The Wedding Trap (Second Service #1)(5)
Author: Adrienne Bell

"Like you don’t know it," she added.

Alex took a step toward her. She didn’t move away.

“How do you know I won’t do something to hurt you between here and the entrance to the hotel?”

She shrugged. “You would have done it already. Truly violent people go to violence first. They usually don’t stand around and chat for a while.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“I got mugged once. The guy didn’t stick around to help me pick up my stuff after he’d slammed me to the ground and snatched my purse.”

Her tone was matter-of-fact. She wasn’t fishing for pity, but Alex still didn’t like the image that popped up in his mind of her smacking against the pavement. He didn’t like it one bit.

“And what happens if I say no to this little proposal of yours?”

"Well…” Her voice trailed off. This was obviously something that she hadn’t considered. “Then I tell everyone that I saw you breaking into Spencer’s car. I’ll call the police."

“Blackmail?”

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head back to look up at him, her wide smile completely free of guile. “I guess so.”

“Then it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I, Miss…”

“Bradley.” She stuck out her hand. “Beth Bradley.”

There was an expectant look in her big brown eyes as he slid his hand into hers.

“It would probably be better for both of us if I stayed just Charlie.”

“Of course.”

“You’re the most unusual blackmailer I’ve ever dealt with.” He let his grip on her hand linger.

“I get that a lot.”

***

Beth liked the feel of Charlie’s hand in hers a little too much. Enough that she had to remind herself that he wasn’t really Charlie.

Of course, he wasn’t. No one was. Charlie was nothing but a desperate invention, a fantasy. But it was strange how perfectly this stranger fit into the mold her mind had made for him. It was as if for a brief moment her imagination had sprung to life. Just long enough to save her ass from a weekend’s worth of torture and humiliation.

Charlie walked with her across the parking lot, his grip strong and his stride confident. His skin felt warm against hers.

Damn. Was she really so hard up for human contact that holding hands with a stranger was enough to give her the sizzles?

It appeared so.

She hadn’t known what to think when she’d found him breaking into Spencer’s car. He sure didn’t look like a car thief in his finely tailored suit. But what did she know of criminals?

Not that it mattered what he was. All that mattered was that he was playing along. She didn’t care how he made his piles of money as long as he helped her out. Hell, if this went well, she might personally hand him the keys to Spencer’s car. Of course, that wasn’t likely if they didn’t get their stories straight before they got inside.

"I should probably tell you a little bit about yourself," she said, slowing her step.

"Okay." He didn’t slow his, practically pulling her across the parking lot. He must have been anxious to get this over with. Not that she blamed him. If she had half a brain, she would be too.

“Your last name is Parker.”

He kept going, but shot her a backward glance. “Parker? Charlie Parker?”

“Somebody asked, and I panicked. You should be thankful that I didn’t go with Brown.”

“I suppose I should.”

“I’m no good under pressure.”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” A hint of humor laced his words.

He wasn’t taking this seriously. Beth dug in her heels, refusing to take another step until he listened to her.

He stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

"You’re in the music business," she said.

"Got it.”

"That’s why you work weekends. You fly all over the country listening to bands."

"Makes sense." He pulled on her arm, making her skitter across the pavement.

"You’re from Iowa originally. Des Moines."

He gave one quick jerk on her arm, and she flew to his side. He let go of her hand just long enough to wrap his arm around the curve of her waist, and tucked her in close to his side. Beth’s heart sped up.

Damn, she was hard up.

"I’ve got this,” he said looking down into her eyes. “I promise.”

Beth opened her mouth, but nothing had come out.

Isobel was right. It appeared there was a first time for everything.

A few more steps and the doorman opened the front door of the Kensington Hotel.

Pressed so tightly against him, Beth could feel how solid he was. She could feel every muscle moving under the material of his suit. He didn’t seem tense or stressed. He felt totally natural, like he really was Charlie. He was a frighteningly good actor.

She, on the other hand, was a shaking bundle of nerves. What had seemed like the perfect plan in the parking lot now showed all of its flaws. There was no way anyone was going to believe that someone this cool and gorgeous was going out with her. She’d just cranked the dial on the humiliation predictor to eleven. What had she been thinking?

Simple answer—she hadn’t been. She’d been pulled in by a pair of stormy blue eyes and the delicious temptation of flaunting them in front of Spencer.

Beth spotted everyone crowded around the same elegant couches that she’d stormed away from twenty minutes ago. Spencer was still there, as was her mother, but now they had company. Mr. and Mrs. Masterson were sitting on either side of Isobel. Jordan was standing next to his brother.

No one had looked her way yet. There was still time to come to her senses and call this whole thing off. If she turned and ran like hell, maybe she could make it out the door before anyone spotted her.

Charlie—or who ever the hell he really was—must have sensed her nervousness. He pulled her tighter. The pressure of his body against hers was strangely reassuring.

“Everything is going to be fine, Beth," he said. "Trust me."

Trust him? He was a common criminal. No, wait, that was unfair. He was obviously a very uncommon criminal

Why did he care how nervous she was? He was only here because she was blackmailing him, for heaven’s sake.

She looked up and saw nothing but certainty in his smoky blue eyes. She stared into them for a second too long and ended up stumbling on the marble tile. The soles of her shoes squeaked loud enough to echo off of every marble column in the entryway. She had to cling tighter to Charlie’s arm to keep from falling flat on her face.