Seducing the Bridesmaid

by Katee Robert

  Raised voices snapped his attention from Regan and Logan to where Christine and Tyler faced off. She screamed something at him and then covered her face. Tyler snarled something back, and then handed her the crutches leaning against the wall. Both Tyler and Christine left, though not together, and Kady started yelling. By the time he turned around from the debacle, Regan was gone.

  The only reason Brock didn’t lose his shit then and there was because Logan hadn’t left. He cursed himself for being the idiot everyone seemed to think he was and stalked out. What did he expect? Regan wanted Logan and she seemed well on her way toward achieving that goal. It was exactly what she’d told him her plan was. And if he confronted her now, that’s exactly what she’d say to him.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, now he had little Sophie to worry about. If Logan fell head over heels for Regan, she’d be crushed. Brock shook his head, going back over the look on Logan’s face this morning. That wasn’t the expression of a man who was just using a pretty girl for sex. There was a whole lot in the way of emotions behind it.

  Christ, this was a shit show.

  He needed some distance from this mess. And as he stormed out of the ballroom, he headed to his room to keep from doing something stupid like showing up at Regan’s room and demanding she change her goddamn plan to incorporate him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Regan ran until her legs shook. She still couldn’t outrun her thoughts—or the realization that Logan was seven shades of wrong for her. The man scaled the sides of cliffs for fun. What the fuck did he think she was—a mountain goat? The only thing Regan liked to scale was a few sets of stairs if she was feeling ambitious. If humans were meant to scale the face of death, then God would have given them claws or hooves or unbreakable bones or something.

  Oh my God, I bet he likes to camp, too.

  It would never work.

  That truth plagued her as she staggered off the treadmill and headed for the elevator…and saw Brock coming her way, his head down. She ducked into a nearby doorway and held her breath as he passed, and then cursed herself for being a coward. But she’d seen his face after she’d planted that kiss on Logan’s cheek—mostly to get him to shut up about the goddamn mountain climbing. He’d wanted to kill Logan. And then probably drag her off to have his wicked way with her.

  Since all the running still couldn’t erase how good it felt to have him moving inside her, she wasn’t about to trust her control when it came to that man.

  Because nothing had changed.

  Brock still wasn’t the keeping kind, even if Logan wasn’t for her. If this morning was any indication, she couldn’t trust herself around him. It was that damn magnetism—he drew her in without her realizing he was doing it. Next thing she knew, she’d be in his arms and contemplating a future that could never be.

  God, how she wanted that future today in the truck.

  Regan ducked out of the doorway, and satisfied the coast was clear, she hurried to the elevator and up to her room. That had been too close. This place might be big enough to call itself a village, but she had a feeling the entire East Coast wouldn’t be big enough when it came to putting distance between her and Brock.

  She shut the door behind her as her phone went off. Regan jumped, feeling guilty even though she hadn’t technically done anything. She thumbed it on to find a text from Julie.

  SOS. Meet in lobby in ten

  Well, shit. She glanced at the clock. This wasn’t going to be pretty. She took the fastest shower of her life and barely paused to put on moisturizer before she threw on one of her slouchy dresses saved for lazy days and her pair of lowest heels. Then, with her hair up in a ponytail, she rushed down to the lobby.

  Julie was already there, her toe tapping as she looked at her watch. For all that, she had a big, stupid grin on her face. Regan walked up and nudged her with a shoulder. “What’s the SOS? Because I know that look on your face—you got some last night.”

  “More than some.” Julie blushed. “Now, you know I don’t kiss and tell. So let’s just say both my pillows were warm this morning.”

  “Holy shit, you’re in love.” Something in her chest twanged at the thought. She was happy for her best friend, but she was also a little jealous. They swept into the restaurant and were quickly seated. “You know, since this is all my fault, I get maid of honor by default.”

  “Baby steps, Regan. Ah, there she is.” Instantly, Julie was on point. “Christine, let’s get some food in you. Let’s see who I have to bribe to get us a proper breakfast of waffles. Comfort food is on the menu.”

  All it took was one look at their friend’s face and she knew comfort food wasn’t going to be enough to fix whatever was wrong. “What’s going on?” Though she’d bet her last dollar it had to do with Tyler.

  As Christine poured out her heart, Regan set aside her own personal bullshit and focused on taking care of her friend. And what a doozy that story was. Guess she’d been right about Christine and Tyler all along. By the end of their pep talk, Christine was ready to storm the fortress and get her man back. Regan gave her her best go-getter smile. “Go. I’ll cover your portion.”

  Christine had barely made it out the door before Julie turned on Regan. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t need any of your Aunt Sylvie’s advice. I’m good.” Julie liked to trot out her Aunt Sylvie’s favorite sayings whenever presented with a problem, but Regan didn’t think a quirky Southernism would help her current situation.

  Julie’s snort was indication enough of what she thought of that. “Whatever you say. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  “Snuggled up with your very own honey badger. Got it.” She dodged a piece of waffle Julie threw and pushed to her feet. It was only when she reached the lobby that she realized she had no idea where she was going. Today was the only one during this week that wasn’t scheduled out the ass, and right now, she kind of wished it was. At least then she’d have something to do besides sit in her room and watch soap operas.

  Or she could put on her big-girl panties and face whatever it was on her computer—and the fact that the information she was dying to read had nothing to do with Logan.

  Why couldn’t he be less… Well, less everything that seemed determined to send her into panic attacks. He had charm to spare, and obviously had worked his ass off to get where he was, but the man’s idea of a good time was engaging in life-or-death activities. She’d rather face walking the streets at midnight than have a tiny rope be all that was between her and falling to her death. All evidence pointed to him being a freaking daredevil. And who in their right mind went into the outdoors for fun? People invented cities full of houses for a reason.

  She walked into her room and stared at her computer. She already knew what information Addison would have dug up on Logan. He was freakishly perfect in every way that she thought mattered, but the idea of spending another minute talking to him about all his favorite activities made her want to catch the nearest cab for the airport.

  So really, there was no point in even reading the information. Logan would never work, but that didn’t mean Brock was any more suitable.

  Yet she found herself opening her computer and bringing up her email. It was tempting as hell to flip through the various emails she’d gotten in the last few days, but she refused to be a coward. Ignoring the files marked Logan McCade, she opened the first on Brock.

  As she read, she almost closed the file. It said everything she expected—he was bright and had a fantastic athletic history, though he’d never pursued sports after high school. Hell, it looked like he hadn’t pursued anything after high school. He’d taken the job with his father’s company and just…stayed there. There was no upward movement, no deals worth noting, not even a hint of scandal or anything to indicate he did more than show up and sleep at his desk every day.

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wished she hadn’t been right. But it couldn’t be clearer t
hat she was. With a sigh, she closed that file and opened the second one—and frowned.

  What the hell was this?

  Frowning harder, she reread the information. And then again. Regan reached for her phone and dialed without looking. Almost immediately, Addison’s voice answered, “You’re supposed to be having fun, remember? Not calling me.”

  “You made a mistake.”

  “Nope. You and I both know I don’t make mistakes.”

  “Obviously there’s a first time for everything. You have Brock McNeill listed as one of the owners of the Blue Boat Foundation. That’s not right.”

  “Oh, believe me, it is. He’s not listed on any of the official paperwork or announcements, so I had to do some extra special digging to find his name, but he’s the sole founder.”

  “That’s impossible.” She would have known about this. The man she had him pegged for didn’t own a nonprofit organization geared toward helping battered women and their children relocate. The Blue Boat Foundation had been making waves in the U.S. in the last five years because of the sheer amount of support it offered these women. Apartments in decent school districts. Entry-level jobs in whatever field they were qualified for—and schooling if they weren’t—with plenty of room for advancement. Child care. A tiered system designed to help them stand on their own two feet without crippling them by taking away assistance completely. The freaking president of the United States had even come out in support, saying that the Blue Boat Foundation stepped in where the government fell short.

  If Brock was part of this movement, she would have known.

  Addison made a tsking noise. “I’m not wrong, and deep down, you know it.”

  Which meant Regan had been wrong. At least in part. She stared at the computer screen until it went blurry. “Thanks. I owe you more than just lunch for this.”

  “And then you can tell me the real reason you wanted this info.”

  She should have known Addison would recognize something was up. “Deal.”

  “Talk to you soon.” Then she was gone.

  She shook her head and closed the computer. Brock had some questions to answer. Why the hell hadn’t he spoken up and told her what he’d been doing behind the scenes? Knowing he was part of the Blue Boat Foundation would have been enough to shut her up and put her in her place—at least for a few minutes. It would have been so easy.

  She wanted to know why, and she wanted to know now.

  …

  Brock turned off his shower to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He sighed and wrapped a towel around his waist. What else had gone wrong? It seemed like every time he turned around at the wedding, someone else was in the middle of an emergency.

  When the banging didn’t show any signs of going away, he opened his door—and nearly got run over by Regan. She shoved past him and spun. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Afternoon.” He closed the door and leaned against it, taking in the sight of her. She looked different today, not as composed and put together as normal. Her hair was pulled back and she didn’t have a speck of makeup on her face. Most telling of all was the fact she wore beige heels of a normal height.

  “You should have told me.” She waved a hand in his face. “All this time, I thought you were something you’re not, and you’ve been laughing at me because you are the fucking majority shareholder in the Blue Boat Foundation.”

  He never would have told her. Hell, the only reason Colton knew was because the man was brilliant and Brock had gone to him for advice about getting it up and running. He’d never told Reed, but for different reasons than the ones that made him keep it from his family. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “It changes things. Or it could change things.” She spun again, pacing without actually moving. “And I want to know why.”

  “Why what?” He moved closer, letting some of the anger he constantly carried with him surface. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you? Because I don’t need your fucking approval—or anyone else’s. That’s not why I started the Blue Boat Foundation. Or maybe you want to know why I started it in the first place? I did it because I grew up lucky. You think I don’t know that, but I damn well do. Beyond the money you seem to hate so much, I have both my parents and my dad might be a rigid asshole, but he never once touched any of us in anger.”

  Needing to escape the thoughts in his head, he snagged an arm around her back and towed her against him. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or smack him, but then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t understand you. Do you know how freaking rare that is? Every time I think I have your number down, you go and throw something new into the mix. It’s not okay.”

  “Would you have kept coming around if you had my number right from the start?” The question didn’t come across as flippant as he’d meant it but, damn it, her answer mattered nearly as much as her caring about his dating history.

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe. I don’t know and that screws with my head, you know? I always know what I’m going to do before I do it, because I always have a plan. You weren’t part of any plan.”

  And that had to scare the shit out of her. Regan was more of a control freak than anyone else he’d known. Being around him must have done a number on her. “Plans change. That’s life. It’s not always comfortable, but sometimes it’s for the best.”

  “Not my plans. Not until you.” She shook her head. “I guess I just can’t quit you.”

  Before he could comment on the sheer what-the-fuckery of her quoting Brokeback Mountain at him, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. This was what he’d been missing ever since they went their separate ways yesterday. Regan, in his arms. She was wearing too many clothes, but he’d fix that in a second. Right now he was content to enjoy the strangely tentative way her tongue stroked his, as if she were memorizing his mouth.

  She jerked back before he could really sink into the kiss—or move them toward the bed. Her eyes were wide and she had a look on her face he’d never seen before as she shoved out of his arms. Regan’s lower lip quivered. “I…I was wrong about you, okay? It’s more than the foundation, though that’s part of it. But I just…I can’t.” Then she was gone, sliding past him and out the door before he had a chance to respond.

  “That went well.” He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t wanted to use the Blue Boat Foundation to get in good with Regan. That wasn’t why he spent so much time and funding keeping it running. He knew it accomplished a lot and did quite a bit of good, but he’d put it into motion for women like Reed’s mother. For kids like Reed had been. Not to get his father’s approval, or to get laid.

  He couldn’t decide if it was a positive thing or not that she’d admitted to being wrong and then run, but he wasn’t going to chase her down. She knew the truth. The ball was in her court now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Regan could barely string two thoughts together, which definitely made her a shitty friend because she was supposed to be paying attention to the rehearsal. She’d made it up the aisle with Reed, but she’d been too distracted by the presence of Brock behind her to even come up with a snarky comment about Reed winning Julie over.

  Put shortly—she was a mess.

  Brock wasn’t just the majority shareholder of the Blue Boat Foundation—he was the founder. And if the look on his face when he talked about it was any indication, it was a passion project. Considering she never would have pegged him as a man who felt passionately about anything, she was still trying to wrap her head around the whole thing.

  But it was more than that. She’d had a hell of a time keeping away from him even before she knew the truth. How was she supposed to do it now? There was so much about Brock she found attractive, and the reasons they couldn’t be together kept going up in smoke.

  Her conundrum wasn’t made any easier by the fact that her focus should really be on Kady and Colton as they spoke with the pastor ab
out how the ceremony would go down tomorrow. She should be tearing up like Julie was, or at least looking happy like Christine. Instead, she was painfully aware of Brock standing next to Tyler and the distinct lack of laugh lines on his mouth.

  Because he was looking at her.

  Why should he be happy? She’d barged into his room, yelled at him, and then run away as soon as he gave a response. Like she was a little twit, throwing a tantrum because the world wasn’t the way she’d thought it should be.

  Nothing was turning out like she’d planned.

  “Then you’ll kiss your lovely bride, and I’ll pronounce you husband and wife.” The pastor smiled. He wore the expression well, as if he spent a lot of time grinning. And why not? A wedding was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of a person’s life and he got to witness them on a regular basis. That had to be pretty great.

  And she was most definitely mentally wandering because she didn’t like feeling so out of her element.

  She didn’t know what was going to happen with Brock and her. Rightfully so, since she wasn’t supposed to want anything to happen with them. It wasn’t part of the plan, and she was so damn tired of worrying about the plan. If she followed the mental checklist she’d created for her future husband, she’d end up with someone like Logan. Someone perfect and driven and so fucking wonderful it made her teeth ache. A man like that wasn’t going to challenge her—unless she counted being dragged out into nature and forced into death-defying activities. He wasn’t going to call her on her shit, and he wasn’t going to make her want things she’d never really considered important. Things like fun. Things like laughter, and bickering, and outstanding orgasms in semipublic places. A man like Logan wasn’t going to curl her toes with a single grin, or call her a silly pet name like “darlin’” or any of the other things she so enjoyed with Brock.

  All those things she’d thought to be of secondary importance suddenly didn’t seem so. Could she live without the surprises a man like Brock brought? Could she spend the rest of her life knowing exactly how each day would play out?