The Wedding Trap

Chapter 1

I 'm thinking of killing off Charlie, Beth Bradley said, leaning back into the overstuffed chair in the corner of Isobel Munoz’s hotel suite.

No, you're not.

Yes, I am. For real this time.

You've been saying that since we were in the seventh grade.

Beth grabbed her champagne from the side table. She twirled the crystal flute between her fingers as she looked out the window at a magnificent view of the San Francisco Bay.

Isobel was right. Of course she was. She’d always been the one with her head screwed on straighter. And it showed. Isobel had earned better grades in school. She'd landed a better job. It wasn't even worth going into how superior her taste in men was.

You’re right, Beth conceded. At the very least, I've got to break up with him.

Before the wedding? Isobel asked, turning slightly so the seamstress could continue pinning the hem of her gown. Her voice was thick with disbelief. Beth didn't blame her. After all, how many times had they had this conversation?

Why not? It's as good a time as any. Anyway, what difference does it make? I'm going to be all alone on your wedding day. I might as well be honest about why.

Well, I guess there's a first time for everything. I’ll just wait right over here while you call your mother and tell her the news.

A half-panicked laugh slipped from Beth’s lips. She turned her head away from the window, meeting Isobel's gaze in the full-length mirror that had been set up in the spacious sitting room.

Yeah, maybe after is better, Beth said.

At the very least, it's more realistic. Let's be honest, Beth, you’re not giving up on Charlie at the moment you need him most, Isobel said.

Beth sighed and took another sip of her champagne. Just a sip. She’d only had half a banana and a handful of grapes for breakfast. It had been crackers and carrot sticks for lunch. Come hell or low blood sugar, she was determined to fit into her bridesmaid dress Sunday morning.

You're right, Beth said. As always.

Isobel smiled at her in the mirror. There was no malice in her eyes. If anybody knew how Beth's mind worked, it was her dearest friend.

I think that just about does it, the seamstress said.

Thank you so much. Isobel turned around to face Beth. Well, what do you think?

Tears welled up in Beth's eyes. She couldn't help it. Sure, she'd already seen Isobel in the elegant ivory gown at other fittings, and she'd cried at every one of those too. This round of last minute alterations was no different.

You look just beautiful, Beth choked out.

Isobel's eyes turned glassy too. Oh God, why did I ask you to be my maid of honor? If this is how we are today, how the hell are we going to be on Sunday? The second I see you crying, I'm going to start.

I won't cry at the ceremony. I promise.

Yeah, right. I'll believe you've finally killed off Charlie before I believe that.

It could happen, Beth said with a smile.

The moment was broken as Beth’s phone started to skitter across the tabletop next to her. She reached out to grab it, but stilled her hand the second that she saw the name on the screen.

Are you going to get that? Isobel asked.

It’s my mother. Beth waited for the call to go to voicemail.

Isobel shook her head. You know she’ll only call right back.

Maybe she won’t this—

The phone began to vibrate again.

Time. Beth let her head fall forward before she looked up at Isobel. Sorry.

Don’t bother apologizing to me. You’re the one I feel sorry for. Isobel turned toward the seamstress and started going over the final alterations as Beth hit the accept button.

Hi, Mom, Beth said.

So you’re not taking calls from your mother any longer? the familiar, guilt-inducing voice said on the other end of the line.

No. Of course not. My phone was across the room. I just couldn’t get to it in time.

So you say. I was just calling to tell you that after a hellish plane trip, your father and I have finally made it to the hotel. Where are you now, dear?

I’m in Isobel’s room. She’s having her final fitting.

Oh, how wonderful. Tell me what room she’s in, and I’ll come right up.

Beth shot to her feet. No.

There was a pause on the other end. What do you mean, no?

Uh, I just mean that there’s a lot of, um, stuff going on in here. It’s a little hectic. Beth put her champagne down. There was no way that she was going to let her mother blow into Isobel’s room and ruin her friend’s lovely moment with her own drama. How about I meet you down in the lobby instead? You can tell me all about your trip over a nice, relaxing glass of wine?

A long silence stretched on the other end of the line. Beth held her breath.

A glass of wine does sound nice, her mother conceded.

Great. I’ll meet you down there in five minutes.

Beth hit the end button before her mother could change her mind.

I have to go, Beth said.

I heard, Isobel said. I’ll come down and save you just as soon as I can.

Are you sure? You could hide out up here all night if you want. There’s no reason for both of us to get pulled into this pit of suffering.

That’s what friends are for, Isobel said with a shrug and a smile. Besides, I told Jordan that I would meet him down there for drinks before dinner with the family this evening. And you’re family as far as I’m concerned.

Tears started to well up again in Beth’s eyes. I’d hug you, but I’m afraid I’d get you all wrinkly.

Love you too, Isobel said.

Beth started for the door, but Isobel stopped her. Hey, you might need that, she said, pointing to Beth’s purse next to her half-full champagne glass.

Ah, thank you, she said, and went back over to get the purse. She paused for a second and looked down at her champagne. What the hell? She could use a little bracer before going down there. She emptied it in three quick gulps.

Beth rushed down the long, ivory-papered hall to the elevator. She hit the down button twice and waited.

And waited.

The Kensington Hotel was the Bay Area’s oldest and most elegant hotel—emphasis on the oldest. Usually, that was a big part of its charm. But right now, waiting for the single elevator in the place to creak its way up to the fifth floor, it felt more maddening than charming.

Beth glanced toward the stairwell. It probably wasn’t the best idea. She was feeling more than a little light-headed from downing that champagne on an empty stomach, and with her luck, the elevator doors would open the second she set foot on the stairs.

She glanced down at her phone. Five minutes had already passed since she’d hung up on her mother, which meant that she’d be down there now, arms crossed and counting every extra second that she was late.

Beth went for the stairs. She was only a little wobbly on her heels as she tore down the first two flights.

Her eyes were on her feet as she rounded the curve on the third, and she smashed into a wall. At least that was what it felt like. Her purse flew from her hands. The contents spilled out all over the floor as she stumbled back a step. Two strong hands wrapped around her arms, keeping her from tipping over and landing on her ass.

Beth looked up into the most gorgeous pair of ocean blue eyes she had ever seen. Her jaw dropped open as she sucked in a breath. The man standing in front of her was perfect—or damn near it.

He stood a little over six feet tall. All his features—his cheeks and chin, his nose and brow—were strong without being sharp. Even so, his lips were the only part of him that looked any kind of soft. The barest hint of stubble outlined his jaw, but it somehow fit with his finely tailored designer suit and his tousled, dark, short-cropped hair.

Are you okay? he asked after a long moment had passed.

Oh God. She’d been staring at him.

Yeah, I’m…um… Great. It wasn’t enough that she’d been ogling the poor man; now she couldn’t even string a sentence together. Beth snapped her gaze down to her feet and saw everything she had been carrying strewn across the landing. That brought her back to herself. I’m sorry.

It’s all right, he said, finally letting go of her arms.

Beth bent and started picking up everything that had flown from her purse—her wallet, a pack of gum, her compact. She was surprised when he did the same.

No, I’m really sorry. I was in a hurry and wasn’t watching where I was going. My mind was someplace else. My mother is waiting for me in the lobby, and she always makes me a little crazy. Only this time I’m the one making myself crazy because I’m not sure if I should tell her the truth about something, or if I should just keep lying. Well, at least through the weekend. And…

Beth glanced up to see him on one knee, holding her lipstick and a pack of tissues in his open hand. His eyes were steady on her, but the expression in them was guarded.

And, now you think I’m crazy. Beth grabbed her things and stuffed them back in her purse. She ran a hand down her skirt, smoothing it out, as she stood. Thank you.

You’re welcome, he said. Damn, even his voice was sexy, all low and rumbly. And, I understand.

The mystery man started back up the stairs, leaving her dumbfounded on the landing.

You do? she called after him.

He didn’t turn around. Everybody’s mom drives them crazy.

Beth took a few deep breaths before continuing down the stairs. By the time she finally made it to the lobby, she was well and truly late.

She found her mother sitting on one of the antique Edwardian sofas. Her back was straight, and her arms were crossed. Not a good sign. She arched her brows as Beth neared.

Sorry I made you wait. I had a little accident on the stairs, Beth tried.

Of course you did, dear. It’s always something.

Beth sighed as she plopped down next to her mother. Where’s Dad?

Your father decided to stay in the room. He wanted to rest before dinner. The traffic from the airport was just awful. I don’t know how you put up with it every day.

Well, it is five o’clock on Thursday.

Her mother’s brows pulled together. What does that have to do with anything?

I’m just saying that it isn’t always that bad.

If you say so.

Beth closed her eyes and bit into her lower lip. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Not if she wanted this evening to get any better.

She blew out a long breath and pasted a wide smile on her face. Did you want to go to the bar and get that glass of wine now?

Her mother waved her hand. There’s no need. Someone already went to get it for me.

Someone went for you? Who?

Her mother lifted her gaze to a spot across the wide marble lobby. Beth turned her head to see who she was looking at.

The groan that she’d been trying so hard to hold back since sitting down slipped out.

"Oh no, Mother. Don’t tell me you asked him."

I didn’t ask him, darling. He offered. Besides you should be thanking me. If you play your cards right this weekend, you might just be able to get him to take you back.

What are you talking about? I don’t want him back, Beth said in a rushed whisper.

Don’t be ridiculous. He’s handsome. He’s successful. He’s—

A total sleaze bag.

Her mother shot her a piercing look. You don’t seem to mind his brother marrying Isobel.

Of course, she didn’t. Jordan Masterson was a good man. He was honest and kind. Everything that his jerk of a brother, Spencer, wasn’t.

There wasn’t time to explain any of that to her mother before the man in question stepped in front of them holding two glasses of wine. He handed one to her mother.

Thank you, Spencer darling, she said. Won’t you sit down with us for a while? Beth here was just saying how happy she was to see you.

Is that right? he asked, quirking a brow. He shot Beth a greasy look that made her empty stomach churn. Too bad there wasn’t anything in there to puke up all over his shiny shoes.

Hello, Spencer, Beth said through gritted teeth.

She knew this moment was coming. It was unavoidable. She was the maid of honor. He was the best man. But somehow she’d convinced herself that she’d be able to avoid her jerk-off ex-boyfriend. At least until the rehearsal dinner.

He slowly looked her up and down. His smirk said he wasn’t impressed. You look…well.

Beth's smile tightened. The guy with the spiked blonde hair and popped collar thought he could judge her appearance?

Still, the night wasn’t going to get any better if she threw gasoline on the fire. Somebody had to take the high road. It might as well be her.

How’s your brother doing? she asked.

Great.

And your parents?

They’re fine.

That’s good.

There. She knew her manners. She could be polite. Hopefully, that would set the tone between them for the rest of the weekend.

I saw that you checked into your room alone, Beth. No date for the wedding, eh? he asked.

Or not.

Unfortunately, my boyfriend will be out of town on business this weekend.

And there it was. How easily she caved. It looked like she wouldn’t be killing Charlie off after all.

Ah, yes. The elusive Charlie, her mother said. I was hoping to meet him during this visit.

So was I. We’ve been hearing about this boyfriend of yours for six months now, Spencer said, a wicked smile curling his lips. Ever since you and I split.

Yeah, well, his job keeps him really busy.

Too busy to meet his girlfriend’s family? her mother asked.

Oh, don’t feel singled out, Mrs. Bradley. Nobody I know seems to have met him either.

Beth glanced down at her nails. Isobel has.

That’s funny, he said. She couldn’t seem to find any pictures of him when I asked her. Not on her phone. Not on your Facebook page.

Beth’s heart started to race. He…he doesn’t like to have his picture taken.

That sounds believable.

What’s that supposed to mean? Beth asked, leaning forward, her hands visibly shaking.

I don’t know, Beth. You tell me.

Beth drew in a sharp breath. She didn’t have to take Spencer’s crap. Even if it was the truth.

Especially since it was the truth.

Beth stood up. I’m going to go get myself a drink.

Yeah, why don’t you do that, Spencer said.

She shot him a glare that only widened his smile. He spread his arms behind him on the sofa.

A little grunt slipped from her lips as she turned. She was only a few steps away when she heard the staccato beat of her mother’s heels behind her.

Beth, wait, her mother said.

Beth only stopped once she’d turned the corner and was out of Spencer’s line of sight.

Why did you let him weasel his way onto that couch? You had to know he only wanted to torment me.

Now, darling. For a moment, Beth was drawn in by the look of real compassion in her mother’s eyes. At least now you know that he still thinks about you.

The moment quickly died.

I don’t want Spencer thinking about me. Impotent rage filled her chest. What was the point of having a mother if she wasn’t going to take your side? Did you know that he once told me that he wouldn’t have had to break up with me if I had only lost a couple of pounds?

"Well, it’s just a couple of pounds, dear. I’m