Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) (29 page)

“One more,” the photographer said. “Why don’t you stand under the archway and dip her back in a kiss, Mitch?”

He nodded, taking Zoey’s hand and leading her underneath the arch. He put an arm around her waist and slowly bent her back.

Zoey clung to him as he supported more and more of her body weight.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

Zoey let out a stuttering breath, then forced herself to relax as he bent her closer to the ground.

“
Parfait
,” the photographer said. “Let your arm drop back, Zoey, and face the bouquet toward the camera. Now kiss her, Mitch.”

He lowered his head, and his lips landed gently on hers. Zoey closed her eyes, her emotions making it impossible to think clearly.
This is fake,
she told herself.
This is fake, this is fake, this is fake.

But it felt so incredibly real. Mitch was acting like it was real.

“Good job,” the photographer said.

Mitch helped Zoey back to her feet. She looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“I’ll have your photos to you in two weeks,” the photographer said.

“Thank you so much,” Mitch said.

The photographer nodded and left the garden. Mitch rested a hand gently on the small of Zoey’s back and motioned to the small candlelit table.

“Shall we?” Mitch asked.

Zoey nodded, even though eating was the last thing on her mind. They had to keep up the show for Alan.

A waiter pushed the food cart closer and set a plate in front of each of them. He removed the silver covers, and steam billowed into the air, then he left.

Zoey picked up a fork, taking a bite of the asparagus without registering the flavor. She stared at Mitch across the candlelight. Her husband. For a few more hours, at least.

Weird. But also, kind of nice. A little too nice.

Zoey reached for a knife, but the pot roast was so tender it fell apart with a touch of her fork. She felt like she was falling apart a bit herself.

She had just found her freedom again with makeup. She couldn’t sacrifice herself in the name of a relationship.

She couldn’t love Mitch. No way.

When had she fallen for him?

“I completely forgot about the vows,” Mitch said, his voice low and quiet. “You really came to the rescue there.”

“Just putting on a good show.”

“I think it was more than that.”

Zoey closed her eyes, struggling to remain composed. “Please, Mitch. Not now. I can’t . . .” She took a deep breath. “He could still be watching. This isn’t the time or the place.”

Mitch nodded, but she knew the conversation wasn’t over. “So, a honeymoon in Paris seems like the stuff of fairy tales. What haven’t we seen yet that you’d still like to?”

They spent the next hour enjoying their food and making small talk about the sights in Paris. Zoey tried to remain positive and upbeat. She jokingly mentioned taking a yoga retreat together next year. Mitch agreed it sounded fun.

Zoey felt like her heart was bleeding all over the table. This future with Mitch sounded so perfect. Too perfect. Impossibly so.

Mitch seemed open to giving their relationship a try again. But the thought of letting someone get that close was terrifying. What if he tried to change her?

They finished their meal and exited the garden, holding hands. Phillipe waited for them with the car, and they climbed in.

“Where to, newlyweds?” Phillipe asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Back to Luke’s,” Mitch said.

“No hotel?” Phillipe asked.

Zoey blushed.

“Luke’s is fine,” Mitch said. “And if at all possible, don’t let Alan follow us there.”

Phillipe nodded and pulled out into traffic. A few miles later, Zoey noticed the black motorcycle a few car lengths behind them.

“Does that mean he doesn’t buy it?” Zoey asked, squeezing Mitch’s arm with her own.

“It could just mean he’s trying to catch us slipping up.” Mitch leaned forward. “Change of plans, Phillipe. Take us to that hotel downtown. The one Ryder Communications would use before Luke bought the apartment.”

“
Oui
,” Phillipe said, and turned at the next light. The motorcycle stayed behind them.

“I worried this might happen,” Mitch said. “I reserved the bridal suite, just in case.”

Heat flamed through Zoey, and she felt a blush crawl up her neck. She folded her arms, trying to convince her stomach to stop quivering. “This is Brooke’s last night as a single woman. I am not spending it at a bridal suite when I could be reassuring my best friend that her wedding day is going to be perfect.”

“Hopefully, we won’t have to actually stay there—just make Alan think we are,” Mitch said.

They drove through the stop-and-go traffic of downtown Paris, the motorcycle following almost half a mile behind. Phillipe pulled up to the curb, and Mitch held the door for Zoey.

She took a step toward the glass-front doors of the hotel, but Mitch walked around to the back of the car. The trunk popped open, and he retrieved two small suitcases from inside.

Wow. He really had thought of everything. If it weren’t for Mitch, they’d have never played this ruse convincingly. But if it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t have had a plan in the first place.

They worked together, and well. They complemented each other in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Talk about ironic.

Mitch held both suitcases in one hand and her hand in his other. Out of the corner of her eye, Zoey saw Alan park the motorcycle along the curb on the other side of the street, at least two blocks down. She felt his eyes on her back as she and Mitch walked inside the hotel.

“What now?” Zoey whispered.

“We check in,” Mitch said.

Right. Because that’s what she’d planned on doing tonight.

Zoey stood beside Mitch, feeling vulnerable and unsure in her wedding dress. What was she doing? She should be with Brooke, not tricking reporters.

Not fantasizing about a life with Mitch.

Zoey turned around, pretending to admire a flower arrangement, and glanced outside. She couldn’t see Alan’s motorcycle, but she was sure he was still there. Still watching.

“I’ve got the keys,” Mitch said from behind. His hot breath tickled the back of her neck, and she shivered.

“We’re going upstairs?” Zoey said.

“At least for a little while. In case Alan comes inside and questions the employees.”

“Okay.”

“I promise to be a gentleman.”

Zoey laughed, feeling some of her tension leak out. “I know you will be. But no one’s ever accused me of being a lady.”

Mitch’s eyes glittered, and Zoey mentally kicked herself. Why did she keep flirting when she had no intention of letting this go anywhere? She couldn’t love Mitch. She had to quit Toujour and make her business a success and return to her usual, spontaneous, disorganized life. Mitch didn’t fit in that puzzle.

They rode a rickety and small elevator to the fifth floor, then walked to the door at the end of the hallway. Mitch slid the key into the lock—an actual key, not one of the electronic ones Zoey had grown to expect at hotels in the United States—and opened the door.

“Mrs. Harris,” he said.

The words were like a cup of ice to the face. “Don’t call me that.”

“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do. Now, I believe it’s traditional for the bride to be carried over the threshold.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Zoey backed up, but Mitch’s arm swept her feet out from under her. He caught her before she could fall, lifting her into his arms.

“Mitch!” Zoey squealed. But she linked her arms around his neck and breathed in deeply.

Mitch took a dramatic step over the threshold. But he didn’t put her down. His strong arms held her as though she were a feather.

Zoey’s gaze drifted to Mitch’s lips. “Alan can’t see us here,” she said, her voice catching.

“I didn’t do that for Alan’s sake.”

Slowly, Mitch lowered her to the ground. Zoey stood on shaking legs, her arms still linked around his neck. If he said so much as a word, she would run in the opposite direction. She should be running right now.

But he didn’t say anything. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close, and lowered his lips to hers.

The fire that exploded in her veins was unlike anything she’d felt with anyone else. And each time they kissed, it only grew hotter. Zoey wrapped her legs around Mitch’s waist, pressing herself closer to him. His hands were in her hair, knocking the birdcage veil askew, but she didn’t care.

“Zoey,” he murmured against her lips.

She froze. This was insanity. She dropped back to the ground, straightening her veil as her chest heaved.

“Don’t pull away,” Mitch said, grabbing her arm.

“What are we doing?”

“What we should’ve done six months ago.”

“We’re all wrong for each other.”

“And yet somehow it’s all right.”

Zoey took a step back, holding up a shaking hand. “No.”

“Don’t push me away.” He took another step forward, but his phone rang, a shotgun in the quiet room. Mitch let out a curse and pulled the phone from his pocket. “It’s the security guys,” he said, then answered the phone.

Zoey couldn’t focus on Mitch’s end of the conversation—only the way he had felt in her arms. But it was all wrong. He would try to cage her into a box. He’d try to hold her back. He’d want to change her.

Wouldn’t he?

Mitch hung up the phone. “Security’s been trailing Alan—he just bought a ticket, probably to L.A. Security will watch him until he boards the plane, but it looks like he finally bought the story.”

Relief swept through Zoey, and her muscles relaxed, her limbs suddenly limp noodles. “We can leave the tracker here and go back to Luke’s, then.”

“Zoey—”

She placed a hand on his chest, halting his advance. “No, Mitch. We can’t keep letting this happen.”

The anguish in his eyes tore at her heart, so she looked down, focusing on the patterned carpet. The words ripped at her throat like razor blades, but she forced them out.

“It’s over, Mitch.”

Zoey fluffed the train on Brooke’s dress, trying to keep the tears from filling her eyes. Birds chirped in the trees, and Zoey could hear the murmur of the seated crowd. The wedding party waited behind hedges at the back of the aisle.

Five minutes until show time, and the wedding was still blessedly paparazzi free.

“Maybe I should’ve gone with white,” Brooke said, smoothing the lace on the front of her dress with shaking hands.

“No.” Zoey dropped the train and walked over to Brooke. She grabbed her friend’s hands, looking her straight in the eye. “The champagne was the absolute right choice. You look amazing.”

Tears filled Brooke’s eyes, and she waved a hand in front of them frantically. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

The string quartet began playing, and Juliette clapped her hands. “It’s time,” she said, motioning to a bridesmaid and groomsman. “You two—just like we practiced.”

Brooke turned to Zoey, panic filling her face. “Oh my gosh. It’s here. What am I doing?”

“Hey.” Zoey grabbed Brooke’s hands again, squeezing them tight. “You and Luke are perfect for each other.”

“I’m so scared.”

“I know. But usually that means you’re doing something that’s going to turn out amazing.”

Zoey’s words flew back at her, and she choked on a gasp. Could Mitch be her amazing?

Brooke nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. More bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle. “You’re right. Sorry.” She shook her hands and arched her neck back and forth, the cathedral veil swishing with the movement. “I’m calm.”

“Good,” Zoey said. Because she wasn’t anywhere close to calm.

You’re the only person who’s made me want to take a risk,
Mitch had said.
You’re worth the scary.
Had he meant he was willing to embrace her chaotic personality? Those didn’t sound like the words of someone who wanted to change her.