Not the Marrying Kind(40)

But he couldn’t afford to admire her. Admiration led to liking, and liking led to…genuine feelings.

And last night he’d come pretty close to doing just that. Feeling. The foreign sensation had driven him straight to the office this morning, scuttling his plans for a leisurely breakfast in bed followed by a day of decadent sex.

He couldn’t afford to lounge around with Poppy all day, being cozy and intimate. Who knew what the outcome would be? No, it was much safer keeping his distance, interacting at the obligatory functions that had landed in his inbox late last night, and then bundling her off to Red Rock Canyon while he concentrated on nailing this deal.

Only one problem. Despite working his ass off for the last three hours, setting up another meeting with Stan Walkerville’s PA, going over his last pitch and refining it, ensuring he’d dotted his Is and crossed his Ts, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She invaded his thoughts constantly. The tilt of her lips when she touched him. The tiny sigh of wonder she made when he entered her. The sheen of perspiration highlighting her post-coital glow.

It was all he could think about.

The pen he was holding skewed off the page and ripped a hole in it, and he threw it on the desk in disgust. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not now, when he was one step closer to achieving the ultimate goal. So what the hell was he going to do about shutting his wife out of his mind?

The door edged open and Lou stuck his head around it. “Got a minute?”

“Yeah.” Wasn’t like he’d get any more work done now he’d allowed himself to fantasize about Poppy for more than a few seconds. “Come in.”

Lou strolled into the office, shoulders squared, hands in pockets, looking a hundred times better than he had the last month.

“What’s up with you?”

“Got an email from that party planner.” Lou pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and brandished it. “She sent some epic ideas through for my divorce party.”

“Good.” That’s all he needed, another reminder of his wife.

“But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Let me guess. You’ve finished compiling the hotel profit margins and want to dazzle me?”

“You know we’re making a killing.” Lou slid into the seat on the other side of his desk. “I’m not here to talk work.”

“Oh?”

“You and Poppy.” Lou crossed his fingers. “Like that.”

“And your point?”

“How come you never mentioned her? Especially that night I was blind and raving on about you finding a quickie wife.” Lou puffed out his chest. “I’m your best bud.”

“Since when have we traded girlie stories?”

“Pre-Julie days, a long frigging time ago.” Lou slumped in his chair.

“Exactly. You haven’t exactly been with it since the separation and I’ve been working my ass off trying to seal the nationwide deal. Not much time left for…” Beck lifted an imaginary Scotch glass to his mouth. “We’ve had different priorities. You’ve been getting over Julie, I’ve been handling work and a long-distance relationship.”

Beck hated lying to Lou, one of the few people in this world he could trust, but Lou was a loose cannon at the moment. His reliable bud had been drunk too often for his liking since Julie left, and while it hadn’t affected his work, Beck had seen how alcohol loosened lips. And he had no intention of Lou inadvertently sinking his ship before it had sailed.

“You still could’ve told me.” Lou frowned. “Especially when she has super powers.”

“Huh?”

“Any woman who can get you to the altar, let alone slip a ring on your finger, must have mystical powers.”

“Poppy’s special.” Beck shrugged, trying to act casual as his chest twanged, an instant reminder that maybe his aim to deceive Lou held a grain of truth. She was special. He’d known it from the moment she’d stood up to him and refused his offer.

As for last night…great, there he went again, focusing on the incredible sex.

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Lou said, gesturing around the room. “I used to envy you all this, but now? You’ve got it all.” He stood and pointed to the documents strewn across his desk. “Take it from me, man. If I were you, I wouldn’t be stuck here the day after my wedding. I’d be home paying attention to the missus.”

Beck only just caught his muttered, “Something I should’ve done more often,” as Lou headed out the door.

The last thing Beck wanted to do was pay more attention to Poppy. But as he blindly stared at the spreadsheets, with the lies he’d told his best bud echoing through his head, all he could think was, Who was he really lying to?