Page 38 of Always a Bridesmaid

“God, no.”

“Then why do I feel like I’ve been played?” She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm and she stopped. “Let go.” At the quiver in her voice, he did.

“You haven’t been. That wasn’t my intention. I’ve been screwed over so many times.”

She turned to look at him, her face bright with anger. “Which is why I already signed an NDA with Sarah that covers all week. All the wedding party did. It was my idea.”

Well shit. “I didn’t know.”

“I guess it just goes to show how little we know about each other. And what a mistake this was.”

“This wasn’t a mistake.Thiswas a mistake.” He held up the papers.

“What was your plan, to fuck me, then serve me?”

“No, once I kissed you, I decided I trusted you.”

“That must have been some kiss,” she sneered. “Ironically after that kiss, I can’t ever trust you. If it weren’t for Sarah’s wedding, I’d walk out of here and never see you again. But that isn’t possible. So for Sarah’s sake we’ll play nice, avoid each other as much as possible, and when the week is up I never want to hear from you again.”

“Love, let me explain,” he begged, and her whole body tightened in what he assumed was disgust.

“Call me Elle. It’s less confusing that way for everyone.”

11

Jane was shuffling through the five stages of grief faster than a Formula 1 car on the racetrack in Monaco, but not necessarily in order. Last night she’d gone straight to anger. It wasn’t until this morning that she awoke in disbelief. Not that he’d issued the NDA. He was a protector by nature, so wanting to protect his family made sense. But that she’d actually allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to give herself to a man she barely knew, which was something she didn’t take lightly.

She’d mistaken a moment of heightened intimacy for the real deal, when it was nothing more than being swept up in the moment. She’d like to think she wasn’t shallow, but maybe she’d been more affected by the champagne and caviar lifestyle than she’d admitted to herself. Or maybe she’d just been bamboozled by his magnetism and charm.

This was why Jane didn’t do charm, it tended to bite her in the ass.

“You made a mess of things,” she grumbled to herself, picking up the pillow and smothering it over her face. “Now you have to clean it up.”

And the only way to do that was to forget about last night. If she pretended that it didn’t happen, then it didn’t happen. She’d played larger roles; she could pull off this one. She just needed to get Henry on board.

He wasn’t going to make it easy. Last night he’d called her five times and sent her a dozen texts. He’d even knocked on her door. When she didn’t answer, he said, “This isn’t over.”

Too bad for him, she’d already moved on. All she had to do was come clean with Roxy and then invent a story as to where she’d disappeared to last night. Because instead of returning to the party, as Professional Jane would normally have done, she’d let her emotions get the best of her, marching her way back to her hotel room, grabbing a bottle of champagne on the way, which she’d polished off before passing out. Which explained the pounding behind her right eye.

With a groan she pulled herself out of bed and, after starting the coffee pot, took a steaming shower. Sliding into the hotel’s plush robe and wrapping her hair into a towel, she poured herself a cup of hot joe, took the first sip, and practically moaned in ecstasy.

She was about to take a second sip when there was a knock at the door.

The sound woke her up faster than the caffeine and she made a beeline for the peephole, relieved when she saw Sarah on the other side of the door. Then her heart lodged itself in her throat.

What if she knows?

What if Jane and Henry hadn’t been as inconspicuous as they’d thought? Heck, they’d practically been having sex on the dance floor. What was she going to do? The only thing she could. If Sarah asked her a direct question about hooking up with Henry, Jane would tell the truth, pack her bags, and march her ass to the airport to fly home—broke and humiliated.

Sarah was looking one way, then the other like she was playing a role inMission: Impossibleand being followed. Jane opened the door, grabbed her by the arm and yanked her in, slamming the door behind her.

“What happened toI’ll come to you?”

“I texted and you didn’t answer.”

“I was in the shower.”

Sarah looked at the robe and head turban and narrowed her eyes. “Well, what I had to say couldn’t wait.”

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