Slow Dance With The Best Man. Sophie PembrokeЧитать онлайн книгу.
features through the tinted glass, but presumably one of them was the hyper-efficient wedding planner, Laurel, who’d been sending Noah updates and asking him questions for the last six months.
He made a mental note to stay out of her way as much as possible for the next five days. Efficiency grew tiring quickly, he’d found.
The driver opened Melissa’s door and the bride swept out. Noah opened his own door and followed, wishing he’d brought his sunglasses as he lost the protection of tinted glass and squinted into the winter sun, looking up at the Hall.
Yep, still just as Gothic.
But the women standing on the steps... The tinted glass definitely hadn’t done them justice.
One was a petite brunette, all curves and smiles and bounce as she came down the steps to welcome Melissa with a hug. He hoped that was Laurel, who he’d vowed to avoid. Because the other...
The other stayed standing on the steps, her smile fixed and her hands clasped in front of her. She looked uncomfortable, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. As if she was trying to fade into the background—something Noah wasn’t used to seeing in the circles he hung out in these days.
She’d never manage it, though. She had to be nearly six foot in her sensible black heels, almost as tall as he was, and her pale features were topped with a cloud of blazing red hair, pinned tightly back to reveal the classical beauty of her features. He couldn’t see the colour of her eyes from this distance, but he wanted to. He wanted to know if they were as striking as the rest of her.
Then she turned to look at him and he knew it didn’t matter what colour they were—if this woman was looking at him, he’d never see anything else.
This woman would never disappear into the background anywhere.
And Noah hoped to be seeing an awful lot more of her over the next five days. Maybe he’d even get to find out what that beautiful hair looked like tumbling around her naked shoulders...
Shouldering his bag, he put on his most charming smile, hoped that the effect of the champagne had mostly passed and strode towards the imposing front door of Morwen Hall, and the equally imposing woman standing in front of it.
Maybe this wedding wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.
* * *
Noah Cross. Noah freaking Cross.
Okay, breathing was becoming an issue now. She really had to get hold of herself.
Eloise broke away from staring at the ridiculously handsome Noah Cross and sucked in a good lungful of crisp December air to replace all the oxygen that had been knocked out of her at the sight of him.
She was being ridiculous. Of course he was good-looking. He was a movie star. It was part of the deal. It definitely didn’t mean anything important—that he was a nice person, or someone she wanted to spend time with. In fact, in her experience, it meant the exact opposite.
No. She was not her mother. She would not let her head be turned by the first attractive—gorgeous—man who looked her way. Hadn’t she just decided that dating wasn’t for her?
He probably wasn’t even looking at her. He was probably looking at Morwen Hall. It was, after all, even more striking than her red hair, and considerably more beautiful.
That thought sobered her right up and knocked her back into business mode. She had a wedding to host, and an arch nemesis to deal with while she was doing it. She did not have time to get sidetracked ogling movie stars—especially given how many of them would be arriving later that afternoon.
Making sure her best fake smile was still in place, Eloise descended the front steps to join Melissa, Laurel and Riley on the driveway.
‘Eloise!’ Melissa cried, with what had to be phoney enthusiasm. ‘It’s just so wonderful to see you again, honey.’ The ‘honey’ was new, Eloise noted, as Melissa leant forward to kiss the air a few inches away from Eloise’s icy cheeks. Presumably something else she’d picked up in Hollywood, along with the fiancé.
‘You’ve seen me on video calls for the last six months, Melissa,’ Eloise said, still smiling so hard her cheeks ached.
‘Oh, but that’s not the same thing at all.’ Melissa stretched a slender white arm around Laurel and Eloise’s shoulders. ‘Isn’t this just perfect? My oldest friend and my favourite half-sister, working together to give me the wedding of my dreams.’
‘It sure is perfect, honey,’ Riley agreed, his southern accent far more pronounced than in his films.
Of course she’d think it’s perfect, Eloise thought. She’s got the two people she wants to make miserable most in the world waiting on her hand and foot as the culmination of six months of demanding the impossible from them. It’s her every dream come true.
Apparently Hollywood stardom wasn’t enough for some people. They had to come back and crush the little people they left behind too.
She glanced to her left and caught Laurel’s eye, wondering if the wedding planner was having the exact same thoughts. Even if she was, neither of them would say anything, not with their careers riding on this. That was probably what Melissa was banking on. That, or she honestly thought they were grateful to her for condescending to use their services for her wedding.
Actually, knowing Melissa, it was probably the latter.
Eloise bit her tongue all the same, reminding herself of what really mattered: her promotion. If she pulled off this wedding, Mr Richards, who owned Morwen Hall, had promised her that she’d be made permanent manager in the New Year. Not to mention the huge boost the hotel would get from the exposure. That was a good thing. A good, secure job with a hotel that was doing well. That was a sensible career goal.
All she had to do was make it through to January the first without telling Melissa what she really thought of her, or giving her any reason to complain about Eloise’s professionalism. How hard could that be?
Oh, yeah. Very.
But Eloise was determined to do it all the same.
‘This is quite some place, Melissa. I can absolutely see why you chose it. It’s perfect for you!’ Noah Cross’s voice was weirdly familiar from those times she’d sat in cinemas watching him beat up bad guys and seduce beautiful women on screen. It was just plain odd to hear him apply those dulcet tones to Morwen Hall. ‘Moody, well built...and I guess it has one hell of a history.’
His upbeat tone made the comment sound complimentary but, as he met her eyes, Eloise realised he knew exactly what he was saying. The humour in his gaze only grew as Melissa frowned—not enough to cause lines, though—and said, ‘Well, yes. It is quite special.’
It was a shame Noah Cross was an actor, Eloise thought. Otherwise, she had a feeling he might be exactly her sort of person.
‘Why don’t you all step inside?’ she said, deflecting Noah’s observations. ‘It’s freezing out here and I’d love to show you all around the old place, tell you a bit about its history.’
Noah sprung up the steps beside her, even as Melissa said, ‘Of course, I already know everything there is to know about Morwen Hall.’
Eloise’s smile became a little more fixed. ‘I think you’ll find we’ve changed a few things since you were last here, Melissa.’ Eight years ago.
‘Well, I for one can’t wait to learn all about this place.’ Noah slapped his hand against the heavy wood of the front door and the ironwork rang out an echo. ‘And whether or not there are any vampires hiding in there waiting to suck my blood.’ He flashed a smile that Eloise couldn’t help but return.
‘No vampires,’ she promised. At least, as long as you didn’t count Melissa. ‘But I can’t promise you might not see the odd ghost.’
Noah raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’
‘That’s