Not the Marrying Kind (5 page)

Chapter Five

Divorce Diva Daily recommends:

Playlist: “Never Again” by Nickelback

Movie:
Must Love Dogs

Cocktail: Pisco Sour

Beck Blackwood may be sex on legs but the guy was totally loco.

“Pardon?”

“Can you help me find a wife?” He stood, managing to look imposing and appealing simultaneously.

Laughter bubbled in her throat but she swallowed it when he frowned.

He was serious.

Yep, completely loco.

“Sorry, I do parties. Try a dating service.”

“I need a wife fast.” His frown deepened and the pulse in his neck became noticeable.

“Why? You knocked up?” she deadpanned.

His eyes widened in surprise before he grinned. “Anyone you can recommend?”

“For the position of wife?” She pretended to ponder, tapping a fingernail against her bottom lip. “Let me see. Someone who’s crazy enough to marry a guy she doesn’t know?” She snapped her fingers. “Nope. Sorry. Plum out of candidates.”

“You’ve got a smart mouth.”

“Matches the rest of me.” She pointed at her presentation ready to go. “If you’d ever let me show you.”

He hesitated, as if he wanted to push the issue, but acquiesced with a slight nod instead. “Go ahead.”

The guy wanted a wife, pronto. What was he, some kind of desperado? And why the hell would a guy like him need a wife fast anyway? Determinedly ignoring her rampant curiosity, she waited until he sat on one of the low-slung gunmetal gray leather sofas nearby before firing up the first slide.

“As I mentioned earlier, Divorce Diva Daily is all about class.” She hit the button to bring up the next slide. “Humans are ritualistic. We
like
rituals. They make us feel secure and part of a community. So that’s what a divorce party does. It gives the injured party a way to cope with this difficult transition.”

He sat there, immovable. It didn’t help her nerves.

“A new phase in a person’s life is beginning and a divorce party is a great way to announce your new
status
.” She made air-quotes with her fingers. “Hey, I’m single and up for new experiences and new relationships.”

He didn’t blink and her disappointment spiraled.

“It’s the perfect way to mark the end of pain and suffering and embrace a new life.”

Still nothing.

She took a deep breath before launching into the finale. “Basically, whatever works we provide. If voodoo dolls, dart throwing, piñata smashing is the way to go, we’ll tailor a party around that. If a classy cocktail party with fab music and amazing food is preferred, we can do that. We’re flexible.”

She wound up her spiel, seeking some kind of positive feedback: the slightest positive nod, a glimmer of a smile, a spark in his eyes.

Nada. The guy had to be a poker player, and a damn good one at that.

“What do you think?” She hated having to ask, but his ominous silence was giving her bad vibes.

He steepled his fingers, rested them on his chest, his gaze penetrating. He was studying her, almost sizing her up.

Just give me the verdict already.

“I think you’ll do nicely.”

Relief made her knees wobble a tad, but Poppy couldn’t shake the feeling she was being sized up for more than her presentation skills. She hated how authoritative guys had the power to make or break someone, but for Sara’s sake, she’d kowtow like the rest of his flunkies. “You liked my pitch?”

He nodded and muttered, “and the rest.”

Resisting the urge to happy dance after nailing a lucrative account that would go a long way to saving Sara’s business, she sat opposite him and shut down her presentation. “I’ll email you a quote with a complete breakdown of costs your twenty grand will cover.”

“Fine,” he said, his stare unwavering and seriously starting to unnerve her. “Do you have a venue in mind?”

Who did he think she was, Wonder Woman? She’d barely had time to put her presentation together after he’d summoned her, let alone research prospective venues.

She’d have to wing it.

“I was waiting to get an idea of crowd size before following up with venues.”

“Smart.”

Then why did she feel the opposite the longer he continued to study her?

There was something going on here, something beyond the initial buzz of attraction. His steady stare wasn’t sexual—far from it. It was almost…predatory, as though he was a giant shark eyeing an itty-bitty flounder.

He stood and beckoned her closer. “We should check out some venues.”

An order, not a request. Corporate hotshots like him were used to their demands being obeyed. And for the next few weeks, or however long it took to organize this party and run it, she’d have to do what he said. Within reason.

“I can do that online. Or I can schedule a return visit—”

“Now,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We can grab some dinner, then check out the hotel function rooms.”

She didn’t want to have dinner with him, didn’t want to be studied for one second longer than she had to. But it made sense to see the venues firsthand rather than online, and doing it now would save her a return trip. Though it wouldn’t be half bad on that jet.

“Sounds good.” She slid her tablet into her satchel and stood.

“I’ll have my executive assistant call ahead and schedule it.”

He strode toward his desk, power in motion, and she had to admit the combination of determination and authority, and the ease with which he wielded it, was pretty damned hot. She didn’t go for suits, preferred her guys a little rough around the edges, but there was something about Beck Blackwood that appealed on a visceral level.

He’d be great fling material…if she ever lost her mind and risked sleeping with an important business contact. As if. She’d nailed the first step, winning the pitch. If she could do the same with the party, news would spread and Divorce Diva Daily would be in demand. Yeah, she’d throw a divorce party like this town had never seen before. And that meant keeping her X-rated thoughts about Beck to herself.

“Done. Simone will arrange some viewing times in a few hours and make a dinner reservation.” He snagged his jacket off the back of the chair and hooked it over his shoulder, looking executive and commanding and sexy at the same time.

Her hands-off resolution would be sorely tested.

“Have to say, Poppy, I’m impressed.” He had that penetrating stare going on again.

She gripped her bag tighter. “Thanks.”

“So impressed, I have another business proposition for you later.” His mouth eased into a slow grin and rather than easing her tension it ratcheted up.

“Great.” Her inner diva did an exultant fist-pump.

“I hope you think so.”

But as he placed his hand in the small of her back to propel her toward the door, she couldn’t shake the feeling this proposition would be more than she bargained for.

…

Beck had impeccable timing.

He carefully weighed decisions, analyzing all angles, before taking a metaphorical plunge.

He never wanted to be like his impulsive parents, who’d chased the next thrill, the next high.

Being rash ended in disaster, so the moment the idea to have Poppy as his wife ignited, he’d mentally listed the pros and cons.

Pros:

Amenable to business dealings

Intelligent

Attractive

Articulate

Professional

Suburban background

No skeletons

Not an acquaintance so no risk of emotional involvement

Cons:

???

Hmmm…looked like there wasn’t one good reason to keep Poppy Collins from becoming the wife he needed.

Now he had to convince her.

“Dinner was sensational, but I’m so full I can hardly move.” Poppy patted her stomach, drawing his gaze to the way the crimson silk draped her torso and clung to her breasts. The ruby color highlighted her vibrancy, deepening the lowlights in the shiny brunette tumble around her shoulders, bringing out the golden flecks in her eyes. It illuminated her like a beacon, drawing the gaze of every guy in the room, and it vindicated his choice. She’d lost the jacket halfway through dinner and his triple-baked goat’s cheese soufflé and anchovy-studded veal loin served with truffle polenta had morphed from sublime to tasteless in a second.

She was one of those rare women who managed to appear classy yet sexy, elegant yet down-to-earth, and she’d be perfect to convince the investors that Beck Blackwood was trustworthy and responsible.

“What do you think of this place?” His arm swept wide, encompassing the rooftop bar of the Blackwood, one of his company’s finest hotels.

“It’s perfect.” Her eyes glittered with excitement as she gripped the metal railing and leaned forward, her hair rippling behind her like russet velvet in the cool night breeze. “Like being on top of the world.”

“Best place to be,” he said, joining her at the railing, their elbows inadvertently touching.

She didn’t pull away and he wondered if she felt the sizzle, like an invisible thread tugging them together. He’d dated extensively but hadn’t had this buzz often. It was heady, addictive, the kind of thrill that made a guy want to wind his hands through her hair, tug her closer, and kiss her senseless.

Later. After she’d agreed to his terms.

And he had no doubt she would.

He intended on making her an offer she couldn’t refuse. But first he had to confirm his suspicions. “You mentioned your sister is the party planner and you’re just filling in?”

“Uh-huh.” Her casual response didn’t fool him, not when she’d tightened her grip on the railing so that her knuckles stood out.

“Then why isn’t there a mention of her on your website?”

A long pause, where she probably scrambled for an excuse to throw him off track. Not likely. He wasn’t the type to give up, as she’d soon find out.

“She’s taking a break.”

“So you removed her from the website?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What are you saying?” To her credit, she released the railing and swiveled to face him, chin tilted up in defiance.

“That you’re hiding something linked to her Party Hard business, and I don’t like signing off twenty grand to a potential charlatan.”

She puffed up like an outraged bullfrog, managing to look indignant and gloriously sexy at the same time. “What sort of a businessman are you? You said I had the job. We’re looking at freaking venues, and you can’t back out now—”

“Hold on to your party poppers. I’m just protecting my investment.” He laid a hand on her forearm, felt a tremor, and thought better of it. This deal would be complicated enough without his blood heading south. “If you want this job, I expect full disclosure.”

“You’re blackmailing me again?” Her lips parted in incredulity.

Not yet, but the night was young.

“Up to you. Tell me the truth or I walk.”

“Fine.” But it wasn’t, as she glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Sara’s marriage fell apart, she’s suffering from clinical depression, and her business, Party Hard, is on the brink of collapse. I stepped in, but the party planning biz in Provost isn’t so hot these days, especially when word got out about her breakdown. And it doesn’t help that her rat bastard ex is swanning around town like he owns the place, so people assume she did something wrong and that’s why he left, and they back off from the business, too.”

“Harsh.”

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her top teeth, the first sign of vulnerability. “While Provost is technically outer suburbia, it’s like living in a small town.”

“With a small-town mentality?” Now he was getting a clearer picture. Marketing whiz from LA steps in to save her sister’s business but needs to keep it low key. Still didn’t explain the lack of contact details and her obsession with anonymity.

“Exactly.” She hesitated, as if weighing her next words. “Divorce parties wouldn’t be the done thing in Provost—too conservative—so I set up Divorce Diva Daily as a separate entity from Party Hard. It’s a potentially lucrative adjunct but I can’t have anyone discovering my identity and the link to Party Hard.”

She sighed. “Plus Sara’s gone through a tough time accepting her impending divorce, so I don’t want to rub her face in it. She’s fragile right now and couldn’t handle it.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Because if word gets out, Sara’ll freak…” She shook her head, the sudden bleakness twisting her mouth making him want to kiss it all better. “I owe Sara and I’ll do whatever it takes to save her business.”