‘THAT IS A very boring dress,’ Noah said as he handed Eloise a flute of champagne. He’d been watching her since he’d arrived at the bar for the welcome drinks, and she hadn’t welcomed a single drink yet. She had to be desperate for one. He knew he was.
He’d intended to stay away from Eloise this evening, despite his promise of a flirtation earlier. Tessa had sent him a pointed text message saying she hoped he was behaving himself, as she had a call booked in with Stefan about the audition. Clearly she was serious about this, and so he would be too.
But then he’d spent an hour making small talk with the other wedding guests and, by the end of it, he was desperate for a conversation with somebody who had never even wanted to be in a film. Which, at Melissa’s wedding, basically left Eloise.
When had this sort of event grown so meaningless? All industry chatter and gossip, and nothing of any substance. Unlike Eloise’s boring black shift dress which, in his opinion, had far too much substance. It could have done with a little bit of sheer fabric somewhere, or even just a little less weight. It hung over her body like a sack. Eloise’s body, Noah had decided from watching her move around the room, needed the sort of fabric that flowed, that moved with her, showing off her long, lean lines and gentle curves.
From the way Eloise was scowling at him, he guessed she disagreed. Oh, well. He was getting used to it.
‘I didn’t realise we’d reached the stage in our acquaintance where you felt comfortable insulting my fashion sense.’
‘I like to skip ahead to the good parts. Why waste time on the small talk?’ He flashed her his most charming smile and she just rolled her eyes.
Eloise Miller was going to be a challenge to win over—especially if he wasn’t allowed to seduce her. Fortunately, Noah loved challenges.
‘Well, you’ll get to see me in the hideous concoction Melissa has chosen for the bridesmaids soon enough,’ she assured him, then raised the champagne flute to her lips to take a sip. ‘Hopefully, that will be an interesting enough dress to keep you satisfied.’
Noah had a feeling that whatever dress Melissa had picked, it wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to satisfy him. Even standing beside Eloise, just watching her cool, pale skin and her blazing hair, he felt too warm, as if he might get burnt if he touched her. But that didn’t stop his whole body aching to reach out anyway. What was it about this woman? She wasn’t even trying—and he’d had enough women try with him to know—and yet she kept pulling him into her orbit, keeping him tethered there until it was physically hard to pull away.
The room was filled with beautiful women, yet the only one he could see was Eloise.
And that was going to be a problem. Because he really couldn’t sleep with her. He was being discreet—and that definitely meant no public fling with the maid of honour.
‘I’m sure the bridesmaids’ dresses will be lovely,’ he lied, trying not to imagine Eloise in something slippery, something low-cut, something that just fell off her skin as he pushed it aside...
‘No, you’re not,’ Eloise cut into his thoughts. ‘You know as well as I do that Melissa will have chosen something designed to make her look even more beautiful. Which, given the A-list beauty status of the rest of her bridesmaids, means that we’ll all be wearing sackcloth and ashes, or whatever the modern wedding equivalent is. In this case, something in blue-green satin and chiffon, I believe.’
‘You’d look good in anything,’ Noah replied without thinking, and she looked at him with wide eyes.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘But I’d reserve judgement until you’ve seen the dress, if I were you. Melissa is not above using her powers of fashion for evil.’
They stood side by side, observing the room, and Noah wondered if she was supposed to be working, doing something, instead of standing here with him. Then he wondered if, actually, he was meant to be doing something, in his capacity as best man. Then he decided he didn’t care. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
‘Did you know about those two?’ Eloise nodded across the room to where the little wedding planner and Riley’s brother were talking with the parents of the groom. As they chatted, Dan reached out and rested his hand at the small of Laurel’s back and she leant against him, apparently finding strength and support in his nearness.
For a moment Noah couldn’t help but think that looked nice, having that sort of connection. And then he remembered the price and shook the thought away.
‘No. They’re together?’ That hadn’t come up in any of the emails and schedules Laurel had been sending over for months.
‘Apparently.’ Eloise’s gaze didn’t move from the group across the room, but Noah couldn’t be sure if she was watching Laurel and Dan or taking in Melissa’s mother’s thunderous face. It looked as if someone else hadn’t known about the relationship either. He wondered if the bride knew yet... That could be interesting, when she arrived. Melissa believed in making an entrance, and that required being fashionably late. ‘I don’t know if it’s serious. I mean...it’s not like Melissa and Riley, is it? Another showbiz marriage destined to fail.’
‘Not all marriages end in divorce,’ Noah said mildly. ‘Only, like, half. Maybe three-quarters, in Hollywood.’
The look Eloise gave him was scathing. ‘That’s a rousing argument for the institution of marriage.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s not really my thing.’
‘Yeah, I get that.’ She tilted her head a little to the side as she considered him. Noah tried not to shift from one foot to the other, giving away his discomfort. Usually, he was used to being scrutinised from the other side of a camera or a screen. Up close and personal, it felt a little invasive. As if Eloise was looking deeper than he wanted her to know existed. ‘So, how did Riley rope you into being best man, then? You guys must be pretty close, I guess.’
‘Not really,’ Noah admitted, glad the focus had shifted away from him and onto Melissa and Riley for a while. Their wedding was a much safer topic. ‘I mean, we’ve made a few movies together, done the press junkets. But that’s about it.’
‘Huh.’ She was looking again. Studying him.
‘What?’ Noah shifted his weight from one foot to the other and swapped his empty champagne flute for a full one as a waiter passed.
‘I just figured...the way they both talked about you when we were doing the planning—especially Riley—I figured you were a bigger part of their lives.’
‘Riley said that? I mean, he made it sound that way?’ He’d always assumed that Melissa had insisted on Riley asking him, purely for the celebrity cachet that came with having Noah Cross as best man. But maybe he’d been wrong. After all, as his agent had pointed out, he wasn’t always the best at connecting with people on a deeper level. Even his friends.
‘Yeah. He did.’
‘I...I don’t usually like to get too close to people I work with,’ Noah said, wondering why he felt as if he needed to make excuses to this woman. It was her eyes, he decided. The way they seemed to look right into his soul—assuming he still had one after a decade in Hollywood. He was pretty sure some of the women he’d dated would claim otherwise.
‘Or anyone else,’ Eloise suggested.
Noah tried to ignore her remark but, seeing as it came so soon after Tessa’s comments on the phone, he couldn’t help himself from asking, ‘What makes you say that?’
‘I’ve seen the photos,’ Eloise said with a shrug. ‘All those pictures of you with a different woman every week. Not exactly the hallmark of a guy who gets up close and personal. At least, not in the non-physical sense.’
She sounded too casual as she said it, too desperate for him to believe she didn’t care what he did with women. And, on less than twelve hours’ acquaintance, why would