The Wedding Chapel Page 2

  She’d handled this situation by dividing up the family’s holdings so that all three had separate corporations to run so that they only reported to her, not to each other. When it came to the family foundation, however, no such split was legally feasible. Which meant, Margaret had informed them, that they had to get along well enough to run the foundation, or die trying.

  “Right then, boys, let’s focus on what brings us together today.” The Bladestone matriarch had no compunction about referring to the three grown men as boys. “We’re here in Las Vegas, the city of sin, the center of American indulgence, for a specific purpose.”

  “A purpose?” Edwin echoed.

  Colin shot an amused glance in his cousin’s direction. Poor Edwin. Judging by the tremor in his voice, he’d made the mental leap from the word purpose to perceived effort.

  “Focus, boys, focus.” Margaret handed each of them a blue folder. “In this folder you will find your instructions.” She held up a hand to forestall the question that Thomas started to ask. “No questions. Everything you need to know is in here. You have one week to accomplish your task. There are very few rules except these; one, you keep things legal. Two, you work alone. Not that any of you could possibly work together successfully, sadly. Third and final rule, be creative in your planning and dynamic in your execution.” She looked from Thomas, to Edwin, to Colin. “You’ll see me around the resort, no doubt. If I’m at the bar, leave me alone. If I’m by the pool, don’t disturb me. And for heaven sakes, don’t ring my suite unless one of you is either bleeding or has been arrested. Have I made myself clear?”

  Colin stood and tucked the folder under his arm. “Crystal clear.” He waved to his cousins and nodded to his grandmother before he headed out into the corridor. His curiosity was most definitely aroused but he wasn’t about to indulge it until he was someplace private and quiet where he could read through his grandmother’s latest idea of a game. A game he was going to win, one way or the other.

  Bella hung up the phone and sat back in her chair with a very decided sigh of relief. Granted, an appointment with a potential client wasn’t a signed contract. Even a signed contract with a deposit check wouldn’t be a drop in the financial bucket, but it was at least a distraction.

  “Good news?”

  She smiled at her grandfather’s optimistic tone. “Perhaps, I’ve got a meeting late this afternoon with a potential bride.”

  “Ah, see, I told you my dear,” Clive smiled, “I feel the winds of change upon us. Everything is going to turn around soon.”

  As always, Bella was unsure of how much realism to inject into her reply. “Keep in mind, Grandpa, that this is only a preliminary meeting.” For one mid-size wedding which, with any luck, would result in a mid-size check. She flipped open her laptop. “Would you mind fielding calls while I put together a proposal for the budget minded bride?”

  “Happy to, my dear. You just work away and don’t worry about the phone. I’ve got it covered.”

  Bella wasn’t worried at all. They’d be lucky if the phone rang one time and it wasn’t a wrong number. As she began to work, she glanced over at her grandfather. He had the cordless phone in one hand, an Agatha Christie paperback in another. A rush of affection rolled over her, he really was the most wonderful grandparent in the entire universe. She bit her lip. Was it even right to try to keep the Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel alive? Maybe it was time to get out of business before they incurred any serious debt. If she could convince her grandfather to bail out now, there would be enough money to help him settle into an active senior living community. Wouldn’t he be happier playing golf and flirting with a bevy of silver haired senior ladies?

  “I’m good if you’re good.”

  Bella snapped out of her reverie. “Pardon me?”

  Clive carefully set his paperback aside. “You’re wondering if your old grandfather wouldn’t be happier living in Arizona, playing golf, totally free from worrying about keeping our little chapel going. Well, I wouldn’t like that. Not at all. I’m game to keep struggling along if you are.”

  “Oh, Grandpa.” Bella pushed away from the desk and came around to sit in the chair beside him. “Don’t you get tired of worrying about cash flow?”

  He shrugged. “Worry is a part of life. I can accept that without losing hope.”

  “Hope.” Bella leaned back to rest her head against the wall. She reached up to massage her temples. “So you worry for a little while and then what? Push reality away?”

  “Ah, reality. Funny thing you should use that word, Bella.”

  “What’s funny about it?”

  Clive smiled. “Well, you see, there’s reality and then there’s reality.”

  Bella shook her head. “I don’t see the distinction.”

  “No, I didn’t think you would.” Clive sighed. “People seem to forget they can make the decision to not wallow in worry. It’s not a house, we don’t have to live in it. Worry isn’t a form of meditation that we need to practice daily, and it’s not an affirmation that we need to constantly repeat.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t worry? Ever?”

  “Sometimes, yes, but not about money. I worry about things that really matter.”

  “Such as?”

  He reached over and gave her cheek an affectionate pinch. “You.”

  She laughed. “I’m the least of your worries, Grandpa.”

  “Not strictly true. I worry that you’re stuck here worrying about me when you should be doing something else with your life. You should be living your dream, not mine.” He looked around the chapel foyer. “Your grandmother and I carved this little chapel out of a dream. But what are you going to carve out of your dreams?”

  Bella looked down at her hands and studied her long, tapered fingers that ended in manicured French tips. “I don’t think I was born to carve.”

  “Ha, that statement just shows that you’re wasting your time worrying when you should be dreaming.” He picked up his mystery novel. “Why don’t you finish up your proposal and I’ll sit here and not worry for the both of us.”

  Bella shook her head ruefully. “I hardly know how to argue with that logic.” She returned to her desk and tried to focus on the proposal in front of her but it wasn’t an easy task. Her grandfather’s question played on auto-repeat as she stared at the numbers on the screen. What was she going to carve out of life? What were her dreams? The only thing she knew for certain was that it was downright sad that, at age twenty-eight, she didn’t have a clue what she really wanted from life.

  She snapped her laptop closed and stood. “I’m going to head over to the Desert Oasis now, Grandpa. I can finish this proposal up while I wait for our bride-to-be to show up. Will you be okay here?”

  He nodded. “You go, a change of scenery would be good for you.” He held up the phone. “I’ve got things covered here.”

  Bella stuffed everything she needed into her leather satchel. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck,” Clive assured her. “You need to have some fun, meet someone, enjoy a drink with a handsome stranger.”

  Bella came around the desk and dropped a kiss on her grandfather’s cheek. “Your problem is that you think life is a romance novel with a guaranteed happy ever after ending.”

  “And your problem is that you don’t agree with me. Now go, find yourself some fun.”

  Colin closed the folder he’d just finished reading and downed the last mouthful of scotch in his glass. Despite its rich flavor, there wasn’t nearly enough in his glass to ease the sting of what he’d just read. An entire bottle wouldn’t likely be enough. He silently cursed his grandmother and her manipulative tendencies. She was likely to either be the death of him or cost him his sanity. Either scenario would likely delight his grandmother. “The old biddy,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Sorry, sir?”

  Colin glanced up at the cocktail waitress. She was scantily clad in black fishnet stockings and a scrap of black satin f
abric that was doubtless meant to pass for a garment. “Nothing, I was thinking aloud.”

  The waitress grinned. “You’re a Brit, aren’t you?”

  Her delighted expression told him that she bought into the fantasy of the modern day Englishman being a cross between James Bond and Prince William. Great wealth and good manners with a dash of sex appeal. It made for great fiction. “Guilty as charged,” he conceded. “Might I trouble you for another?” He held up his empty scotch glass.

  The waitress took the glass from his outstretched hand. It didn’t escape his notice that she flirtatiously brushed her fingers across his but he gave no indication that he noticed. He needed another drink and some solitude, not companionship.

  Once his drink was delivered and the waitress had moved on, he sipped his scotch and stared unseeingly into the sea of people seated in the lounge area. What was his grandmother up to? As usual, no good. That much he’d immediately realized as he scanned the stack of papers she’d given him. Had she lost her mind? This venture of hers was ridiculous. Bizarre was a better word to describe it. Ludicrous.

  He held his glass up and swirled the contents. The liquid sloshing about mirrored his state of mind. He set the glass down on the low table in front of him and leaned back. That was quite enough alcohol. He wasn’t a heavy drinker under any circumstances, and under these conditions especially, he needed to keep his wits about him. Because there was no way he was going to let his family fortune go to the dogs, specifically not to the Pekingese Protection Society.

  But unless Colin was wrong about his grandmother, she’d done her due diligence. She wasn’t given to arbitrary whims. No, she knew what she was about. If he didn’t impress the heck out of her by winning this challenge, the millions in the Bladestone trust would be spent on pampering pooches for eternity. Colin reached for the glass and tossed back the remainder of his drink.

  Maybe he should refuse to participate in this ridiculous plan of hers. Wouldn’t it serve her right if he refused to jump through the hoop she’d chosen for her grandsons? Thomas and Edwin could take on the Pekingese while he simply walked away.

  Except that he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He closed his eyes and indulged in a long suffering sigh. There was too much money in the Bladestone trust to let it go without a fight. Not that he wanted it, or needed it, for himself. He was set financially. But that much money could do amazing things for people and animals that desperately needed it. Morality demanded he do as his grandmother wished. And morality trumped his burning desire to walk away.

  Despite the comfort of his seat, Colin drew himself to his feet. The best place for him to be wasn’t in a lounge nursing a drink but in his hotel room brainstorming ideas. He opened his wallet and tossed two twenties on the table.

  He turned to leave but stopped when he saw her, the stunning redhead from the wedding chapel. For a long moment Colin found himself holding his breath as he watched her. She was shaking another woman’s hand, her demeanor left him no doubt this was all about business. But as soon as the woman was gone, the redhead sank back into her chair and ran her hands through her hair. Ah, she was exasperated. How well he knew the feeling.

  Colin knew he should look away. He shouldn’t just stand there in the middle of a noisy, crowded lounge and stare. But God, she was beautiful. She’d swapped out the silk and leather she’d worn earlier for a teal sheath dress that accentuated her long legs. There was something powerfully seductive about her, an easy grace to her movements that was beyond attractive. And he knew from their earlier run in at the chapel that her hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence.

  He’d been ill-mannered when they’d met earlier. Now was the perfect opportunity to apologize. It wasn’t at all like him to approach a woman, generally they approached him. Neither was it like him to ignore work when he had something so pressing to see to.

  Colin made a snap decision. The work on his project could wait.

  Chapter 3

  “Pardon me, Miss, can you tell me the time?”

  Bella was so completely focused on tucking her tablet into her satchel that she didn’t hear anyone approach. She jumped when she heard a man speak to her. His voice was deep, undeniably sexy, and his accent very British. Her heart racing, she looked up, already knowing just who she was going to see. Fervently she prayed that her surprise didn’t show. She glanced at her watch in what she hoped was a casual manner and answered his question. She stood and pointedly glanced at the bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes he was holding. “I see you’re meeting someone. You’re quite welcome to this table. I was just leaving.”

  “Please don’t.”

  This wasn’t at all what Bella expected to hear. “Please don’t what?”

  “Leave.” He smiled.

  “You want me to keep you company until your date arrives?”

  He shook his head. “I want you to be my date.” He held up the champagne. “Join me for a drink?”

  Bella knew this was the time to issue her standard ‘thanks but not interested’ disclaimer. But, while the words generally rolled right off her tongue, this time it wasn’t so easy. Something about this man was different from all the others. Different enough to set off alarm bells. “I really shouldn’t.”

  “Shouldn’t as in can’t or won’t?”

  Perhaps it was the accent, but something about the way the words were spoken sounded more charming than challenging. Bella felt her defenses weakening. Rapidly. “I don’t know.” Bella glanced around the lounge. It was full of couples enjoying a drink. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out on the town. Or a date. It had been ages at least. But then again she couldn’t remember the last time she’d met a man who’d even slightly interested her. This one certainly did.

  “Please say yes. I’d at least like the opportunity to properly apologize for my rudeness this morning.”

  That did it. There was no way she could resist such good old fashioned manners. Bella sank back down into the chair she’d occupied earlier. “I don’t know your name.”

  Her companion set the champagne bottle and flutes on the glass cocktail table in front of them. But instead of sitting opposite her, he settled into the chair next to hers. “Let’s do this properly.” He held out his hand. “I’m Colin Bladestone.”

  Bella shook his hand, surprised by the funny little jolt of energy that ran through her. Energy. Attraction. Whatever it was, it excited her. “Bella Johnson.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Bella.” He released her hand but kept his eyes fixed on hers. “I beg your pardon for my unconscionably rude behavior this morning. I never should have let my frustration turn into boorishness.”

  Bella laughed, she couldn’t help it. Boorishness? As silly as the word was, coming from Colin, it had its own charm. She gestured to the champagne. “Let’s drink to forgiveness.”

  She watched as Colin loosened the wire cage that covered the bottle’s neck and then draped a cloth napkin over the cork. In an obviously well practiced move, he twisted the bottle slightly until there was a tiny pop. His movements as he poured her a glass and handed it to her were fluid and elegant. He really was criminally handsome, she decided. And he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, she’d already noticed that morning. To save her life, Bella doubted she could take her eyes off of him. She only hoped it wasn’t patently obvious.

  Colin raised a glass. “To beautiful women who are kind enough to forgive ill-mannered men.”

  Bella gently clinked her glass against his before she took a small sip. The cool, bubbly liquid delighted her taste buds. “Exquisite.” She took another small sip and savored it.

  “I’m pleased you approve of my choice,” Colin said. “I saw you earlier meeting with a woman I presume was a prospective client? Shall we drink to a successful outcome?”

  Bella shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I didn’t sign her.” She leaned forward and set her glass on the table. “Thank you for the drink, Colin, but I probably should go.”

  “Not yet
, Bella. What would it say about American hospitality if you left me here all alone to drink by myself?” He refilled her glass and handed it back to her. “Tell me about your meeting.”

  Bella took a tentative sip while she weighed her options. Nothing was stopping her from politely declining and getting up to leave. But what did she have to look forward to at home? It was her grandfather’s bridge night, which meant she’d sit and worry about the chapel’s less than rosy financial future. Neither option was anywhere near as appealing as staying right where she was. Granted she wasn’t the kind of girl who made a habit of sitting in a lounge drinking with a man she didn’t know well, but what could it hurt this once? “Work is the last thing I want to talk about tonight. Tell me about yourself.”

  Colin watched her for a long moment before he responded. “I’m from England, but I rather imagine you’ve guessed that.”

  She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I did. What are you doing here in sin city?”

  “Business.”

  “Convention?”

  He shook his head. “Not precisely. I work in the family business.”

  “Ah, there’s something we have in common. So do I.” Bella took another sip of champagne. The extent of her experience with it was ordering it for wedding receptions, but she decided she could most definitely stand to become better acquainted with the stuff. It was going to her head. “Do you enjoy it, working with your family, I mean?”

  Colin shrugged. “It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. And it really isn’t the kind of job one easily leaves, is it?”

  “It’s a little like the circus, once you’re in, you’re in to stay,” Bella said. Her attempt at levity was rewarded with a smile.

  Her companion raised his glass. “To working with one’s family and all the insanity that it entails.”

  Bella lifted her glass. “Here’s to not mentioning the subject again tonight.”