A Moment of Bliss (22 page)

In that moment, she knew what she needed.

Not explosive sex or undeniable chemistry, but something even more potent.

He leaned back, still holding her close. “Will you spend the night with me? Here. I don't care if we stay right here on this couch and fall asleep with our clothes on, but I want you to stay with me tonight.”

She couldn't let herself overthink what it'd mean. “I want that too.”

He brushed her hair back, his expression so open that the wall inside her cracked further; something long forgotten tried to fight every withering effect in her life to bloom, big and beautiful.

Murmuring words she could barely make out but didn't need to hear to understand, he touched her, stroked her hair, raining the smallest kisses over her cheek.

Affection, in its truest and deepest form, not because he wanted sex or because the sex was great, but because he wanted her.

Madison turned her face and he kissed her temple, but she did it so he wouldn't see. Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed them shut, not because she was scared but because here, in this calm quiet, she was allowed to feel, and it was exactly where she wanted to be.

Maybe, if she sat very still and promised not to want it too much, she could feel this way forever.

A
few weeks ago, all he'd wanted was for this wedding to happen, Honeywilde to get the publicity from it so that he, his family, and the resort would be in a secure spot. Now, he'd give anything to put this weekend off another week or two. A month. Three months. As long as it was further into the future and he got a little more time with Madison.

But that wasn't reality. Reality was a great room full of pretentious wedding guests, with so much fake hugging and cheek kissing, he wanted to hurl himself off the veranda.

A distinct line differentiated the wedding folks who were family and old friends from those who were industry people.

Whitney and Jack's friends and family looked like anyone you might run into at the local Target
or
someone from juvie. The industry folks were deceptively casual, wearing five-hundred-dollar distressed jeans, and shirts you'd only see in a magazine ad. They greeted each other with loud exclamations of joy and lots of hand gestures, none of it with an ounce of sincerity.

Madison worked the room though, skirting the edges, watching the guests for any needs, working with the inn staff to have those needs met. Her efforts were making the party a success, but her presence was never obvious.

Except to Roark. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Soaking up all he could, while he could, that was his excuse.

What else was he supposed to do? Ask her to stay? She'd already been very clear about what she wanted and expected. Even though they'd grown closer, that didn't mean she'd stay, and in fairness, she'd been nothing but honest from the start. They never said anything about after the wedding.

Maybe he should bring up her coming to see him some weekend, or he could visit her in the city. But to what end? An extra weekend or two would only make it worse. Putting off the inevitable so it'd hurt all the more when they finally said goodbye.

He swallowed the bitter thought as Madison approached him.

“It's like a show but without the stage,” she whispered.

“It is. Normally I'm into people-watching, but this is . . .” He pulled a face.

“Yeah. Talk about schmoozing. There's more here than I can stand.”

“Where are Whitney and Jack?”

“Around. Probably avoiding”—Madison moved her palm in a circle—“this.”

She lowered her hand to her blouse, fiddling with the top button.

“Stop worrying. Everything is going well, I've seen what Wright has ready for dinner and I'm still drooling, and these people look happy in their hobnobbing.” He tried to reassure her, but she kept fidgeting.

“I have a bad feeling.”

“Probably just nerves. It's a big weekend.” He wouldn't share his nerves about the two of them. About it ending. The anxiety radiating off her would be work related, same as always, and he needed to accept things as they were.

Tomorrow they were done. He wasn't going to ask her for some kind of long-distance nonsense, so this would be it. She'd hate the idea of dragging out their “not a thing,” and if he pressed her for any kind of promises, she'd likely panic. Or worse, agree when it wasn't what she really wanted.

The last thing he needed was another person growing to resent him.

Damn. Why was he even thinking this way?

“It's not my nerves.” She shook her head. “There are some signs. Namely the bride and groom aren't here right now, and this is their party. Troutman is flouncing around like this is his weekend.”

As soon as she said that, ol' fish face lumbered toward them.

“Mr. Troutman.” Madison nodded politely. “I hope you're enjoying yourself.”

“I'm here. That's all I can say for it.”

Roark clenched his teeth. Troutman had already drank himself beet-red, eaten enough canapés to leave no room for dinner, and schmoozed with 80 percent of the room.

Roark prompted him for some kind of compliment. “Still, it's a great party and tomorrow will be even better.”

Any kind of compliment.

Trout tilted his head, noncommittal. “I guess it's okay for a backwoods feel. Oh!” He flagged down some other blowhard and turned his back on them.

Madison remained stock-still as he left, but she clung to the button on her blouse.

“Ignore him. Everyone else is having the time of their lives.”

“I wish I could ignore him. Unfortunately, my wish is that he brag about me to his inner circle, and I don't see that happening in this lifetime.”

“The bride and groom will more than make up for it.”

“If they turn up.” She glanced around, fiddling with her button again. “I need to find them before rehearsal. See if there's anything else they need. Oh, and don't forget, keep everyone else in here, sipping champagne and chattering while the wedding party runs through what they need to do. I don't want interference on the veranda. But don't be too heavy-handed about it.”

“Madison.”

She jerked her chin toward him, worrying the inside of her lip.

“It's all under control. We'll keep everyone in here happy so you can run through the ceremony.”

He wanted so badly to touch her, do whatever necessary to strengthen the confidence that Troutman had chipped away. He also wanted to hold her close as they stood there, but this was work. They couldn't be cuddled up in a corner and have anyone take them seriously.

Settling for a quick yet pointed gesture, Roark turned to stand in front of her, his back to the crowd of people as he blocked her view of the room. He grinned as her gaze flashed up, and he brushed the tips of his fingers along the line of her neck.

“You're going to have them eating out of your hand.” He knew from personal experience.

Madison's pulse thrummed beneath his touch and, after a slow sweep of her lashes, he peeled her fingers off the button and moved her hand down to her side.

He wished he could say he'd gotten through, that he'd convinced her, but he knew better.

“I should go find the couple.”

“Okay. But remember, you've got this.” Roark let go of her hand and stepped aside.

Her gaze stayed locked with his as she walked toward the outer edge of the wedding party and only at the very last minute did she look away.

* * *

At the rehearsal dinner, Madison's tension spiraled so high that it rolled off of her and onto him, a full room-length away. Several times he'd tried to make eye contact, but she'd scurried off to take care of something else. He studied the bride and groom, remembering what Madison had said about her bad feeling.

To him, Whitney and Jack looked fine. Smiling and talking with their guests.

Then, he looked again.

They were both all smiles for others, and several times Jack would glance over for Whitney's attention, only to be left hanging. She wouldn't look at him, and damn if Roark didn't know how that felt.

He eased his way around the outside of the great room and its collection of round tables and raucous conversation. The kitchen was even louder, but that's where he found Madison, supervising the timing between appetizers and main course.

“Hey.” He nudged her elbow.

At first she didn't hear him or was too caught up to notice.

“Hey.” He nudged again.

“What?” She turned.

“Did you talk to Whitney before this dinner?”

Madison shook her head, waving some of the waitstaff past. “Yes, but I didn't get a solid answer. She said they didn't need anything, but . . .”

“I see what you mean about them being off, or just different than last night.”

“And how they've been every time we talk or when we met weeks ago. Is it my imagination?”

“No.” Roark shrugged, because what could they do about it? More than likely this was typical bride and groom nerves. Pre-wedding jitters. Surely even rock stars got them.

“I'll check on them again after the dinner.” Madison was tugged away by a harried-looking Wright in full king-of-the-kitchen mode.

Roark looked around the kitchen. The waitstaff moved in and out of the swinging doors, through the restaurant and into the great room, waiting on some of the most high-maintenance clients that Honeywilde had ever known, the rest of the wedding party easy to please. A crowd of total opposites.

It wasn't as though he didn't know how Madison managed it all. He knew, because his job was the same. But it was because he knew, that he respected her all the more.

“Roark,” Sophie hissed, suddenly at his side. “We need you in the great room, pronto.”

By the time he was done in the great room, the evening was gone. All of the partygoers retired to their rooms, the bride and groom to their suite. Roark checked in the kitchen and billiard room but couldn't find Madison. He finally found her out front, pacing up and down the portico, arms wrapped around herself in the chilly night air.

“Where's your coat?” He strode over, whipping off his suit jacket and holding it open for her to wear.

She made a vague gesture, but the dark blotches under her eyes said what she couldn't.

“Why don't you go get some rest? You had a successful night and tomorrow's the big day.”

She kept pacing, with him right beside her, her boots clicking over the bricks. “I know. But I'm worried about the bride and groom.”

“Why?”

“You know why. Tonight was fine, but they didn't seem . . . I expected them to be happier. And what if they aren't happy because this isn't the weekend they wanted? What if I've screwed up but they won't tell me? What if I've ruined everything?”

“You haven't ruined anything. Tonight was wonderful. If they weren't happy, it's got nothing to do with what you've done for their weekend.”

“Maybe.” Her shoulders drooped. “But I've been thinking—”

“It's late and you're exhausted.” Roark steered Madison toward one of the woven-wood benches along the front patio. “Tomorrow is a big deal, for everyone. I think you all just have nerves, but it's all going to be—”

“Fine?” She sat down hard at the end of a bench. “That's my line.”

“This time it's true.” He sat as well, leaning back and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

They sat that way until he felt like he might zone right off to sleep.

Then she spoke. “Three weeks can fly by.”

“Yep.” His answer was a pop of pale breath in the night air. “The day you booked the inn seems like a long time ago. But it's gone by too fast.”

Madison nodded, and leaned her head over to rest against his shoulder. It was nothing. A small gesture, but three weeks ago she would never have allowed the support or taken the comfort.

He nodded. “And on Sunday, you head back to Charlotte.”

She was quiet, picking at some invisible lint on her pants. He knew enough about her by now to know she didn't want to answer. Didn't want to discuss it. But he wasn't made that way. He had to say something.

“You know that night, at your door? The first time we kissed?”

She hummed her yes.

“Then, you said when this was all over, when we were done with business . . .” Roark shrugged with barely a lift of his shoulders, but it was enough to make her glance up.

“I remember what I said. I thought I could resist you until our work was done, but—”

“Then you didn't have to.”

She shook her head.

“But before all that, back when you suggested we wait and hang out after the wedding, were you planning on sticking around for a little while after the wedding? Coming back for a long weekend trip to the mountains?”

Madison sat back again, leaning into him so she was no longer looking at him. “I have no idea what I was planning to do. I don't think I'd planned at all. I knew I wanted you, but I was smart enough to know we should hold off until the job was done. Turns out, I'm not that smart after all.”

“Or I was too irresistible.”

“That too.”

“But now you're going to take off?”

That made her sit up. “I am not
taking off.
You make it sound like I'm Trevor. I'm not running away.”

“No one said you were. I meant, after Sunday, are you going to leave or . . .?”

She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut on whatever she was about to say. After a moment, she looked over his shoulder as if talking to the stone wall of the inn. “I-I have to go eventually. Everything I have is in Charlotte.”

“I know.”

Her gaze shot to his, irritation flashing in the brilliant green. “And you knew that when we began this.”

“I know I knew. I'm just saying . . .”

“Saying
what
?”

“That I'm going to miss you, dammit!”