Taming Hollywood’s Best Man

Shy Eloise Miller has hidden from attention since her mother’s scandalous affairs destroyed her family. So having to act as maid of honor in a glitzy celebrity wedding is her worst nightmare!

Under the glare of the world’s media, she’s paired with best man Noah Cross. On paper, this commitmentphobic Hollywood heartthrob is everything Eloise avoids. But soon he’s unlocking Eloise’s secret hopes, and tempting her to believe that her dreams of forever might come true...

Wedding of the Year

Saying “I do” in the spotlight!

Eloise Miller’s and Laurel Sommers’s lives have been turned upside down by Melissa Sommers’s celebrity wedding.

With Eloise promoted to maid of honor and Laurel’s wedding-planner skills pushed to their very limits, the last thing these two need are the best man and the groom’s brother intervening...

But as the media descend, the headlines get more scandalous.

Can Eloise and Laurel pull off the wedding of the year without a hitch?

Find out in...

Slow Dance with the Best Man

Don’t miss Laurel and Dan’s story coming soon!

Dear Reader,

For me, the romance of a wedding is perfectly suited to the magic of winter.

When my husband proposed, eleven years ago now, he did so in minus temperatures, up a mountain, between Christmas and New Year. Now, that might not sound romantic, until you realize that he was so determined to ask me to marry him at my favorite castle in the world—Dinas Bran, in Llangollen, near our hometown in North Wales—that he totally disregarded the weather forecast. All he cared about was that I said yes.

Of course I did.

We decided to carry on our wintry theme with a November wedding. It was perfect: from the art deco style, to the winter sunshine and crisp clear skies, to the elbow-length silk gloves I wore. We ate roast lamb and sticky toffee pudding, and it was fabulous.

So when I came to writing this winter-wedding duet, I knew exactly how to channel all that romance into my stories—and I even got to add a Frost Fair for a touch of added winter magic!

I hope you find Eloise and Noah’s story as magical and romantic as I do, and that you’ll be left wanting to know what happens to Laurel and Dan in the companion book, which takes place over the same five days as this one...

Love and confetti,

Sophie x

Slow Dance With The Best Man

Sophie Pembroke

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SOPHIE PEMBROKE has been reading and writing romance ever since she read her first Mills & Boon romance at university—so getting to write them for a living is a dream come true! Sophie lives in a little Hertfordshire market town in the UK, with her scientist husband and her incredibly imaginative six-year-old daughter. She writes stories about friends, family and falling in love—usually while drinking too much tea and eating homemade cakes. She also keeps a blog at www.sophiepembroke.com.

For Simon, after ten wonderful years of marriage.

Here’s to many more. x

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THREE DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, Eloise Miller stood on the ancient stone steps of Morwen Hall, her hands clasped over the buttons of her dove-grey wool coat, and waited for her childhood arch nemesis to arrive and all hell to break loose.

‘I wonder if she’ll wear the veil,’ Laurel mused beside her. ‘I mean, she sent me scampering all over the country looking for the absolute perfect lace confection, but I can’t help thinking that Melissa really doesn’t like it when people can’t see her face.’

‘Which explains those awful billboards for her latest film,’ Eloise agreed, thinking of the monstrosities, tall as double decker buses, which featured little more than Melissa’s flawless features, shiny blonde hair and slim, pale shoulders. Oh, and the name of the film, probably. But Eloise would bet money that no one who’d seen the posters could remember what the film was called.

Melissa had the sort of captivating beauty that made everything else fade into insignificance. Except the fact she was a perennial mean girl, of course.

‘Do you think she’s as...demanding on set as she has been over this wedding?’ Laurel asked and, not for the first time, Eloise felt a burst of sympathy for her new friend. As Melissa’s half-sister and wedding planner, Laurel had it far worse than Eloise. Not only did Laurel have to manage a whole five-day wedding celebration extravaganza for the rich and famous but, once this wedding was over, Eloise would never have to see Melissa again. Laurel would.

Mind you, having survived the teenage years, Eloise had been pretty sure that misery at Melissa’s hands was over for her, especially once Melissa set sail for Hollywood and stardom. And once she’d actually found it, against all the odds, Eloise had been certain that she’d never have to get closer to Melissa Sommers than a movie poster ever again.

That was until Melissa revealed her engagement to A-list Hollywood actor, Riley Black, in Star! magazine, wearing a giant rock of a diamond on her left hand, and announced her intention to get married back home in England. And not just England—at Morwen Hall, the elite, luxury Gothic stately home turned hotel where she’d spent her teenage years working as a maid, and making Eloise’s life miserable. Well, the last bit wasn’t in the magazine, but it was all Eloise had been able to see when her boss had shown her the article.

‘She can’t possibly be as bad on set,’ Eloise answered, shifting from one foot to the other to try and keep warm. She’d go back inside, but she knew the moment she turned her back would be the moment Melissa turned up, complete with her fiancé and his even more famous best man—Noah Cross. That was just the sort of luck she had. And, as the interim manager of Morwen Hall, it was her job to be there to greet their VIP guests. Even if they were planning on filling her hotel with actors. ‘She’s not that good an actress. They wouldn’t keep casting her in all those blockbusters if she was as much of a pain to work with as she has been lately. Or as she was at Morwen Hall ten years ago, come to that.’

Laurel turned to look at her, curious. ‘What was she like? I never even met her until she was sixteen, after my dad, well...you know.’

Eloise did know. She suspected most of Britain—the world, even—knew the story of how Melissa Sommers had been brought up by her single mum, her dad visiting only when he could get away from his real family across town. Laurel’s family.

‘Organising this wedding has been the most time I’ve ever spent with her.’ Laurel didn’t add thankfully but Eloise could hear it in her voice.

‘She was...’ Cruel. Evil. Nightmarish. A total witch in a blonde wig. ‘She liked to be the centre of attention,’ Eloise said, conscious that Laurel was Melissa’s sister, despite everything. She’d only met Laurel at the start of the wedding planning, six months ago, and most of their conversations so far had been wedding-related—with the occasional frustrated eye-roll and knowing glance when Melissa video-called in from LA with another hundred demands. But since Laurel had arrived at Morwen Hall the day before to set up for the wedding, Eloise had found it hard to believe that she and Melissa had even one parent in common, they were so different.

They had the same ambition, though. While Melissa had channelled hers into stardom, Laurel had taken a quieter route—setting up her own wedding planning company that was just starting to be featured in bridal magazines and websites. Of the two paths, Eloise felt strangely more envious of Laurel’s than Melissa’s. Eloise had never wanted to be a star, not really. But her own business... She shook her head. She had a good job at Morwen Hall. One she didn’t plan to jeopardise by daydreaming.

‘The centre of attention. I can believe that,’ Laurel said with feeling. ‘I guess maybe she feels she missed out on that, growing up. I mean, with our father staying with my mum instead of hers for so long.’

‘Perhaps,’ Eloise allowed. ‘But I reckon she made up for it by stealing all my boyfriends.’ She slapped her hand across her mouth as the words came out, but Laurel just laughed.

‘All of them? How many did you have?’

‘Two,’ Eloise said mournfully. ‘At different times, obviously. And, on both occasions, your sister managed to convince them that they’d be better off with someone else. Usually her.’ It hadn’t been too hard either. Growing up in the same town, going to the same school and working at the same hotel meant that Melissa had known all of Eloise’s secrets. She’d known every embarrassing story to tell about her family, and which ones to pick for maximum effect.

And she’d had more than enough to choose from.

‘Well, at least you won’t have to worry about her doing that this time,’ Laurel said.

‘Well, no,’ Eloise agreed. ‘Since I don’t have a boyfriend.’ And hadn’t had one for quite a while, actually, not that she was counting days. She’d rather wait and find the right one than try out any guy who came calling.

Not that she’d had any significant success since leaving school. In fact, the boyfriends Melissa had lured away might be considered the highlights of her dating career. Certainly a lot better than the one who’d left her for her mother. Or the guy at university who’d managed to screw her over both personally and professionally.

Maybe she just wasn’t born to date. Heaven knew her mother had done enough dating for the both of them.

Laurel rolled her eyes. ‘I meant I really think she’s properly in love with Riley.’

Eloise found it hard to imagine Melissa loving anybody besides herself, but then maybe she’d changed. Organising weddings didn’t tend to bring out the best in people. Maybe most of the time she was a total sweetheart.

Actually, no. That was even harder to imagine.

Still... ‘I hope so,’ Eloise said. ‘I hope she’s truly happy.’

Because the happier Melissa was, the better the chances of the wedding going off without a hitch, Melissa and Riley riding off into the sunset together and Eloise never having to see either of them again.

‘Me too,’ Laurel said. ‘If only so I never have to organise another wedding for her. I mean, I know this is a huge coup for my new business and everything, but still...’

Eloise laughed, ignoring the pang of envy she felt at the excitement in Laurel’s voice when she talked about her company. ‘At least being the wedding planner means you got out of having to be maid of honour. I mean, have you seen those dresses she picked?’

Laurel pulled a face, probably feeling slightly queasy at the memory of the miles of icy blue-green satin and chiffon that had been sacrificed to make the bridesmaids and maid of honour dresses. ‘Actually, it was never even suggested. I think Melissa was pretty set on having Cassidy Haven as maid of honour from the start. The celeb factor, you know.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Eloise agreed. As far as she knew, Melissa and Cassidy’s acquaintance went back to approximately one film, in which they had two scenes together. But, given Cassidy’s rising star and box office gold reputation, that would be enough for Melissa.

A crunching noise echoed from the end of the driveway, getting closer. The sound of tyres on frozen ground, Eloise knew from experience. ‘They’re here,’ she said, and Laurel raised her eyebrows with surprise.

‘They are? Where?’

‘Just coming around the bend.’ At her words, the large black four-by-four appeared from the tree cover and Eloise pasted on her smile. Time to start the show.

Laurel straightened her skirt and her shoulders, trying to pull herself up to her full height, Eloise supposed, although Eloise still had a full head and shoulders on her. She usually did with most people.

The four-by-four slowed to a halt in front of Morwen Hall and the driver stepped out to open the rear door. Eloise was vaguely aware of the passenger door opening too, but her gaze was firmly fixed on the blonde stepping out of the back seat, knees together, a picture of English elegance. Her light hair was fixed perfectly back from her beautiful face, her pale pink lipstick unsmudged. She hadn’t even spilt any coffee on her snowy white jumper—cashmere, Eloise was sure—and white trousers.

Maybe celebrities really were another species. No human should look that good after an eleven-hour flight.

Eloise recognised Riley Black from the engagement photos and the occasional video call he joined them for during the wedding planning. He smiled up at them as he came around from the other side of the car to take his fiancée’s arm. Laurel moved down a few steps to greet them and Eloise finally turned her attention to the fourth occupant of the car.

And promptly lost the ability to breathe.

* * *

Noah Cross had learned fairly early in his career how to tune out the meaningless chatter that came with the job but still pay just enough attention to assure whoever was talking that he was listening to them. The skill had served him well on movie sets across the world, in press junkets and at awards ceremonies.

Until he’d met Melissa Sommers.

The whole flight from LA he’d been trying to read a new script his agent, Tessa, had sent him, to ‘keep you too busy at this damn wedding to get into any trouble’, as she’d put it. Normally, he’d have tossed the script in his suitcase, relaxed with a drink on the flight and looked forward to seducing a bridesmaid or two, just to keep in practice. But this script was from a writer he admired, one he’d dreamt of working with for too long now—Queenie Walters. Her films were renowned for being deep, thought-provoking, meaningful—and for winning every award going. Basically, the opposite of the sort of films he’d been making for the last seven years.

The sort of films that had led to Riley Black asking him to be his best man somewhere in the middle of nowhere, England, in minus temperatures in December.

Maybe it was time to start making a new sort of film.

So, back to the script.

It was good, that much he could tell, even from one cursory reading with Melissa chattering in his ear and Riley chiming in every few minutes or so. He could even tell it through the champagne he’d drunk to make the journey just a little more bearable.

He wanted to make this film. More than that, he wanted to star in this film.

He knew that the leading role wasn’t the one his agent had suggested him for—that would be the light relief, the comic best friend. It was his own fault. He’d told Tessa he wanted to do something different, something other than action blockbusters and superhero movies. And she’d taken the not absurd mental leap and assumed he wanted comedy. She’d sent him a raft of terrible slapstick-without-humour typescripts to start with, until he’d asked for something a little...better.

Then she’d sent him Eight Days After and he’d known she understood at last.

Well, almost. She still saw him as the supporting actor.

He needed to convince her—and the director—that he was Best Actor material.

‘And then she suggested that maybe I didn’t need to have a veil at all!’ Melissa crowed with laughter, regaling them all with yet another tale about her wedding planner, apparently oblivious to the fact that her fiancé had already heard it, the driver of the car didn’t care and Noah was working very hard on not listening. ‘Not have a veil! Can you imagine?’

‘I heard that Rochelle Twist didn’t have a veil at her wedding,’ Noah said from the front seat, not looking up from his script.

‘She didn’t?’ Melissa’s eyes widened with alarm and Noah knew for certain that she would walk down the aisle without the veil on New Year’s Eve. Well, unless she checked the Internet for photographic proof and realised that Noah was making it up to mess with her. As if he had any idea at all what A-list actresses wore on their wedding days.

It was still weird to think that he was up there on their invitation lists. The fact that Riley had asked him to be best man after just three films said a lot. Noah liked the guy well enough, but he wouldn’t call him a best friend. They’d been out and got drunk a few times, played some poker. And Noah had spent one very long night listening to Riley weigh up the pros and cons of asking Melissa to marry him—the main pros apparently being ‘it’d be great for my image’ and ‘she really wants to’. But that was about it. Did that qualify him for best man status? Apparently, in Melissa and Riley’s eyes, it did.

Seven years ago, it wouldn’t have done. Granted, seven years ago Melissa and Riley had probably been teenagers, but still. Back then, Noah had been a nobody, desperate for his big break but secretly afraid it was never going to come—the same as everyone else in town. He’d been living with his best friend Sally, sharing stories of awful auditions, commiserating over rejections with a bottle of cheap wine and trying to pretend that he wasn’t crazy about her. Seven years ago, he’d been looking at a future of giving up, going home and admitting to his family that he’d failed, just like they’d said he would.

Then that fabled big break had come—the same day that everything else had been taken away from him.

Noah shook his head, trying to send the memories scattering. He didn’t need them today—or any day, for that matter. Life was about the here and now, not the past.

And right now he was about to spend five days in some fancy hotel with a selection of the most beautiful women in the world. Surely he’d be able to find some way to pass the time.

The car turned off the main road onto a long sweeping driveway and past a pale sage-green sign with grey lettering, proclaiming the entrance to Morwen Hall. They were there.

Shoving the script back in his hand luggage, Noah peered out of the front windscreen, looking for the Hall itself. He hoped it was as nice as Melissa insisted it would be. He needed a break, a chance to unwind—preferably with company. It had been a long eighteen months making back to back films, plus the promotional efforts. Five days in the middle of nowhere didn’t sound all that bad, really. Even if he did have to spend them with Melissa.

The car broke through the last of the trees surrounding the hotel and Morwen Hall loomed into view—all grey stone and huge windows, reflecting the weak winter sun. It looked like something out of a bad Gothic movie, with its turrets and arched windows, and Noah couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. Ostentatious, over the top and not quite the romantic vibe she thought she was going for. It suited Melissa perfectly.

‘Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s just as I remember it,’ Melissa squealed, and Noah recalled that Morwen Hall wasn’t just a venue for her. She’d lived there, or worked there, or something of the sort when she was younger.

Noah looked at the building again and wondered what spending significant time in such a dramatic place would do to a person. Then he looked at Melissa again. Question answered.

‘Look, honey, Laurel’s come out to meet us,’ Riley said and Melissa’s face soured.

Noah looked to where Riley was pointing and saw two women standing on the steps outside the huge Gothic front door, a wooden creation with twisty ironworks over the top. He couldn’t make out their features through the tinted glass, but presumably one of them was the hyper-efficient wedding planner, Laurel, who’d been sending Noah updates and asking him questions for the last six months.

He made a mental note to stay out of her way as much as possible for the next five days. Efficiency grew tiring quickly, he’d found.

The driver opened Melissa’s door and the bride swept out. Noah opened his own door and followed, wishing he’d brought his sunglasses as he lost the protection of tinted glass and squinted into the winter sun, looking up at the Hall.

Yep, still just as Gothic.

But the women standing on the steps... The tinted glass definitely hadn’t done them justice.

One was a petite brunette, all curves and smiles and bounce as she came down the steps to welcome Melissa with a hug. He hoped that was Laurel, who he’d vowed to avoid. Because the other...

The other stayed standing on the steps, her smile fixed and her hands clasped in front of her. She looked uncomfortable, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. As if she was trying to fade into the background—something Noah wasn’t used to seeing in the circles he hung out in these days.

She’d never manage it, though. She had to be nearly six foot in her sensible black heels, almost as tall as he was, and her pale features were topped with a cloud of blazing red hair, pinned tightly back to reveal the classical beauty of her features. He couldn’t see the colour of her eyes from this distance, but he wanted to. He wanted to know if they were as striking as the rest of her.

Then she turned to look at him and he knew it didn’t matter what colour they were—if this woman was looking at him, he’d never see anything else.

This woman would never disappear into the background anywhere.

And Noah hoped to be seeing an awful lot more of her over the next five days. Maybe he’d even get to find out what that beautiful hair looked like tumbling around her naked shoulders...

Shouldering his bag, he put on his most charming smile, hoped that the effect of the champagne had mostly passed and strode towards the imposing front door of Morwen Hall, and the equally imposing woman standing in front of it.

Maybe this wedding wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.

* * *

Noah Cross. Noah freaking Cross.

Okay, breathing was becoming an issue now. She really had to get hold of herself.

Eloise broke away from staring at the ridiculously handsome Noah Cross and sucked in a good lungful of crisp December air to replace all the oxygen that had been knocked out of her at the sight of him.

She was being ridiculous. Of course he was good-looking. He was a movie star. It was part of the deal. It definitely didn’t mean anything important—that he was a nice person, or someone she wanted to spend time with. In fact, in her experience, it meant the exact opposite.

No. She was not her mother. She would not let her head be turned by the first attractive—gorgeous—man who looked her way. Hadn’t she just decided that dating wasn’t for her?

He probably wasn’t even looking at her. He was probably looking at Morwen Hall. It was, after all, even more striking than her red hair, and considerably more beautiful.

That thought sobered her right up and knocked her back into business mode. She had a wedding to host, and an arch nemesis to deal with while she was doing it. She did not have time to get sidetracked ogling movie stars—especially given how many of them would be arriving later that afternoon.

Making sure her best fake smile was still in place, Eloise descended the front steps to join Melissa, Laurel and Riley on the driveway.

‘Eloise!’ Melissa cried, with what had to be phoney enthusiasm. ‘It’s just so wonderful to see you again, honey.’ The ‘honey’ was new, Eloise noted, as Melissa leant forward to kiss the air a few inches away from Eloise’s icy cheeks. Presumably something else she’d picked up in Hollywood, along with the fiancé.

‘You’ve seen me on video calls for the last six months, Melissa,’ Eloise said, still smiling so hard her cheeks ached.

‘Oh, but that’s not the same thing at all.’ Melissa stretched a slender white arm around Laurel and Eloise’s shoulders. ‘Isn’t this just perfect? My oldest friend and my favourite half-sister, working together to give me the wedding of my dreams.’

‘It sure is perfect, honey,’ Riley agreed, his southern accent far more pronounced than in his films.

Of course she’d think it’s perfect, Eloise thought. She’s got the two people she wants to make miserable most in the world waiting on her hand and foot as the culmination of six months of demanding the impossible from them. It’s her every dream come true.

Apparently Hollywood stardom wasn’t enough for some people. They had to come back and crush the little people they left behind too.

She glanced to her left and caught Laurel’s eye, wondering if the wedding planner was having the exact same thoughts. Even if she was, neither of them would say anything, not with their careers riding on this. That was probably what Melissa was banking on. That, or she honestly thought they were grateful to her for condescending to use their services for her wedding.

Actually, knowing Melissa, it was probably the latter.

Eloise bit her tongue all the same, reminding herself of what really mattered: her promotion. If she pulled off this wedding, Mr Richards, who owned Morwen Hall, had promised her that she’d be made permanent manager in the New Year. Not to mention the huge boost the hotel would get from the exposure. That was a good thing. A good, secure job with a hotel that was doing well. That was a sensible career goal.

All she had to do was make it through to January the first without telling Melissa what she really thought of her, or giving her any reason to complain about Eloise’s professionalism. How hard could that be?

Oh, yeah. Very.

But Eloise was determined to do it all the same.

‘This is quite some place, Melissa. I can absolutely see why you chose it. It’s perfect for you!’ Noah Cross’s voice was weirdly familiar from those times she’d sat in cinemas watching him beat up bad guys and seduce beautiful women on screen. It was just plain odd to hear him apply those dulcet tones to Morwen Hall. ‘Moody, well built...and I guess it has one hell of a history.’

His upbeat tone made the comment sound complimentary but, as he met her eyes, Eloise realised he knew exactly what he was saying. The humour in his gaze only grew as Melissa frowned—not enough to cause lines, though—and said, ‘Well, yes. It is quite special.’

It was a shame Noah Cross was an actor, Eloise thought. Otherwise, she had a feeling he might be exactly her sort of person.

‘Why don’t you all step inside?’ she said, deflecting Noah’s observations. ‘It’s freezing out here and I’d love to show you all around the old place, tell you a bit about its history.’

Noah sprung up the steps beside her, even as Melissa said, ‘Of course, I already know everything there is to know about Morwen Hall.’

Eloise’s smile became a little more fixed. ‘I think you’ll find we’ve changed a few things since you were last here, Melissa.’ Eight years ago.

‘Well, I for one can’t wait to learn all about this place.’ Noah slapped his hand against the heavy wood of the front door and the ironwork rang out an echo. ‘And whether or not there are any vampires hiding in there waiting to suck my blood.’ He flashed a smile that Eloise couldn’t help but return.

‘No vampires,’ she promised. At least, as long as you didn’t count Melissa. ‘But I can’t promise you might not see the odd ghost.’

Noah raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

‘That’s good.’ Eloise grinned back at him. ‘Better just hope they don’t believe in film stars either.’

Noah laughed, warm and dark and deep, and Eloise tore her gaze away from him. She didn’t need to notice the way he tipped his head back when he laughed, or the long line of his neck, or his designer stubble. It was all totally irrelevant to her, and her job.

But she stole another look before heading back inside all the same.

CHAPTER TWO

THE INSIDE OF Morwen Hall was rather more what Noah had been expecting than the weirdly Gothic exterior. With its calming pale green walls and dove-grey trim, the luxurious but comfortable velvet and leather sofas in the main lobby and the deep pile rugs laid over the original stone floor, it was hard to believe Eloise’s stories of ghosts. Inside, Morwen Hall could be any luxury five-star hotel anywhere in the world. Still, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be more to this house, under the surface, than its owners wanted anyone to see.

And more to its manager too. Noah found his gaze fixed on Eloise as she shrugged off her pale grey coat, revealing a demure charcoal skirt suit beneath that went perfectly with the sensible black heels. He supposed that with such arresting hair and eyes brightly coloured clothing was just overkill.

Still, he couldn’t help but imagine what she’d look like in the sort of dresses the actresses he knew wore on the red carpet. Something that showed off her figure instead of hiding it. Noah was a connoisseur of women’s figures, and Eloise’s definitely looked like one he’d like to explore further.

‘Melissa, Riley, would you like me to show you to your suite?’ Eloise asked. Noah supposed it was only polite to deal with the bride and groom first. Besides, it would mean she had more time for him afterwards—and more time for him to talk her into having a drink together later.

Melissa frowned ever so slightly, a tiny line appearing between her eyebrows. ‘Actually, I need to speak with my wedding planner.’ She slipped a hand through the crook of Laurel’s arm and led her off to the side. ‘Why don’t you get our best man settled first?’

Noah hefted his carry-on bag over his shoulder. He hadn’t seen his suitcase since the airport so he assumed it was being dealt with somewhere, and would magically appear in his room when he needed it. He loved hotels. They were almost as good as film sets for having your every need seen to before you even knew what you needed.

‘You’ll turn into one of those puffed up idiots who don’t know the value of a hard day’s work.’

His dad’s voice in his head made Noah scowl, as it always did, but he shook the expression away before Eloise turned to face him and replaced it with his habitual charming smile.

‘Right. Okay.’ Eloise surveyed him with something akin to displeasure on her face, which gave Noah slight pause. Usually, women were delighted to score some alone time with him. And, from the way Eloise had stared at him on arrival, he’d naively assumed that she’d be the same.

Apparently, he was missing something here.

‘If you’ll just follow me, Mr Cross?’ Eloise said, every inch the professional, as she headed for the elevators at the back of the lobby. They had a Gothic-style metalwork design painted on the doors, which amused Noah. As an attempt to make them fit in with the rest of the surroundings of Morwen Hall, he supposed it was as good a try as any.

‘Guess these didn’t come with the building, huh?’ he asked as she pressed the button to call one. ‘The elevators, I mean. Sorry. They’re “lifts” here, right?’

‘That’s right,’ Eloise said with a nod. ‘And no. They didn’t have lifts when Morwen Hall was built.’

From her tone, Noah suspected she was already writing him off as a dumb American movie star. Well, she wouldn’t be the first—hadn’t his own father done the same? And there had been plenty more since—journalists, interviewers, all sorts. It was always fun to prove them wrong.

‘Gothic revival, right? So, nineteenth-century? I’d guess...1850?’

If she was surprised Eloise didn’t show it. ‘1848, actually. At least that was when work started.’

‘Sounds like you know a lot about the place. Have you worked here long?’

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Eloise motioned for him to enter first, which he did, then she stepped in behind him, pressing the button for the top floor.

‘Since I was sixteen,’ she said as the doors swished shut.

Of course. She was Melissa’s oldest friend. She, and the Hall, were presumably the reason they were having the wedding in England in December in the first place. ‘And that’s when you met Melissa, right. Nice of her to want to come back here for the wedding, I guess.’

‘It’s just lovely,’ Eloise said, her tone flat.

Noah was beginning to suspect that ‘oldest friends’ might not be the most accurate of descriptions for Eloise and Melissa’s relationship.

‘She must have a lot of fond memories of working here,’ he pressed.

‘I’m sure she does.’ Eloise didn’t place any extra emphasis on the word ‘she’, but somehow Noah heard it. From what he knew about Melissa, he wasn’t overly surprised. Oh, she was sweetness and light to directors, producers and other stars, but he’d seen her berate one of the catering assistants for not having exactly the right kind of chia seed for her salad. He knew that sort of person—who could be anything you wanted if you mattered, and hell on wheels if you didn’t. Hollywood was full of them.

He prided himself on trying not to ever become one of them. Whatever his father thought.

He’d learned how to be a star and still be gracious from watching Sally. It was one of the many lessons his best friend had taught him. After she got a recurring role in a weekly drama, she’d still been, well, Sally. Lovely and sweet and kind and patient with everyone from her co-stars to the guy on the street begging for enough quarters to buy a coffee. Sally had been the most genuine person he’d known in a city full of actors.

Just remembering that much pricked at his heart and Noah knew it was time to change the subject.

‘Enough about Melissa,’ he said as the elevator reached its destination and the doors parted again. ‘So you’ve worked here, what, eight years?’ He’d guess ten, based on Melissa’s age, but everyone liked a little flattery, right?

‘Ten, actually,’ Eloise corrected him, and he hid a smile. He still had it.

‘Must have seen a lot of changes here.’ That was a given too, right? Everything changed. Whether you wanted it to or not.

‘Yep. Melissa left, for one.’ Eloise shut her eyes briefly. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Yes, you should,’ Noah insisted. Not least because it was the first real thing she’d said since they’d met and for some reason—perhaps because he’d been remembering Sally—Noah wanted her to be real. Maybe it was just that he had enough fakes in his professional life already—not that it usually bothered him. People who were putting on an act, being who they thought you wanted them to be, never wanted you to look too deep or get too close, so they never looked too deep or too close in return. And that suited Noah perfectly.

Too deep and too close led to the sort of pain he wasn’t willing to feel again.

But Eloise... Maybe it would do him good to see some reality again. As long as he wasn’t the one getting real.

‘So... Oldest friend?’ he asked as she led him along a wide corridor, carpeted in deep, dark green pile. They really did go all out with the luxury at this place. Not that Noah was complaining. He’d worked hard for years to earn this sort of luxury. He deserved it. And he would ignore any and all voices inside his head that said otherwise. Even if they did sound like Dad.

What was it about this place that was dredging up all those old insecurities he thought he’d left behind seven years ago? He bit back a laugh. Hadn’t Eloise warned him he might find ghosts here?

‘We’ve known each other pretty much all our lives.’ Eloise sighed. ‘Born in the same hospital, went to the same playgroup, same schools, then had the same part-time jobs as chambermaids here at Morwen Hall.’

‘So you basically lived the same lives until Melissa set out to conquer Hollywood?’ Interesting. He’d expect Eloise to show a little more envy, in that case, but mostly she just seemed...inconvenienced by Melissa’s arrival.

‘Not exactly the same lives,’ Eloise said. ‘But yes, there were similarities, I suppose.’

‘And you never fancied Hollywood?’ With Eloise’s striking looks, he was pretty sure she’d have found some work at least. But Eloise laughed.

‘No, not for me.’

‘How come?’

She paused outside door number three-one-nine and flashed him a smile. ‘Too many actors. Now, let me show you your room.’

He was almost sure she was joking, Noah decided, as Eloise gave him the nickel and dime tour of his suite. For all that Morwen Hall was unlike any building he’d ever been in from the outside, he’d expected the rooms to be fairly standard. ‘Luxury hotel’ didn’t have so many different meanings, in his experience.

The main room of the suite confirmed his guess—there were a couple of creamy sofas, a coffee table laden with magazines and local information, a large window with a round table and two wooden chairs in front of it, a TV, fridge, desk, the usual. But then Eloise led him through to the bedroom.

‘Huh.’ Noah stared at the giant four-poster bed in the middle of the bedroom, decked out with heavy forest-green drapes and blankets over crisp white sheets. The wall behind the bed had been left bare, exposing the original stone of the house, but with tapestries hung either side of the four-poster for warmth. A pile of cushions and pillows in varying shades of green and different textures sat by the wooden headboard, ready to sink into.

‘Do you like it?’ Eloise asked and, for the first time, Noah heard a hint of uncertainty in her voice. ‘With Melissa and Riley out in the Gatehouse suite, this is the best room in the hotel.’

‘It looks it,’ Noah said, eyeing the bed appreciatively. He had some awesome ideas for that bed.

He turned his attention back to Eloise, wondering if she might be willing to help him out with some of them. Given the way she was backing away, probably not.

‘Well, if you’re all settled...’

‘What are you doing this evening?’ Sometimes you just had to take your chances, Noah had learnt. And right then he needed a distraction from all the thoughts of the past that had been plaguing him since he’d arrived—since he’d started reading that script, he realised. That was it. It wasn’t about ghosts, just a story that hit too close to home.

Still, a night with Eloise would probably cure that too.

‘Melissa and Riley have planned a welcome drinks party in the Saloon for all their guests,’ Eloise said promptly. ‘If you head down to reception for seven—’

‘You’ll be there?’ Noah gave her his warmest smile, feeling she might be missing the point slightly.

‘In my capacity as Hotel Manager? Absolutely.’

Definitely missing the point. Was she just shy, star-struck or honestly indifferent to him? Noah couldn’t tell. A perverse part of him almost hoped it was the last option. It had been too long since a woman had offered him a real challenge.

‘In that case, I’m looking forward to it,’ Noah said. Perhaps he’d fit a nap in before seven. That would get him back on his game.

But first he had to finish reading the script before his agent called to ask what he thought.

Work before fun, whatever the press wrote about him.

‘Great,’ Eloise said, sounding as if she was dreading every second. ‘I’ll see you then.’

As the door shut behind her, Noah made himself a promise. Before Melissa and Riley said ‘I do’ he’d get Eloise the Hotel Manager to warm up to him—or even warm him up.

No one ever said that Noah Cross wasn’t up for a challenge.

* * *

Eloise shut Noah’s door behind her and felt every muscle in her body relax for the first time since she’d spotted him outside the hotel. The last thing she needed this week was a distraction—let alone a stupid girlish crush.

Sucking in a deep breath, Eloise made a resolution before striding down the corridor back towards the lifts: under no circumstances would she allow a ridiculous attraction—to a film star of all people—to derail any of the plans for Melissa and Riley’s wedding.

All she needed to do, she reminded herself as she waited for the lift, was to make it to January the first. Then her lovely, normal, sensible and stable life would return and she could forget all about Melissa Sommers until her inevitable divorce and remarriage. No, even then, surely Melissa wouldn’t return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. It had to be bad form to hold a second wedding at the same venue as the first.

If this wedding went well, it could be the last time she had to see Melissa Sommers—ever. If that wasn’t motivation to not mess it up, nothing was.

Downstairs in the lobby, Melissa was still berating Laurel about something or other. Eloise got close enough to hear the words ‘wedding favours’ and ‘an embarrassment’ and backed off to loiter at the reception desk until they were finished. Anything wedding-related that wasn’t actually part of the venue was, unfortunately for Laurel, Laurel’s problem. And, as much as she liked Melissa’s half-sister, Eloise had enough problems of her own at Morwen Hall without borrowing other people’s.

After a few minutes where Eloise pretended to check the reservations system on the computer, Laurel approached, her smile fixed and tight. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to abandon you for a few hours. Melissa needs me to pop up to London.’

‘Wedding favours?’

Laurel nodded. ‘Apparently the ones we decided on three months ago are now passé and embarrassing.’

‘Of course.’ Eloise sighed. There was no way to tell whether Melissa was seriously unhappy with the favours or just trying to make Laurel’s life difficult. Either way, Laurel would need to fix it. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘Apparently she’s made some calls and there are now one hundred and fifty alternative favours—something to do with artisan chocolates and mini personalised perfumes, I think—waiting at some boutique in central London. So I’m off to pick them up.’

‘A wedding planner’s work is never done.’

‘Especially not with this wedding.’ Laurel gave her a tired smile. ‘Anyway, I’m going to hitch a lift with the next car arriving from the airport and get it to drop me off on its way to pick up the next set of guests—there should just about be time, as long as the traffic’s not too awful.’

‘How will you get back?’ Eloise asked because she probably shouldn’t grab hold of Laurel’s leg and beg her not to leave her alone with these awful people.

‘The last car heading back from the airport will have to swing past and pick me up.’ Laurel sighed. ‘And I’ll just have to pray that the guest inside isn’t some absurdly high maintenance celeb that objects to travelling with the help—or taking a significant detour.’

Eloise laughed. ‘I cannot imagine where you might have got the idea that Melissa would be friends with that sort of person.’

‘I know, right?’ Laurel smiled again, a real grin this time. Then her expression turned more serious. ‘Will you be okay here without me? Really? I know there’s still masses to do...’

Eloise waved away her concerns with a flap of her hand. Laurel panicking all over London wouldn’t help either of them, or get this wedding going. ‘I’ll be fine. Everything’s set up for the welcome drinks, and Chef’s already in the kitchen working on the canapés and such, so I’m free to supervise the check-ins. Once I’ve shown Melissa and Riley to the Bridal Suite, anyway. I hope they like it.’

‘How could they not? It’s gorgeous.’ Laurel tugged the strap of her messenger bag higher up on her shoulder. ‘Right, I’d better go. Good luck!’

‘You too. May all your favours be cutting edge and perfect.’

‘That’s the hope!’ Laurel waved as she shoved the heavy front door open with her shoulder, and then Eloise was alone with Melissa and Riley. Exactly the scenario she’d been hoping to avoid.

With a bright smile, Eloise turned to walk towards the bride and groom, who were indulging in a nauseating public display of affection in her lobby. Because this week wasn’t awkward enough already.

‘If you two are ready, I’d love to show you both to our Bridal Suite. I think you’ll agree it’s something a bit special.’

Melissa pulled away from Riley, who kept his hand low on her hip. ‘I can’t wait to see it! You’ve converted the old gatehouse, Laurel said?’

She sounded enthusiastic enough, which gave Eloise hope. Maybe Melissa had grown up at last and all the tensions of the last six months were just the usual stresses of being a bride, plus the added stress of doing it all in the limelight. It seemed unlikely but Eloise lived in hope.

‘That’s right,’ she said, leading them out of the hotel’s front door and down the steps to the driveway. ‘It’s just a short walk from the Hall proper, but we find that our happy couples enjoy the privacy.’

Riley’s mouth twitched into a grin at that. ‘I bet they do. I know I plan to!’

Melissa dodged his hands as he grabbed for her waist again. For a moment she looked so girlish and young that they could all have been sixteen again. Except, Eloise reminded herself, if they were, she definitely wouldn’t have been invited to hang out with them.

‘Not until after the wedding, you don’t!’ Melissa squealed as she danced across the driveway in her ridiculously expensive leather boots and impractical bright white coat. Her blonde hair shone in the winter sunlight, her pale skin flawless as she smiled.

It was, Eloise decided, a good job she wasn’t the jealous type.

‘Can you believe it?’ Riley asked, falling into step with Eloise. ‘She’s making me wait until after the wedding. I have the most beautiful fiancée in the world and I’m not even allowed to touch her.’

‘Oh, like you haven’t touched me plenty before,’ Melissa said with a flirtatious laugh. ‘I seem to remember you could barely do anything else for the first month or two...’

Eloise picked up the pace just a bit, relieved when the Gatehouse came into view around the edge of the trees.

‘Not for the last forty-eight hours!’ Riley protested. ‘It’s cruel and unusual torture; that’s what it is. Eloise agrees, don’t you?’

Eloise pretty much thought it was none of her business, and she’d rather keep it that way, but the client was the client.

‘I think that seeing the Bridal Suite might tempt her resolve,’ she said diplomatically.

‘That’s why he won’t be staying in it until the wedding night.’ Melissa’s tone was triumphant, and the small smile on her face as she looked at Eloise made it clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘Oh, didn’t Laurel tell you that Riley would need a separate room until Saturday?’

Eloise bit the inside of her cheek in a desperate attempt to keep a hold on her temper. Melissa knew perfectly well that she hadn’t—probably because she’d never mentioned it to Laurel in the first place. In fact, Eloise suspected that she’d just come up with it at that moment and was now using the idea to play Eloise and Laurel off each other. That would be just the sort of thing she would do.

Well. Eloise might have fallen for it when she was sixteen. But she wasn’t sixteen any longer.

‘Actually, she did suggest it might be a possibility so I’ve got a very special room put aside for Riley in the hotel, just in case he needed it.’

Riley looked impressed. Melissa looked murderous. Eloise smiled serenely and moved past them both to unlock the door to the Gatehouse.

‘Now, how about we take a look at where you’ll be spending your first night as man and wife?’ she said. Then she could get onto building an extra hotel suite for Riley. There had to be a solution somewhere. She just hadn’t thought of it yet.

Even Melissa had to be impressed by the Gatehouse Suite, and Riley’s eyes were huge as Eloise gave them the tour. Morwen Hall was a luxury hotel from top to bottom but the Gatehouse kicked that luxury up a notch further. The stone building had been completely renovated—walls had been knocked through to turn what had been a small family home into a spacious suite for two. Downstairs was laid out as an open-plan living area, with a small kitchen counter running along one side. It wasn’t a functioning kitchen—that wasn’t what guests needed here. Instead, it had a small fridge filled with champagne and another stuffed with high-end chocolates, caviar and other delicious treats. A top of the range coffee machine with quality china fulfilled guests’ caffeine needs, and an extensive menu was available twenty-four hours from direct dial to the front desk.

Downstairs was, Eloise thought proudly, impressive. But upstairs blew it away.

The four-poster bed that dominated the room was larger even than the one that had rendered Noah speechless. The bed linens were snowy white Egyptian cotton, with luxurious touches in jewel-coloured satin and silk accessories. The large bay window—complete with cushioned window seat—looked out over the river, and the en suite bathroom featured both an ultra-modern shower for two and an old-fashioned roll top bath.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Melissa admitted eventually. Then, apparently unable to resist criticising something, she added, ‘And I’m sure I’ll be fine, all the way out here.’

It’s two minutes from the hotel. Less if you don’t stop to grope your fiancé.

‘Well, I’ll make sure you have my room number,’ Riley said, wrapping an arm around Melissa’s waist and giving the four-poster a good, long look. ‘Just in case you need me to come down here and...save you.’

Rolling her eyes, Melissa pushed him away. ‘You and Eloise should go and find your room. I’m going to take advantage of that lovely bath.’

‘Right,’ Eloise said, thinking fast. ‘Your room. Just follow me!’

As they left Melissa to her bath, Eloise spotted the first of the guests’ cars pulling up the driveway. She was out of time, and all chaos was likely to break loose soon. And Riley still needed a room, even if she doubted he’d actually end up sleeping in it at all.

Mentally, she ran through the rooming list for the wedding in her head. After Noah’s, the next best room in the hotel had been earmarked for Riley’s brother, Dan. He wasn’t bringing a guest, so at least that would only be one person to rehouse. Plus his flight was the last one in, so that gave her more time to try and fix things. And if the worst came to the worst and she couldn’t magic another room from a no-show, or persuade Melissa to let Riley back into the Gatehouse, at least Dan and Riley might not be too horrified about having to share...

It was the best she could do for now. Decision made, Eloise covered the distance between the Gatehouse and Morwen Hall with large strides, leaving Riley trying to keep up. She’d show him to his room then get back down to supervise check-in. Laurel would be back to help—and provide much-needed moral support—before the welcome drinks.

And then all Eloise had to do was resist the considerable charms of Noah Cross for the evening.

How hard could that be?

Then she remembered Noah’s smile, and realised that there was a very real possibility that she might be doomed.

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE END, the nap had to wait.

Noah placed the script reverently on the bed in front of him and reached for his phone without ever looking away from the cover sheet. He didn’t want to break the magic spell the writing had cast over him before he spoke to his agent. He wanted to live in this feeling—in the brilliance and excitement of a perfect story. The way he felt he knew every one of the characters inside out as if he was the characters.

This film—this was the one he’d been waiting for.

He couldn’t remember being this excited about a part since... Well, since he’d first moved to LA with Sally.

Swallowing hard at the memory, he pushed it aside and punched the right combination on the screen to call Tessa, his agent.

‘I want this part,’ he said, the moment she picked up.

‘Noah?’ She sounded sleepy. Noah did a quick mental calculation of the time difference and winced. Then he decided that, since she was awake now anyway, he might as well continue.

‘Eight Days After,’ he said. ‘I want the part. The lead. None of this supporting actor stuff. I want the main attraction.’

‘Really?’ Tessa was awake now, if the pep in her voice was anything to go by. ‘You think you’re right for Marcus?’

‘Definitely,’ Noah replied, ignoring the surprise in her voice. ‘Trust me. They want me in that role. I will knock it out of the park.’ There was a pause on the other line, and Noah’s confidence took a slight dip. But not for long. He hadn’t got where he was by letting criticism knock him back. ‘What? What did they say about me? You might as well just tell me—you know I’ll hear it eventually anyway.’ That was how Hollywood gossip worked. Confidences were never kept, and secrets always got out. You just had to front it out and live with whatever people had to say about you, Noah had found. He just didn’t let the gibes and the comments get past his defences any more. They didn’t hurt if he didn’t let himself feel them.

‘Stefan, the director...he’s worried you might not have the, well, depth for the part.’

‘For Marcus?’

‘For the best friend part.’

Noah blinked. ‘The best friend has no depth. He’s basically there to lighten the mood so that no one slits their wrists in the movie theatres.’ If Stefan didn’t believe he could even pull off that part, Noah had a harder path to climb than even he’d anticipated.

‘Still. This is a very different movie to the sort you’ve been in before.’

‘Lately,’ Noah countered.

‘Since you became an actor anyone has heard of,’ Tessa shot back, and Noah winced. Had it really been that long since he’d made a film that mattered? He knew that it had. He’d not taken on a part with substance since he’d got his big break in a summer blockbuster.

So why now? Why this one?

Noah shook his head. It didn’t matter why. It only mattered that he get it. One way or another.

‘What will it take to convince him?’ he asked.

‘That you can play the best friend?’

‘No.’

Tessa sighed. ‘Look, Noah, I think they’ve already got someone in the frame for Marcus—and no, before you ask, I don’t know who. They’re being cagey, though, so that probably means someone big.’

‘Someone they’re not sure of, or they’d be telling everyone.’

‘Maybe. Why does this matter so much to you?’ Tessa asked. ‘I mean, you’ve been perfectly happy for years playing the big budget hero, the action guy or whatever.’

‘You mean as a more looks than talent kind of actor,’ Noah translated. He’d heard the talk as well as she had.

‘You said it, not me. But yeah. So what’s changed?’

Noah sank back against the pillows on the four-poster bed, trying to find the right words. ‘It’s...it’s this script. I mean, I knew I was ready for a change. It’s been seven years since...’ Since he’d taken a part that made him look too deep, search too far to find the character. Since he’d done anything more than drift through his roles without having to think too much about the emotions behind them. Since he’d risked feeling at all.

‘Since what happened to Sally.’ Tessa was one of the few people who knew that story. One of the many reasons Noah had stuck with her as his agent even after he had agencies banging on his door wanting to sign him.

‘Yeah. But it’s more than that. There’s something about this script, Tess.’ Something that made his heart race, made him want to reach for something more, something better, something deeper, for the first time in a long time. ‘The way it talks about the human condition, about loss, and connection and love...’

‘I know,’ Tessa said quietly. ‘That was why I was surprised you want to do it. They’re usually exactly the things you try to avoid.’

That was the problem with having the same agent for almost a decade. They got to know you—and your weaknesses—too well.

‘Yeah, well, maybe it’s time for a change.’ In career terms, if not personally.

‘Okay, be honest. Is this about that interview last month?’

‘You know I don’t let those things get to me.’ Even if they had said that his films were getting more brainless by the season.

‘That one would get to anyone. There’s no shame in wanting to make better movies, Noah.’

‘Exactly!’ Better movies. That was the goal. And totally achievable without opening himself up to all the things he’d built walls against years before. ‘So you’ll get me the part?’

‘I’ll get you a video call with the director,’ Tessa corrected. ‘That’s the most I can do. Then it’s up to you. But you’re really going to have to blow them away.’ The warning was clear in her voice. They didn’t want him for the part. If he wanted it...he’d have to show them they couldn’t do it right without him.

‘I will.’

‘I mean it. This part needs real feeling and—’

‘You don’t think I can do it,’ Noah realised. ‘And here I thought agents were supposed to be an actor’s biggest cheerleader.’

‘I can dig out the skirt and pom-poms if you like.’ Tessa sighed again. ‘Look, I know you used to be able to do it. That’s why I signed you.’

‘And I thought it was for my pretty face.’

‘That too,’ she admitted. ‘But mostly it was your talent. The way you connected with an audience. But these days... Noah, you don’t even connect with the women you sleep with. Be honest. Do you really think you can do this? Look deeper inside yourself and find all that good stuff I haven’t seen in years?’

Could he? Noah wasn’t sure. ‘Honestly, I’m not even sure those parts are still there.’

‘Well, if you want this role, you better hope they are.’

‘You’ll get me the video call?’

‘I’ll get you the call,’ Tessa promised. ‘The rest is up to you. But Noah...’

‘What?’

‘Your acting ability wasn’t Stefan’s only concern,’ Tessa said.

‘It should be the only thing that matters,’ Noah shot back. ‘So what? What else?’

‘He doesn’t...how did he put it?’ Tessa took a breath and started again. ‘Stefan wants the film to be the focus, the thing everyone is talking about. Not your love life.’

‘I don’t have a love life,’ Noah pointed out.

He hadn’t been in love since Sally died. How could he be?

‘You have women. Lots of women, whether you love them or not.’

‘I don’t.’ Why did he have to say it? Tessa already knew. But somehow it felt important to be clear. As if he’d be betraying Sally if he let there be any doubt.

And he already had enough guilt to deal with, knowing he hadn’t lived up to being the best friend that she needed.

‘You go out with a lot of women and you’re seen doing it. People take photos. The photos show up in magazines, on the Internet, and people talk about them.’ Tessa’s words were clipped, her tone impatient. ‘You know this, Noah, and you know the effect it has. Don’t be obtuse.’

‘The effect it has? The way it drives up ticket sales, you mean?’ Because being seen, getting out there, that was as much a part of his job as showing up and playing a part. In some ways it felt like just another part he was playing: Noah Cross, Film Star.

‘Not this time,’ Tessa said. ‘This isn’t the sort of film you’re used to, Noah. Stefan wants people talking about the meaning, the theme, the soul of the film. Not who you’re sleeping with tonight.’

‘So you’re saying, take the part and give up sex?’ Because if that was the case... No, he still wanted the part.

‘I’m saying, try a little discretion for once. Okay?’

Discretion. That he could do. ‘Fine.’

For a moment, Noah had an image of bright red hair and sparkling eyes. Eloise. With her arresting beauty, she was anything but discreet. Anyone would remember seeing him with her.

Apparently, this wedding had just got a whole lot less fun.

‘I’ll be discreet,’ he promised. ‘I’ll be so discreet you won’t even know I’m here.’

Tessa snorted. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

* * *

By late afternoon, Eloise felt as if her feet might fall off. She’d known the high heels were a mistake. Normally she wore low wedges or boots, but today she’d felt the need for something a little smarter. They weren’t even all that high—certainly lower and more sensible than Melissa’s expensive spike-heeled boots—but apparently running around Morwen Hall in them all day had beaten her feet into submission. She was ready to retire to the tiny bedrooms they kept for staff members working big events and soak her feet in the not quite full-size bath for an hour or two. Preferably while eating chocolate and sipping red wine.

But, instead, she still had a few more guests to welcome and show to their rooms—including the brother of the groom, who still didn’t know his room had been taken over by Riley himself. In all the chaos, Eloise still hadn’t found a solution to that either. Unless he wanted her room, and she’d just have to sleep behind the reception desk. She certainly couldn’t risk going home, not while Melissa was on the premises. As much as Eloise trusted her deputy manager, she wouldn’t leave anyone to deal with Melissa alone.

Wearily, Eloise stepped back behind the reception desk and, once she was sure no one could see, slipped her feet from her shoes and let the cool stone floor soothe her feet through her tights. That was better.

For a moment, she honestly believed she might get a small break in the craziness of the day to get herself together before the nightmare of the welcome drinks that evening.

Until Melissa’s scream cut through the air.

Eloise let her eyes flutter closed just for a moment as she steeled herself for whatever was about to happen. When she opened them again, Melissa was bustling across the lobby, a towel wrapped around her hair, wearing a coat and boots over black silky leggings and a matching top that Melissa obviously classed as loungewear, and probably cost more than Eloise earned in a month.

‘Is something the matter, Melissa?’ Eloise asked in her calmest, everything-will-be-fine voice. Inside, she just prayed that whatever the problem was, it wasn’t the Gatehouse. If Melissa had a problem with the Bridal Suite they really were in trouble.

‘It’s Cassidy!’ Melissa shrieked. ‘She just called from Aspen! She’s broken her leg on the slopes!’

‘Cassidy,’ Eloise repeated, her mind running through the guest list again in the hope that this might mean she had a spare room after all... ‘Wait, your maid of honour Cassidy?’

‘Yes!’ Eloise winced as the pitch of Melissa’s voice reached parts only dogs could hear.

Okay, that was a problem. But Eloise was sure one of Melissa’s other celebrity bridesmaids would be willing to step up to the job. And in the meantime... ‘Does that mean she and her family won’t be attending the wedding after all?’

And I can give their room to Riley’s brother?

Melissa gave her one of those were-you-born-this-stupid looks that Eloise had learned to hate during their childhood. ‘Of course they’re coming. Well, not Cassidy—apparently she can’t fly. But Dillon—her husband—will still be here. He says he’s bringing an “old friend” actually.’ The way she said it, Eloise could actually hear the air quotes around the words. She tried not to pull a face, but clearly she was never going to understand celebrity marriages. Who brought their mistress to a friend’s wedding when their wife was laid up in hospital?

A melodic chiming noise filled the lobby and Melissa shoved one perfectly manicured hand into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone.

‘Kerry? Thank God you called back. Did you hear about Cassidy? Well, what do I do? When are you getting here, anyway? Tomorrow! I need a new maid of honour before tomorrow!’

Kerry, Eloise recalled from many contract negotiations and emails, was Melissa’s agent. Why she was the first port of call in a maid of honour crisis, Eloise wasn’t sure. But she suspected it was another one of those things she didn’t understand about Hollywood.

‘Someone who knew me back when? You think we should play up the “local girl made good” angle?’ Melissa asked, not bothering to lower her voice at all. ‘Isn’t it enough that I came back to this dump in the first place?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, fine. If that’s what you think will sell. Yeah, I’ll ask her. Okay. Bye.’

Dump? Had Melissa really just called Morwen Hall a dump? It might not have been the peak of luxury ten years ago, but these days it was spectacular.

She was so annoyed she was still grinding her teeth in annoyance when Melissa turned back to the reception desk and said, ‘Right, change of plan. You’re my new maid of honour.’

Eloise blinked. ‘What?’

‘You.’ Melissa pointed at Eloise, jabbing a nail against her breastbone. ‘You’re going to put on the very expensive pretty dress I’ve already paid for and walk down the aisle in front of me. You’re going to smile for the cameras. You’re going to say wonderful things about me, and tell the reporter covering this wedding how close we were growing up, and how Hollywood hasn’t changed me at all. Okay?’

‘Why?’ Eloise asked, baffled. Then, as she stared down Melissa’s frown, she figured it out. ‘This is because of all those articles lately, isn’t it? The ones calling you a diva who’s forgotten where you came from.’

Melissa sniffed. ‘I don’t read that sort of trashy magazine.’

‘Isn’t it the same one that’s covering your wedding?’ Melissa didn’t answer that one. ‘So, let me guess. Your agent thinks that if you have an old friend as part of the wedding party it’ll show how down-to-earth you still are, with your million-dollar wedding at a five-star hotel.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Yeah, I’m not doing it.’ Not a chance. It was bad enough that she had to put Morwen Hall at the disposal of an ungrateful Melissa and her celebrity mates. The last thing Eloise wanted was to have to be part of this whole debacle. ‘Why don’t you ask Laurel? She is your half-sister.’

Melissa pulled a face. ‘No way. Besides, she wouldn’t fit in the dress. Have you seen that girl’s cleavage?’ Eloise had, and was rather envious of it, actually, but she didn’t think that would dissuade Melissa.

‘The chances are I won’t fit in the dress either,’ Eloise pointed out instead. She knew she was on the skinny side of slender, because that was just how her body and metabolism worked—especially when she was rushing around Morwen Hall all day, every day. But Hollywood celebs were a different category of thin, weren’t they? And Eloise definitely wasn’t that.

‘Oh, you will,’ Melissa assured her. ‘Cassidy had to put weight on for her last part, if you can believe it. Something about fat girls being funnier.’ Well, that sounded like a film Eloise would go out of her way to avoid. ‘So we’ll do the dress fitting first thing in the morning then.’

‘Wait! I didn’t say I’d do it!’ But Melissa was already walking away, her panic about her friend apparently forgotten now the role had been filled. ‘I already have a job at this wedding, remember? I’m in charge of the venue!’

‘Then you’d better find someone to take over for you. You’ll be fine,’ Melissa called back over her shoulder as she headed back towards the Gatehouse. ‘Just do everything I say.’

‘Yeah, because that always worked out so well when we were kids,’ Eloise grumbled as the front door swung shut. That was how she’d walked in on her mother kissing the first proper, grown-up boyfriend Eloise had ever had, a week before she’d left for university. Because Melissa had sent her down into the prop room at the theatre to retrieve something or other she obviously didn’t really need. Afterwards, Melissa had claimed that she couldn’t possibly have known that they were down there, but really, wasn’t it all for Eloise’s own good anyway? She’d practically done her a favour...especially since everyone had been talking about them for weeks behind Eloise’s back. Melissa had truly believed that she’d done the right thing sending her down there to find out the truth for herself.

And maybe she had. She’d certainly cemented Eloise’s decision to never trust another actor. If only she’d also warned her about business students.

Maid of honour for Melissa Sommers. How on earth had this happened? And the worst part was—

‘Sounds like we’ll be spending even more time together.’ Noah’s voice was warm, deep and far too close to her ear.

Eloise sighed. That. That was the worst thing. Because the maid of honour was expected to pair up with the best man, and that would not make her resolution to stay away from Noah Cross any easier at all.

She turned and found him standing directly behind her, close enough that if she’d stepped back a centimetre or two she’d have been in his arms. Suddenly she was glad he’d alerted her to his presence with his words.

She shifted further away and tried to look like a professional, instead of a teenager with a crush. Looking up at him, she felt the strange heat flush over her skin again at his gorgeousness. Then she focused, and realised he was frowning.

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