Not Another Wedding Page 2

  “No.” Her hand hovered, before she let it fall to her side without touching him. “But I have faith that one day things will change.”

  Beck couldn’t return her smile. He didn’t think he could manage the pretense of the friendly, functional relationship she pretended they had.

  “Has your father mentioned the potential build he’s considering up here?”

  Beck frowned. “Since when do you and Dad talk?” They’d divorced for the second time just after Beck’s eighteenth birthday. As far as he knew, that had been the last of their contact.

  She didn’t reply immediately. He started to get a bad feeling. One that increased when a telltale blush colored her cheeks.

  “Oh, Christ.” He should have realized something was going on when she’d insisted he stay at the family property this week. Where all three of them were staying. At least he was in the guesthouse and not trapped under the same roof as them. “Are you two getting back together again?”

  He did not want to be roped into another wedding.

  Victoria maintained her silence, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipping. To the outside eye, she appeared cool and elegant. Simply a woman enjoying a refreshing beverage at her nephew’s engagement party.

  Beck knew better. His stomach turned at the thought of yet another parental reunion. Did they think marriage was a game? To be played like baseball where it took three strikes to be out? His skin began to itch under the expensive suit and he looked for an exit strategy. Something to say, somewhere to go so he didn’t have to hear about the latest chapter of Victoria and Harrison Lefebvre’s love story.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset,” he fibbed, hoping to encourage her to move along.

  “You’re pale.” She raised a hand to his cheek.

  He brushed away her fingers. “I’m fine.” Or he would be as soon as he downed another scotch...or twelve.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He forced a smile.

  She smiled back and smoothed her palm along his face. “Last time I saw you, you were clean shaven.” Beck had been sporting a beard for the last nine months. “How long are you planning to keep it?”

  “Until someone convinces me to shave.” It was actually more work keeping the beard neat and trimmed, but Beck liked it. Plus, he didn’t have a shadow to deal with come five o’clock.

  She studied him for another moment before nodding. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t forget about brunch.” Like he could be so lucky. She’d probably hunt him down in an hour to reconfirm and maintain the pretense of the perfect family.

  “I’ll be there.”

  He watched her move off, crossing the lawn to join a small group at the edge of the dance floor that included his father. His dad’s face brightened the moment he became aware of her, and that awful scratching under Beck’s suit started up again. He’d bet good money wedding number three would happen before the year was out. Great.

  He supposed he should be thankful he had insisted on staying in the smaller guesthouse instead of taking his old bedroom in the large family home. The guesthouse was still big, close to twenty-five-hundred square feet, but was dwarfed by the main house. Beck didn’t care about the size. He cared that he’d have his own space, away from his parents loving it up inside.

  Deciding to skip the mingling, Beck slid over to the bar and let the party swirl around him. The sun still beat down on them, but the heat didn’t seem to keep anyone from enjoying themselves. The crowd continued to increase in size and volume. Their frivolity was giving Beck a headache.

  He wished it was dark already so he could slip away under cover of night, but he knew the chance of sneaking past his mother was slim. Still, he was seriously considering the ramifications of what his mother might do even if he did leave early—ground him, tell him he wouldn’t be getting any dinner, send him to his room—when something else grabbed his attention.

  Or someone else. A low, pleased thrum echoed in his blood.

  Poppy Sullivan. Winding her way through the crowd, hair glowing like a beacon and poured into a dress that begged a man to wonder what was underneath. Beck’s lips curved in the first legitimate version of a smile since he’d arrived this morning. Well, well, well.

  And she was coming straight for him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  POPPY SCANNED THE CROWD, taking note of the “happy couple” as she headed toward the bar. She wasn’t particularly thirsty but the bar offered the best vantage point to keep Jamie in view. She just needed to wait until the horde around him thinned, then she’d capture his attention and drag him away for a private moment.

  Having this conversation at a wedding event wouldn’t be her first choice, but Poppy didn’t see another alternative. Time was tight. Though, if Emmy and Jamie remained attached at the hip, the lip and every other body part, it wouldn’t matter if Poppy had a century at her disposal. Even now Emmy put her hand on the back of Jamie’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. The group around them clucked appreciatively. Poppy remained unmoved.

  She had no doubt Jamie thought this was true love. The man had the instincts of a puppy. Everyone and everything were wonderful and a new adventure to be experienced. And Poppy understood dating exclusively, even moving in together after only knowing each other a short time—been there, done that—but getting married was a completely different animal. If things ended badly, there would be settlements and splitting of assets, and Jamie was a wealthy man.

  Poppy didn’t assume Emmy was a gold digger, but Emmy wouldn’t be the first one to get a glimpse at Jamie’s handsome face and fat bank account and decide theirs was a love not to be denied. Seeing as he seemed incapable of taking care of himself, Poppy would do it for him. Friends kept an eye out for each other, and she and Jamie had been friends since kindergarten.

  She’d just ordered a glass of wine when she noticed the tall, dark man watching her from across the patio. His eyes glittered with hunger and naked appreciation, and her breath caught. She didn’t recognize him. Poppy was friendly with almost everyone in town, but judging from the cut of his suit, he wasn’t from the area. Most residents of Naramata didn’t have occasions to wear designer clothes worth thousands of dollars.

  She quashed the desire rising in her belly and turned away from the stranger. His black hair was a little too long anyway, the ends curling over his collar, and he had a beard. Though facial hair on men didn’t generally appeal to her, she thought it suited him. He looked like a Wall Street banker gone rogue—one who had been in a brawl or two, judging from the bend in his nose.

  Even though Poppy wasn’t here to flirt, she risked another peek but wished she hadn’t when she discovered his eyes still on her. His lips twisted in a half smile, and her face grew hot. She glanced in the opposite direction, willing her cheeks to cool and reminding herself to focus on Jamie and her reason for being here.

  Although who knew if she would ever get a chance to speak to him. The crowd around Jamie showed no signs of leaving and neither did Emmy. Poppy sighed. She wanted to do this as soon as possible, but if no one was going to cooperate...

  “Poppy Sullivan.”

  She turned. Of course, Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous had sidled over to her side of the patio. She ignored the ripple of interest cresting through her and put on her best politely disinterested face. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s good to see you.” When she made no response, he lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t remember me?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him of course she didn’t because she’d never seen him before in her life, when his smirk clued her in. While a man might add six inches to his height, put on thirty pounds of muscle and grow a beard, his mannerisms didn’t change.

  Beck Lefebvre.

  And just like that, her spark of attract
ion turned to anger. “No,” she lied, enjoying the surprise on his face.

  Of course, she’d expected him to be here. He was Jamie’s cousin. It would have been weird if he didn’t show up. She just hadn’t thought he’d have the nerve to approach her. Worse, to act as if they were long-lost friends.

  But he merely smiled in the face of her rudeness and stepped closer. “I’m disappointed, Red.”

  Poppy bristled. Her hair was auburn with definite shades of brown, not red. She tossed it at him as she turned away. The crowd of well-wishers still surrounded Jamie.

  Beck laughed, and her nerves clashed. He was laughing at her now? She sniffed. Clearly, he hadn’t developed any charm in the preceding decade. “And here I thought I’d made an impression.” His words whispered against her ear.

  She jerked away from him. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” He smiled. “Nice night for a party.”

  She shrugged, took a step back. He moved with her. Not touching, but close enough that the heat rolling off his body warmed her skin. Silently, they watched the scene playing before them.

  Poppy focused on the details of the party instead of the man behind her. Occupational hazard. She couldn’t attend any event without thinking about how she would have done things differently, and taking notes of what she might use in future.

  Emmy and Jamie had made smart choices, getting all the key points right. Plenty of light, good flow and loads of food and drink. The other bits were simply details adjusted to suit the client’s personal preference. Poppy wouldn’t have tossed tulle over everything or matched the table runners and flowers to Emmy’s shoes. Obviously, Emmy had chosen the colors with her outfit in mind and Poppy doubted any well-reasoned logic would have convinced her it wasn’t a wonderful idea.

  Brides were notorious for being temperamental, insisting on one thing and then sobbing when they changed their minds, as though one minuscule detail meant the difference between a long, happy marriage and one filled with strife. Poppy had stopped planning weddings a couple of years ago for those exact reasons, choosing to focus on business events and functions. Less indecision and no one had ever cried all over her because the napkins at their holiday party were ruby instead of crimson.

  “So?” Beck’s voice drew her attention, caused her to turn before she thought better of it. “Aren’t you going to ask how we know each other?”

  Oh, he’d like that, wouldn’t he? Though she might not have seen him for years, she knew his type. He prided himself on being unforgettable to women. Well, it was time he learned a lesson.

  “No.” But she couldn’t help noting how good he looked. Really good. Though she’d give up chocolate before admitting it.

  She turned on her heel, intending to return to the party and find someone—anyone else—to talk to, but his hand caught her bare arm above her wrist. His fingers were warm. She shivered.

  “I guess I’ve changed. You’re as gorgeous as ever, Red.” His blatant appraisal of her body should have pissed her off—she was not his to behold. But the attraction sizzling through her was impossible to deny.

  Poppy shook the thought off. She did not want him looking at her. Not even a little. He’d lost that privilege years ago, and a bit of sexy banter and warm hands didn’t change anything.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” She pulled her arm free and hurried away before he could stop her again. As Poppy made her way through the partygoers, she did her best to ignore the sudden knocking of her heart. But when she sneaked a glance back, Beck was still watching. He even had the audacity to raise his glass toward her as though to toast her running away.

  Fabulous.

  She got less than halfway across the yard before she found herself smushed into a very large, very pregnant tummy. “Finally. I’ve been looking for you forever.”

  “Cami.” She leaned back to get a better look at her older sister, pleased by the hug as much as by the opportunity to shove Beck out of her mind.

  Cami looked as she always did, except for her belly, which was nearing the nine-month mark. Her hair, the same color as Poppy’s, was cut in a short pixie style and her gray eyes sparkled. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” Poppy left her arm around her sister’s shoulders. It was a point of pride that she stood exactly one-eighth of an inch taller. “We don’t spend enough time together.”

  They spoke often, sometimes daily, and emailed regularly, but living hundreds of miles apart and leading completely different lives could make staying close tricky. Like their mother, Cami had married her high school sweetheart, settled in her hometown and started a family. Though her mom and sister had never been anything but supportive, Poppy recognized they sometimes wondered why she’d chosen Vancouver to be her permanent home.

  “Oh, stop. I’m going to get all sniffly. It’s the pregnancy hormones. They make me emotional.” Cami swiped at her eyes, beautiful even with her nose turning rosy. “When’s Wynn getting in?”

  “Not until Monday.” Wynn had remained in Vancouver to manage an event for two hundred happening tomorrow night. Normally, Poppy would have stayed, too, but she and Wynn agreed the Jamie situation was an emergency and couldn’t be put off. Plus, he had the rest of their four-person team to help. “Have you heard about his new boyfriend?”

  “What? No, I have not.” Cami clutched Poppy’s hands. “Are they serious?”

  “I think so. He hasn’t introduced me yet.”

  “Really? I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.” Wynn’s parents had died when he was a teenager and his only sibling, an older brother, worked in the Yukon as a blaster for a mining company. Since the brothers spoke rarely and saw each other less, Wynn had been pseudo-adopted into the Sullivan family. Poppy sometimes teased that he was the brother she never wanted. “We’ll have to grill him when he arrives.”

  “Absolutely.” Wynn wouldn’t be able to resist Cami’s pleas for details. Not once she brought out the swollen-feet and aching-back cards.

  “What about you?” Cami asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Any men in your life?”

  “Not right now.” Beck flashed through her mind before she shut the thought down. She didn’t know why he’d even approached her. Had he honestly expected open arms and a friendly greeting after what he’d done? “But,” she said before Cami could start lecturing, “I’m going to work on that. Wynn thinks I should sign up for one of those dating services.”

  “You should.” Cami was resolute. “It’s way past time you got back out there.”

  “It hasn’t been that long.”

  “It’s been more than a year since you and Evan split.”

  “No.” Poppy paused and then sighed. “Okay, it’s been a while.” Ten months. Which was not a year. “I needed some time. But I’m ready now.”

  And she would handle things her way, which according to her mother and sister was wrong. But they didn’t understand. They had lived the fantasy of marrying a first love with a white picket fence and kids. She was more practical. And as soon as this wedding was over, she was going to put her way into action and become a dating machine. Or, at least, a dating widget.

  “Auntie Pop-pop.” Holly, Cami’s two-year-old daughter, interrupted with a bright giggle. She ran over and held up her arms for a kiss and hug, which Poppy was happy to oblige.

  “Hi, Holly Hobbie.” She juggled her niece and the wine she still carried. “I like your shoes.”

  Last time she and Cami had talked, her sister had mentioned Holly’s obsession with a pair of hard-soled Mary Janes. The constant tapping was driving her to the brink of insanity. According to Cami, Holly wouldn’t even take them off for bed. So Poppy had gone on a toddler-size shopping spree and sent up three pairs of sparkly shoes, all soft-soled, as well as two dresses, some striped leggings and a matching hat-and-scarf
set for winter.

  Holly proudly displayed the silver pair of shoes for Poppy to appreciate. Sparkly shoes might not be practical for an active toddler who spent more time digging in the dirt than playing dress-up, but Poppy hadn’t been able to resist. What was the point of being an aunt if she didn’t spoil her niece?

  “Beautiful,” she told Holly. “They match mine.” She showed Holly her own glittery heels. Holly oohed and, when Poppy set her back down, petted them.

  “You’re creating a monster,” Cami said as she smiled at her daughter.

  “Probably, but she’ll be a nontapping monster. Doesn’t that count for something?” Poppy handed Cami her glass when Holly tugged on her dress and demanded to be lifted up for another hug. “Do you like the shoes?”

  “Yes.” She wrapped her tiny arms around Poppy’s neck with surprising strength.

  “I like them, too.” Cami inhaled the scent of the wine. “And I like this. I want some.”

  “Soon.” Poppy untangled herself from Holly’s little monkey arms before they strangled her. “Only a few more weeks, right?”

  “I hope not.” Cami sighed and pouted at the glass. “I feel like I’m about to explode.”

  “Well, don’t explode here.” Poppy had a sudden vision of her sister’s water breaking all over her expensive gold shoes and having to hustle her off to the hospital.

  “As if I would be so tacky.” Cami rubbed her swollen stomach. “Holly, don’t play with Auntie Poppy’s earrings.”

  Poppy captured the toddler’s busy hands before she could get a good grasp and pull. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s talking to the band.” Cami gestured at the foursome. Poppy didn’t spot her mother’s strikingly colored hair nearby, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t around. “She wants to hear ‘Old Time Rock and Roll.’”

  Poppy snorted and glanced back at her sister. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Oh, it gets better.” Cami took another sniff of wine. “She’s already made Dad promise to dance with her.”