Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brewer (13 page)

He made a grunting noise and stood up. “Maybe my dad would have stuck around longer
if he’d married my mother. It would’ve been harder for him to walk out, I guess.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard on you both.”

He shrugged and indicated that they should follow the crowd outside. “It sucked, but
I only met him once, so it wasn’t like I was that emotionally attached.”

She had turned away from him, but twisted her head to see a hardness settle on his
features, all the laughter gone. “Just once?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “He came to get some old vinyl LPs he’d left when I was about
eight—he said they were worth a few dollars and he’d send some cash along when he
could. He didn’t.” His hand gave a little push at the base of her spine to urge her
forward. “I still feel like a dick for getting all excited when Mom said he was coming
over. He was never interested in me.”

“I’ll bet he is now that you’ve got some money,” she said sourly and felt angry for
the little boy that would have given his father unconditional love.

“Piper, I really might as well not exist where he’s concerned. He may even be dead.
I don’t know and I don’t care.”

The reception room was as magical as the chapel, but more relaxed with balconies,
fireplaces, and a stone-paved floor below another soaring arched roof. Real candles
flickered from chandeliers, and the round tables lining three sides of the room were
dressed in white and silver with a scattering of pink rose petals. Piper’s heart was
in her mouth when she saw that each one had a coral tea light holder on it, tiny,
fragile pieces that had taken her weeks to make, but had paid her mortgage for a couple
of months.
God bless Melanie!

The huge water feature covering the back wall, a replica of a waterfall, caught her
eye. It was so realistic it reminded her of the one behind Matt’s cabin. She’d never
seen anything like it or been to such an impressive venue before, and probably wouldn’t
again, but now that she saw her work where it belonged, her mind was racing with possibilities
for future commissions. And dipping back into work mode took her mind off Matt’s troubling
revelation about his father.

They were seated with two other couples. She’d been briefly introduced to the Dodges
at the art gallery opening, and then there were Mr. and Mrs. Computer or something
like that, she couldn’t remember their names. Dull, small-talk specialists, all of
them, and Piper reminded herself to mention to Matt that this was another reason she
hated weddings. Being stuck for hours on end with people you didn’t know and didn’t
like was complete torture.

“So dear,” Mrs. Dodge said as Piper was just about to enjoy another of the stuffed
shrimp en brochette hors d’ouevres. The pink chiffon ruff of the woman’s dress reminded
her of something her aunt put over toilet paper rolls, even if it had cost a small
fortune. “What exactly do
you
do?”

There was more than a drop of saccharine in the older woman’s voice, and her first
instinct was to snap back
actually, nothing, I’m a kept woman, like most of you. How often do you have to spread
your legs for old man Dodge there?
But she managed to smile sweetly and remember her manners even though she knew damn
well she was being looked down on. An outsider. Not one of the “set.”

“I’m self-employed,” she said calmly and wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see
Mrs. Dodge recoil slightly.

“That’s nice…”

Piper took a long swallow of champagne and shot a venomous look at Bob Dodge, who
had just pinched the last bacon-wrapped shrimp with its delicious melted cheese and
jalapeno topping. It had been hers by rights, but he just grinned at her like an idiot
and chewed heartily.

“I make products out of things I find on the beach.” She was deliberately making herself
sound like a scavenger, but she wouldn’t want this woman wearing her jewelry in any
case. Piper would never be a billionaire like Matt, and she was going to keep her
soul out of the marketplace.

Mrs. Dodge’s brow furrowed so that the expensive foundation she was wearing crinkled
into tawny waves like sand dunes. Her silver hair was crinkly, too, but in an extremely
coiffured and hair sprayed kind of way, and Piper had noticed that she hadn’t touched
a crumb of food. “How interesting,” the desiccated one intoned.

Piper primed herself to make a barbed reply but, to her irritation, Matt busted in
on her. “Piper makes pretty little things like this, Pauline.” He picked up the coral
candleholder and held it in the flat of his palm. “All the way from Sanibel Bay in
Florida.”

Pauline Dodge’s mouth pursed into the shape of a cat’s ass. “Oh, we like it down there,
don’t we, Bob?”

“So do we, don’t we, Piper?” Matt put down the candle and gave her a false, sweet
grin. She could feel her face turn as red as a rougheye rockfish. How dare he bring
Florida into this. Did he think this was a subtle way of warning her to behave? He
smirked and ignored the light kick she gave him under the table. “Everything down
there is so
hot
when it’s freezing up here.”

Yes, yes, I’ve got it.
Shut up, Matt.

Piper smiled back and was relieved the waiting staff had just delivered huge plates
of beef tenderloin medallions served with a roasted garlic and brandy sauce. A distraction
and an excuse not to converse until she was done and her plate was clean. And she
intended on eating really, really slowly.

“We cruise usually,” Pauline Dodge said between delicate nibbles of asparagus. “And
then spend some time in Naples. At our villa, naturally.”

Naturally.

Bob Dodge coughed as he chewed a large piece of sautéed potato. “You two should pop
by and visit next time we’re all down that way. How’s about next month? Not too hot,
not too cold around then.”

“Next month is a very bad time for me,” Piper said quickly. “But it’s a lovely thought.”

“Say, Matt, that’s too far off anyway. How about supper at the ranch sometime this
week? Just the four of us—you could bring a barrel of your beer and the little ladies
could talk about weddings and babies.”

Piper glared at Matt. Not only had Bob Dodge completely ignored her, he seemed to
think she was an inferior unworthy of being consulted. Like Matt was her master or
something, his chattel to bring along to tedious soirées. Matt had better say something
quickly or she’d explode.

“This next week is going to be crazy, Bob, you know that, with the new beer coming
out.”

“Oh yeah,” the older man said and wiped some grease off his chin with the back of
his hand. “That party at Mayor Cobbett’s is going to be something else. I can hardly
wait. So after that? Let’s have a cookout.”

Matt shook his head. “Afraid that won’t be possible. I’ve been meaning to mention
it for some time, but I’m leaving Passion Creek on the sixteenth, the morning after
the big party.”

Man, Matt DeLeo knew how to lie to get himself out of an awkward situation. But she’d
forgive him a sneaky fake excuse this time. Piper inhaled sharply and covered the
lower half of her face with a napkin, pretending to dab away some sauce. She couldn’t
risk anyone at that table seeing her cracking up with laughter at what he’d just announced.
She would be expected to be upset about the news. Unless, of course, he was going
to add that he was taking her away from Passion Creek with him. And
that
wasn’t going to happen.

Chapter Thirteen

Silence fell over the table, and even Mr. and Mrs. Computer looked shocked, but Piper
was struggling to keep a straight face behind her crisp linen veil.

Excellent job, Matt DeLeo, awkward dinner invitation avoided with a ridiculous excuse,
and they were all buying it.

Bob Dodge wiggled his jaw as if there was a piece of food stuck in his teeth. “Leaving?”

“Yes. It’s time I spread my wings and delegate my powers here in Colorado. I’ve been
looking to expand my outlets for a while now.”

Mousey Mrs. Computer spoke for the first time and looked genuinely distressed. Thinking
about it, Matt was probably quite a heartthrob in Colorado IT circles. “But you’re
going to leave? Just like that?”

Matt nodded. “I’ve been here years now and I’ve outgrown the place.” He pushed his
plate away. “I will miss you all, but Florida is next on my list. And New York—it’s
been a while since I caused trouble there. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see me back.”

It was only a matter of time before awkward questions were going to get asked about
where Piper fit into his plans. He could deal with the probing and she could certainly
live without dessert. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she said. “I need to visit
the restroom.”

“Aw,” she heard Bob Dodge say as she walked quickly away from the table. “Looks like
you’re going to break that poor gal’s heart in two.”

“She’ll be fine,” Matt said harshly and then something else she couldn’t make out
as she rushed through a set of double doors. He was quite an actor and she hoped he
had a fine reason stored up in that lying mouth of his for when he was still in business
and pulling pints at the Railway Tavern come summer.

Piper snagged a couple of glasses of pink fizz as she legged it out of the reception
room. Two glasses because she had no intention of going back in there until it was
all over, the cake had been cut, and the excruciating toasts were finished. It was
rude, but so were a lot of people here. She didn’t care.

“Can I help you, madam?” a young member of staff with a pristine black waistcoat asked
with genuine concern in his eyes.

“I just need some air,” she said and then for some reason, possibly to inject a sense
of urgency and credibility, added, “and a cigarette.”

He smiled and nodded. “This way.”

She followed him down a stone-lined corridor and then through a glass door that led
onto a huge balcony overlooking the mountains. There were comfortable armchairs and
low tables with heavy cut glass ashtrays, overseen by large halogen heaters that glowed
with warmth in the fresh biting air.

“Do you need a light?” the young man said as she put her beer glasses down on a table.

“Actually, I need a cigarette first,” she said wryly and was met with a knowing smile.

“Any particular brand?”

“No,” she said quietly, amazed at the level of service in this place, and then felt
a bolt of extreme rebellion streak through her. “Something that looks elegant, long
and slim, possibly even black.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said and disappeared through the door.

If she was going to be bad, she might as well be disgustingly bad. She hadn’t touched
a cigarette in years, although she’d never been a serious smoker. It had felt grown-up
and sophisticated to smoke when she was a teenager and all her friends had tried it,
but as she grew older and gave up the habit, she was ashamed to remember preaching
about what an evil it was to anyone who had the nerve to light up. God, she must have
been annoying. She would remember to keep her opinions to herself in the future and
let people live however they damn well pleased.

“So here you are.” Matt eased through the door using a broad shoulder and strolled
toward her with a sundae glass of ice cream in one hand and a silver cigarette case
in the other.

“Are you GPS tracking me?”

He smiled and put the glass dish down on the table next to her glasses. “No, I don’t
need to. I can feel where you are.”

Piper made a snorting noise in the back of her throat. “Gimme a break.”

“No, seriously, I asked the concierge if he’d seen a goddess with red hair. He had,
I gave him a ten dollar bill, and now you’re busted.” He flicked open the cigarette
case. “Now this is a bad habit.”

“Only if you can’t stop at one recreational, nostalgic stick of cancerous badness.”

“Can you stop at one?”

“Yes.”

“So why do it?”

She shrugged. “The taste, the kick, the nicotine hit, the forbidden fruit of it. It’s
a stupid, expensive thing to do, but sometimes I have to do something totally evil
that only hurts me.”

Matt nodded to a couple who’d just appeared about fifty yards away. “You’re not alone
in that. “ She took one of the slender Nat Sherman black and gold cigarettes and he
did the same. “
We’re
not alone.”

“Just the one, agreed?”

He shrugged. “Sure, we’ll give the concierge his silver cigarette case back pretty
much intact.”

“We should leave him a tip. I can’t imagine these little beauties come cheap.”

“If you say so, but this is a very clever way of getting his fancy cigarettes for
free—our room account will be debited with a pack of twenty and he gets to keep eighteen.”

She laughed. “Oh well, you’re paying.”

“Actually, yes, I am, and it wasn’t easy getting a room here for the night. I booked
us in independently when I had to choose your courses for the wedding banquet.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?”

“No, I’m a control freak, remember?”

“The food was very nice. Thank you.”

He clicked the lighter into life and offered her the flame. “The bride’s parents paid
for the food and drink.”

Piper lit her cigarette and took a quick puff. “Damn, did you see how that Bob guy
stuffed everything that wasn’t nailed down into his face? No wonder his wife is so
freaking thin and brittle.”

“She used to be a very large lady. Lost seventy pounds or something years back when
they were trying for kids. Made no difference.” Matt lit his own cigarette and it
made him look like a black and white film star. She melted inside. “Personally I think
Bob’s been firing blanks for years after pickling himself with liquor, but that’s
somewhere our conversations never go.”

“No, that’s just as well, but obviously if I’d known, I wouldn’t have been so snippy
with her.”

“Forget it. She’s still a difficult, snobby social climber so don’t feel guilty.”

“Thanks.” She took another drag of the cigarette and exhaled slowly, letting its toxicity
take effect, anticipating the dizzy high that would soon follow. “So tell me, how
are you going to get out of that outrageous lie?”

Blue smoke curled from his sensuous lips as he appeared to consider her question.
“Which one would that be?”

She giggled. “Doh! The one where you said you were leaving town to avoid dinner with
the Dodges.”

He stubbed his cigarette out after just one puff and tipped his head to one side with
an expression of regret. “It wasn’t a lie.”

“For real?”

“You sound like Pippa.”

“Pippa?”

“The lady at our table with the yellow feathers on her head.”

“Oh, her… Mrs. Computer.” Piper killed her cigarette, too. She suddenly felt sick
and overwhelmed with regret. It wasn’t just because of the cigarette either. “You
kept that quiet, the fact that you’re leaving very soon.”

He shrugged. “I did a shift at the Railway Tavern last night for the first time in
a while. Stood there pulling at the same old taps, chewing the fat with the same old
guys, talking about the same old things, and it occurred to me that I know just about
every detail of their personal lives, their sex lives, their hopes and fears…and it
felt like a big hand was coming out to strangle me.”

“Maybe you should reconsider your role as a bartender. That’s kind of what they’re
supposed to do, right? Listen? Counsel and pour out liquid courage, tell the gang
what they want to hear?”

“Exactly. Like I’m part of their lives or something.”

“But, Matt, you are part of their lives. There’s nothing you can do about that now.”

“But I can. And I am. That’s why I’m leaving and starting up somewhere new. Somewhere
without vacation postcards pinned up behind the bar, thank you letters, pictures of
me and the guys and big fish they’ve caught on the walls.” He sighed and looked into
the middle distance toward the mountains and bright blue sky. “I don’t have a place
to call home because it’s only a matter of time before you start to collect things,
and then you get attached to them, irrational emotions take over, and you end up in
a mess where you can’t move on. And you can’t forget things you really want to when
there are reminders all over the place. The spaces where I sleep, shower, and get
dressed are clean because I have control over that and they’re not really mine, but
stuff comes into the tavern and I can’t stop it.”

“What don’t you want reminding of?” she asked gently, but sensed almost immediately
that
she
would be added to the Forget List very shortly.

“Just about everything important,” he said flatly. “My mom, the place I should be
able to call home, and my dog.”

“Your dog?”

“Timmy, a mongrel stray that stole my heart and then got killed.” His Adam’s apple
bobbed as he swallowed. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Oh dear, that’s so sad.” Piper immediately thought of Aspen and how she’d feel if
anything happened to her. And then how tender Matt had been around the animal. Her
heart twisted. “I’m sure you gave him a wonderful life in the time you had together.”

“Stepfather of the moment didn’t like him. It wasn’t that great for me or the dog.”

“Oh.”

“I buried him in the backyard in Boston and then I left for good. Not a smart move
for a sixteen-year-old, but I turned out okay in the end. Financially.”

Piper stared at the ice cream sundae that had been steadily melting into pink and
white soup under the halogen lamps. “You won’t want one of Aspen’s kittens then, I
guess.”

He smiled sadly. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“So you’re really leaving on the sixteenth?”

“I’m really leaving. Are you mad at me for that?”

Was she? There was a fist-shaped ball in her chest and she felt sick as she tried
to form a coherent answer. She wanted to look him in the eye and ask if she would
ever see him again after the beer launch because that was what she really wanted to
know. But it was a question she couldn’t ask. It would be so needy of her that he’d
run a mile in the opposite direction, and she wouldn’t get those last eight days of
being with him. She wanted those last eight days with him more than anything, she
suddenly realized, and the truth made her feel weak and hopeless. She was in love
with him, and he was going to leave her like he left everywhere and everyone in the
end.

“It’s your life, Matt,” she managed to say. “I can’t be mad at you for wanting to
live it.”

“The dancing has started back there if you’re interested,” he said and reached out
to take her hand.

“Actually, I’m not. Really, I’m sorry, but I’d be happy to go as soon as it’s polite
for us to leave.”

A slow smile parted his lips. “Sounds like a plan. Our suite is exquisite. You should
come and see it.”

“Our suite?”

“Yeah, why not? All part of the wedding of the year exploitation experience, something
to make the whole PR circus bearable after the bride and groom have gone to bed. A
reward for us having to smile at strangers for so long. A refuge from the relentless
cameras. Because publicity is the only reason we’re here.”

“I thought the groom was your buddy.”

“We’re business associates, that’s all, but both of us know a good promotional opportunity
when we see one. Did you notice all those guys with the tripods and white screens?
Hello magazine, exclusive access, worldwide glitzy glossy coverage of me. And you.”

“And presumably the happy couple,” she said.

“The toast was made with PCB No. 68. The bride loves pink, but doesn’t like pink wine.
It’s a media coup.”

She glanced down at the untouched glasses of pink fizz and picked them up. Handing
him one, she pasted on a smile. “So here’s to you and never failing to mix business
with pleasure. May you sell many, many barrels.”

He laughed and took a sip without taking his eyes off her. “Business is over for the
day. It’s pure pleasure time now.”

“Don’t you want to exploit a few more photo opportunities back there?”

He shook his head. “They’ve had enough—keep them hungry for more. There’s an amazing
shot of us together.”

“I look forward to seeing it. I might even frame it.” She put her glass down and couldn’t
fail to notice the change in his expression. “Joke,” she added quickly to squash any
impression she might have given about being sentimental. The cards were all laid out
face-up on the table. A no-strings fling for the next eight days. Business, pleasure,
money, and decadence.

Most definitely not commitment, sentimentality, or anything beyond that.