The Wedding Trap (Second Service)

by Adrienne Bell

  "I don't know why you spend so much time worrying about what Spencer thinks. I sure as hell don't, and he's about to become family."

  Beth went to the sink and looked in the mirror. She combed her fingers through her hair, smoothing out an invisible tangle. "I just do. I just want to have a small moment where I get the better of him. It doesn't have to be big."

  Isobel came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, give up on that dream. It isn't going to happen. It would mean that Spencer would have to see his own flaws, and men like him just don't do that. It just isn't in him. It's some male defense mechanism, I guess. You're just going to have to write him down in the mistake column of your life, and console yourself with the fact that you are a thousand times better than him, whether he ever sees it or not."

  Beth looked up at Isobel's reflection in the mirror. It was a nice speech, one she would have benefitted from hearing two hours ago, before her life had tipped upside down.

  "But you can do all that after the wedding," Isobel said. "First, hit the hell out of that Charlie out there all weekend long. Do it for those of us who can't."

  "Isobel!"

  "What, I'm getting married. I'm not dead."

  Isobel turned Beth around and pulled her into a hug. A moment later, the bathroom door swung open and Isobel's mother walked in.

  Mrs. Munoz was every bit as graceful as her daughter. It was easy to see where Isobel got it from. Beth had spent so much time at the woman's house growing up, she'd come to think of Mrs. Munoz as a second mother, one who cooked spicier food and didn't complain about how Beth was wearing her hair.

  "Is everything all right?" she asked when she saw the pair hugging and the tears in Beth's eyes.

  "Of course," Beth said, wiping them away.

  "Beth starts crying every time I mention the wedding," Isobel said, covering for her. "She promises that she won't do it during the ceremony, but I wouldn't put money on it."

  "Neither would I," Mrs. Munoz said.

  ***

  Charlie wasn't at the table when Beth got back from the ladies room. She looked around the restaurant, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Her heart hitched in her chest. Maybe he’d run off. Maybe this had all been part of some sick game he was playing, getting her hopes up and then ditching her.

  Or maybe he was breaking into more cars. Or rooms. Maybe she was better off not knowing what he was doing.

  Or maybe, just maybe, he’d gone off to the bathroom.

  “Charlie said he had to run an errand," Mr. Munoz said when Beth sat back down in her seat. His vague answer wasn't terribly reassuring.

  One by one, people starting leaving. It was starting to get late. But for some reason, the thought of going up to her room didn't sound appealing. There was too much going on in her head for her to sit up in bed, waiting for a knock on the door. She didn't even want to think about how she was going to sleep with a stranger so close. Was he planning on sleeping on the chair, or did he expect her to give up half the bed?

  After her conversation with Isobel in the bathroom, Beth wasn't entirely sure which one she wanted.

  What she needed was a little courage, a little determination. So, she headed toward the bar instead of the elevator.

  Isobel and Jordan passed her on their way out. They looked so sweet together. Isobel's arm was tucked around Jordan’s side. When they stopped, Jordan tilted his head down on top of hers. Beth couldn't help but smile. They were good together.

  "Are you going to be all right on your own?" Isobel asked. There was a world of meaning behind her concerned look.

  "Yeah. I'm pretty sure that I can manage the 10 p.m. lounge crowd by myself," Beth said.

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know. I'm good."

  Isobel gave her another intense look. "Are you sure?"

  "I promise." Beth shook her head and tried to laugh but it came out a stuttered sigh. "Take her to bed, Jordan."

  "Will do," he said, starting to lead Isobel away. He stopped after a few steps and turned back. "Oh, Beth."

  "Yeah?"

  "I really like Charlie. I'm glad he could finally make it to something."

  Beth forced the smile to stay on her face until Isobel and Jordan disappeared inside the elevator. Then her shoulders slumped, and she sighed for real.

  She went to the lounge, and found a small table tucked into a corner. It was swallowed by shadow, the lights from the bar barely reaching it. The darkness suited her mood perfectly.

  It took the waitress a few minutes to notice her.

  "I'll have a Cosmopolitan,” Beth said, when she finally came to take her order.

  "And a soda water,” a deep voice said behind the waitress. Charlie stepped into view. "I hope you don't mind if I join you.”

  He pulled off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair before he sat down.

  Apparently it wasn't a question.

  "Go right ahead," she said. If he noticed the sarcasm in her voice, he didn't show it. "Did you get your errand done?"

  He nodded.

  Beth considered probing further, but decided against it. Maybe with something like this it would be better to have plausible deniability. Wasn't that what they called it in the movies?

  "Good for you," she said.

  He looked at her but said nothing. The silence stretched on and on. Beth glanced down at her hands, then to the other tables in the lounge. Finally, she looked at the bar. She could feel Charlie's gaze on her, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was making her nervous. It felt as if he was looking inside her, studying her.

  "So," he said after an interminable minute had passed. "Talk to me about Charlie."

  Beth turned back to him, her eyes wide. "I thought you didn't need to know anything. You've been playing him all evening."

  "Not those details. Tell me how you came up with him."

  Beth didn't miss the command in his voice. He was a man used to asking questions and getting answers. For a second she thought of tossing off some flip remark, but then thought better of it. This day had drained the fight out of her.

  "I first came up with Charlie when I was in the seventh grade."

  His brows shot up, and Beth felt a little thrill of accomplishment. She wouldn't have guessed that there was much in this world that still managed to surprise him.

  "Billy Demers asked Hailey Cranston to the spring dance instead of me. I didn't want anyone to know how upset I was, so invented Charlie. I told Hailey it didn't matter because I already had a boyfriend who lived one town over."

  "But you can't bring a pretend boyfriend to the spring dance.”

  "No, you can't. That was why Charlie ended up having a karate competition that night."

  "Karate? I guess I'm pretty hardcore."

  "That you are."

  The waitress arrived with their drinks. Charlie pressed a bill into her hand and told her to keep the change before Beth could reach inside her purse. Going by the look on the woman's face, Charlie was a pretty nice tipper.

  "After that I pulled him...I mean you...out of my pocket when ever I needed to save face. There were a couple of times in high school. One very memorable night in college. You once even saved me from going on a blind date with a co-worker’s cousin."

  "I'm glad I could be of service."

  Beth raised her drink in mock salute to him. He smiled and took a sip of his own.

  "Isobel was the only one who knew the truth. She's the only person I've ever trusted to see me, warts and all."

  He quirked a brow.

  "They're metaphorical warts," she said.

  “Of course."

  Beth downed the rest of her martini. She looked down at the empty glass. "I could probably use another one of these.”

  Charlie waved his hand to get the waitress's attention.

  He ordered and paid again before she could say anything. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of being in debt to him. On the other hand, a couple of drinks was the le
ast that he owed her.

  He turned back to focus on her. His blue eyes had darkened in the dim light. The flicker of the candle on the table shimmered in his irises. Shadows fell across his cheeks, calling his features into stark relief. Damn, he was hot.

  For a second, she didn't care what kind of man he was. She didn't care what he'd done in the past. All she wanted was to feel those lips again as they moved against hers. Maybe this time he'd press them against her neck. Or her earlobe. She was a sucker for earlobe kisses.

  Moving lips. Crap. He'd just said something and she'd missed it because she'd been too busy making out with him in her mind.

  "Excuse me?" she said.

  He gave the wolfish smile again. Beth had the feeling he knew exactly where her mind had been.

  "I was just wondering what made you bring up Charlie this time," he said.

  Beth rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's a story that I usually wouldn't tell until I was three or four drinks into the evening."

  "I have all night.”

  He leaned back in his chair. His arms hung at his sides, loose and languid, but Beth could still make out the contour of muscle underneath his white oxford shirt. Those butterflies started fluttering again. Maybe another drink wasn't such a good idea after all.

  "Spencer and I used to date," she said.

  “So you’ve said.”

  "It didn't end well."

  He waited silently, and Beth wondered how much to tell him. He picked up his glass and took another sip. His eyes never left hers. Damn, there was something about that look that made her want to tell him everything. All of her secrets.

  "It was a big mistake from beginning to end. Isobel warned me against it, but as usual, I didn't listen."

  "There's no shame in making your own mistakes," he said.

  "Yeah, well. I guess that makes me pretty shameless then."

  He smiled. The butterflies multiplied.

  "Anyway, about a week after our breakup I heard that Spencer was dating again," she said. "No problem, right? But then he kept dating. And I wasn't. Sometimes I would run into him and his flavor of the week at Isobel's. Sometimes I'd just see pictures."

  "And you got jealous," he said.

  Beth's drink arrived, and she thanked the waitress.

  "Not of Spencer. I didn't want to get back together with him or anything. The whole thing wasn't even a problem until Isobel got engaged. Then suddenly people were asking me who I was going to bring as my date to the wedding. My mother. Spencer. Everybody. That's when Charlie made his grand return.”

  “There wasn't anybody, not in all that time?” he asked.

  "Nobody that I liked enough to go out with," she said a little too emphatically. She winced and tried again. "I could have had dozens of guys, I'm sure. But I didn't like any of them. I'd already made that mistake when I went out with Spencer. I didn't want to repeat it."

  Beth took a sip of her martini. It was good. Really good.

  "Besides, Charlie was supposed to get everyone off my back. He always had before. This time he kind of took on a life of his own. People kept asking questions, and I kept answering. The lies got bigger and bigger until suddenly I found myself bargaining with a car thief in a hotel parking lot."

  "Blackmailing, not bargaining."

  She waved her hand in front of her. "Semantics."

  His smile was wide and genuine.

  "So there it is—my life story," she said. "I'm guessing that you're not too keen on telling me yours?"

  He slowly shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.

  She took another sip. A part of her wanted to push for more. It was only polite, after all, to give up a little dirt after someone spilled their guts. But somehow she knew that even if she begged, he wouldn't answer.

  She looked down and saw that her glass was empty. Again. She looked up. His eyes were on it too.

  "I'm not really a lush," she said. "I don't really drink much at all."

  Her head was feeling floaty. All of her tension had been replaced by a warm, bubbly feeling that was far more pleasant.

  "I can tell."

  Beth didn't hear any sarcasm in his voice. Or maybe she was too buzzed to notice it. She didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to judge her. She hadn't once noticed that familiar look of disappointment in his eyes. Maybe that was why she liked him so much.

  And she did. Dear God, she'd finally found a man she liked, and he was probably wanted in three states. Her mother would be so proud.

  If only he was the gigolo that Isobel thought that he was. At least that would be a step up.

  Beth couldn’t stop the laugh before it escaped her lips. Charlie’s look turned questioning.

  "Nothing. It's nothing."

  He didn't have to press, not with words. He just leaned forward in his chair, and something about his stare made her want to talk more.

  "I was just thinking how much Fate likes having fun with me,” she said.

  "You believe in Fate?" he asked.

  "Not really," she said. "But it seems she certainly believes in me."

  ***

  Alex didn't pull away when Beth slipped her hand into his as they waited for the elevator. She curled her fingers around his, but didn't try to pull him close. She just stood by his side, her warm palm pressed against his. There was nothing possessive or demanding in her touch.

  How long had it been since he held hands with anyone? The simple reassurance of human contact—that was what she wanted. And that was the least he could give her.

  The very least.

  His mind had strayed a few times during their conversation to the other kinds of soothing he could offer her.

  She had opened up to him without any urging on his part. Maybe tomorrow she would blame the martinis, but Alex knew alcohol had nothing to do with the words that flowed out of her. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to him.

  And, surprisingly, Alex found that he wanted to listen. He enjoyed sitting across from her, watching the way her nose crinkled when she talked about a part of her past that she wasn't proud of.

  Alex knew secrets. He knew how people held onto them, usually only parting with them after it became clear that there was no other option. Sometimes not even then.

  But Beth had told him willingly. She’d chosen him to be the one to lift her burden, and he was happy to do it.

  It was cute, in a way. She thought that her secrets were great and terrible. But Alex knew better. He'd seen the very worst that humanity had to offer. He'd shone light into the darkest corners of humanity. He knew the horrors that could be found there. Listening for half an hour to Beth's very human failings seemed charming in comparison.

  She was a little wobbly on her feet as they stepped into the elevator. She hadn't eaten much at dinner. No more than a few bites, and she’d downed those martinis pretty fast. She wasn't drunk, not exactly. But Alex didn't think she was in all that much pain either.

  Alex felt a pull on his arm as the elevator rose past the second floor.

  "I'm on two," Beth said.

  "Not anymore."

  The doors opened, and he walked he down the hall. Her hesitation was obvious. She walked a step behind him, dragging on his arm, but she didn't let go of his hand.

  She trusts you. God only knew why, but she did. He rationalized that he wasn't using her—no more than she was using him. It was a mutually beneficial situation. And she was smart enough not to ask too many questions.

  Hopefully, there wouldn't be any reason for her to.

  But he had meant every word of his promise. He wouldn't hurt her. More than that, he wouldn't allow any harm to come to her. Even the idea made him sick.

  Alex didn't dig too deep into the reason behind the emotion. He had taken her on as his responsibility. And he liked her. That was all.

  Her expression was openly skeptical when he stopped at the door in the middle of the hall. He swiped the key and held the door open.

  "What the..." she said, stepp
ing in before him. There was no hesitation in her now. He let her hand go, and she walked into the suite.

  The door closed behind him, and he tossed the key on the table.

  She went to the wide window that made up the far wall of the room. She threw open the drapes, exposing a panorama of the bay. Across the water, the lights of San Francisco glistened. She stood there for a long time with her back to him. The line of her shoulders relaxed a little, enough to tell him that she liked the view.

  So did he.

  "It's gorgeous," she whispered. She turned her face toward him. "This was your errand."

  Alex nodded. That, and other things. He’d also seized the opportunity to take quick look around Isobel Munoz’s room.

  "I had the staff move your things."

  "Why?"

  "I didn't like the view in your room."

  Close enough. He needed a clear view of the parking lots. This room gave him the widest vantage. He could see both the visitor and housekeeping access roads into and out of the hotel. She could stare off into the distance all she liked, but his interests were a little closer to home.

  "No, I mean, why move my things? I can't afford this room. It took me months of saving to afford the one I'm in right now."

  "Don't worry about it. I took care of both rooms."

  She turned around. Her mouth hung open wide. She stuttered for a moment before she found the words.

  "You can't do that," she said.

  "I just did."

  "But you can't," she repeated. "Paying for my drinks is one thing, but if I let you do this then you're not the gigolo. I am."

  "Excuse me?"

  She plopped down in one of the chairs, her feet coming off the ground.

  "Isobel might think that you're a man whore."

  "Really?" He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall. He'd had many covers since moving from the Navy to the CIA, but this was a new one.

  "She came up with the idea on her own. I just let her believe it. What else could I do? I couldn't let her know what you really do, you know?"

  Yeah, he knew. Only too well.