It was all Poppy had been thinking about during the entire reception—not screwing up in front of his precious bloody investors—and how she’d keep him at arm’s length once this party was over. For as much as they pretended the attraction between them didn’t exist, it was there all the same: an underlying, potent simmer that grew exponentially the more she tried to deny it.
“I better get back to the guests.”
“Poppy?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re happy, right?” Ashlee had lost the goofy grin, a groove of concern crinkling her brows. “What you’re doing for Sara? It goes above and beyond.”
“I’m fine,” Poppy said, but deep down she knew she wasn’t.
Not since Beck had asked her to dance. She could cope with whatever this fake marriage dished up. But not the dancing. She should’ve told him before the reception to skip the bridal waltz. She hadn’t, and she’d suffered the consequences.
Not that anyone except him had noticed how freaked out she’d been. The crowd had sighed, assuming she was so blinded by love she’d cried.
Beck wouldn’t have made that assumption and she hoped he wouldn’t ask her about it.
“Just so you know, I’m always a text or phone call away.”
“Thanks, Ash.”
Who knew? Poppy might have to take Ashlee up on that offer before this marriage was through.
When the last reveler had left, Poppy sagged in relief. “Boy, am I glad that’s over.”
“You and me both.” Beck led her to the nearest chair and she sank gratefully onto it.
“How’d I do?”
He squatted in front of her and rested his forearms on her knees. A perfectly innocuous touch, but enough to send heat streaking up her legs. “You were magnificent.”
“The bigwigs were impressed by your nuptial bliss?”
“Apparently so.” His mouth twisted with a bitterness she didn’t understand. “I’ve been asked to schedule another meeting to revisit the deal.”
“That’s great.” In her excitement, she shifted, and his forearms slid off her knees, making him tumble.
“Trying to get rid of me already and the icing’s barely set on the wedding cake?” He stood and dusted himself off, his wry grin endearing.
“Hardly.” She tapped her bottom lip, pretending to ponder. “Besides, if I wanted to get rid of you I’d come up with more inventive ways.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll find out.”
His grin faded. “You ever stop to think what the hell we’re doing?”
Surprised at a rare display of doubt from the guy whose middle name had to be “Confidence,” she shrugged. “We’re smart people making decisions based on logic.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not like the billion dummies out there who jump into situations feet first based on emotions.”
“How’d you get so wise?” Admiration sparked his eyes as he sat beside her.
“Self-sufficiency breeds street smarts.”
“Can’t disagree with you there.” He looked like he wanted to ask questions, but she didn’t want to answer any. This had been some day and now that she’d finally stopped moving, exhaustion blanketed her in a claustrophobic smother. She yawned.
“Time for bed?”
Another unasked question hovered in the silence between them as he studied her, waiting for her answer.
Heck, what was wrong with her? She never second-guessed herself for having sex with a hot guy. Not like this.
It was the damned ring snug on the third finger of her left hand that was causing all the problems.
For all the signed documentation and straight talk about this marriage being strictly business, she was starting to like Beck a tad. And that didn’t bode well for an entanglement-free marriage.
“I’m going for a walk.”
“Now?”
She nodded. “Need to clear my head.”
“Marriage getting to you already?” He’d meant it as a joke but he’d pretty much homed in on what she was feeling, and she sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, eager to escape.
She’d known what she was getting into with this marriage, but after a long stressful day—heck, a long stressful week—it was tough facing reality. They’d gone into this marriage for purely mercenary reasons and it saddened her. She may not believe in marriage, but all the ones she knew of at least started with starry-eyed love.
Instead, she and Beck had reduced it to a cold, calculating business deal, and as she stared at the remnants of their red velvet wedding cake on its towering stand nearby, she had the distinct urge to sweep it onto the floor and trample it to crumbs.