A Beaumont Christmas Wedding. Sarah M. Anderson
to conclusions when I realized who you were and I apologize for that.” He waited for her to say something but she had nothing.
Was he serious? He looked serious. He wasn’t biting back laughter or— She glanced down at his hands. They were tucked into the pockets of his gray wool trousers. No, he wasn’t about to snap an awful photo of her to post online, either.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and held them at waist level, open palms up, as if he knew what she was thinking. “It’s just that this wedding is incredibly important for rebuilding the public image of the Beaumont family and it’s my job to make sure everyone stays on message.”
“The...public image?” She leaned against the door, staring up at him. Maybe he wasn’t a real man—far too handsome to be one. And he was certainly talking like a space alien. “I thought this was about Jo and Phillip getting married.”
“That, too,” he hurried to agree. This time, his smile was a little more charming, like something a politician might pull out when he needed to win an argument. “I just— Look. I just want to make sure that we don’t make headlines for the wrong reason.”
Embarrassment flamed down the back of her neck. She looked away. He was trying to be nice by saying we but they both knew that he meant her.
“I know you don’t believe this, but I have absolutely no desire to make headlines. At all. Ever. If no one else recognized me for the rest of my life, that’d be super.”
There was a moment of silence that was in danger of becoming painful. “Whitney...”
The way he said her name—soft and tender and almost reverent—dragged her eyes up to his. The look in his eyes hit her like a bolt out of, well, the blue. He had the most amazing eyes...
For that sparkling moment, it almost felt as if...as if he was going to say something that could be construed as romantic. Something that didn’t make her feel as though the weight of this entire event were being carried on her shoulders.
She wanted to hear something that made her feel like Whitney Maddox—that being Whitney Maddox was a good thing. A great thing. And she wanted to hear that something come out of Matthew’s mouth, in that voice that could melt away the chilly winter air. Desire seemed to fill the space between them.
She leaned toward him. She couldn’t help it. At the same time, his mouth opened as one of his hands moved. Then, just as soon as the motion had started, it stopped. His mouth closed and he appeared to shake himself. “I’ll meet you at the dress fitting tomorrow. To make sure everything’s—”
“On message?”
He notched up an eyebrow. She couldn’t tell if she’d offended him or amused him. Or both. “Perfect,” he corrected. “I just want it to be perfect.”
“Right.” There would be no sweet words. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was perfect. “Will it just be you?”
He gave her a look that was surprisingly wounded. She couldn’t help but grin at him, which earned her a smile that looked more...real, somehow. As though what had just passed between them was almost...flirting.
“No. The wedding planner will be joining us—and the seamstress and her assistants, of course.”
“Of course.” She leaned against the door. Were they flirting? Or was he charming her because that was what all Beaumonts did?
God, he was so handsome. He exuded raw power. She had no doubt that whatever he said went.
A man like him would be hard to resist.
“Tomorrow, then,” she said.
“I look forward to it.” He gave her a tight smile before he turned away. Just as she was shutting the door, he turned back. “Whitney,” he said again in that same deep, confident and—she hoped—sincere voice. “It truly is a pleasure to meet you.”
Then he was gone.
She shut the door.
Heavens. It was going to be a very interesting two weeks.
* * *
“So,” Whitney began as they passed streetlights decorated like candy canes. The drive had, thus far, been quiet. “Who’s on the guest list again?”
“The Beaumonts,” Jo said with a sigh. “Hardwick Beaumont’s four ex-wives—”
“Four?”
Jo nodded as she tapped on the steering wheel. “All nine of Phillip’s siblings and half siblings will be there, although only the four he actually grew up with are in the wedding—Chadwick, Matthew, Frances and Byron.”
Whitney whistled. “That’s a lot of kids.” Part of why she’d loved doing the show was that, for the first time, she’d felt as though she’d had a family, one with brothers and sisters and parents who cared about her. Even if it were all just pretend, it was still better than being the only child Jade Maddox focused on with a laserlike intensity.
But ten kids? Dang.
“And that doesn’t count the illegitimate ones,” Jo said in a conspiratorial tone. “Phillip says they know of three, but there could be more. The youngest is...nineteen, I think.”
As much as she hated gossip... “Seriously? Did that man not know about condoms?”
“Didn’t care,” Jo said. “Between you and me, Hardwick Beaumont was an old-fashioned misogynist. Women were solely there for his entertainment. Anything else that happened was their problem, not his.”
“Sounds like a real jerk.”
“I understand he was a hell of a businessman, but...yeah. On the whole, his kids aren’t that bad. Chadwick’s a tough nut to crack, but his wife, Serena, balances him out really well. Phillip’s... Well, Phillip’s Phillip.” She grinned one of those private grins that made Whitney blush. “Matthew can come on a bit strong but really, he’s a good guy. He’s just wound a bit tight. Very concerned with the family’s image. It’s like...he wants everything to be perfect.”
“I noticed.” Whitney knew she was talking about the coming-on-strong part, but her brain immediately veered back to when she’d stumbled into his arms. His strong arms.
And then there was the conversation they’d had—the private one. The one that could have been flirting. And the way he’d said her name...
“We’re really sorry about last night,” Jo repeated for about the fifteenth time.
“No worries,” Whitney hurried to say. “He apologized.”
“Matthew is...very good at what he does. He just needs to lighten up a little bit. Have some fun.”
She wondered at that. Would fun be a part of this? The dinner had said no. But the conversation after? She had no idea. If only she weren’t so woefully out of practice at flirting.
“I can still drop out,” she said. “If that’ll make it simpler.”
Jo laughed—not an awkward sound, but one that was truly humorous. “You’re kidding, right? Did I mention the ex-wives? You know who else is going to be here?”
“No...”
“The crown prince of Belgravitas.”
“You’re kidding, right?” God, she hoped Jo was kidding. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of honest-to-God royalty.
“Nope. His wife, the princess Susanna, used to date Phillip.”
“Get out.”
“I’m serious. Drake—the rapper—will be there, as well. He and Phillip are friends. Jay Z and Beyoncé had a scheduling conflict, but—”
“Seriously?” It wasn’t as