Her New Year Baby Secret(33)

Maybe she just wasn't born to date. Heaven knew her mother had done enough dating for the both of them.

Laurel rolled her eyes. 'I meant I really think she's properly in love with Riley.'

Eloise found it hard to imagine Melissa loving anybody besides herself,  but then maybe she'd changed. Organising weddings didn't tend to bring  out the best in people. Maybe most of the time she was a total  sweetheart.

Actually, no. That was even harder to imagine.

Still... 'I hope so,' Eloise said. 'I hope she's truly happy.'

Because the happier Melissa was, the better the chances of the wedding  going off without a hitch, Melissa and Riley riding off into the sunset  together and Eloise never having to see either of them again.

'Me too,' Laurel said. 'If only so I never have to organise another  wedding for her. I mean, I know this is a huge coup for my new business  and everything, but still...'

Eloise laughed, ignoring the pang of envy she felt at the excitement in  Laurel's voice when she talked about her company. 'At least being the  wedding planner means you got out of having to be maid of honour. I  mean, have you seen those dresses she picked?'

Laurel pulled a face, probably feeling slightly queasy at the memory of  the miles of icy blue-green satin and chiffon that had been sacrificed  to make the bridesmaids and maid of honour dresses. 'Actually, it was  never even suggested. I think Melissa was pretty set on having Cassidy  Haven as maid of honour from the start. The celeb factor, you know.'

'You're probably right,' Eloise agreed. As far as she knew, Melissa and  Cassidy's acquaintance went back to approximately one film, in which  they had two scenes together. But, given Cassidy's rising star and box  office gold reputation, that would be enough for Melissa.                       
       
           



       

A crunching noise echoed from the end of the driveway, getting closer.  The sound of tyres on frozen ground, Eloise knew from experience.  'They're here,' she said, and Laurel raised her eyebrows with surprise.

'They are? Where?'

'Just coming around the bend.' At her words, the large black  four-by-four appeared from the tree cover and Eloise pasted on her  smile. Time to start the show.

Laurel straightened her skirt and her shoulders, trying to pull herself  up to her full height, Eloise supposed, although Eloise still had a full  head and shoulders on her. She usually did with most people.

The four-by-four slowed to a halt in front of Morwen Hall and the driver  stepped out to open the rear door. Eloise was vaguely aware of the  passenger door opening too, but her gaze was firmly fixed on the blonde  stepping out of the back seat, knees together, a picture of English  elegance. Her light hair was fixed perfectly back from her beautiful  face, her pale pink lipstick unsmudged. She hadn't even spilt any coffee  on her snowy white jumper-cashmere, Eloise was sure-and white trousers.

Maybe celebrities really were another species. No human should look that good after an eleven-hour flight.

Eloise recognised Riley Black from the engagement photos and the  occasional video call he joined them for during the wedding planning. He  smiled up at them as he came around from the other side of the car to  take his fiancée's arm. Laurel moved down a few steps to greet them and  Eloise finally turned her attention to the fourth occupant of the car.

And promptly lost the ability to breathe.

* * *

Noah Cross had learned fairly early in his career how to tune out the  meaningless chatter that came with the job but still pay just enough  attention to assure whoever was talking that he was listening to them.  The skill had served him well on movie sets across the world, in press  junkets and at awards ceremonies.

Until he'd met Melissa Sommers.

The whole flight from LA he'd been trying to read a new script his  agent, Tessa, had sent him, to 'keep you too busy at this damn wedding  to get into any trouble', as she'd put it. Normally, he'd have tossed  the script in his suitcase, relaxed with a drink on the flight and  looked forward to seducing a bridesmaid or two, just to keep in  practice. But this script was from a writer he admired, one he'd dreamt  of working with for too long now-Queenie Walters. Her films were  renowned for being deep, thought-provoking, meaningful-and for winning  every award going. Basically, the opposite of the sort of films he'd  been making for the last seven years.

The sort of films that had led to Riley Black asking him to be his best  man somewhere in the middle of nowhere, England, in minus temperatures  in December.

Maybe it was time to start making a new sort of film.

So, back to the script.

It was good, that much he could tell, even from one cursory reading with  Melissa chattering in his ear and Riley chiming in every few minutes or  so. He could even tell it through the champagne he'd drunk to make the  journey just a little more bearable.

He wanted to make this film. More than that, he wanted to star in this film.

He knew that the leading role wasn't the one his agent had suggested him  for-that would be the light relief, the comic best friend. It was his  own fault. He'd told Tessa he wanted to do something different,  something other than action blockbusters and superhero movies. And she'd  taken the not absurd mental leap and assumed he wanted comedy. She'd  sent him a raft of terrible slapstick-without-humour typescripts to  start with, until he'd asked for something a little...better.

Then she'd sent him Eight Days After and he'd known she understood at last.

Well, almost. She still saw him as the supporting actor.

He needed to convince her-and the director-that he was Best Actor material.

'And then she suggested that maybe I didn't need to have a veil at all!'  Melissa crowed with laughter, regaling them all with yet another tale  about her wedding planner, apparently oblivious to the fact that her  fiancé had already heard it, the driver of the car didn't care and Noah  was working very hard on not listening. 'Not have a veil! Can you  imagine?'

'I heard that Rochelle Twist didn't have a veil at her wedding,' Noah said from the front seat, not looking up from his script.

'She didn't?' Melissa's eyes widened with alarm and Noah knew for  certain that she would walk down the aisle without the veil on New  Year's Eve. Well, unless she checked the Internet for photographic proof  and realised that Noah was making it up to mess with her. As if he had  any idea at all what A-list actresses wore on their wedding days.                       
       
           



       

It was still weird to think that he was up there on their invitation  lists. The fact that Riley had asked him to be best man after just three  films said a lot. Noah liked the guy well enough, but he wouldn't call  him a best friend. They'd been out and got drunk a few times, played  some poker. And Noah had spent one very long night listening to Riley  weigh up the pros and cons of asking Melissa to marry him-the main pros  apparently being 'it'd be great for my image' and 'she really wants to'.  But that was about it. Did that qualify him for best man status?  Apparently, in Melissa and Riley's eyes, it did.

Seven years ago, it wouldn't have done. Granted, seven years ago Melissa  and Riley had probably been teenagers, but still. Back then, Noah had  been a nobody, desperate for his big break but secretly afraid it was  never going to come-the same as everyone else in town. He'd been living  with his best friend Sally, sharing stories of awful auditions,  commiserating over rejections with a bottle of cheap wine and trying to  pretend that he wasn't crazy about her. Seven years ago, he'd been  looking at a future of giving up, going home and admitting to his family  that he'd failed, just like they'd said he would.

Then that fabled big break had come-the same day that everything else had been taken away from him.

Noah shook his head, trying to send the memories scattering. He didn't  need them today-or any day, for that matter. Life was about the here and  now, not the past.

And right now he was about to spend five days in some fancy hotel with a  selection of the most beautiful women in the world. Surely he'd be able  to find some way to pass the time.

The car turned off the main road onto a long sweeping driveway and past a  pale sage-green sign with grey lettering, proclaiming the entrance to  Morwen Hall. They were there.

Shoving the script back in his hand luggage, Noah peered out of the  front windscreen, looking for the Hall itself. He hoped it was as nice  as Melissa insisted it would be. He needed a break, a chance to  unwind-preferably with company. It had been a long eighteen months  making back to back films, plus the promotional efforts. Five days in  the middle of nowhere didn't sound all that bad, really. Even if he did  have to spend them with Melissa.

The car broke through the last of the trees surrounding the hotel and  Morwen Hall loomed into view-all grey stone and huge windows, reflecting  the weak winter sun. It looked like something out of a bad Gothic  movie, with its turrets and arched windows, and Noah couldn't help but  smile at the sight of it. Ostentatious, over the top and not quite the  romantic vibe she thought she was going for. It suited Melissa  perfectly.