The Wedding Trap (Second Service #1)(2)
Author: Adrienne Bell

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.