To Have And To Hold: The Wedding Belles Book 1

by Lauren Layne

  Before she realized what she was doing, Brooke had hooked her arm in Seth’s, turning so that they were both looking at the mid-rise building. It was unassuming, to be sure. The original brick had crumbled to the point of disuse, so the previously brick structure was now a more stable cement. But the original back had been repurposed to frame the doorway and windows. A strange-looking building, but all the lovelier for its quirkiness.

  “Isn’t it great?” she said.

  She didn’t expect him to respond, and he didn’t. Instead she glanced over to find him studying her.

  “Want to go in?” he asked.

  Brooke blinked. “Really? You want to?”

  He lifted a shoulder against the cold. “I’m assuming you have an appointment, or whatever. Shame to stand someone up.”

  “Actually, I have better than an appointment,” she said, digging into her purse and coming up with keys. “Let’s just say one of the property manager guys might have a little crush on me.”

  His eyes were unreadable. “Is that so.”

  Her breath caught a little at the unexpected possessiveness of his gaze and she blushed. “No, I just meant—”

  He only shook his head and looked away. “I’d like to see inside. Maya, for all her manipulations, seemed genuinely excited about it.”

  “She was,” Brooke said, grasping quickly at the subject change. “I think it’s exactly what she’s looking for.”

  Seth gestured something at his driver before they both moved toward the door. He waited silently as she unlocked it, her hands fumbling only slightly at the thought that she was once again spending time alone with Seth. It was strange, but as far as they’d come, as much as they knew each other—mentally, physically—all the tension of those early days came rushing back.

  She wanted to beg him to tell her what he was thinking.

  To know if he’d thought of her the way she thought of him.

  If he could forgive her for the things she’d said but certainly hadn’t meant.

  Brooke pushed the door open and stepped inside. The building, for all its newness from the renovation, still held the feeling of a structure that hadn’t been inhabited for a long, long time.

  “The first tenants won’t be moving in until early April,” she said as they passed through a small but fancy marble foyer that would serve as the main reception area for the building. “It’s fourteen floors, the bottom twelve all office space. But there was dispute over the top two floors, some wanting to lease it as executive offices, others thinking it would be a better investment to turn it into residential space.”

  “Who won?” he asked as she pushed the button on the lobby elevator.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Secretly, I’m hoping residential, because I can’t imagine a better place to come home to at night—not that I could near afford it—but I’m not sure it’s been decided yet. Whatever it is, it’ll be a long-term investment. It’s just open space right now. They’ll need to figure out the floor plan, kitchen, appliances, blah, blah, blah.”

  Seth shook his head as they stepped into the small elevator. “Nightmare. All of this should have been planned from the very beginning. If this were one of my hotels—” He broke off, and she winced, wondering if he was remembering her callous words from before.

  “Yes, well, there’s a reason why the Tyler Hotel Group is one of the most successful in the world,” she said quietly.

  The elevator started upward, and they said nothing more until they reached the top floor. Seth reached out, setting a broad hand against the open elevator door and nodding her forward.

  Brooke stepped out into the open space, the high heels of her suede boots clicking smartly against the dark hardwood.

  “They should have done carpet,” he muttered, glancing down. “More practical.”

  “Oh, no way,” she gasped. “There is nothing better than hardwood.”

  His lips twitched. “I don’t think you understand just how much I’m trying not to make a joke right now.”

  It took Brooke a moment to catch up, and she laughed when it clicked, grateful that she hadn’t completely killed his already hard-to-find sense of humor.

  Brooke spread her hands to the side. “So?”

  He glanced around, and she tried to see the building through his more trained eyes.

  Still, regardless what lens someone was viewing the room through, she couldn’t imagine any fault. The dark floors contrasted perfectly with the white walls, the windows were plentiful, and delightful arches were sprinkled in among built-in enclaves for window seats, decor, or cozy cuddles.

  She moved toward one of the windows in the middle of the wall. “This is the best view. The angle of the Brooklyn Bridge looks like something from a movie poster.”

  He moved behind her, not quite crowding her, but close enough that she could feel his warmth. Smell his scent.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She swallowed, her brain knowing that he was talking about the scene before them, her heart—her stupid heart—wishing that he were talking about her.

  Brooke moved aside before she could lean back. Or worse, put her hands on either side of that window, arch her back and beg him to take her from behind right there, right now. She hadn’t gone with the sexy dress that Heather had recommended, but Seth had proven extremely adept at removing her clothing, and it would be oh so easy . . .

  Damn it.

  “So as you can see, there’s plenty of space,” she said, moving back toward the wall with the light switches. The romantic shadows were messing with her head. She pressed onward. “The lack of interior walls gives us amazing flexibility. Dance floor in the middle, dance floor in the corner. We could go with a circular layout, or more linear. We could even—” Brooke flicked the lights on with one hand, turning back to continue giving her sales pitch, but he was right there.

  Right there.

  She walked directly into his hard chest, having barely a moment to register surprise before his lips closed over hers.

  The kiss was slow. Taunting. As though he knew exactly what she wanted, and what she wanted was this. Him.

  Brooke kissed him back with everything, her tongue reaching for his as her fingers closed on his lapel, dragging him forward so they bumped awkwardly against the wall.

  “You didn’t email me back,” she said, pulling her mouth away to dot kisses along his jawline. “Eight emails, you didn’t respond.”

  He let out a low chuckle. “Someone’s been counting.”

  “Someone’s been ignoring,” she countered.

  He stilled for a moment, before his hands slid down from her shoulders to her waist. “Isn’t that what a soulless man is supposed to do?”

  Brooke sucked in a breath, not just at having her own tantrum thrown back in her face, but at the hurt in his face. At the pain in his eyes.

  “Seth.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, instead slamming his mouth down on hers once more with even more force this time, the heels of his hands digging into her rib cage as he held her against the wall, his mouth bruising, punishing . . .

  And she wanted it. She wanted it all.

  Her tongue tangled against his, her fingers clawing at his shirt as her purse dropped to the floor with a messy thump, the keys in her hand falling with a noisy clank as they wrestled with each other’s clothes, heating each other’s skin even through the thick layers of their winter coats.

  Brooke’s hips tilted forward, needing to be closer, and Seth hissed out a curse as she rubbed against the bulge of his erection.

  He slammed a palm against the wall behind her head before pulling back, groaning in frustration as he did so.

  His breath was warm on her cheek, and Brooke kept her eyes closed, relishing the closeness, just for a moment.

  “What are we doing here?” he asked.

  Brooke could only shake her head. “I have no idea. I don’t know how to think around you. I have things all planned out, and then . . .”<
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  “And then what?” he asked huskily.

  “And then you look at me, and I just, I just want.”

  “I take it this wasn’t in your plans,” he said, gently resting a thumb against her cheekbone.

  “You mean Maya playing matchmaker? I had a hunch when she insisted you tag along, but I definitely didn’t plan on her ditching us.”

  “I’ll admit I’m having a hard time being pissed at her just now,” Seth admitted.

  Brooke opened her eyes to meet his. Their icy blue was unreadable. “I’m actually kind of glad she left. There are things I need to say, and I’m grateful not to have an audience for it.”

  He slowly pushed back from the wall, moving his warmth away from her, and her fingers clenched in a reflexive urge to tug him back. To tuck against his body and ask him to hold her. Or kiss her. Or take her against the wall, or . . .

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  Seth crossed his arms, and the closed-off stance definitely didn’t bode well for his reception of her apology. But she had to try.

  Buying time, she knelt, picking up her purse, shoving the spilled lip balms and umbrella and hair bands back in. She picked up the keys in her other hand, jangling them in her palm nervously as she stood up once more and looked him in the eyes.

  “I need to say that I’m sorry,” she said, deciding on directness.

  His eyebrows lifted. “For?”

  “You brought me breakfast and I . . . freaked out. Unnecessarily so. And I said some nasty things when I left your place that morning. Things I didn’t mean and that aren’t even true.”

  He looked away, and Brooke’s chest squeezed. She reached out a hand, her fingers touching his forearm. “They aren’t true, Seth. I was feeling uncomfortable after the intimacy between us. I was embarrassed I stayed over when I didn’t mean to, and the whole thing—it felt like too much.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you mad because I offered you breakfast? Or because you wanted to stay?”

  She opened her mouth to deliver a safe, diverting quip about not being a morning person.

  Then she saw the bleak look of vulnerability on his face, and she realized that she wanted to be a little bit brave. For him.

  “I freaked out because I realized I wanted more than the breakfast,” she said. “I went in thinking I wanted only the sex, thinking I could be okay with that, but I ended up getting cuddling and breakfast, and then I wanted more. I wanted . . .”

  “Lunch?” He supplied when she broke off.

  Brooke let out her breath on a little laugh. “Yeah, maybe. But then what if I’d wanted lunch to become dinner, and then dinner had turned into more sex, and then more sleeping over, and then, you know, repeat.”

  “Would that be so bad?” he asked, taking a step closer to her. “Us spending more time together?”

  Her heart knew exactly how it felt about that question. It jumped a little in excitement at the very suggestion of it. Her brain, however . . .

  “Give me a chance, Brooke. I may be a bit ruthless, too ambitious for my own good, and cold as ice, but what you see is what you get. I can offer that much, at least.”

  “You’re not cold,” she whispered, moving closer to him, her eyes locked on the knot of his tie, which was just slightly less tidy than before, courtesy of their groping.

  “No?” he asked huskily.

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that. And I definitely shouldn’t have said that thing about you being soulless. It was cruel, and I’m not . . . that’s not usually me. Know that. Please tell me you know that.”

  His blue eyes searched her face, and though she tried desperately to read through the mask, she had zero idea what he was thinking just then.

  And then he pulled away. Slowly. Gently. But a rejection all the same.

  “Show me the rest of the place,” he said quietly, turning back to the large, empty space behind them.

  “Right.” Brooke blew out a breath. This was why they were here, after all.

  So he hadn’t accepted her apology, but he hadn’t outright rejected it, either. She supposed that was something.

  “You’ll have to use your imagination,” she said, putting her shoulders back and chin up and trying to get back into a professional headspace. “But as you can see, it’s plenty big should Maya and Neil opt for the larger wedding, but if they decide to go more intimate, it’ll be easy to partition off some of the space, give it a more intimate feel.”

  “How is Neil these days?” Seth asked as he clasped his hands behind his back and began walking around the perimeter of the room.

  Brooke gave a little smile as she followed after him, the click of her heels echoing softly. “You mean has he tried to stuff your sister in the trunk of the car, or stolen money from her wallet, or shown up to a tux fitting with three other wives in tow?”

  Seth gave her a look. “Your email reports have barely mentioned him, which, as you’ll remember, is the entire reason I wanted the reports in the first place.”

  “Honestly,” Brooke said, “I’ve barely seen the guy. Maya said he’s been busy with work, and other than when we toured this particular facility for the first time, he’s more or less left it up to us women.”

  “What did he think of this?” Seth asked, his eyes looking around, taking in every detail.

  “He liked it, but then, as far as I can tell, Neil tends to like everything Maya likes. She could say she wanted to get married on a rowboat in the Hudson, and he’d think it was the best idea ever.”

  “Or at least he’d say he thought it was the best idea ever.”

  “Right,” Brooke said patiently. “Because that’s what fiancés do. I know you’ve still got your big brother cape on, but Neil’s behavior is pretty standard for grooms. They walk a fine line. Even the sweetest, easiest of brides can get a bit touchy with the groom and his level of involvement in the planning. If he doesn’t have any opinions, he’s disinterested. If he has too many, he’s difficult.”

  Seth stopped and turned toward one of the windows. “It still doesn’t feel right.”

  “It may never feel right to see your sister get married,” Brooke said quietly.

  “You’re probably right,” he muttered.

  “What I wouldn’t give to have recorded that,” she said lightly. “Is there anything else you want to see? I can show you the bathrooms. They’re gorgeously remodeled, and there’s this marble that’s just, well, you’ll have to see it.”

  He turned back toward her, and the gentle look on his face caught her off guard. “I’ll take your word for it on the bathrooms.”

  “Fine, fine, miss out on the gorgeous faucets they selected. I mean, they’re fabulous, but now you’ll have something to look forward to when you come back for the actual wedding.”

  “So you think this is the place?”

  “That’s up to Maya,” she hedged. “And Neil. But if it were my wedding, this would be my place.”

  “Why?”

  Typical dude question, and Brooke didn’t have an immediate answer. Instead she took her time, walking in idle circles before turning back.

  “I have no idea.”

  Seth laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

  “It’s just like a feeling, you know? Like when you move to a new city or neighborhood and walk into a restaurant and know it’s going to be your place. Or when you’re house hunting, and you step through the front doors after seeing dozens of ‘meh’ and you just know.”

  “Is that how you picked your current apartment?” he asked.

  “Eh. Not really. I mean, I like it, don’t get me wrong, but I picked it out of practicality of needing a place to live more than anything else. It’s not my forever home.”

  “At least it’s more permanent than a hotel,” he said, his gaze level.

  Crap. Once more she was reminded of the fact that in the last conversation they’d had, she’d compared him to a hotel bu
ilding. “I actually didn’t criticize it, but you seem to think I should . . .” she said. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with where you live. And if it makes you happy—that’s what counts, right?”

  “If it makes me happy,” he repeated slowly, precisely, as though this were a new concept. “Indeed.”

  They both fell silent, staring at each other for long seconds, although it wasn’t awkward so much as necessary. As though they were trying to learn the other person, reading what they weren’t saying.

  But what had started as curious suddenly started to feel a bit heated. The air between them seemed to grow heavy, and Brooke’s thoughts had wandered from what was going on inside his head to what he looked like under his clothes. She knew now, of course, but she wouldn’t have minded a refresher course.

  Time to retreat.

  She lightly jiggled the keys in her hand. “Shall we get going?”

  He nodded once, following her toward the door. Brooke lifted her hand to switch off the lights at the same time he did, his big hand covering hers, and she gasped at the contact, as though she were some pubescent girl touching the hand of a boy for the very first time.

  She jerked her hand away, but he only flicked off the lights, slowly, purposefully, as though she weren’t acting completely jumpy and weird.

  The ride down the elevator was silent, and Brooke wondered if Maya would be pleased or disappointed with how her manipulation had turned out.

  On the plus side, Seth hadn’t refused to speak to her.

  On the plus plus side, he’d kissed her.

  On the negative side, he’d seemed to regret kissing her, even as it was happening.

  And even worse, he seemed in no hurry to do it again.

  Brooke locked up behind them, pulling her scarf out of her bag as they walked toward the sidewalk. Still silent. For a second she thought he might offer her a ride in his car out of that unwavering chivalry he seemed to carry about him, even when he didn’t like someone.