To Have And To Hold: The Wedding Belles Book 1 (20 page)

“I understand. I’ve got one of those, too,” Alexis said, her voice uncharacteristically kind.

“Yes, but do you have a criminal ex-fiancé for your mother to fret over?”

Alexis
let out a sharp laugh that hinted at hidden pain. “No. But honestly, I think my mother would prefer me to have a con man than no man.”

Brooke popped a Hershey’s Kiss in her mouth and held one out to Alexis, who shook her head. Of course not. No chocolate for this one.

Still, Alexis’s face looked happier than usual, her body language just a little more relaxed than Brooke was used to seeing. The result of spending time with a certain accountant, perhaps?

Excited to see another side of her boss, however slightly, Brooke smiled and kept up the small talk. “Is she one of those moms that sends you articles about freezing your eggs?”

“Oh, so you’ve met her?” Alexis said with a wry smile. She held out her hand, apparently having changed her mind about the candy. “My comfort food is usually Fritos, but I suppose this will work in a pinch.”

Brooke tilted her head to the side, and tried to picture the delicate-featured, classy brunette eating salty, greasy corn chips. “Nope. Can’t picture it.”

Alexis chewed her Hershey’s Kiss slowly and methodically, the way she did everything else. “Yes, well. Let’s just say that my chip breakdowns are few and far between, and I ensure they happen in private.”

“Do these breakdowns ever have anything to do with a certain sexy Brit?”

Alexis blinked. “What?”

Uh-oh. Too far.

Still, it was too late to backpedal.

“Oh,
come on,” Brooke said lightly. “You can’t tell me you have private, early-morning meetings with your accountant and not notice that he’s the sexiest thing since Mr. Darcy?”

Again with the clueless blink. “Are you referring to Logan?” Alexis asked.

You poor, oblivious creature
. “Please don’t tell me you’ve completely missed the fact that the man is gorgeous.”

Alexis pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I guess he’s always just been . . . Logan. We’re friends. And he’s my accountant. Not exactly fantasy material.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d forgive the pocket protector because, that accent though.”

Alexis’s smile faded as she chewed and swallowed the chocolate. “Is this what you wanted to speak of? My accountant?”

Brooke swallowed a sigh. Girl talk was apparently over before it even got started.

“Actually, no . . .” she admitted. “It’s about the Tyler wedding.”

Brooke took a deep breath. “I seem to be finding myself . . . attracted . . . to the bride’s brother.”

“Ah,” Alexis said, not looking the least bit surprised.

“You don’t seem . . . shocked,” Brooke said.

“Well, I know him.”

Brooke froze. “You know him.”

“I know
of
him,” Alexis amended. “I’m actually friendly with an ex-girlfriend of his.”

“Nadia?”

Alexis’s gaze sharpened. “He’s mentioned her?”

Brooke
bit her tongue, feeling oddly disloyal to Seth for even going there. “In passing,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Hmm, yes. They didn’t end well,” Alexis said.

Understatement
.

“Well, regardless, I seem to find myself . . . attracted. I haven’t crossed any major lines,” Brooke said, deliberately omitting the fact that she’d crossed a minor one with that kiss, “but I’m embarrassed to say that I’m no longer certain I can be objective where he’s concerned.”

“I see,” Alexis said slowly. “Is he planning the wedding?”

“Well, no, but he’s financing it.”

“And you’re worried that you might comport yourself in a less-than-ideal manner because he’s attractive?”

“No. But I’m worried
you
might worry that.”

Alexis studied her for several long torturous moments that reminded Brooke uncomfortably of the time she’d brought home a particularly rough report card to her parents in the tenth grade when she’d been spending a whole lot more time on the cheerleading field than in the library.

“You’re a professional, Brooke. It’s why I hired you.”

“I am,” Brooke confirmed quickly. “It’s why I’m coming to you now. Preemptively.”

“Are you asking that the Tyler wedding be reassigned?”

“No.” Brooke was emphatic. “I simply thought it might be prudent to let you know of the situation.
I’d love the opportunity to continue working with the bride and groom directly, but because Seth—Mr. Tyler—is very much involved, I was thinking that perhaps either you or Heather could take care of keeping him apprised of the necessary details.”

Alexis slowly reached out and helped herself to another Hershey’s Kiss. “No.”

“Thanks—wait, what?” Brooke said as her boss’s response registered.

Alexis shook her head. “This is your wedding. You need to handle all the parts, including Mr. Tyler. I’m the one to sign off on all of the billing statements, but that’s as far as my involvement goes. I’m confident that there won’t be a problem.”

Brooke’s head was spinning. “Okay, but—”

“May I speak out of turn?” Alexis said.

Brooke bit back a smile. “Do you even know how?”

Alexis merely looked at her, waiting for a response.

“Sure,” Brooke said, oddly eager to see what might come out of her boss’s mouth when the woman didn’t have her shields up.

“I think people make too big a deal about sex,” Alexis said.

Not what Brooke had been expecting.

“It’s just . . .” Alexis waved her hand impatiently. “I know what the magazines and romance novels tell us. That sex has to complicate everything, but that’s a myth. It only has to complicate things if you let it.”

“And you don’t . . . let it?” Brooke asked, trying to follow along.

There was a brief flash of something across
Alexis’s face—something Brooke might have called vulnerability if she didn’t know the other woman better.

“Not anymore,” Alexis said. “And if you’re sitting there thinking that it’s weird to be talking about sex with your boss, well . . . that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Sex shouldn’t be taboo.”

Brooke reached for a Hershey’s Kiss. And then another. Hell, she needed a whole bag for this conversation. And a vodka.

“I’ll apologize for overstepping,” Alexis said as she calmly stood. “Consider it food for thought.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Brooke asked, aghast. “I’m not . . . I’m not entirely sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

Alexis smiled. A real one, that reached her eyes. “Yes you do.”

Brooke hesitated. “Are you telling me to sleep with Seth Tyler?”

Alexis shook her head. “I am not. I’m telling you to sleep with who you want to sleep with.”

“Even if it’s a client?”

“Admittedly, not my first choice, but then it’s
not
my choice, is it? And you’ve read the Belles creed. It doesn’t matter who’s paying the bill because the real client is . . .?”

“The bride,” Brooke finished. It was no less than she’d been telling herself and Seth for days.

“All I’m saying is that it doesn’t
have
to get complicated,” Alexis said. “I’ve always managed to keep sex and the rest of my life separate, and I find I rather like it that way. In fact, sometimes—how did you put
it?—
crossing that line
can actually ease the tension. Not add to it.”

Brooke stuffed another candy in her mouth. “Respectfully, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

Alexis shrugged. “Respectfully . . . think about it.”

S
ETH
KNEW THAT PEOPLE
thought living in a hotel was lonely, but the truth was, it usually wasn’t.

He liked the location. He liked the room service. Liked coming home to a freshly made bed and clean sink and never having to change a lightbulb.

But on Thursday evening as he wheeled his overnight bag into his set of suites after a long-ass, delayed flight back from Hong Kong, neck cramped, eyes gritty, and body tired down to his very bones, Seth paused in the foyer and looked at his home differently.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wished for . . . something. Someone.

A dog. Even a godforsaken cat.

Or, maybe, a sassy-mouthed blond wedding planner.

He pushed this last thought aside as he dropped his keys on the console and flicked on the lights. Seth hadn’t heard from Brooke since last Friday when she’d rejected his kiss. While he couldn’t quite say he
was over the sting of her rejection, at least he hadn’t done damage to her working relationship with his sister. A couple of casual questions to Maya had reassured him that Brooke was still very much the wedding planner.

The whole thing was just as well, he thought as he entered the small but modern kitchen and opened the fridge door. Getting involved with any woman wasn’t on the agenda right now. Not when every last drop of his energy went toward being a CEO worthy of filling his father’s shoes.

But if he were to get involved with a woman, it sure as hell shouldn’t be with one to whom he’d be writing a fat paycheck in a few months.

And unfortunately for Seth, he was increasingly worried that he
would
be writing a check. So far he’d turned up no tangible dirt on Neil, and his sister had given no indication that she regretted accepting the man’s proposal.

There was, of course, still the chance that Brooke might turn something up during the course of wedding planning, but it had been a long shot that she’d sabotage her own paycheck in the first place. Now that he’d gone and made a move on her, he wasn’t exactly betting the ranch that she was going to join his anti–Maya and Neil wedding campaign.

Which left him with the private investigator that Seth hadn’t quite worked up the courage to call back.

Seth closed the refrigerator door upon realizing that it was mostly empty. Fine. He wasn’t hungry so much as restless.

And
not restless so much as horny.

“Shit,” he muttered, bracing his hands on the granite counter, and debated a cold shower. But he’d been trying that for days, and so far it had been completely ineffective at banishing images of Brooke from his mind.

For the three days he’d been out of the country, he’d been telling himself that he’d call up one of his old flings the moment he got back to New York. As far as little black books went, his was underdeveloped compared to Grant’s, but there were a handful of women who he’d consider friends with benefits. Women who, like him, were eager for companionship without expectation.

He picked up his phone with the intention of calling one of them, but the second he started scrolling through his contacts, he knew it was wrong. All wrong. Knew that there was only one woman who could assuage his lust.

Well, he’d be damned if he’d throw himself at her feet like a moron again, only for her to kick him when he was down. He’d shown her vulnerability and she’d all but laughed in his face. So no matter how much he still wanted her, he was just going to have to get over it.

Seth tossed his phone back on the counter and went to the old-fashioned bar cart along the window, pouring himself a couple of fingers of whisky as he stared absently out at the Manhattan skyline. Generally speaking, he wasn’t a big fan of drinking his problems away, but unlike professional problems, this
couldn’t be solved with a bit of brainstorming, hard work, or strategizing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and debated turning in early. It was barely nine, but he knew from experience that he was better off tackling the inevitable jet lag now before it walloped him in the ass in the days to come.

Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe tomorrow he’d wake up and the first thought on his mind wouldn’t be a kiss that had ended prematurely.

Seth’s phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. He thought about ignoring it, figuring it was likely to be a business call that could wait until tomorrow, but then he glanced over.

It was the front desk of the hotel.

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Tyler, there’s a visitor here for you.”

Probably Grant. The man had zero qualms about stopping by unannounced to raid Seth’s booze collection, even though Grant’s own whisky collection rivaled most of Manhattan’s bars.

“Sure. Send him up.”

There was a beat of silence. “Sir, it’s a female visitor.”

Seth’s eyebrows lifted. “Maya?”

“No, not Ms. Tyler, sir. A Ms. Baldwin.”

Seth’s glass hit the counter with an awkward clank.
Brooke
.

He ran a hand through his plane-mussed hair. Frantically he ran through his calendar. Did they make an appointment he’d forgotten about? Had he
missed a note from her about meeting to discuss the wedding?

“Sir? Shall I send her up?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Please send her up.”

The wait for her to make it from the lobby up to his private residences should have gone quickly, considering the fact that he’d been waiting for days to hear from her, but it was quite possibly the longest three minutes of his life.

Remember. She rejected you. Play it cool, man.

There was a quiet knock, and he took another sip of whisky for courage before he straightened his tie and opened the door, prepared for . . .