To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(38)

“Oh gosh no,” she said, sounding horrified at the prospect.

“Ms. Baldwin, you can’t tell me those five-inch spikes are comfortable.”

“Of course they’re not,” she muttered. “But I certainly can’t take them off around someone who calls me Ms. Baldwin.”

“All right, then,” he said, his voice coming out low and gruff as he held her eyes in challenge. “You can take them off. Brooke.”





Chapter Fourteen





SINCE WHEN HAD A man suggesting she remove her very stylish, very expensive, very uncomfortable shoes become just about the biggest turn-on in her adult life?

Since now, apparently.

Because when Seth Tyler was looking at her with those ice-blue eyes, and her name—her first name—on those lips, Brooke wanted to take off a hell of a lot more than her shoes.

She bit her lip and took another sip of her drink. “I really—no, I’m fine.”

He nodded once, setting his drink on a small end table. She assumed he was going to drop the topic, but to her utter surprise, he slowly bent forward, and, slipping a hand around her calf, he pulled her leg gently forward, just enough so that he could ease the shoe off.

The cramped bones in her toes immediately sighed in relief, but even as her foot relaxed, the rest of her went on high alert.

Seth reached for her other leg, not meeting her eyes as he repeated the same motion with the other foot. Only when both shoes were carefully set aside did his gaze lock with hers, and Brooke’s breath caught, not just at the warmth in his eyes, although there was plenty of that.

No, what made her heart beat just a touch faster was the shyness there. It told her that the boldness was uncharacteristic of him, and she felt . . . damn it. She felt a wave of tenderness.

Her smile felt tremulous. “A bit of a reverse-Cinderella thing we have going on here,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Reverse indeed,” he said, seeming relieved at her response. “Since I’m no prince.”

“You sure about that?” Brooke said as she made a sweeping gesture at his office. “Because if where you work looks this much like a palace, I can’t even imagine where you must live.”

Seth sat back in his chair and reached once again for his drink as though they hadn’t had a moment more akin to a couple that had been together for years rather than business acquaintances who’d known each other for a few days.

He grinned a little evilly. “Ms. Baldwin, are you trying to wrangle an invitation to my home?”

They were back to Ms. Baldwin, then. That was okay though. He could call her whatever he wanted as long as he kept smiling at her all friendly and familiar like that.

“Where do you live?” she asked, taking advantage of the rare easy mood between them.

He glanced down at his drink. “My dad was big into real estate. Maya and I inherited a few properties around the city.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“That’s because I hate this question.” Seth blew out a little breath. “Okay, fine. I live in one of my hotels.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Seth blinked. “You don’t think it’s . . . cold, or impersonal?”

Brooke laughed and took a sip of her drink, pulling her feet up beneath her on the couch before she could think better of it. She felt a little stab of embarrassment, but reversing the gesture would be even more awkward, so she decided to just roll with it in the name of comfort.

“No, not really. I mean, do you like living there?” she asked.

He chewed a piece of ice thoughtfully. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

“Dude, you need to get some new friends,” she said. “You seem to know a lot of people who either don’t like where you live or don’t care.”

He winced, and Brooke immediately regretted her words. She’d meant them jokingly, but obviously it had struck a nerve. “I didn’t mean—”

Seth held up a hand. “Don’t apologize. Please. And you’re right. I do need some new friends, probably. As far as whether or not I like where I live . . . I do. I don’t know that I want to live there forever. Or even next year. But where I’m at in my life right now, I like the convenience of it. I’m close to the office, I can get room service whenever I want . . .”

“And you own the building,” she said.

“Yes, there are perks to the job,” he said.

They were both silent for a moment, and Brooke let herself relax into the quiet.

Finally, however, she realized they probably couldn’t put off the inevitable, and she reached into her bag for her planner. “So, let’s talk wedding, shall we?”

He groaned. “Do we have to?”

Brooke glanced up, startled. “This was your idea, Mr. Tyler.”

“I know,” he said, draining the rest of his drink. “And at the time, it seemed like a good one. Hell, it’s still a good one. I want—need—to know what’s going on with Maya, but with you all curled up on my sofa with your shoes off, I find that it’s not what I want to be talking about at the moment.”

Brooke’s belly flipped at his words—at the picture he painted.

And even more so because he looked embarrassed by the admission.