A Beaumont Christmas Wedding (3 page)

Matthew needed to regain control of the situation—of himself—and fast.

“We’ll need to get the shoes and jewelry squared away. We need to get you in to the stylist before then to decide how to deal with your hair, so we’ll do that after the dress fitting.” He waited, but she didn’t say anything.

So he went on. “The rehearsal dinner is Tuesday night. Then the wedding is Christmas Eve, of course.” A week and a half—that didn’t leave him much time to deal with the disruption of Whitney Wildz. “The ladies will get manicures that morning before they get their hair done. Then we’ll start with the photographs.”

Whitney cleared her throat—but she still didn’t meet his gaze. “Who else is in the wedding party?”

He wanted her to look at him—he wanted to get lost in her eyes. “Our older brother Chadwick will be walking with his wife, Serena. Frances and Byron will be walking together—they’re twins, five years younger than I am.” For a second, Matthew had almost said
we
—as in he and Phillip. Because he and Phillip were only six months apart.

But he didn’t want to bring his father’s infidelity into this conversation, because that meant Whitney would know that he was the second choice, the child his father had never really loved. Or even acknowledged, for that matter. So he said
I
.

“That just leaves the two of us,” he added, suddenly very interested in his plate. How was he going to keep this primal urge to haul her off under control if they were paired up for the wedding?

He could not let her distract him from his goals, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to pull this off—to prove that he was a legitimate Beaumont. Ravishing the maid of honor did not fall anywhere on his to-do list.

“Ah.” He looked up when he heard her chair scrape against the floor. She stood and, without looking at him, said, “I’m a little tired from the drive. If you’ll excuse me.” Jo started to stand, but Whitney waved her off. “I think I can find my way.”

Then she was gone, walking in a way that he could only describe as graceful. She didn’t stumble and she didn’t fall. She walked in a straight line for the stairs.

Several moments passed after she disappeared up the stairs. No one seemed willing to break the tense silence. Finally, Matthew couldn’t take it anymore.

“What the
hell
? Why is Whitney Wildz your maid of honor and why didn’t either of you see fit to tell me in advance? Jesus, if I’d known, I would have done things differently. Do you have any idea what the press will do when they find out?”

It was easier to focus on how this was going to screw up the wedding than on how his desire was on the verge of driving him mad.

“Gosh, I don’t know. You think they’ll make a big deal out of stuff that happened years ago and make Whitney feel like crap?” Phillip shot back. “You’re right. That would really suck.”

“Hey—this is not my fault. You guys sprung this on me.”

“I believe,” Jo said in a voice so icy it brought the temperature of the room down several degrees, “I told you I was asking Whitney Maddox to be my maid of honor. Whitney Wildz is a fictional character in a show that was canceled almost thirteen years ago. If you can’t tell the difference between a real woman and a fictional teenager, then that’s
your
problem, not hers.”

“It
is
my problem,” he got out through gritted teeth. “You can’t tell me that’s all in the past. What about the headlines?”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Because everything the press prints is one hundred percent accurate, huh? I thought you, of all people, would know how the headlines can be manipulated.”

“She’s a normal person,” Jo said. Instead of icy, though, she was almost pleading. “I retrained one of her horses and we got to spend time together last winter. She’s a little bit of a klutz when she gets nervous but that’s it. She’s going to be fine.”

“If
you
can treat her like a normal person,” Phillip added. “Man—I thought you were this expert at reading people and telling them what they wanted to hear. What happened? Hit your head this morning or something?”

Matthew sat there, feeling stupid. Hell, he wasn’t just feeling stupid—he
was
stupid. His first instinct had been to protect her. He should have stuck with it. He could do that without giving in to his desire to claim her, right?

Right. He was in control of his emotions. He could keep up a wall between the rest of the world and himself. He was good at it.

Then he made the mistake of glancing at that silly donkey, who gave him a baleful look of reproach. Great. Even the donkey was mad at him.

“I should apologize to her.”

Phillip snorted. “You think?”

Damn it, he felt like a jerk. It didn’t come naturally to him. Chadwick was the one who could be a royal pain simply because he wasn’t clued in to the fact that most people had actual feelings. Phillip used to be an ass all the time because he was constantly drunk and horny. Matthew was the one who smoothed ruffled feathers and calmed everyone down.

Phillip was right. Matthew hadn’t been reading the woman next to him. He’d been too busy thinking about old headlines and new lust to realize that she might want his approval.

“Which room is she in?”

Jo and Phillip shared a look before Phillip said, “Yours.”

Three

W
hitney found her room on the first try and shut the door behind her.

Well. So much for her little fantasy about a Christmas romance. She doubted that Matthew would have been less happy to see her if she’d thrown up on his shoes.

She flopped down on her bed and decided that she would not cry. Even though it was really tempting, she wouldn’t. She’d learned long ago this was how it went, after all. People would treat her just fine until they recognized her and then? All bets were off. Once she’d been outed as Whitney Wildz, she might as well give up on normal. There was no going back.

She’d thought for a moment there she might get to do something ordinary—have a little Christmas romance between the maid of honor and the best man. But every time she got it in her foolish little head that she could be whoever she wanted to be...well, this was what would happen.

The thing was, she didn’t even blame Matthew. Since he recognized her so quickly, that could only mean that he’d read some of the more recent headlines. Like the last time she’d tried to redeem Whitney Wildz by lending her notoriety to the Bakersfield Animal Shelter’s annual fund-raising gala dinner. She’d been the keynote speaker—or would have been if she hadn’t gotten the fancy Stuart Weitzman shoes she’d bought just for the occasion tangled up in the microphone cords on her way up to the podium.

The headlines had been unforgiving.

Whitney shivered. Boy, this was going to be a long,
cold
two weeks.

As she was getting up to turn her fireplace back on, she heard it—a firm knock.

Her brain diverted all energy from her legs to the question of who was on the other side of that door—Jo or a Beaumont?—and she tripped into the door with an audible
whump
.

Oh, for the love of everything holy. Just once—once!—she’d like to be able to walk and chew gum at the same time. She could sing and play the guitar simultaneously. She could do complicated dressage moves on the back of a one-ton animal. Why couldn’t she put one foot in front of the other?

She forced herself to take a deep breath just as a male voice on the other side of the door said, “Is everything all right in there, Miss...uh...Ms. Maddox?”

Matthew. Great. How could this get worse? Let her count the ways. Had he come to ask her to drop out of the wedding? Or just threaten her to be on her best behavior?

She decided she would not cower. Jo had asked her to be in the wedding. If Jo asked her to drop out, she would. Otherwise, she was in. She collected her thoughts and opened the door a crack. “Yes, fine. Thanks.”

Then she made the mistake of looking at him. God, it wasn’t fair. It just
wasn’t
.

Matthew Beaumont was, physically, the perfect man to have a Christmas romance with. He had to be about six foot one, broad chested, and that chin? Those eyes? Even his deep red hair made him look distinctive. Striking.

Gorgeous.

Too darned bad he was an ass.

“Can I help you?” she asked, determined to be polite if it killed her. She would not throw a diva fit and prove him right. Even if there would be a certain amount of satisfaction in slamming the door in his face.

He gave her a grin that walked the fine line between awkward and cute. He might be even better-looking than his brother, but he appeared to possess none of the charm. “Look, Ms. Maddox—”

“Whitney.”

“Oh. Okay. Whitney. We got off on the wrong foot and—”

She winced.

He paused. “
I
got off on the wrong foot. And I want to apologize to you.” His voice was strong, exuding confidence. It made everything about him that much sexier.

She blinked at him. “What?”

“I jumped 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 though she didn’t know that Phillip Beaumont was a famous guy—all those commercials, all those stories about parties he hosted at music festivals—but this was crazy.

“If you drop out,” Jo went on, “who on earth am I going to get to replace you? Out of the two hundred people who’ll be at the wedding and the six hundred who’ll be at the reception, you know how many I invited? My parents, my grandma Lina, my uncle Larry and aunt Penny, and my parents’ neighbors. Eleven people. That’s it. That’s all I have. And you.”

Whitney didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to do this, not after last night. But Jo was one of her few friends. Someone who didn’t care about Whitney Wildz or
Growing Up Wildz
or even that horrible Christmas album she’d put out,
Whitney Wildz Sings Christmas, Yo.

She didn’t want to disappoint her friend.

“Honestly,” Jo said, “there’s going to be so many egos on display that I doubt people will even realize who you are. Don’t take that the wrong way.”

“I won’t,” Whitney said with a smile. She could do this. She could pull off normal for a few weeks. She couldn’t compete with that guest list. She was just the maid of honor. Who would notice her, anyway? Besides Matthew, that was...

“And you’re right. It won’t be like that last fund-raiser.”

“Exactly,” Jo said, sounding encouraging. “You were the headliner there—of course people were watching you. Matthew only acted like he did because he’s a perfectionist. I truly believe you’ll be fine.” She pulled into a parking lot. “It’ll be fine.”

“All right,” Whitney agreed. She didn’t quite believe the sentiment but she couldn’t disappoint Jo. “It will be fine.”

“Good.”

They got out. Whitney stared at the facade of the Bridal Collection. This was it. Once she was in the dress, there was no backing out.

Oh, who was she kidding? There was no backing out anyway. Jo was right. They were the kind of people who didn’t have huge social circles or celebrities on speed dial. They were horse people. She and Jo got along only because they both loved animals and they both had changed their ways.

“You’re really having a wedding with Grammy winners and crown princes?”

“Yup,” Jo said, shaking her head. “Honestly, though, it’s not the over-the-top wedding that matters. It’s the marriage. Besides,” she added as they went inside, “David Guetta is going to be doing the music for the reception. How cool is that?”

“Pretty cool,” Whitney agreed. She didn’t recognize the name, but then, why would she? She wasn’t famous anymore.

Maybe Jo was right. No one would care about her. She’d managed to stay out of the headlines for almost three years, after all—that was a lifetime in today’s 24/7 news cycle. In that time, there’d been other former teen stars who’d grabbed much bigger headlines for much more scandalous reasons.

They walked into the boutique to find Matthew pacing between rows of frothy white dresses and decorations that were probably supposed to be Christmas trees but really looked more as though someone had dipped pipe cleaners in glitter. The whole place was so bright it made her eyes hurt.

Matthew—wearing dark gray trousers and a button-up shirt with a red tie under his deep green sweater—was so out of place that she couldn’t
not
look at him. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he looked even better today than he had the other night. As she appreciated all the goodness that was Matthew Beaumont, he looked up from his phone.