Kiss and Makeup (8 page)

Chloe smiled. “You're pretty wow yourself.” And he was. His classic black suit, pristine white shirt and skinny black tie were classy and sophisticated. And the jacket fit his broad shoulders to perfection.

She stepped closer to his big body, walked her fingers up the placket of his shirt and under his tie. “But not quite as wow as last night,” she confessed, teasing a button out of its hole. “Maybe we should stay here and I can strip you down to your most spectacular.”

Ben stopped the progress of her questing fingers, grabbing her hands in his. “Nice try, coward. We've got nuptials to witness and dancing to evade.”

Chloe leaned closer, raising her lips to his ear, hoping she could make his resolve wane with proximity. “What if I leave the shoes on?”

The groan that tore from his throat was wickedly sexy, and he ducked his head to capture her lips in a scorching kiss. His body was totally on board with her naughty plans, too. Chloe pressed her hips into his, encouraging him to take what he wanted. Instead, he swore and stepped back from her.

Even through her disappointment, she kind of respected him for it.

“All right,” she conceded, linking her arm through his. “Let's get this over with.”

Ben nodded his approval. “That's the spirit.”

But as they ascended in the elevator, she could feel her bravado slipping away with every new number that lit up on their way to the twenty-fifth floor. Her grip on Ben's arm tightened when the door dinged open, and he gave her an odd look as he tugged her out into the hallway. Her trepidation grew with every formally dressed person they came upon. She kept her gaze forward to avoid making unintentional eye contact with anyone she knew.

Then they rounded the last corner, and Chloe came face-to-face with an ornate gold easel holding a placard that assured her that her time had run out.

Welcome to the Masterson–Van Allen Ceremony.

She looked up at the handsome man standing beside her who was clueless to her crimes. “There's something I should tell you.”

“There's lipstick on my face, isn't there? I knew I shouldn't have kissed you, but that dress... And those goddamn shoes.” He started wiping his mouth and she batted his hand away.

“There's no lipstick on you.” She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Ben,” she said, and his eyes grew serious at her use of his first name. “I haven't been to a wedding in four years.”

His brow smoothed at the confession, and that damned crooked smirk he gave made it harder to breathe. “It's not like heart surgery, Chloe. Attending a wedding doesn't actually require any training. Amateurs and professionals can co-mingle freely.”

Funny he should mention heart surgery, because right now her heart felt like someone had jabbed a couple of scalpels in it—lacerated and raw.

“That's not what I meant.” She stared into his amber-colored eyes, searching for the calming influence he usually had on her. “What I'm trying to say is, that wedding I was at? Four years ago?”

Just say it.

“It was mine.”

6

“Y
OU
'
RE
MARRIED
?”

He looked like she'd punched him in the solar plexus. She supposed she sort of had.

Chloe shook her head. “I bolted.”

“Sorry?”

“I ran. He said ‘I do.' I said ‘I can't' and took off back down the aisle.”

“Okay. Well, that's pretty big. So you're dealing with something pretty big right now.”

“Oh, it gets bigger,” she assured him. “He's in there.”

“What?”

“Patrick. My ex. He's in there.”

“Are you serious? Why?”

“He's the son of my dad's law partner. Our families are inextricably linked by binding contracts, forever and ever amen.”

“Why would he—”

“Come? Because etiquette dictates he should. The same reason he was invited in the first place.”

Ben shook his head. “I'm not sure what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you're about to walk into this room with a pariah. People will stare and they will talk. And as my ‘boyfriend,' you might not get out of this night unscathed.”

“You're worried about
me
? Chloe, if ever there was a moment to think about yourself, this is it.”

She hadn't even realized she was chewing at her thumbnail until Ben reached up and took her hand.

“Now c'mon. Let's get this party started, Masterson.”

His support in this moment meant more than he realized. She tightened her grip on his hand, allowing herself to pretend, just for tonight, that Ben was actually more than a two-night-stand.

They were barely through the door when the onslaught began.

“Hey, Chloe!”

“Oh, hi. I didn't know you were an usher.” She exchanged air kisses with the stocky, redheaded son of her father's sister.

“Yep. I clean up pretty good, huh?”

“Ben, this is my cousin Keith. Keith, this is Ben. My boyfriend,” she added as an afterthought.

“Well, I knew he wasn't your husband!” Keith laughed uproariously at his own joke.

But it was only the first salvo, a preview of what she'd have to endure all evening. Even though she'd been expecting it, it stung. The reassuring warmth of Ben's hand reminded her she didn't have to weather it alone. She managed a wan smile at her prick of a cousin.

“Come on, you two. Bride's family is in the first row.” He looked up at Ben, then down at their clasped hands. “You're gonna wanna hold on tight the closer we get to the front, isn't that right, Chloe?”

Chloe was relieved to find that the second shot didn't hurt as much. They followed Keith past a human-size vase of flowers and into the gorgeous, glass-walled room that would house her sister's evening ceremony, with the city of Buffalo all lit up and blanketed in snow as a backdrop.

Everything was beautiful. Her mother would have made sure of that. From the shimmering blue ribbons on the chairs to the string quartet playing Pachelbel, Fiona Masterson's style was stamped all over this wedding. Unfortunately, Chloe couldn't appreciate the details, because from the moment they'd stepped foot in the aisle, the bride's side of the room had erupted in whispers and covert glances, like a tsunami of gossip moving toward the front of the room.

Chloe's steps stuttered.

She shouldn't have come.

This was a huge mistake.

Ben gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze—which was incredibly sweet considering her skin had gone from zero to sweaty in two seconds flat.

Then he let go of her hand.

Her heart banged painfully against her ribs and her scalp prickled with sweat. The whispers around her swelled into a deafening roar. Startled at the betrayal, Chloe's glance shot to his.

He winked at her and put his hands in his pockets.

And that small act of faith that she wasn't going to run again, that she was strong enough to face the viper pit on her own, steeled her resolve. The roiling nausea that had overtaken her stomach calmed to a simmer.

Ben was right. She wasn't the coddled twenty-year-old girl who'd been drowning in luxury and despair anymore. She was a twenty-six-year-old woman who was making it in the world on her own terms. Just as she'd always wanted. So she pulled her shoulders back and kept walking forward. On her own.

Ben slid into the seat beside her once they reached the front row. “That was intense. You did great, though.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Nah, you did all the hard stuff,” he assured her, glancing around the room. “So that's the rift?” he asked. “The reason you don't get along with your parents? Because you didn't marry some Ivy Leaguer?”

Chloe glanced behind her at the reference to Patrick. She hadn't noticed him during her long walk of shame. Of course, she hadn't noticed much. It was all kind of a blur. If she wasn't sitting at the front of the room with sweaty armpits right now, she might not actually believe she'd done it.

“That's the reason I don't get along with my mother. That and the tattoos,” she added. “I don't get along with my father because I dropped out of law school.”

“What?” Ben's cry of disbelief came out far too loudly for her peace of mind, and she felt all the attention in the room shift back in their direction. “Sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. “But what? You were going to be a lawyer?”

“According to my father I was.”

The music in the room grew louder, signifying things were about to get underway, and people's eyes shifted toward the rear of the room where the mother of the bride was reveling in her walk down the aisle.

“Anything else I should know about you?” Ben whispered. “Have you ever killed a man just to watch him die?”

“Not yet. But if you talk during the ceremony and get me in trouble with the mother of the bride, I'd suggest you sleep with one eye open tonight.”

* * *

T
HE
CEREMONY
WAS
BEAUTIFUL
, even Chloe had to admit it.

Her sister was radiant—not because of the makeup, although it looked great, even from a few feet away—but because she had a kind of deep-down radiance that made Chloe believe that she and Dalton had found true love.

After the wedding, she and Ben took the elevator up to the penthouse atrium. Unfortunately, as the sister of the bride, Chloe was expected to be in a couple of family wedding photos.

They'd barely stepped in the room before her mother pounced. “Chloe, there you are! ”

“Mom.” Formal air kisses. “Dad, hi.” She hadn't seen him in four years, but from what she could tell, not much had changed. He still wouldn't look her in the eye. Ever since the awful evening when she'd sat beside him at the dinner table and told him that she would not be returning to law school, he'd developed a habit of looking everywhere but at her.

“Chloe.” Her name sounded stiff on his lips. “Good of you to come.”

She tamped down her disappointment as she and her father exchanged an awkward embrace.

He'd probably said the exact thing to every single person he'd greeted tonight. He didn't even have the courtesy to make it sound sarcastic because of her late arrival in Buffalo—at least
that
would have personalized it a little. Then again, he probably didn't even know she'd arrived late.

Desperate to keep the festivities light, her mother lunged into the fray. “Benjamin! How lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you, Fiona. The pleasure is all mine. You look lovely. And what a beautiful wedding. Chloe tells me you had a hand in the decorations.”

He was smooth, she'd give Ben that. Judging by her pleased preening, he'd just nailed second contact with the alien being that was her mother.

“Let me introduce you to my husband, Daryl Masterson. Senior partner with the law firm of Masterson, Grosvenor and McQuaid.”

“Ben Masterson, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Masterson, is it?” her father asked, shaking Ben's hand.

“Really? No one mentioned that earlier.” Chloe winced at the look her mom shot her before she turned back to Ben. “Where are you from?”

“Born and raised in Seattle, ma'am. Fiona,” he corrected, and she smiled.

“I don't believe we know any Mastersons from Seattle. Daryl, do we know any Mastersons from Seattle?”

“None are coming to mind.”

Ben smiled easily. “I'm sure you wouldn't be acquainted with my grandparents. And my father was adopted.”

“How interesting. Isn't that interesting, Daryl? And what is it you do for a living?”

“Advertising. I'm with Carson and McLeod.”

Her father nodded in approval. “Good firm, good firm. And what is it you do there?”

“Dad, seriously. Ben didn't come here for a job interview.”

“I'm just checking that he's employed.”

Ben placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She couldn't help but be impressed at how gracefully he was dealing with the inquisition. “Actually sir, I'm being considered for account director.”

“A man who picks a career and follows through. I like it. Chloe could use more of that in her life.”

Chloe did her best not to roll her eyes.

The buzz of his cell phone stole Daryl Masterson's attention, and he pulled it out of his breast pocket to glance at the caller ID. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” He threw a, “Nice meeting you, Tim,” over his shoulder as he stepped away from them.

“Don't go too far, Daryl. This won't take long and the photographer will be ready for us any minute!”

In reality, it was another half hour before the photographer was ready for them, and another hour after that before her mother finally dismissed Chloe from family wedding-picture hell. She grabbed Ben by the elbow and hauled him into the waiting elevator.

“Let's get out of here before she changes her mind!”

He hit the button for the lobby, and Chloe was relieved to be speeding away from her mother, toward the food. “Thanks for being so patient. I didn't think there were that many photo combinations for a family of four.”

“And you were smiling in almost all of them. So good job.”

“Hey, I can fake it with the best of them.”

“You'll never have to fake it with me,” he said.

Chloe shot him a sideways glance. “Are we still talking about taking pictures?”

“Oh, I'm very open to the idea of taking pictures,” Ben assured her. Chloe was laughing as he grabbed her hand and they strode out of the elevator and toward the ballroom.

The room was a profusion of white flowers and fake icicles and baby-blue satin. Chloe supposed it looked like a magazine spread, but it was
waaay
too much for her. She might have a dramatic flair and heavy hand with the eye makeup, but if she ever got married, she was going to steer clear of spectacle.

“Wow. This is...a lot,” Ben said beside her as they walked under a bower of flowers.

“I'm just thinking of it as a magical land I have to walk through to get to the food.”

However Ben planned to respond, he was waylaid by the sudden appearance of a generously proportioned woman wearing a poufy yellow dress that made her look like Bo Peep's jaundiced grandmother.

“Chloe, darling! You're as lovely as your sister. I haven't seen you since...” Her aunt trailed off as she realized exactly when they'd last seen each other. Four years ago on a night that hadn't ended as happily as this one.

“Since my wedding day, Aunt Eileen.” The reminder still stung, but Chloe felt much more equipped to deal with the inevitable stares and whispers now that she'd conquered that solo walk down the aisle.

“I...I didn't think you'd come.”

“I knew you'd come,” interjected Eileen's husband as he trundled up to them. “I just didn't think you'd stay 'til the end!” The portly man punctuated the joke with a wheezing guffaw.

“Hilarious, Uncle Phil.” Chloe leaned forward for the obligatory cheek kiss. “If you two will excuse us, I see people eating bacon-wrapped shrimp and I want to be one of them.” She grabbed Ben's hand and tugged him farther into the ballroom, doing her best to avoid more prying relatives as they approached a white-suited waiter carrying a silver tray laden with champagne flutes.

“You do want a drink, right?” she asked, dropping his hand and snagging two glasses of bubbly. He accepted the one she held in his direction.

“I probably just lost one of the most lucrative contracts my agency's ever bid on, and this is an open bar. You're damn right I'm having a drink.”

Chloe stopped with her glass halfway to her lips. “Oh, my God! Ben! I'm such an ass! I was so caught up in my own drama I didn't even ask how your meeting went.”

“It was less than stellar,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Burke was not buying into the Masterson charm. He's old-school and he doesn't seem to have much respect for Carson and McLeod. And he thinks I'm a child playing at a man's job.”

Chloe was outraged. “He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but I'm fluent in subtext.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Nope.” Ben clinked his glass against hers before he brought the champagne to his lips and took an impressively long gulp.

Chloe mirrored his actions. Liquid courage always helped when she was dealing with her family and the looming threat of running into Patrick. She took another fortifying sip before she and Ben headed out in search of the bacon-wrapped shrimp.

When they arrived at table one, as per the seating chart, her parents were already there. Her father, much to no one's surprise, was on his phone again.

“There you two are!” Her mother gave her a stern look when she saw Chloe's fist-f of shrimp skewers.