“Your dog?”
“Timmy, a mongrel stray that stole my heart and then got killed.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”
“Oh dear, that’s so sad.” Piper immediately thought of Aspen and how she’d feel if anything happened to her. And then how tender Matt had been around the animal. Her heart twisted. “I’m sure you gave him a wonderful life in the time you had together.”
“Stepfather of the moment didn’t like him. It wasn’t that great for me or the dog.”
“Oh.”
“I buried him in the backyard in Boston and then I left for good. Not a smart move for a sixteen-year-old, but I turned out okay in the end. Financially.”
Piper stared at the ice cream sundae that had been steadily melting into pink and white soup under the halogen lamps. “You won’t want one of Aspen’s kittens then, I guess.”
He smiled sadly. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“So you’re really leaving on the sixteenth?”
“I’m really leaving. Are you mad at me for that?”
Was she? There was a fist-shaped ball in her chest and she felt sick as she tried to form a coherent answer. She wanted to look him in the eye and ask if she would ever see him again after the beer launch because that was what she really wanted to know. But it was a question she couldn’t ask. It would be so needy of her that he’d run a mile in the opposite direction, and she wouldn’t get those last eight days of being with him. She wanted those last eight days with him more than anything, she suddenly realized, and the truth made her feel weak and hopeless. She was in love with him, and he was going to leave her like he left everywhere and everyone in the end.
“It’s your life, Matt,” she managed to say. “I can’t be mad at you for wanting to live it.”
“The dancing has started back there if you’re interested,” he said and reached out to take her hand.
“Actually, I’m not. Really, I’m sorry, but I’d be happy to go as soon as it’s polite for us to leave.”
A slow smile parted his lips. “Sounds like a plan. Our suite is exquisite. You should come and see it.”
“Our suite?”
“Yeah, why not? All part of the wedding of the year exploitation experience, something to make the whole PR circus bearable after the bride and groom have gone to bed. A reward for us having to smile at strangers for so long. A refuge from the relentless cameras. Because publicity is the only reason we’re here.”
“I thought the groom was your buddy.”
“We’re business associates, that’s all, but both of us know a good promotional opportunity when we see one. Did you notice all those guys with the tripods and white screens? Hello magazine, exclusive access, worldwide glitzy glossy coverage of me. And you.”
“And presumably the happy couple,” she said.
“The toast was made with PCB No. 68. The bride loves pink, but doesn’t like pink wine. It’s a media coup.”
She glanced down at the untouched glasses of pink fizz and picked them up. Handing him one, she pasted on a smile. “So here’s to you and never failing to mix business with pleasure. May you sell many, many barrels.”
He laughed and took a sip without taking his eyes off her. “Business is over for the day. It’s pure pleasure time now.”
“Don’t you want to exploit a few more photo opportunities back there?”
He shook his head. “They’ve had enough—keep them hungry for more. There’s an amazing shot of us together.”
“I look forward to seeing it. I might even frame it.” She put her glass down and couldn’t fail to notice the change in his expression. “Joke,” she added quickly to squash any impression she might have given about being sentimental. The cards were all laid out face-up on the table. A no-strings fling for the next eight days. Business, pleasure, money, and decadence.
Most definitely not commitment, sentimentality, or anything beyond that.
In eight days, it would be adios, arrivederci, adieu, and she had to get used to the idea quickly. She had agreed to go along with it and if she was going to back out, it really had to be now.
She should back out before she got sucked in deeper, before he’d had his fill and spat her out…
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said with a million-dollar grin and fished a key card out of his pocket. “You have got to see where we’re staying tonight.”
Chapter Fourteen
They took the elevator to the top floor of the chateau, and the suite door opened straight into an enormous room with the trademark high-beamed ceiling, panoramic windows, and a crackling log fire. It was dominated by a colossal bed that had white silk drapes hanging over it like something out of Arabian Nights, but it promised much more than a good night’s sleep. In the corner of the room surrounded by flickering candles was the biggest, deepest, most luxurious Jacuzzi she had ever seen. It was set into a wall of rough rock and stones that gave it the feeling of being a deep, languid pool in the mountain forests.
A specially positioned domed ceiling above it was subtly lit with tiny spotlights, like stars or fireworks. A secret place for lovers. Scarlet rose petals were scattered around the wide ledge, and to the side was an ice bucket holding an unopened bottle of champagne.
Piper felt more relaxed already, safe in this sensuous hideaway. “Wow, anyone would think we were the bride and groom—talk about luxurious.”
He took her by the hand and led her closer to the hot tub. “See that red glass bottle set into that little alcove in the rock?”
“Yes, it’s gorgeous, catching the candlelight like that.”
“Any idea what’s in it?”
“It’s probably just an ornament,” she said with a grin and slipped off her shoes, relishing the feel of the mellow wood on her stiletto-ravaged feet.
He plucked the bottle from its resting place and offered it to her. “Open it.”
She took the cold crystal stopper between her fingertips and eased it out. The fragrance hit her immediately and she closed her eyes with pleasure. “Moroccan rose…you don’t forget a damn thing, do you?”
“Nope.” He took it gently from her and poured a stream of the precious liquid into the glassy pool before using the tiny remote control by the champagne bucket to start the bubbles working. “I remember you raving about it over that rose martini in Sanibel.”