menu and chose an entrée. By the time she’d ordered and the waiter left, the brothers were discussing where Marco should live after his residency.
Belle had nothing to add to that topic, so she just listened.
Daisy’s hand slid to Marco’s. “I’ll be happy to live wherever you go.”
He grunted, unconvinced. “Right. As long as I live in a city, preferably one close to a beach.”
“No, I mean it.” Her voice caught in her throat, betraying emotion. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we live.”
Marco turned to Daisy, his eyes watching hers. “What if I end up working at a clinic in some barrio?”
“Then I’ll learn Spanish.”
A flicker of a smile went across Marco’s lips and he held Daisy’s gaze for a moment longer.
Belle gripped her water glass, then took a drink so her hands wouldn’t tremble. Saturday would be too late. Daisy was already recapturing Marco, and Belle couldn’t do anything but sit and watch. Just like in college.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Belle wasn’t invisible anymore. She could fight for Marco. For starters, force a subject change. Something that would get Marco’s mind off a future that involved Daisy. She could also make Daisy snap again. It wouldn’t be hard. She’d practically lost her temper over the T-shirt comment.
All Belle had to do was offer to design a new wardrobe for Marco. The conversation would be nothing short of an innuendo bonanza.
Put yourself in my hands, Marco. You’ve been uncomfortable in the past, but that doesn’t mean it always has to stay that way. I’ll make you feel great. I guarantee it.
Daisy would be lunging at her before dinner arrived.
Belle took another drink of water and remained silent. She wasn’t going to say anything that would upset Mrs. Dawson, even if it meant being forced to sit next to Marco while he fell in love with Daisy all over again.
It seemed so unfair. Marco was so close, yet they hadn’t had one real conversation this week. He still didn’t know that she cared about him.
Belle looked up from her glass and caught Flynn watching her. The intensity in his eyes said that he knew the situation was hard for her, and he was waiting to see what she would do about it.
She looked away from him, biting back her frustration. If Flynn hadn’t kept her away, Marco might not be reconsidering Daisy right now.
On Daisy’s other side, Mrs. Dawson had tuned in to the conversation. “You should learn Spanish, Daisy. Flynn could help you.”
“He’d be happy to help you,” Belle agreed. “That’s what he does best.”
Flynn lifted an eyebrow. “I imagine I do a few things better.”
“Can’t think of any,” Belle said.
Marco’s gaze bounced from Flynn to Belle, as if trying to find the hidden meaning in their words. She wasn’t about to enlighten him.
Daisy squeezed Marco’s hand, bringing his attention back to her. “Really, I mean it. I’ll go with you wherever you want.”
Mrs. Dawson smiled with approval at the two of them. “You’re lucky to have such a supportive wife.”
“Mom is right,” Paige said, sounding sincere and innocent. “Some women would make all sorts of demands. Imagine how unhappy you’d be then.”
Ouch. So it seemed Paige wasn’t above needling Daisy. Belle shouldn’t have been surprised. Not everyone was as forgiving as Flynn.
“Compromise,” he said on the heels of Paige’s statement. “That’s always the key to a good marriage. I’m sure you’ll be able to find someplace where you’re both happy.”
“Ah, yes.” Tyler, Paige’s husband said with a laugh. “Advice from the man who’s never been married.”
“Yet,” Marco added. “We’re still waiting for his announcement on Saturday.”
Flynn’s gaze went to Belle, asking for an explanation. She shrugged. She probably should have mentioned that tidbit to him before. But really, she’d expected Flynn to tell Marco they needed to have a talk on Saturday, and while setting that up, extinguish any rumors of a forthcoming announcement. Apparently, he hadn’t.
Bread baskets were interspaced down the table. Belle took a roll and bit into it so she didn’t have to comment.
“Right, the announcement,” Tyler said. “Can’t you move that to Friday night? We’re all going to be busy checking out Saturday morning.”
“He’s waiting until Saturday,” Paige said, “because that’s their six-month anniversary.”
Tyler buttered one side of a ro
ll. “We could just pretend it’s their six-month anniversary on Friday.”
“Friday would be fine,” Belle said, smiling at Flynn. “I don’t mind pretending.”
“Obviously,” Daisy said.
Everyone in the family looked at her, waiting for her to finish the statement so it would make sense. But she just looked archly at Belle.
Mrs. Dawson’s lips pressed together in disapproval. She wasn’t pleased with the direction the conversation was taking.
How long until dinner got here? Belle felt like she’d already sat here too long.
Mr. Dawson leaned around his wife to get a better view of Marco. “Whatever the two of you decide, and whenever you decide it, we’ll be happy for you.”
Well, they may not be as happy as they expected. Belle ate another bite of bread so she wouldn’t have to say anything.
Mrs. Dawson bent her head toward Daisy’s and said a few quiet words, no doubt encouraging her to be more pleasant toward Belle. Marco and Flynn went back to talking about possible places to set up a family practice. Marco kept insisting that the he wanted to go where he could make a difference.
“Move to New York,” Belle said. “You’ll be able to find whatever you’re looking for there.” She meant that in such a big city, he could help as many of the downtrodden as he wanted.
But when Daisy narrowed her eyes, and Flynn sent her a fast glare, she realized she’d sounded like she was offering up herself.
Sheesh. Even when she wasn’t purposely using double meanings things still came out sounding that way.
“New York?” Mrs. Dawson’s attention wandered to Belle. “Are you talking about your work? I’ve been meaning to look up some of your fashions.” She took out her phone and tapped the screen. “Fontaine, is it? Can I find your designs by putting in your name?”
“No,” Belle said, “but I can pull up our website and show you some of my clothes.” She turned on her phone and launched the Fontaine app. Before she could access the new line, Mrs. Dawson let out a startled cough.
“Oh my,” she said, and held up Belle’s phone to better see the screen. “Is that a picture of you?”
How I Met Your Brother (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 17