Not the Marrying Kind(7)

“I’m not gambling—”

“Black silk, satin, lace, whatever. LBD, push-up bra, stockings, you’ll have him throwing the big bucks at you.”

“Dressed like that, it won’t be for my party planning skills,” Poppy muttered, earning a grin from Ashlee.

“Good luck, hon.” Ashlee gave her a thumbs-up sign before heading back to her desk in the outer office.

Poppy didn’t need luck. She’d prove to moneybags Blackwood she could match it with the big boys in Vegas and throw a party the city would never forget. Failure wasn’t an option.

As for the laid-back, rugged, gorgeous thing he had going on? She’d wear her white cotton, purple polka-dot granny panties to the meeting. It paid to not tempt fate, and considering the dry spell she’d had for the last eight months while juggling Sara’s depression and business, she wouldn’t want her panties getting any ideas and sliding off at the first sight of those penetrating green eyes.

Yeah, she’d head to this meeting in Vegas well prepared.

Beck Blackwood wouldn’t know what hit him.

…



“Make mine a double.”

“You’ve had enough.” Beck shook his head and slid the aged whiskey out of Lou’s reach. “Time to call it a night.”

“You’re no fun.” Lou glared at him through slightly glazed eyes, spoiling his mean look by semi-sliding off the stool. “I know why, too. It’s because those investors screwed us this morning.”

Beck reassessed. Lou couldn’t be completely hammered if he was astute enough to home in on the one reason behind Beck’s foul mood. But the last thing Beck felt like doing was rehashing this morning. Not while bitterness still burned his gut.

“Wanna know what I think?” Lou slammed a hand on the table, making the whiskey glasses clink. “Screw the investors. And screw Julie, the money-hungry, soul-sucking, bee-yatch—”

“Come on, big boy, time for bed.” Beck had to interject before Lou launched on another abusive tirade. He’d never liked Lou’s ex, but Julie didn’t deserve the crap Lou was heaping on her. They’d both screwed up and divorce had been inevitable. Beck could’ve told him so at the start and saved them both the angst and a small fortune slugging it out via lawyers.

Marriage was the pits. And then you divorced. Simple equation. Which was why he avoided doing the math.

Beck slid a hand under Lou’s elbow to help him up, but his friend shrugged him off with surprising force.

“Screw you. I wanna party.”

Dragging in a deep breath, Beck mentally counted to ten. He didn’t have time for this. He had to meet with the party planner at eight, and considering it was now seven, he was done babysitting. “I’m meeting with your planner soon, so save your partying for next weekend.”

“Been a long time since I partied hard.” Lou slumped lower in his chair. “A ball and chain does that to a guy. Next weekend…yeah, sounds good…” Lou’s gaze focused on the muted TV over Beck’s shoulder, eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “Turn that up.”

Beck glanced at his watch, groaned, and stabbed at the volume button on the remote in time to catch the end of a segment on divorce parties from a well-respected current-affairs show.

“See? Told you throwing a party to celebrate my freedom is cool.” Lou leaped from his chair, staggered a little, before gaining his balance. “I’m a friggin’ genius.”

Debatable, as Beck took in Lou’s crumpled shirt, unkempt trousers, and rumpled jacket.

But the faster he appeased his friend, the faster he’d get him off to bed so he could meet the planner and tick one more thing off his extensive to-do list.

“I’ll hash out the details tonight and fill you in tomorrow.”

“Maybe I should come with you? Help plan?” Lou peered at him through bleary eyes and Beck knew if the party planner took one look at him she’d re-board the jet for LA. “I can help. Divorce parties are hip, all the celebs are doing it. Even the local business journal and CNN said so.”

Beck couldn’t give a shit whether the President himself approved of divorce parties. He needed to appease Lou so he could get this thing done and move onto more important matters, like planning his next line of attack with the investors. And finding himself a wife.

“So you checked out that website link I gave you?”

Before Beck could bundle him toward the nearest elevator, Lou had whipped out his smartphone and brought up Divorce Diva Daily, grinning inanely as he peered at the website. “Yep, I’m going to get me a little divorce diva to throw the biggest damned party Vegas has ever seen.”