The Wedding Trap (Second Service)

by Adrienne Bell

  "And of course, you remember Isobel," she said.

  "How could I forget? It's wonderful to see you again."

  Isobel's mouth hung open. It took her a half second to regain her composure and take Charlie's hand.

  "Yeah...you too," Isobel said.

  "He's on a really tight schedule this weekend, but he didn't want to miss wishing you well before the wedding," Beth said.

  Charlie sat on an empty couch, pulling her down with him. Beth’s smile became even more tense. What was he doing?

  "It's not so tight," he said.

  "No?" she said, raising her brows. "I really thought that it was."

  "I have time."

  "You do?" Her voice was high again. "Good. Good."

  Beth glanced at Spencer. There was a questioning look in his eyes, but his lips were pressed together in a tight, flat line. That was fine. He might not totally believe her, but his silence was its own little victory.

  "So, where are you off to this weekend?" her mother asked.

  Beth was just about to open her mouth, when Charlie answered. "I was going to Los Angeles."

  Beth's breath hitched in her throat.

  "Was?" Her mother asked the question that was blaring in Beth’s head.

  "Beth told me how much grief she was getting for being dateless. It made me realize that I was losing sight of what was really important. It's obvious that I've been neglecting Beth, so I called in a favor and sent someone in my place.”

  Beth felt the blood draining from her face. "No, you didn't," she said.

  He laughed a little. "Yes, I did."

  "Why would you do that?" Beth asked. Across from her, Isobel cleared her throat. Beth drew in a deep breath and tried again. "It's just that I know how important this meeting is."

  Everyone was staring at her. Dear God, she knew this had been a terrible idea. What was he doing? Was this his idea of revenge?

  "You're far more important," he said.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I should be here for you.”

  Beth shook her head. “No need. Really. I’m totally fine without you.”

  "Of course, you should be," her mother butted in. She leaned forward and patted Charlie's knee. "We're all ecstatic to have you with us."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Bradley," he said.

  Beth shot Isobel a pleading look. There wasn't anyone else who could help her. But her friend just shook her head. The message was clear. You aren't getting out of this right now.

  "You should be happy that Charles wants to spend time with you," her mother said. "Our Beth has always had a terrible ungrateful streak," she added to Charlie.

  Beth stifled a groan.

  "You must join us for dinner," Mrs. Masterson said.

  There was a chorus of agreement from everyone except Spencer, who was now staring at her through narrowed eyes. Beth started to worry. Silence wasn't Spencer's style, not even in defeat.

  "I don't think—"

  "I would love to," Charlie said, talking over her words. "We might be a little late, though. I still need to get settled in our room."

  Our room. Beth squeezed his hand as hard as she could. In her mind she fantasized that she was crushing all the bones of his fingers, but he was so solid that she doubted she was even pinching him.

  Beth tried one more pleading look in Isobel’s direction. The disbelief had faded a little from her friend’s eyes, replaced by a sparkle of humor. Isobel just shrugged her shoulders.

  Hey, you got yourself into this mess, she seemed to say.

  And she wasn't going to get out of it that easy. Her only hope was to regroup elsewhere.

  Beth plastered another fake smile on her face and stood. "We'd better get you up to the room then, if we want to be back before dessert," she said.

  Charlie rose, and pulled his arm around her waist again. Beth knew she should recoil from him. At the very least, she should feel some kind of cold shudder at his touch. He was a bad guy, after all. A car thief. A liar. A breaker of deals.

  But she didn't.

  Her heart started to pound in that same strong, hard rhythm it had found the first time she’d seen him. Her body, it seemed, didn't know from bad guys.

  That was all right. That was why she had a head. It knew the difference. Right?

  Beth heard the murmur of hushed voices rising up behind her as they walked away. She knew every eye would stay on them until they had disappeared inside the elevator.

  "Not everyone believes us," Charlie whispered when they were halfway across the lobby.

  Beth gawked at him. Who the hell was this guy?

  "It doesn't matter what Spencer thinks," she said in rush. The only thing that mattered was figuring out what in the world she was going to do now.

  "Of course it does." He stopped in front of the bronze elevator doors and pressed the up button. "Kiss me, and he'll believe it."

  "What?"

  "Don't think. Just do it." He pulled her closer.

  Beth crushed against him. He was so close. He tilted his head down toward her.

  She shouldn't be doing this. Wasn't she just trying to figure out how in the world she was going to get away from this crazy man? But she could do that in a minute. Right now, she had to save face. And if the only way to do that was to kiss the ridiculously hot man in front of her, well then, that was her cross to bear.

  Beth had to stand on tiptoes to reach him. She pressed her lips lightly to his. Just a peck wouldn't hurt.

  His arms wrapped around her back. Her breasts crushed against his hard chest. He deepened the kiss. She didn't pull away.

  Beth draped her arms around his neck. Just for show. As long as she was going to do this, she might as well do it right.

  He tilted his head, and his lips slid against hers. Beth's heart began to hammer. Dear God, she was actually kissing him. Her grasp around his neck tightened. Now she was the one that was pulling him closer.

  She opened her mouth and drew his bottom lip inside. She felt his body tighten, certain parts more than others.

  She was vaguely aware of a soft chime sounding, and then he was walking her backwards. The lighting changed behind her closed eyes. And then the kiss stopped.

  He slowly pulled his mouth from hers, but his arms stayed wrapped around her.

  Beth opened her eyes.

  They were in the elevator. The doors were closed.

  She snatched her arms from around his neck and pulled away. She didn't stop moving until she was in the corner furthest from him.

  "That ought to do it," he said with a languid smile. He leaned over and pressed the button for the second floor.

  Beth's mouth hung open. For a second, words flew from her head. All she could do was stand and stare at him. At least she had the presence of mind to fold her arms over her chest. Maybe her body language could convey how upset she was, since her brain was stubbornly refusing to do its job.

  She drew in a deep breath. And then another. Finally, she trusted herself enough to speak.

  "What the hell was that about?"

  "Not everybody believed you and I were a real couple."

  "Not that."

  He smiled, a wolfish grin that made her blood boil even as it drained some of the strength from her legs. “Then what?”

  "I told you I only needed you for five minutes. You were supposed to follow my lead, and then leave."

  He shrugged. "I decided that you needed more than that."

  "You decided? What in the world makes you think you get to decide what I need?" She was really angry now. She must have been feeling a little better if she’d managed to muster that up. But Beth didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing his reaction to it. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the hall. She rushed after him.

  “I didn’t have much of choice. Imagine how awkward things would be when your friends and family kept seeing me hanging out in the lobby when I was supposed to be in LA.”

  Beth reached out and grasped his arm. He st
opped mid-stride.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

  “I have plans at this hotel this weekend too.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Plans to do what?” she asked before she could think better. She let go of him and waved her arms in front of her. If only she could wipe him away so easily. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. What ever it is, it can’t be good. I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Smart move.”

  She started down the hall. She didn’t look behind her as she pulled the card key from her purse. She pushed the door open. If she had any kind of courage, she’d slam it closed and leave him out there. But she couldn’t. Until they had some kind of agreement—one with very clear terms this time—she would worry about what he would do.

  Would he go downstairs and tell every one that she had asked him to play the part of her boyfriend? Or worse, would he go down there without her and continue to pretend to be Charlie? Either idea made her stomach clench into a tight knot.

  She didn't relish the idea of being alone with him, but it was better than having this conversation out in the hall where anyone could overhear them.

  She would just have to keep the discussion as brief as possible.

  Beth let go of the door as soon as he stepped into the room. She stayed by the door, while he walked to the window, pulled back the gossamer thin drape, and glanced briefly outside. A second later, he let it drop. He obviously wasn't impressed with her parking lot view. Well, she couldn't afford the luxury suite that Isobel had reserved.

  "You're going to have to change your plans," she said.

  "Sorry. I can't do that."

  He sat down in the high-backed upholstered chair. Beth didn't like the idea of him getting too comfortable in her room. But, on the other hand, since she couldn't exactly run over and stop him, she was glad he at least chose the chair. Maybe she was still feeling the effects of that kiss, but the thought of him lounging across her bed was far more distracting.

  She crossed her arms. "Of course, you can. I'm sure that what you have planned for the Kensington this weekend will go down just as well at the St. Francis across the bay."

  He shook his head. "I like it here better."

  "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I'm not asking. You are going to leave."

  "Or what?" he asked, leaning forward.

  Frustration bubbled up inside of her. She wanted to storm over and smack his face. Throw things at his head. Anything to force him to listen to reason. But the protective part of her brain held her back.

  He might look calm and relaxed sitting in that chair, but there was something undeniably threatening about him. She should have recognized it earlier. Maybe she'd been too pulled in by his gorgeous face to see it, but now that she was alone in a small space with him, she could see that he practically thrummed with danger.

  "Or...I'll go down there and tell them what you really are."

  He smiled and leaned back in the chair. The ease was back so quickly it made Beth wonder if she'd only imagined the menacing gleam in his eyes.

  "Go ahead," he said.

  "I'll do it." Her voice shook a little.

  "No, you won't. You're too invested in this lie that you've told," he said. "And even if you somehow decide to face their scorn and laughter, chances are they wouldn't believe you. Why would they? Everything else you've told them has been a lie."

  Beth opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She could barely get breath past the lump blocking her throat. Her legs turned to rubber beneath her. She barely made the two steps to the bed. The edge of the mattress bowed beneath her weight.

  Dear God, what had she gotten herself into? She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I made a deal with devil, didn’t I?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” he said. “But next time you might want to find out a little about the person you are blackmailing before you do it.”

  “What is it that you want?” It probably wasn’t a good idea, keeping her back to him, but thought of turning around to face him was too much to bear. Besides, she still didn’t think he was out to hurt her. Not physically at least.

  "Nothing," he said.

  Like she could believe that. “Right.”

  "It’s true,” he said.

  Beth lifted her eyes heavenward again. No divine intervention came flowing down. Imagine that.

  "And what if I end up getting in trouble because of this plan of yours?" she asked.

  "You won't," he said. His voice was firm, certain.

  "But what if I do?" She imagined a flood of cop cars pulling up in the middle of Isobel's ceremony, sirens blaring. She’d be cuffed and stuffed in the backseat while Spencer looked on and laughed.

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  "How can you be sure?"

  "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you or yours, Beth. I promise."

  Beth swiveled around on the bed. His expression was calm and confident. She believed him. She couldn’t figure out why, but she did.

  "What are we going to do about Charlie?" she asked.

  "I don’t see any reason why we can't help each other. I'll be Charlie all weekend. After that you can tell them anything you like. We broke up. You found me with another woman. I fell off a cliff," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  "I'll have to drag you to some wedding events. You'll have to spend time with my parents." She wasn't going to sugarcoat it for him. There would be a price to pay for both of them.

  He smiled as if that was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. "I haven't been to a wedding in years."

  There would be no getting rid of him, Beth realized. Their deal was struck. She was stuck with him all weekend. Her stomach flipped over again, and this time it wasn't because her head was filled with visions of her mother crying as the police led her away in handcuffs. No, now she was imagining being trapped in this tiny room when Charlie finally slid out of that jacket.

  Beth turned her face away before he could see her blush.

  "I should change before dinner," she said, rising from the bed. She'd have to dress in the bathroom from now on.

  "I'll go get my things," he said.

  Beth could feel his eyes on her as she went to the closet to pick out a dress. She heard him rise from the chair and take two steps toward her. He cupped her shoulder with his hand. It was a comforting gesture, and, heaven help her, she wanted to lean into him. But she resisted. She kept herself straight as a beam.

  "Everything is going to be all right, Beth."

  She wished that he would stop saying her name. Just the sound of it made her feel all warm inside. It made her lose sight of important things. Details that she would have otherwise caught.

  Charlie opened the door.

  Beth froze.

  "Wait," she said. "In the elevator. How did you know that my room was on the second floor?"

  He shrugged his shoulders, and stepped out into the hall. "Lucky guess."

  The door clicked shut behind him.

  Chapter 3

  Beth didn’t eat a bite of her dinner. For the first time in a week, it had nothing to do with self-control. Her stomach had been churning through the whole meal.

  She'd been certain that at any moment the whole ruse would fall apart. Someone would ask something about her past, about Charlie's past, about anything at all, and Charlie would freeze. They would be caught in the lie and revealed as frauds.

  But it never happened. Everyone was pleasant, and the topics stayed light. Her pretend Charlie showed off his charming side, laughing at Mr. Masterson's jokes, complimenting her mother's dress, even talking a little baseball with Jordan. Beth couldn't have hoped for a better result. There wasn’t even a hint of the dangerous man she’d seen a flash of in her room. By time the salads had been removed, he had the whole table eating out of his palm.

  There were two exceptions, of course—Spencer, who still regarded Charlie with a skeptical eye, and Isobel, who only had laughter in hers
.

  Isobel excused herself from the table as soon as the waiter came around for coffee orders. Beth took the cue and followed her.

  Isobel grabbed onto her arm as they walked to the bathroom.

  "So? Who is he?” Isobel asked as soon as the door swung shut.

  “What do you mean? He’s Charlie.”

  Isobel balled her fists on her hips and gave her a pointed glare. “You know what I mean. How the hell did you pull this off?"

  "I really don't know. The situation just kind of fell into my lap." She wasn't about to tell Isobel what kind of man Charlie really was.

  “Where did you find him? Is he an actor?"

  Beth scrunched up her nose. There wasn't any way to answer. Not a truthful one, at any rate. "Kind of."

  Isobel's eyes widened. "Is he a gigolo?”

  "Oh my God, Isobel." Beth put a finger to her lips, in case they could be overheard.

  "He is, isn't he?" Isobel went on. "That's why he's so hot. And so good with people."

  "Are gigolos known for their social skills?" Beth asked, furrowing her brow.

  Isobel shrugged. "I don't know. I've never known one before. But I'd imagine they'd have to be."

  It made sense. And it was sure a hell of a lot easier than having to tell Isobel that she had dragged a potentially dangerous criminal to her wedding. Sure, it made her seem desperate, but what the hell?

  Isobel's eyes widened as all the pieces fell together in her mind. "And you're sharing a room with him. Are you—?"

  "Dear God, no!" At least that part was true.

  "Why not? Just look at him."

  Beth's mouth hung open. "Because I'm not so hard up that I have to pay for sex."

  Well, that wasn't exactly true. She probably was that hard up. But her pride wouldn't allow it. At least the pesky emotion was good for something.

  "No, you're just hard up enough to pay someone to pretend to be your boyfriend." Isobel laughed.

  Beth rolled her eyes and bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "I couldn't think of any other way out of it. You don't think anyone suspects, do you?"

  Isobel shook her head. "No. Your mother just about ate him up with a spoon. I think she's already picking out colors for the nursery."

  "What about Spencer?"

  Isobel's expression turned serious. Nothing sucked the air out of the room like mentioning Spencer.