Not the Marrying Kind(32)

Her smile faltered and for a mortifying moment he thought she’d bolt. He had no idea why dancing terrified her but with people already turning their way, they couldn’t back out now. “Two left feet, huh?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” She shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s do this.”

Beck nodded at the band, who struck up the song he’d specifically selected, U2’s One. Appropriate. He wanted to be number one, wanted every person who’d ever laughed or scoffed or teased him in the past to know it.

Poppy stiffened in his arms as the lead singer did a great Bono impersonation, crooning about love being a temple and higher law, about one love, one life, one need in the night, the haunting lyrics effectively silencing the crowd. The hush was unnerving, but not as much as seeing the sheen of tears in Poppy’s expressive eyes.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

She clearly wasn’t, but she nodded, before burying her face in his chest.

His arms tightened around her waist and hers around his neck as they swayed together, their bodies in tantalizing contact, their souls a world apart. He didn’t know what made his wife tick and for the first time since he’d devised this foolproof scheme, a sliver of remorse pricked his conscience.

Maybe she wasn’t as ballsy and blasé as she pretended to be. What if, God forbid, Poppy had bought into all this romantic wedding crap?

Yep, the sooner he packed her off to Red Rock Canyon, the better.





“You two make quite the couple.” Stan Walkerville slapped Beck on the back and thrust a double malt into his hand.

Beck should’ve been ecstatic the head of the investors’ conglomeration had sought him out. Instead, all he could think about was the way Poppy had reacted during that dance.

“Thanks.” He raised his glass in Stan’s direction. “Poppy’s amazing.”

“She sure is.” Stan’s beady stare followed Poppy as she slipped an arm through the crook of Ashlee’s elbow and dragged her toward the dessert table.

Beck wanted to slug him.

“Comes from a good family, too. Parents are plastic surgeons, apparently.”

“Yeah.” Beck sipped his whiskey, taking the less-is-more approach. He’d memorized a whole bunch of facts about Poppy in case anyone quizzed him, but he didn’t want to discuss her with Stan. He wanted to talk business. He couldn’t be overt, though. Stan had to make the first move. Discussing the nationwide deal at his wedding reception would raise flags.

“Good to see you settling down.” Stan appraised him, his glare calculating, and Beck could imagine he was being sized up. “Good for your company, too.”

Bingo.

“Yeah, I’d been dragging the chain in our relationship. About time I made an honest woman out of her.” He dredged up clichés, trying to make light of their discussion, when in fact his heart pounded at the thought of getting another chance to make this deal happen.

“We should reconvene over that proposal of yours.” Stan took a long slug of whiskey before slamming the glass down on a nearby table. “See if we can readjust the figures and make the deal happen.”

“Definitely doable.” If Beck sounded any more laid-back he’d be horizontal, when all he wanted to do was punch the air and yell a resounding “Yes!”

“Set it up for end of next week.” With one last leer in Poppy’s direction that made Beck’s fingers curl into fists, Stan nodded and walked away.

Beck should’ve been elated.

He’d done it.

Obtained the second chance he’d wanted, and this time he’d nail it.

Instead, as he watched Poppy fork a piece of key lime pie into her mouth and laugh at something Ashlee said, all he could think was the debt he owed her went beyond the money.

Way beyond.

And he had no clue how to repay her.

…



“Don’t look now, but The Hottie is making goo eyes at you again.” Ashlee elbowed Poppy, who risked a quick glance at Beck.

Ashlee was right. Even across the room, Poppy could see his slightly stunned expression.

Join the club. She’d been in shock ever since she set foot in this city and first laid eyes on him.

She waved at him, forcing the same bright, perky smile she’d used all evening, the one that said “I’m a new bride and loving it.” As opposed to the one she should’ve been sporting, the petrified grimace that said, “What the freak am I doing?”

With a taciturn nod, he turned away and joined a group of suits and their stick-thin dates.

“That was weird.” Ashlee bit into a vanilla custard profiterole, her blissful expression making Poppy smile.