CHAPTER 5
IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor. But something about seeing this smart-mouthed goddess who’d rocked-and-socked her way into his world fade into a shadow of herself was disheartening.
He liked Chloe. She was funny and jaded, but not quite as jaded as she thought she was. Their conversations over the past twelve hours had been the most fun he’d had with a woman in a really long time. And had he mentioned the sex had been hot as hell? Truly top-notch. So why bring the fun to an end?
Besides, it wasn’t like he had plans tonight. His meeting with hotel magnate Edward Burke was at four o’clock. By five he’d be free and clear. And a guy had to eat, so what did he care if it was room service or fancy wedding food?
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
“Ben, ma’am.”
“Ben. Is that short for Benjamin?”
“It is.”
“May I call you Benjamin?”
“Of course.”
She finally accepted his outstretched hand, eyeing him coolly. He felt every second of her assessment, like her eyes were shooting tiny, prickling ice shards as they studied him. His face, his suit, his arm around her daughter’s waist, his shoes. He was glad he’d taken the time to polish them that morning. “It’s nice to meet you, Benjamin. Chloe failed to mention she was seeing a handsome professional man. What is it that you do for a living?”
“Mom! Boundaries. Geez.”
“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the car on the way to the suite.”
Ben put on his best client-wooing smile. “I really appreciate the offer, Mrs. Masterson—”
“Fiona,” she corrected.
“Fiona. But I’ve got a business meeting this afternoon, so we should really head straight to our room.”
“Yes, Ben’s got a meeting first!” Chloe latched onto the excuse with all her might. “He can’t be late for that. So…yeah, what Ben said. Gotta get to our hotel. Check in and stuff.”
“Hotel Burke,” Ben added, hoping the ritzy name would impress Chloe’s mom a little, or at least thaw her a bit. She didn’t bat an eye. Chloe groaned.
“Well, I’m relieved to hear you’re staying at the wedding venue. I figured you would have picked something clear across the city, just to be contrary.”
“See you tonight, Mom.” Chloe reached for her luggage, but Ben beat her to it, grabbing her scratched-up plastic suitcase in his left hand, his pristine black one in his right. “I got it.”
“What the hell was that?” Chloe whirled on him the second they stepped outside. The frigid wind whipped her hair around her head, and Ben set their suitcases down on the snowy sidewalk so he could shove his hands in his pockets.
“Unbalanced seating plans are wedding kryptonite.”
“Oh, God. You heard that?”
Ben shrugged his shoulders against the cold. “It’s a well-known fact. I can’t believe you weren’t aware of it, Chloe Marie.”
“I can’t believe you told her you’re my boyfriend.” Chloe jammed a hand through her hair. “Why would you do that?”
“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, Ben.’”
“Why would I thank you? You’ve ruined everything!”
“What are you talking about? I just saved your ass.”
“In what world did you save me? Now I’m going to get a lecture three times as embarrassing as before because she won’t have a chance to even out the damn seating arrangement before I arrive solo at the big event.” She pulled her coat tighter around her. “Maybe I could just say you got hit by a bus, or you’re allergic to tulle—”
“Or I could just come with.”
“—or you ate some bad shellfish or—What?”
“What time does it start?”
Chloe stared up at him with no sign of understanding on her face. The tip of her nose was turning pink in the cold.
“The wedding,” he clarified.
“I, uh, let me check.”
“You don’t even know when the ceremony starts? Isn’t that like, the raison d’être of bridesmaids?”
She fished a thick, pearlescent envelope from the depths of her purse. “Oh, I’m not a bridesmaid,” she told him, pulling a fancy-looking itinerary out of the envelope.
Ben’s shoulders drooped. As an only child with no living family, he’d kind of romanticized the idea of having blood relatives. Chloe’s words shook him a little.
“According to this, the ceremony starts at six, appetizers and cocktails are at seven, late supper and speeches start at eight.”
“Perfect. My meeting should be done by five at the latest. Gives me a chance to shower and change.”
She stared up at him again, this time with skepticism. “You sure you want to do this, Masterson?”
“You underestimate the things I will do for a free dinner, Chloe Marie. Now c’mon. Let’s grab a taxi before I lose my ears to frostbite.”
* * *
THE VALUE INN had been adequate. Hotel Burke was spectacular. Vaulted ceilings, glittering chandeliers, sumptuous fabrics, and rich wood lent the place an air of old-world glamour.
Ben gave a low, impressed whistle. “So your mom takes a car service and your sister’s getting hitched here? What’s the deal? You’re actually some poor little rich girl or something?”
“My parents have money. I don’t have money.”
He’d been teasing, but something in her voice caught his attention. She’d gone very still.
“Hey, I was just teasing.”
She smiled to reassure him, but didn’t quite pull it off. “I know. It’s no big deal. I’m just… I’d kind of forgotten what this was all like, this life I left behind.”
Growing up with just his dad who’d often struggled to make ends meet, he couldn’t quite imagine anyone walking away from all this and being fine with it. It was the dream, what most people strove for. “Do you regret it?”
She shook her head, pretty green eyes darting around the ornate lobby. “No. I mean, in the big picture, there’s no difference between the Value Inn and this place. A hotel is just a place to sleep, right? But it reminds me of the person I used to be.”
Her hand drifted subconsciously to her hair. Boring old brown, she’d called it. He wondered what she was remembering as emotions flitted across her face—sad eyes, a ghost of a smile, the determined set of her chin.
The desire to pry was overwhelming. He wanted to learn everything there was to learn about the beautiful, complicated woman beside him. But right now she needed to be distracted.
“Shall we go check in?”
“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. About that…”
He turned to face her.
“You know what my mom said? About me booking a room across town just to be contrary?”
The guilty look on her face made him smile. “Seriously?”
She nodded sheepishly.
“Stay with me.”
Chloe’s cheeks bloomed with color. “What?”
“I like you,” Ben confessed. “The real you. But you’re different when you’re around your mom. And I get it,” he hurried to explain himself, “because I’ve had people in my life like that, too. People you can’t quite be yourself with.” Melanie’s face came to mind, right on cue, but Ben was surprised that his bosses’ faces were also part of the mental parade.
“Thanks, Ben. That’s really nice of you, but…”
Uh-oh. He’d spooked her. He should’ve known better. Chloe preferred to keep things light.
To that end, he lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “Also I really enjoy getting you naked. So what do you say? How about we make this a two-night stand?”
Her smile told him he’d saved the mission. Well, him and the fact she didn’t have much choice now that her mother thought she’d be staying here. “Why, Mr. Masterson, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“I really hope so.” God, did he hope so.
“I’m in, but only if you let me pay half,” she stipulated, “because I don’t want the guy at the desk to label me a hooker.”
“I accept your terms, because the room’s actually a comp. When you do business with Edward Burke, you stay free at his hotel. And for the record, there’s no way anyone working at a classy place like this would ever mistake you for a common hooker. This is call-girl territory.”
“Well, in that case,” she teased, grabbing his hand, “hurry up and get us a room already.”
The man behind the counter was extremely efficient and they were in the elevator and headed up to their room in no time.
Smiling and laughing, bumping into each other more than was strictly necessary, the low-grade sexual tension that had been simmering between them escalated the closer they got to the room. He loved this playful side of her.
“Look at this place.” Ben held the door open so Chloe could join him in the tiled foyer. A freakin’ foyer, with a shoe rack, and a closet, and a giant urn full of fake palm-fronds. The room was stunning, done in opulent shades of brown and cream. “And this isn’t even a suite.”
“Forget the foyer, I’m more interested in checking out the bed. You wanna help me with the inspection?” The wheels of her suitcase were quieted as they met carpet when she ventured farther into the room.
“Oh, hell yes.” Ben pushed the door closed behind them and locked the bar latch as he glanced at the emergency map.
In case of fire, use stairs unless otherwise instructed.
“Ben? Are you coming? Because I want to.”
Notify the operator (dial 0) or pull nearest fire alarm.
“Nothing? That was a grade A pun, Masterson. Right up there with ‘Mrs. Understanding.’”
If you hear the fire alarm, evacuate, don’t investigate.
“Are you seriously reading about the fire escape routes?” Her voice was so close it startled him, and he spun to face her, embarrassed at being caught.
“It’s just good sense to know where the closest emergency exits and fire extinguishers are.”
She shook her head at him in faux disappointment. “You’re such a freak sometimes, Masterson.”
“Uh, yeah. A freak in the sack.”
“Prove it,” she challenged, squealing in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back as he carried her over to the bed before dropping her unceremoniously on the giant mattress.
“With pleasure,” he said, divesting himself of his suit jacket and shoes.
“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” She reached up, pulling his tie down until he joined her on the bed. He pushed her down onto the pillows.
Then he settled beside her, propping himself on his elbows so he could stare down at her. Her makeup was different again. Today his little chameleon was sporting a clever blend of pinks and browns that made the golden flecks in her green eyes shine.
She raised her hand to his cheek, startling him out of his inspection, and he accepted her wordless invitation and lowered his lips to hers.
The soft meeting of their mouths was a revelation, so different than the last time she’d been in his arms. That had been the heat and passion of a match meeting gasoline. This was a slow burn, and he let himself revel in the sweet eroticism, the simple beauty of just kissing her.
The first sweep of her tongue made his breath catch. As much as he loved the soft brush of her lips on his, tasting, teasing, he was relieved as the pressure built because he was starting to go out of his mind with all this restraint. His breath came faster, his mouth grew more demanding, and he ached to touch Chloe everywhere.
She pressed her palm to his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt, tugging him closer. He loved knowing she was as turned on by their make-out session as he was. She had just started in on his shirt buttons when the shrill ring of her cell phone intruded on the moment.
He rested his forehead against hers. “Ignore it.”
“It’s my mom. She’ll only call back if I don’t answer. Again and again and again. Trust me. It’s why I assigned her a special ringtone in the first place.”
With a sigh, Ben flopped onto his back as she crawled across the bed in search of her phone. It took a moment of digging through her purse and four more rings to answer the call.
“Hi, Mom…Yes, we’re here…” She glanced over at Ben, rolling her eyes. “Right now?…Okay, I’ll be there in a minute…Yes, the fourth floor…I understand that you’re on seven, and I know how to use an elevator, so I’m sure this will all work out fine. Okay…Okay…Yes…Mom, I’m coming right up…I’m coming right up! We can talk about it when I get there. I’ll see you in a minute.”
“What, did she follow our cab to make sure we came straight here?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Chloe tugged her T-shirt back into place as she stood. “I am really sorry about this. But I’m glad you’re coming to this wedding with me. I don’t know how I’d have gotten through this by myself, so thank you.”
He stacked his hands behind his head and waggled his eyebrows. “You can thank me later.”
God, he loved making her laugh.
“I really wish I didn’t have to leave.” She walked over to the mirror and fussed a little with her hair. “I have no idea how long this will take, so good luck with your meeting.”
“You can good luck me later, too.”
She turned and hit him with a sultry look that upped the heat simmering in his belly. “Oh, I’ll luck you all right.” She started walking toward him with a slinky, do-me walk that drove him crazy. “And it’s gonna be so good,” she promised, leaning over to plant a final kiss on his mouth. Ben grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him.
She giggled against his lips, squirming to get back up. “Ben, I have to go or she’ll send out a search party!”
He groaned as she got free of his embrace and pushed herself up off the bed.
“Fiona Masterson waits for no woman.”
“Fine,” he relented. “Get out of here already. I have a meeting to prepare for.”
“I’ll see you back here when I’m done.” She grabbed a tube of lipstick from her purse and did a quick touch-up before heading for the door.
“Hey, Chloe?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“Bet you wish you knew where all the emergency exits were now, huh?”
She was still laughing when she pulled the door shut behind her.
* * *
CHLOE TRIED TO control her grin as she approached the bridal suite, but it just kept slipping out. It had been a long time since she’d liked a man this much. And really, this was the perfect situation for her. A two-night stand. A vacation fling—no commitments, no expectations, just fun, flirting, and—
“There you are, Chloe! I’ve got to get down to the ballroom to make sure it’s ready. Please go and keep your sister company.” Chloe accepted the key card her mother held out to her. “She’s all alone in there—talking some nonsense about needing a minute to herself.”
“Well, we can’t have that.”
“Exactly.” The word was so emphatic that Chloe almost laughed, until she realized the reason for her mother’s panic. It had very little to do with Caroline, and everything to do with a Saturday afternoon four years ago. The insight sobered her. “I’ll sit with her. Go take care of the catering.”
With a deep breath, Chloe unlocked the door to the massive bridal suite and stepped inside. Her sister was dressed in a white-satin robe with her brown hair pinned and curled into an elaborate updo. She was sitting at a mirrored vanity, looking beautiful and vulnerable, like some old-timey movie star.
“Mom, I’m fine. I promise. I just… Chloe! You made it.”
Caroline was so different than Chloe remembered, and it was more than the fancy hair and lack of makeup. Sure, they were friends on Facebook—she’d seen her little sister mugging for the camera in internet pictures, but they didn’t convey Caroline’s presence, her stillness. She seemed so grown up for twenty. Well, twenty-one.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Chlo.”
Chloe was surprised by the nickname. A remnant from grade school, when having matching four-letter nicknames that ended with O was the height of sisterly bonding—back when they used to get along. Caro and Chlo. It all seemed a lifetime ago.
“And thank you for coming. When Mom said your flight was delayed, I was worried you might not make it.”
Her sister’s sincerity made Chloe feel a little bad for not wanting to come.
“I know we haven’t seen each other for ages, but I need your help.”
Chloe laughed nervously. “Don’t you have a half-dozen bridesmaids around to do your bidding? Where is everyone?”
“They’ll be here soon. They’re just finishing up in hair and makeup in the suite next door. I just wanted a few minutes to myself. Today’s been flying by so fast I feel like I haven’t had a moment to breathe. Besides, I didn’t want them around when I asked you.”
“Asked me what?”
Caroline bit her lip, an old nervous habit. “Would you do my makeup?”
The question stopped Chloe dead. “What?”
“I want you to do my makeup. Like old times.”
She used to practice on Caroline constantly. At first, she’d done it against her little sister’s will, bribing her to play guinea pig with sweets or toys or money. Then later, she’d done it at Caroline’s behest, for dances and dates and parties. But all that had been many years ago.
“You want… I mean, didn’t you hire a professional makeup artist?”
“You’re a professional makeup artist. That’s what you do at work, right? And on YouTube?”
Chloe blinked. “You’ve seen my videos?”
“Of course! And don’t try to wuss out on me and say you don’t have your stuff, because I’m sure that giant purse of yours is full of every color and cosmetic known to man.”
It was true, so Chloe didn’t bother to deny it.
“You’re sure?”
At Caroline’s nod, she walked over and set her purse on the vanity, ignoring the way her sister’s eyes lit up as she began unpacking her stuff.
Chloe’s hand was shaking as she pumped some foundation onto a makeup sponge, and she forced herself to take a deep breath to still the tremor. She was just about to start the application when Caroline held out her hand to stop her.
Chloe raised her eyebrows.
“Listen, you’re not going to do my makeup exactly the way you do yours, right? I mean, you won’t use green or anything? And less eyeliner, okay? I’m not going to a rock concert. I’m getting married.”
Chloe laughed at that, and the overwhelming tension that had been tying knots into her shoulders since she’d stepped in the room lessened. “Shut up and trust me, brat.”
Caroline smiled and did just that.
Twenty minutes later, Chloe was pretty damn impressed with her handiwork. Her sister was glowing in soft shades of nudes and pinks, looking every inch the blushing bride. A second coat of mascara and she’d be ready for her big moment.
Chloe twisted the cap off the tube and leaned in to apply the finishing touch.
“I wanted to ask you to be a bridesmaid.”
Chloe’s hand jerked at the admission, and the brush touched her sister’s eyebrow. “Oh, God. Hold on, I can fix that!” She jammed the wand back into the tube with undue haste and started digging through her bag for her makeup remover. She didn’t notice her hands were shaking until Caroline touched her forearm and she froze.
“Don’t worry about the mascara.” The soft, understanding note in her sister’s voice gave Chloe the courage to look at her. “I just wanted you to know that I wanted you here.”
Why was it hard to breathe?
“Mom kyboshed the bridesmaid idea pretty quick, I’m sure.” She was joking, so she hoped Caroline had missed the note of hurt that stained the words.
Her little sister shook her head, staring at her lap. “I—I decided not to ask you.” Caroline looked up, and once again, Chloe saw the woman she’d grown into. Nothing like the spoiled brat of her memories. “I figured the only way I’d get you here was to make you as anonymous as possible.”
“Really good guess,” Chloe managed to say.
“I needed you to be part of this, Chloe. I miss you. I know we didn’t used to get along well, but I was a stupid teenager. I was jealous of my big sister, the rebel! Doing what she wanted, being who she wanted. And then you just left,” she said, voice trembling.
“Oh, God, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup,” Chloe warned, but they were both far past being able to obey.
“I’m sure you’ve always thought of me as a goody two-shoes, doing what Mom and Dad wanted. And a lot of the time, you were right. I was. But not today. I’m not getting married to show you up. Or because Mom is friends with his mother. I don’t care that he’s going to be a doctor. I love Dalton. I love him and he loves me. I just wanted to tell you that. I’m going to be Mrs. Van Allen because I want to be.”
Chloe nodded, grabbing a tissue from the vanity for her sister, and one for herself. “I’m happy for you, Caro.” They both daubed under their eyes for stray tears. “Now stop bawling and let’s fix your face.”
A cotton swab’s worth of makeup remover and a few more swipes of mascara, and Caroline looked perfectly perfect.
“Oh, my gosh, Chloe. This is amazing! I never… I never thought I could look like this. I’m blown away.”
There was a knock on the door a moment before six girls in matching ice-blue dresses came rushing in, chattering like happy little birds, oohing and aahing over the beautiful bride.
That was her cue to leave. Chloe shoved all her stuff back in her bag, and headed for the door. She managed to catch her sister’s eye through the crowd, and gave her a nod. Caroline managed a little wave before being swept toward the massive white garment bag hanging beside the window.
So far, today had not turned out anything like she’d expected. And as she stepped into the hallway, Chloe could honestly say that she’d never been happier to be wrong.
* * *
BEN STEPPED INTO Edward Burke’s richly-furnished office and adjusted his suit jacket. As he mentally reviewed his pitch, he drummed a beat against his thigh and took in his surroundings.
You could tell a lot about a client by where they held their business meetings. Unlike the chrome-and-glass austerity of the Carson and McLeod offices, Burke’s home base was a blend of warm colors, dark wood and surprising homey touches—he’d lay bets the colorful Afghan blankets that hung on the backs of the leather visitors’ chairs were hand-knit.
Ben sauntered over to the far wall and was perusing the framed crayon drawings that hung there when Burke entered the suite. He pointed at the art. “Early Picasso?”
Burke smiled, drawing Ben’s attention to his bushy white mustache. “Picasso would have sold his soul to be as prolific as my grandkids.”
Ben shook his proffered hand.
“Mr. Masterson, it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Take a seat.”
“Call me Ben, please,” he insisted, accepting the offer to sit. “It’s an honor to be in the room with you as well, sir.”
Burke undid the button on his brown tweed suit jacket before he took a seat behind his desk. He pushed a folder full of papers toward Ben. Judging from the bits he could see, many of them sported the gray-and-black Carson and McLeod letterhead.
“Frankly, Ben, I’m a little surprised you’re here. I was expecting the firm to send a family man to try to pull the wool over my eyes—someone who could better understand my brand.”
Guess the niceties are over. “Mr. Burke, I assure you, I am the man for this job.”
“I’m not denying that you’re talented. Your campaigns are catchy, memorable and well put together. But they’ve all targeted young, single men. Hotel Burke is a luxury experience for the whole family. Traditional, not trendy.”
“I understand your concerns. But I’ve done massive amounts of research in preparation for this meeting. I know what you’re looking for, and I wouldn’t have flown all the way here if I didn’t believe I could deliver it. Carson and McLeod will take Hotel Burke to the next level.”
There it was. That jolt, the excitement that came from figuring out a client, not what they wanted, but what they needed—and being confident that he was the one who could help them get it. This. This moment was the part of the job Ben loved. The rest was all white noise.
“I understand that tradition is important to you. It’s obvious from the way you run your brand and the way you live your life. But as important as the past is, you have to ensure your future, as well. It’s crucial that you reach the next generation of Hotel Burke guests. Let me show you what I’ve got in mind…”
* * *
THE ROOM WAS empty when she got back, and Chloe used the opportunity to shower and dry her hair. For the wedding, she livened up her brown bob with some messy, rocker-chick curls. She also decided to forgo her usual smoky eye for something a little less dramatic. If her sister wanted less eyeliner, Chloe figured she could handle that for one night.
“Chloe?”
“In here,” she called, and Ben stuck his head into the bathroom.
“Hey. You’re back! And your hair looks amazing.” He held up the garment bag slung over his shoulder. “Got my suit pressed, so I just need to jump in the shower and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Okay. I’m almost done in here.” She grabbed a tube of lipstick and painted her lips a deep, luscious red.
There was something intimate and domestic about getting ready with a man—having him ducking in and out, hanging up his suit and laying out his shoes and socks as she put the final touches on her makeup.
“Okay, all yours,” she announced.
Ben pressed a kiss to her forehead as they traded spaces, and as Chloe stepped back into the room to finish getting ready, she found she was feeling pretty optimistic. Like maybe she was going to make it through this wedding after all.
By the time she’d pulled on her dress and buckled up her shoes, though, she wasn’t so sure. Her reunion with Caroline might have exceeded expectations, but the hard part was still ahead of her.
The shower had gone silent, and that meant Ben would be ready to go in a matter of minutes.
Her stomach lurched with a stampede of butterflies at the realization that she’d be facing all those people imminently. People who’d been there four years ago.
It seemed like only seconds until Ben stepped out of the bathroom, showered and shaved and looking far too handsome for her own good. He was adjusting a cuff link as he walked toward her, but he froze when he glanced up.
“Wow.” Ben dropped his hand to his side. “Just…wow.”
Chloe gazed down at herself, self-conscious and pleased at Ben’s assessment. “You think?”
“You look incredible. Like a warrior princess. The belle of the battlefield.”
Ben had no idea just how apt his description was, because she’d expected this event to be akin to warfare. In fact, it was part of the reason she’d chosen the shimmering gray dress.
Strapless and knee-length, she’d loved that the bodice’s seams had vaguely reminded her of armor. The dress was edgy enough to make her feel like herself, but elegant enough that her mother shouldn’t have too much to say about it. And then there were the shoes—strappy, studded gladiator stilettos.
“You look ready to kick ass and take names,” he said. “Or at least drink lots and avoid the chicken dance.”
Chloe smiled. “You’re pretty wow yourself.” And he was. His classic black suit, pristine white shirt and skinny black tie were classy and sophisticated. And the jacket fit his broad shoulders to perfection.
She stepped closer to his big body, walked her fingers up the placket of his shirt and under his tie. “But not quite as wow as last night,” she confessed, teasing a button out of its hole. “Maybe we should stay here and I can strip you down to your most spectacular.”
Ben stopped the progress of her questing fingers, grabbing her hands in his. “Nice try, coward. We’ve got nuptials to witness and dancing to evade.”
Chloe leaned closer, raising her lips to his ear, hoping she could make his resolve wane with proximity. “What if I leave the shoes on?”
The groan that tore from his throat was wickedly sexy, and he ducked his head to capture her lips in a scorching kiss. His body was totally on board with her naughty plans, too. Chloe pressed her hips into his, encouraging him to take what he wanted. Instead, he swore and stepped back from her.
Even through her disappointment, she kind of respected him for it.
“All right,” she conceded, linking her arm through his. “Let’s get this over with.”
Ben nodded his approval. “That’s the spirit.”
But as they ascended in the elevator, she could feel her bravado slipping away with every new number that lit up on their way to the twenty-fifth floor. Her grip on Ben’s arm tightened when the door dinged open, and he gave her an odd look as he tugged her out into the hallway. Her trepidation grew with every formally dressed person they came upon. She kept her gaze forward to avoid making unintentional eye contact with anyone she knew.
Then they rounded the last corner, and Chloe came face-to-face with an ornate gold easel holding a placard that assured her that her time had run out.
Welcome to the Masterson–Van Allen Ceremony.
She looked up at the handsome man standing beside her who was clueless to her crimes. “There’s something I should tell you.”
“There’s lipstick on my face, isn’t there? I knew I shouldn’t have kissed you, but that dress… And those goddamn shoes.” He started wiping his mouth and she batted his hand away.
“There’s no lipstick on you.” She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Ben,” she said, and his eyes grew serious at her use of his first name. “I haven’t been to a wedding in four years.”
His brow smoothed at the confession, and that damned crooked smirk he gave made it harder to breathe. “It’s not like heart surgery, Chloe. Attending a wedding doesn’t actually require any training. Amateurs and professionals can co-mingle freely.”
Funny he should mention heart surgery, because right now her heart felt like someone had jabbed a couple of scalpels in it—lacerated and raw.
“That’s not what I meant.” She stared into his amber-colored eyes, searching for the calming influence he usually had on her. “What I’m trying to say is, that wedding I was at? Four years ago?”
Just say it.
“It was mine.”