Melissa snorted—which led Eloise to assume she’d had one too many cocktails. ‘As if we don’t all already know that? Noah Cross must have dated almost every woman in this room.’
‘I went to an awards ceremony with him,’ Iona said. ‘But he never kissed me like that.’
‘Or me,’ someone else piped up.
‘He didn’t kiss me at all,’ another woman added. Eloise frowned. She might think that Noah’s playboy reputation was a lie, except anyone who kissed like he did had clearly been practising a lot.
‘It was just a kiss,’ Eloise said, realising that the hens were still waiting for an answer. ‘It wasn’t even a real one. We were acting.’
‘Looked pretty real to me,’ Caitlin said.
‘That is sort of the idea, Cait,’ Melissa snapped. ‘Although I appreciate you might not have reached that lesson in your drama training yet.’
There was a moment of stunned silence, and Melissa obviously realised she’d stepped out of her perfect friend character. She turned to Eloise and beamed. ‘It did look very real though, I suppose. But then, that shouldn’t be such a surprise, should it? It must be in the genes.’
Iona frowned. ‘In the jeans? They were in period costume.’
‘Genes with a G,’ Melissa said sharply. ‘Eloise’s mother was an actress too, you see, locally, anyway. And she was absolutely famous for her ability to make all her leading men fall in love with her. Wasn’t she?’
Eloise froze, the shame and humiliation cresting over her like a wave, just at the reminder. Melissa knew every single story that had ever been told about Eloise’s mother. Her own mother had been the one spreading the rumours, most of the time.
She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter—that these people, flown in for the week for a wedding, would be out of her life in just a few days. They didn’t care about her, didn’t care about her past. They had no importance in her life.
But knowing that didn’t make any difference. The humiliation she’d endured at the hands of her mother’s behaviour for so many years hadn’t faded, even now. She wouldn’t ever shake those painful memories, she knew. The whispers, the whole town talking about her, casting sympathetic—or worse, mocking—glances at her father. Everyone she knew expecting her to turn out the exact same way.
‘She sounds like quite the lady,’ Caitlin said, eyeing Eloise with more interest than she’d ever shown previously. ‘Did she ever try to make it professionally?’
‘She used to be a dancer in London, didn’t she, Eloise?’ Melissa asked lightly. ‘You know the sort.’
‘Sure.’ Iona laughed. ‘Well, everyone has to start somewhere.’
‘And those without the talent stay there,’ Caitlin finished, sending a ripple of amusement through the crowd.
‘It was sad, really,’ Melissa said. ‘She must have been quite beautiful once, I suppose. But you know how older women get sometimes, when they’re worried about being left on the shelf, or can’t find satisfaction in their marriage. They start running after everything that moves, no matter how ridiculous they look. She even went after your own boyfriend once, didn’t she, Eloise? And got him too, as I recall.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor woman; she clearly had issues.’ As if that false sympathy, tacked on the end, somehow made up for the fact that she was trashing Eloise’s mother’s name—and Eloise’s reputation at the same time.
‘Does Noah know about your family tendency to seduce co-stars?’ Melissa turned her most innocent smile and wide eyes on Eloise.
Eloise couldn’t take it any more. ‘Melissa, could I please have a word with you outside?’ she ground out between clenched teeth.
‘But darling! We’re all having so much fun here!’
‘I just remembered something about the arrangements for the...ah...photo shoot tomorrow. I’d hate for anything to go wrong.’
Melissa rolled her eyes and slid off her barstool. ‘Oh, fine. Honestly, finding capable people these days... You guys all carry on having fun! I’ll be right back.’
Eloise stalked out of the bar into the empty corridor, breathing deeply in the hope that she’d be able to talk to Melissa rationally and calmly. Like a grown-up. Like she’d never managed to do with her before.
‘So, what’s the problem?’ Melissa asked, all trace of her affected friendliness gone.
‘I’d rather you didn’t bring my mother into conversations, please,’ Eloise said as calmly as possible. ‘My family history has no bearing on this wedding, and I’m sure your friends don’t care about who my mother slept with over a decade ago.’
‘I’m sure they don’t either,’ Melissa said, her tone sharp. ‘Your mother was a slut and a disgrace, but who cares about that now, right? But if you’re sleeping with Noah Cross, you can bet everyone in Hollywood will care about that. It’ll be the biggest story of my wedding—and that is unacceptable.’
‘I’m not...I’m not sleeping with Noah. I only just met the guy,’ Eloise said, taken aback.
‘So? What difference does that make?’ Melissa asked. ‘He’s a huge name, he’s gorgeous, he’s loaded and he’s interested. Of course you’re going to sleep with him. You’d be an idiot not to. But not at my wedding, okay?’
Melissa turned and strode back into the bar, her perfect smile in place on her perfect face. Eloise stared after her, stunned.
‘But... But I’m not sleeping with Noah Cross,’ she said again, to the empty hallway.
‘And isn’t that a crying shame?’ Noah said from behind her.
* * *
Noah hadn’t meant to gatecrash the hen night. It was just that he felt about ten years too old for the stag do. Not in actual age, he supposed, but in maturity. And, given that he regularly expected to be the least mature guy at the table, that was saying something.
Riley might be getting married, but he still seemed like a kid to Noah. It was as if the whole wedding was a game, another act. That at the end of the day he could take his ring off and go back to being just Riley again—no harm, no foul.
Marriage meant somewhat more to Noah. That was why he had no intention of ever entertaining the institution.
Still, even knowing that not everyone in Hollywood shared his opinion on the importance of marriage, he hadn’t expected the stag do to feel so...shallow. Meaningless.
Irrationally, he blamed Eloise. She was the opposite of shallow. She’d given him false expectations for the rest of the world.
He hadn’t even been looking for Eloise, particularly. He’d been looking for a drink—a proper one, not a cup from the keg Riley had insisted on, as a homage to frat movies past. But when he’d heard Eloise’s voice...he had to admit that maybe it had been her he’d been looking for all along.
Melissa spat out something hateful about Eloise’s mother, and Eloise responded with a denial. Noah moved in closer, in time to hear Melissa rate all the things about him that mattered in her world, none of which were anything he’d want to feature in his obituary.
Then she left, and Eloise was alone in the hallway.
‘I’m not sleeping with Noah Cross,’ she said.
Noah stepped out of the shadows. ‘And isn’t that a crying shame?’
Eloise spun round, her eyes wide. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Just looking for a drink.’ Was it the lights, or was that something akin to lust that he saw in her eyes? ‘And you.’
‘Why?’
He