Not the Marrying Kind (8 page)

She dragged in a few deep breaths and he saw the moment her resolution hardened. Her head tilted up and she nodded. “Let’s do it.”

The vows passed in a blur of echoed verses, agreeing to love, honor, and obey. Empty words, empty promises, and how far he’d go to achieve his goal hit home when he looked into her eyes and said, “I do.”

For in that moment, everything faded: the minister, their witnesses Lou and Ashlee, and the stunning backdrop of the red rocks he called home.

He’d just pledged himself to a woman he barely knew. A smart business choice, one that would gain him the national recognition he craved. Then why the soul-deep niggle he was getting in over his head?

“You may kiss the bride.” The minister beamed as he snapped his ceremony book shut.

“Well, hotshot, what are you waiting for?” Her lips curved in a saucy smile, her sass too late in covering the sheen he’d glimpsed in her eyes. Hell, he couldn’t handle waterworks. So he did the one thing he’d been desperate to do since he first laid eyes on her strutting up the aisle.

He swept her into his arms and kissed her.

Chapter Eight

Divorce Diva Daily recommends:

Playlist: “White Wedding” by Billy Idol

Movie:
Love Actually

Cocktail: Bride’s Cuss

Poppy knew she shouldn’t play with fire.

Taunting a guy like Beck would only ever have one outcome. With him on top.

Guys like him never lost. Whatever they gambled on, they won. Every time. Success bred success and while she’d been happy with her life, it wasn’t until the moment the minister had pronounced them husband and wife that reality hit.

She’d married a virtual stranger.

Now that she’d done the deed, a million doubts assailed her. How could she pretend to play the adoring wife in front of his business colleagues? Play the adoring wife in front of his business colleagues? Remain immune to his charms?

Therein lay her real concern—that the moment she’d seen him at the end of the makeshift aisle, mouthwateringly, wickedly gorgeous in a tux, silhouetted against the stark beauty of Red Rock Canyon, her heart had given an uncomfortable squirm and she recognized it for what it was. A reminder that despite the fact she should hate him for blackmailing her into this farce, she could fall into bed with this guy given half a chance.

So daring him to kiss her? Probably not a great idea.

“Wow.” Ashlee snagged her arm and dragged her a safe distance from where Beck and Lou were in deep conversation. “You sure you’re faking it? Because from where I was standing, you two look seriously into each other.”

“Pheromones.”

As Beck glanced her way with a crooked half smile that elicited an answering twang deep within, some of those damn hormones set up a party in regions best left ignored for now.

“Just be careful, hon.”

“Of?”

Ashlee hesitated. “The Hottie isn’t a keeper. He’ll break your heart.”

“No danger of that happening. This is business, remember?”

As Beck strolled toward her, jacket slung over his shoulder, bow tie askance, top button of his ivory dress shirt unbuttoned, piercing green eyes with a wicked glint, she knew without a doubt she’d be the one having to remember this marriage was all business.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” Ashlee lowered her voice to a whisper. “But anything involving that guy’s gonna be monkey business.”

Wishful thinking.

When Beck reached Poppy’s side, he slipped an arm around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sure, they had to keep up appearances—and he wasn’t aware Ashlee knew the truth—but it made her feel more like a fraud than she already was, the pretense in front of her friend.

“Nice to meet you, Ashlee, and thanks for coming. Lou will take you back to town in the limo and we’ll see you at the reception later.”

“Sure thing.” Ashlee practically simpered as she shook Beck’s hand and moved away, mouthing
Hottie
over his shoulder at Poppy.

“What’s with the grin?”

“Just so darned happy to be your wife,” Poppy said, batting her eyelashes at him.

He laughed and tightened his grip around her waist. “You know that smart mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day?”

“Today if I’m lucky.”

What was it with this guy that had her wanting to spar and parry and play word games? She shouldn’t flirt with him unless people who needed convincing of the validity of this marriage surrounded them. It would only give him the wrong idea.

Which was what? The fact she had the hots for her husband big time?

Flustered, she rushed on. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

She didn’t understand the reservation in his voice. She’d already dumped her stuff in his penthouse suite in Blackwood Towers. Wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it. “Good. It’ll give us time to chill before the reception.”

“Yeah.” Tension pinched the corners of his mouth, his fingers inadvertently digging into her waist. “You know how important the reception is, right?”

Ah, so that’s what his funk was about. Making sure she played her part in front of his precious investors.

“I was the number one drama queen in high school.”

He grimaced. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“That came out wrong.” She patted his cheek. “I was a fabulous actress. Best Juliet ever.”

“Wish you hadn’t used the star-crossed lovers as an example.”

“Don’t be such a worrywart. Your investors will love me.”

He eased away and she immediately missed his touch. Crazy.

His gaze traveled from her shoes upward in a slow, sensual sweep that left her skin tingling like he’d just caressed her. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

She resisted the urge to squirm under his praise. “I found it in a boutique—”

“I’m not talking about the dress.”

For the first time since they’d met, the powerful aura he wore like a protective cloak fell away and she glimpsed a hint of genuine emotion beneath the tough-guy exterior. It undermined her more than his compliment.

“Not many women would put up with my blackmailing shit and go through all this for the sake of family.” He touched her hand, and before she could second-guess herself, she intertwined her fingers with his. “Loyalty’s important to me. And what you’ve demonstrated…” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, sending a shiver of longing through her. “Let’s just say I think we’re going to make a good team for however long this marriage lasts.”

And just like that, he ripped apart the cocoon of intimacy surrounding them.

He admired her loyalty. Whoop de-frikkin-do.

He made it sound like she was one of his valued employees. And that more than anything rammed home, despite his murmured platitudes and hot kisses and frequent touches, that this was a simple business transaction.

More of a concern? Why the hell did she care?

“Vegas is that way.” Poppy pointed over her shoulder as Beck steered his Maserati in the opposite direction from which she’d arrived.

“We’re not heading to Vegas.” He floored it, kicking up a plume of red dust in the car’s wake.

“But you said we’re heading to your place.”

“We are.”

Ah…the mysterious desert home. She couldn’t fathom his enigmatic expression as he drove like he had a pack of creditors on his tail.

“I’m surprised you own a place out here.” She didn’t mean to make it sound like he lived in the back of beyond, but that’s how it must’ve sounded, judging by his scowl.

“The glitz of Vegas isn’t me.” He nodded at the majestic red rocks jutting skyward ahead of them. “This place is.”

Poppy glanced around, trying to see the appeal. Grassy fields, various trees interspersed with desert, and those striking red rocks. She’d had no idea why he’d chosen Red Rock Canyon as the site to get married and hadn’t really cared. She didn’t believe in the institution, let alone worry about the location when there was nothing real about this marriage, bar the money.

But now, seeing Beck’s tense expression, she wondered if there was more behind his location choice. “You like the desert?”

“What’s not to like? Land forged under a shallow sea, buried for eons beneath sand dunes, then sculpted by rains and wind.”

“I take it you were top of your class in geography.”

The corners of his mouth twitched.

“I come from a small desert town about a hundred miles from here. When I lobbed in Vegas and scored my first construction deal, I bought land in Red Rock Canyon. Thought it’d be the perfect commute, less than twenty miles from the Strip. Then work took over…” He shrugged, as if it meant little, but she wondered how a desert guy really felt being cooped up in the city. “I don’t get out here very often.”

“So why are we heading there when we need to get ready for the reception tonight?”

His silence unnerved her almost as much as the bleak glance he shot her before refocusing on the road. “Thought you might need a place to get away to if the going gets tough.”

Okay, so that was thoughtful. It would be hard, keeping up the pretense of being happily married, but she figured they’d barely see each other anyway, what with his booming business and her managing Party Hard online for Sara.

Poppy could handle the odd occasion performing for his colleagues, but it would be wearing. She’d never been two-faced. What you saw was what you got with her, so playing Mrs. Blackwood would be a challenge. One she was certainly up for, for five hundred grand.

“Thanks, that sounds good.”

Considering the way he’d shut her down in the limo on the night they’d met when she’d brought up family, she probably shouldn’t go there. But he’d mentioned he’d grown up in the desert and surely she’d have to know stuff like his background for the sake of authenticity.

“You were raised out here?”

He grunted in response.

“I’ll probably need to know a little about your family, in case I’m quizzed.”

“My family is no secret. Tabloids did a spread on me when I first made it big. Mentioned my folks, how they died, that kind of thing.” His hands gripped the steering wheel, his frigid tone warning her to back off. “Irrelevant now.”

“Not to your
wife
.”

He shot her a quick glare. “Checkerville’s your typical small town. Rich folk, poor folk. We were the latter.”

“We?”

“My parents. Pa.”

He jaw clenched, as if he didn’t want to say anything more, so she waited.

“Nan died when Mom was young, so Pa raised her alone. He’s a mechanic, she was working at the grocer. Then Dad rode into town.”

She wanted to make a joke about cowboys but knew he’d clam up.

“According to Pa, Mom fell for Dad, Pa fell for his motorcycle. Dad had big dreams, but that’s all they were. He talked the talk but couldn’t hold down a job, let alone support a family. They had me nine months after they met. Dad packed us up, moved to Vegas.”

His glower darkened, if that were possible. “Fell into his old crowd. Grog. Drugs. Mom was miserable, got hooked on the stuff. Apparently, they drifted back to Checkerville every time they were broke, which was often. We lived in a trailer on the outskirts of town. It was a hovel.”

The longer he spoke in that flat, toneless voice, the more she wished she hadn’t opened this proverbial can.

“They OD’d when I was seven. Shooting up together. Bad batch of coke. After that, Pa took me in. So now you know.”

She’d been so caught up in his disclosures she hadn’t realized they’d pulled onto a side road leading to the biggest pair of wrought-iron gates she’d ever seen.

A guy like him would abhor pity, but she had to say something sympathetic. “Your Pa must be proud.”

The lines fanning his eyes eased and she released a little relieved sigh.

“He’s great. I don’t get to see him often enough these days.”

“He’d understand your work commitments.”

“Yeah, but it’s not good enough.”

The tension had returned and she grabbed at the quickest change of subject, gesturing at the towering cream-rendered wall that stretched as far as she could see. “This your place?”

“No, it’s Eldorado.”

She smiled at his sarcasm as he grabbed a remote from the console and hit a button. The wall prevented her from seeing much and she wondered if his desert house would be as fancy as his hotels. Curious, she wriggled in her seat as the gates swung open to reveal a building that took her breath away.

“Wow,” she said, not sure where to look first as he drove up the curving driveway to the front of the house. “Quite a house.”

She used the term lightly, because this was no ordinary house.

A two-story Spanish-style hacienda sprawled across the high-walled block, surrounded by native gardens that accentuated the stark beauty of the terracotta mansion.

“You were expecting a shack?”

She didn’t know if he was uncomfortable about divulging his past and was taking a dig to disguise his discomfort, so she let it slide.

“It’s beautiful.” She craned her neck as he pulled under a portico and cut the engine. “I love it.”

His expression softened. “It’s a great place to depressurize.”

And she bet he needed to do plenty of that, considering the guy was worth billions.

Learning of his background only exacerbated her curiosity. How did a guy from the wrong side of the tracks make it big? He must’ve worked his ass off, and his self-made success only increased his hotness factor.

It also explained the rugged, rough around the edges thing he had going on. He wore his hair a little too long to be strictly conventional, wore his designer shirts with the top button perpetually undone.

She liked the subtle rebellions against conventional corporate. Very sexy.

“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”