Not the Marrying Kind(54)
“What’s with the baseball bat?”
The cheeky grin Poppy had loved since high school creased Ashlee’s face. “It was Craig’s prized possession, next to his metrosexual moisturizer.”
Poppy laughed. “And he let you have it?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Ashlee picked up the bat and assumed a hitter’s position. “When he’s freaked out enough I might ransom it for his new Mustang.”
“Good luck with that.”
Ashlee placed the bat down and plopped onto the bed. “What would you trade to have Beck back?”
Good question.
Poppy had a feeling she’d be pondering it for a long time to come.
Like forever.
…
“Your wife came through for me in a big way.” Lou brandished four business cards under Beck’s nose. “Not only does the crème de la crème of LA and Vegas society think I’m a classy guy for throwing such a loved-up divorce party, I managed to get the phone numbers of four hot babes desperate to comfort me.”
Beck barely glanced up from his laptop where he went over figures for the final time before they touched down in LA. “Four? Seriously? You could barely handle one woman, and look how that turned out.”
“After what you’ve just ‘fessed up, I could say the same about you, big guy.” Lou slid the cards in his top pocket and patted it. “At least I wasn’t lame enough to chase my woman all the way to LA—”
Beck fixed Lou with a death glare that just made him laugh.
“You think your plan’s foolproof?”
Jeez, Beck sure hoped so. “I’ve anticipated every scenario, so I’m hoping for a positive outcome.”
Lou’s laughter gave way to guffaws. “You sound like you’re pitching for a construction deal, not trying to save your marriage.”
Beck had to compartmentalize this, otherwise he’d go frigging insane.
It had killed him waiting until morning to follow Poppy, but at least he’d used the time wisely, putting into place contingency plans he hoped would convince her of the truth.
He couldn’t live without her.
“There you go again with the goofball look.” Lou pulled a cross-eyed face. “Never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Eligible bachelor extraordinaire takes a dive over the divorce diva. That’d make nice headlines.”
Something shifted in the back of Beck’s mind. Aligned. Clicked into place. “You met with Stan to go over the figures again after I left him on Friday.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you mention Poppy at all?”
“Not really.” Lou narrowed his eyes, trying to think. “Once we’d been over the figures, Stan was suitably impressed. I was pretty pumped and he started making small talk, so we chatted for a while about general stuff.”
“Like?”
“The Lakers. Golf. My divorce party.”
Beck had a bad feeling, the same kind of feeling that tripped down his spine the day his folks had been discovered dead. “What about the divorce party?”
“The uptight prick was raving on about morals and the sanctity of marriage and the like, so I told him he didn’t need to worry, the party was in good hands and it’d be elegance all the way.”
“Did you mention Poppy?”
“‘Course not.” Lou’s quick look away told him otherwise.
“What did you say?”
Lou winced. “I may have let slip that Poppy’s sister was in the party planning business—”
“You putz. Stan’s a sharp guy. That’s all he would’ve needed to do a little research to discover the truth. My PI found the link easily enough, Stan would’ve too. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t?” Lou offered, a study in bashful apology. “Look, man, I’m sorry, it just slipped out and I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t.” Beck closed his laptop and slid it into its case. “I hope you won’t make the same mistake when we land.”
“I’ve got this covered.” Lou darted a nervous glance at his briefcase. “Trust me.”
“Famous last words,” Beck muttered, ignoring the nervous churning in his gut.
This plan had to work.
The pitch of his life.
One deal he wouldn’t consider losing.
“Make sure you stick to the plan, okay? No improvising. No fuckups. Got it?”
“It’ll be a cinch.”
Beck wished he had half Lou’s confidence.
Chapter Fourteen
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