Not the Girl You Marry Page 21

  Of course, that made her want to drag him into a coat closet. But that would ruin her perfect night with her perfect boyfriend. A night when she was going to get her dream job from the boss she’d admired in front of her least-favorite coworker and her smirking, condescending ex-boyfriend. She wasn’t about to let her libido ruin it.

  * * *

  —

  HANNAH WAS PERFECT, AND he really hoped that she didn’t break up with him once the story dropped. He’d finally had enough to call one of his buddies from school who worked for the Washington Post.

  From there, serendipity had taken the reins. Turned out, one of the reporters at the Post had already done some work on the story. But Jack had provided some missing pieces. Together, they had the whole picture, and Jack was going to have a byline in one of the country’s great papers.

  His editor planned to run it in the morning. As soon as it ran, he could tell Irv that he was out of a how-to guy. And a crack political reporter. And to shove his “How to Lose a Girl” story where the sun didn’t shine.

  He only hoped that the fallout wouldn’t interfere with Hannah getting the promotion she’d worked so hard for. As insurance, he was going to do everything he could tonight to remind her that this thing between them was real. In fact, he was going to prove to her that it was realer than it had been the first night in that stupid speakeasy.

  Kissing the palm of her hand was cheesy, but that was the only way he could get his lips on her right now, and he would take it. “You look beautiful.”

  She had her hair in some 1920s style with a silvery headband around her forehead that matched a dress that caressed her body like he would later that night. Once he’d told her the truth about why he’d been doing such stupid shit and promised that he’d never lie to her again.

  “Thank you.” Then she blushed, and he knew that she didn’t need fancy words and charm from him. Just the truth. The fact that he hadn’t been giving her the truth made him more uncomfortable than her saying, “You look pretty, too.”

  “Pretty?”

  “Yeah, pretty.” He would have argued that he was handsome, but she led him over to one of the three bars that she’d had set up—he’d never seen them at any of the weddings he’d been to in the same room—and the spangles on the dress shifted and glinted in the light. He was so obsessed with the way her ass looked as it shifted under the sparkly shit on her dress that he lost the will to argue with her.

  He couldn’t deny how impressed he was with Hannah’s work. Not that he hadn’t been impressed by her before, but her competence amazed him anew when he took in the whole room. She’d turned it into a cross between a sparkly fairyland and a gangster’s hangout spot, and it worked.

  She handed him a drink and clinked her glass with his. Before taking a swig, he stopped.

  “What are we drinking to?”

  She paused for a moment, squinting her eyes and scrunching her nose in a way that was so cute he wanted to kiss the hell out of her right then. “To us?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, which worried him, she said, “To the future.”

  They clinked glasses and then drank, even though the toast made a knot form in his stomach. More than anything, he wanted them to have a future. But he couldn’t guarantee that she would want the same thing after tonight.

  For a few moments, he let himself believe that this was the beginning of something new and different, something without lies. The real thing with her that he’d wanted even before they’d met. She smiled at him, and he felt full of her. Then he couldn’t help but kiss the corner of her painted-red mouth.

  He was all set to properly kiss the hell out of her when her friend Sasha tapped her on the shoulder, with an apologetic look thrown his way.

  “There’s a brewing emergency.”

  Jack didn’t know why he had the sinking feeling that the backward glance Hannah threw over her shoulder would be the last time she looked at him like she liked seeing his face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  MADISON CHAPIN AND HER fiancé had disappeared right before the senator wanted to give a toast. Never one to miss an opportunity to turn a social event into a campaign rally, he’d invited a bunch of press people.

  “How are you holding up?” Hannah asked Sasha as they left the party to search the service hallways and storage rooms for the young lovers.

  “I’m great.” Her best friend’s voice was brittle. “I’m just really glad you’re doing this with me, and not Giselle.”

  “Why is Giselle even here?” Hannah had been frustrated when her nemesis had shown up along with Annalise and her husband. As though she’d expected Hannah to screw things up and wanted to be here to enjoy it. “Shouldn’t she be at home terrorizing her husband?”

  Sasha opened a door in the hallway, finding the janitor’s closet empty. “Do you think they snuck up to their hotel room?”

  “Eh. They don’t seem like the type of couple to do that.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t even imagine them in the thrall of lust.” Sasha had to stop reading so many old-school romance novels. Trying to respect her love of historical romance, Hannah had tried to turn her on to Sarah MacLean and Joanna Shupe, but Sasha always went back to Kathleen Woodiwiss and Bertrice Small. Her purple prose reflected that. “You and Jack, on the other hand; seemed like he was about a minute from dragging you away to show you his throbbing member.”

  “Ew.”

  “Like I’m wrong?”

  She was only sort of wrong.

  “Just don’t say ‘throbbing member.’”

  “If it’s not throbbing, you might want to have that checked out.”

  “More like blue balls,” she muttered. As much as she appreciated sweet Sasha making sex jokes, Hannah was really starting to worry. The reason Annalise had been hesitant to put her in charge of a wedding was that she wasn’t a true believer in love. She’d worried that she didn’t have enough appreciation for romance to make someone’s wedding dreams come true. Sure, she’d always known how to sex up any event, but she hadn’t really been able to empathize with someone who had been planning her wedding since she was six. She simply hadn’t believed that she’d wanted that anymore.

  But that wasn’t the case. Someone had chosen her, and Hannah had started allowing herself to have white-dress fantasies at that stupid bridal salon about her and Jack. Hell, she’d started believing it before the bridal salon. And everything had clicked into place with him in that tux. If Madison Chapin blew up her own engagement party, preventing Hannah’s promotion now that she truly knew how to bring the romance, she’d probably have to kill her.

  The ping of metal hitting tile echoed through the hall, and Sasha and Hannah wordlessly followed the faint sound after exchanging a wide-eyed look in the dim light. Soon, the melodious ring of Madison’s Disney princess voice rang out.

  “It’s over.”

  Shit. This is not good. Even if the breakup had nothing to do with her, the senator would not be pleased with this turn of events, and Annalise would, in turn, place the blame entirely on Hannah’s shoulders. She’d been working for the woman long enough to know that her job was about a lot more than flower arrangements and caterers—it was about making sure that everything went smoothly.

  As they approached the arguing couple, Sasha scooped up the discarded diamond solitaire worth more than the condo they shared.

  On the fly, Hannah decided to play dumb. “Your father’s about to give a speech. He needs you out on the stage.”

  Without looking at them, Madison’s fiancé said, “We’re not getting married anymore.”

  “No, we aren’t.” Madison crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin at her and Sasha. “You have to tell my parents.”

  Sasha looked at her, the panic plain on her face. She’d dealt with jittery brides before, but never one who wanted her to tell her fat
her—a sitting senator—that the engagement party / photo op he’d been counting on was about to have a bad ending. A bad ending of Titanic-sized proportions.

  Hannah was really more experienced with situations this tense and unruly, and she took a deep breath, summoning all of her patience. There was too much riding on this event. “No, Madison. You’re both going to go out there and pretend to be deliriously in love.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t care if you can’t stand the sight of him, if you just found out he cheated on you, or you just woke up today and decided to blow up your pretty little life.”

  “He didn’t cheat.”

  Her patience running thin, Hannah nonetheless asked, “What did he do?”

  “He’s marrying me for money.”

  “Oh, honey.” Hannah’s heart hurt for Madison. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d spent enough time getting to know her that she felt as though they were becoming friends. But they weren’t quite at the friend level where Hannah could tell her that she’d pegged the fiancé as an empty suit the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

  Madison was rich and pretty and interesting, but her fiancé seemed to have little going for him other than perfect hair and capped teeth. She’d thought that Madison had been on board with the whole dynastic-marriage thing. She quieted her voice before she asked, “Did you think you were a love match?”

  “No.” Madison looked down. “But I thought it might make . . . well, I thought it might make someone jealous if I started dating someone else, and it didn’t work.”

  “So you decided to get engaged to this douchebag? To make another person even more jealous?” God bless Sasha. Always surprised when people did bad things to each other.

  “Yeah, and it didn’t work.”

  “I mean, why not go all the way? Get married to this fool to make some other guy seethe?” Hannah had no idea why she sounded and felt so angry at this woman. Other than that she was stupid and immature and making a mockery of love.

  Except she’d done the same thing to Jack that Madison had to her fiancé. She shouldn’t even be thinking about him right now, but looking at Madison and taking in her stupid scheme made her realize that she had to tell him the truth—that she’d only originally dated him to get a promotion. That what they had had become a real relationship, that she wanted to be his girlfriend, but that it hadn’t started out that way.

  She wanted to go tell him right then, but she had to wait until she’d dealt with this.

  “You need to tell the guy you’re really in love with how you feel.”

  “I can’t.” Madison sounded so forlorn that Hannah couldn’t help growing some empathy for her.

  “But you don’t want to screw up your dad’s campaign, do you?”

  “No.” Both Madison and her fiancé spoke in unison.

  Hannah grabbed the ring out of Sasha’s hand. “That’s why you have to put this ring back on and pretend for a few more hours. Tomorrow, you should tell your parents that you don’t want to marry this guy. And tell the guy you’re in love with how you feel.”

  “Okay.” Madison took the ring and slipped it back on.

  Hannah clapped her hands like a schoolteacher ready to get her students on the move. “Let’s all go and do some acting.”

  Tomorrow everyone could tell the truth.

  * * *

  —

  THE LAST PERSON JACK had expected to see tonight was Lauren’s sister, Giselle. He’d met her only a few times while he and Lauren were dating. And, frankly, the cool blonde had dead eyes. It freaked him out.

  As she stalked toward him as though he were a prey animal, it dawned on him that she must work with Hannah. And it didn’t take too much of a leap to assume that Giselle was the work nemesis Hannah had complained about over text. Still, he didn’t want word getting back to Lauren that he’d turned into a jerk, even though that didn’t matter at this point. She was happy, and she’d moved on.

  Of course, if he didn’t play his cards right, word would get to Lauren that he’d lost the girl he fully intended on moving on with because of his stupid job. That thought had him eyeing the exits.

  Instead, he decided to man up. He nodded toward the bar, and Giselle gave him a feral smile. She looked just like her sister, except more . . . brittle. Jack couldn’t help but flinch when she grabbed his arm.

  “What are you doing here?” Her question came out as a shriek, which reminded him of another reason he’d avoided Giselle while he was dating Lauren.

  “I came with a date.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him, which he tried to ignore as he ordered himself another one of the special martinis and a glass of champagne for Giselle.

  “Bride or groom?”

  “Huh?” He handed her glass over and threw a five into the bartender’s tip jar.

  “Are you here with the bride or groom?”

  “Neither.”

  “So you’re a party crasher?”

  He smirked at her. If he remembered correctly, and he did, Giselle had always thought her sister could do better than a lifestyle reporter from a blue-collar background. Didn’t matter that his dad was a successful contractor; Giselle James-Stevens had always been concerned with the next rung of the social ladder. It gave him great satisfaction when he said, “I’m here with one of the party planners.”

  “Sasha?”

  Other than wanting to provide a comprehensive report to her sister, he couldn’t see why she was grilling him about his dating life. Still, he wasn’t going to be rude on a night this important to Hannah. “Hannah Mayfield.”

  Giselle’s face pulled into a mask of disgust, and it made Jack’s normally affable nature dissipate in an instant. He didn’t have time to ask why she looked as though she’d just swallowed some funky spunk, because his boss seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  “Jack!” Irv’s voice was like a crack of thunder. “You’re supposed to be working on my story.”

  Irv calling it his story further pissed him off. It was Jack’s story, and one he no longer wanted to tell. “I’m entitled to a Saturday night.” And he certainly hadn’t expected to see his boss at an engagement party. “What are you doing here?”

  “The senator wanted press here.”

  “And you didn’t send one of your political reporters?”

  “Not when I can drink top-shelf for free.” Irv ordered a scotch, neat. “But it could be you drinking Macallan 18 on your beat if you play your cards right.”

  Giselle had somehow managed to screw her face on right and extended her hand to Irv. “Giselle James-Stevens.”

  Irv looked down at her hand as though it was a dirty rag before reluctantly taking it. As irritated as he was, Jack chuckled. He was sure Giselle didn’t usually get such an icy reception from a heterosexual man.

  “This the girl?”

  Jack shook his head, hoping Irv would catch his silent plea to shut his freaking trap. But no luck.

  “What girl?” Giselle sounded confused, which was probably another new experience for her. The last thing Jack wanted was for Hannah to find out that he’d been using her for a story from someone she referred to as “the Wicked Witch of the North Side.”

  “Jack’s been doing a story—dating a girl but doing all the stupid shit that young guys do these days to make her break up with him.” Irv took a drink and continued with a rueful laugh. “But she hasn’t dumped him yet. No self-respect, broads these days.”

  Giselle’s eyes got wide, and Jack legitimately wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Then an evil smile crossed her face and she turned to them. “It was so nice to meet you, Irv. And Jack, it’s always lovely to see such an old friend. But I really must go find Hannah and congratulate her on such a fabulous party.”

  Jack knew things would be over with Hannah if he didn’t get to her first and find
a way to explain things. Things like the fact that he’d never looked out for his career first when the choice was between a career and a woman. Things like he shouldn’t have done that this time. And things like the fact that he was most definitely in love with her and would do just about anything not to lose her.

  He wasn’t sure where Hannah was at that moment, but he could move faster than Giselle in her heels and tight dress. Plus, she’d probably get distracted talking to some business douche who worked with her husband. He could find Hannah and tell her everything before Giselle got to her.

  But just as he was about to excuse himself, Irv blocked his path of egress. “So, we’ve got to talk about this Senator Chapin story—”

  “Irv, I—uh—” Jack hesitated. He wanted to tell Irv that that ship had sailed, but it would have to wait. He couldn’t lose Hannah now that he’d figured out a way to keep her.

  “You want the story, don’t you?” He didn’t have time to explain that he already had the story. It was Irv who’d lost it by not realizing that he was the man for the job in the first place.

  “Of course I do.” The ballroom was packed to the gills. He wasn’t sure he would make it to Hannah in time.

  “I was able to get one of their donors to talk on background . . .”

  “And?” This was a waste of time.

  “You’ll never believe what he used campaign funds for—” Irv stopped when the music stopped and the senator, his wife, his daughter, and his daughter’s fiancé got up on the stage. Everyone went quiet, and they couldn’t exactly discuss the senator’s downfall without being heard.

  And then all hell broke loose. As soon as Senator Chapin opened his mouth, one of the reporters down by the stage shouted, “Is it true that you used campaign contributions to fund this event?”