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Noah hefted his carry-on bag over his shoulder. He hadn’t seen his suitcase since the airport so he assumed it was being dealt with somewhere, and would magically appear in his room when he needed it. He loved hotels. They were almost as good as film sets for having your every need seen to before you even knew what you needed.
‘You’ll turn into one of those puffed up idiots who don’t know the value of a hard day’s work.’
His dad’s voice in his head made Noah scowl, as it always did, but he shook the expression away before Eloise turned to face him and replaced it with his habitual charming smile.
‘Right. Okay.’ Eloise surveyed him with something akin to displeasure on her face, which gave Noah slight pause. Usually, women were delighted to score some alone time with him. And, from the way Eloise had stared at him on arrival, he’d naively assumed that she’d be the same.
Apparently, he was missing something here.
‘If you’ll just follow me, Mr Cross?’ Eloise said, every inch the professional, as she headed for the elevators at the back of the lobby. They had a Gothic-style metalwork design painted on the doors, which amused Noah. As an attempt to make them fit in with the rest of the surroundings of Morwen Hall, he supposed it was as good a try as any.
‘Guess these didn’t come with the building, huh?’ he asked as she pressed the button to call one. ‘The elevators, I mean. Sorry. They’re “lifts” here, right?’
‘That’s right,’ Eloise said with a nod. ‘And no. They didn’t have lifts when Morwen Hall was built.’
From her tone, Noah suspected she was already writing him off as a dumb American movie star. Well, she wouldn’t be the first—hadn’t his own father done the same? And there had been plenty more since—journalists, interviewers, all sorts. It was always fun to prove them wrong.
‘Gothic revival, right? So, nineteenth-century? I’d guess...1850?’
If she was surprised Eloise didn’t show it. ‘1848, actually. At least that was when work started.’
‘Sounds like you know a lot about the place. Have you worked here long?’
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Eloise motioned for him to enter first, which he did, then she stepped in behind him, pressing the button for the top floor.
‘Since I was sixteen,’ she said as the doors swished shut.
Of course. She was Melissa’s oldest friend. She, and the Hall, were presumably the reason they were having the wedding in England in December in the first place. ‘And that’s when you met Melissa, right. Nice of her to want to come back here for the wedding, I guess.’
‘It’s just lovely,’ Eloise said, her tone flat.
Noah was beginning to suspect that ‘oldest friends’ might not be the most accurate of descriptions for Eloise and Melissa’s relationship.
‘She must have a lot of fond memories of working here,’ he pressed.
‘I’m sure she does.’ Eloise didn’t place any extra emphasis on the word ‘she’, but somehow Noah heard it. From what he knew about Melissa, he wasn’t overly surprised. Oh, she was sweetness and light to directors, producers and other stars, but he’d seen her berate one of the catering assistants for not having exactly the right kind of chia seed for her salad. He knew that sort of person—who could be anything you wanted if you mattered, and hell on wheels if you didn’t. Hollywood was full of them.
He prided himself on trying not to ever become one of them. Whatever his father thought.
He’d learned how to be a star and still be gracious from watching Sally. It was one of the many lessons his best friend had taught him. After she got a recurring role in a weekly drama, she’d still been, well, Sally. Lovely and sweet and kind and patient with everyone from her co-stars to the guy on the street begging for enough quarters to buy a coffee. Sally had been the most genuine person he’d known in a city full of actors.
Just remembering that much pricked at his heart and Noah knew it was time to change the subject.
‘Enough about Melissa,’ he said as the elevator reached its destination and the doors parted again. ‘So you’ve worked here, what, eight years?’ He’d guess ten, based on Melissa’s age, but everyone liked a little flattery, right?
‘Ten, actually,’ Eloise corrected him, and he hid a smile. He still had it.
‘Must have seen a lot of changes here.’ That was a given too, right? Everything changed. Whether you wanted it to or not.
‘Yep. Melissa left, for one.’ Eloise shut her eyes briefly. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Yes, you should,’ Noah insisted. Not least because it was the first real thing she’d said since they’d met and for some reason—perhaps because he’d been remembering Sally—Noah wanted her to be real. Maybe it was just that he had enough fakes in his professional life already—not that it usually bothered him. People who were putting on an act, being who they thought you wanted them to be, never wanted you to look too deep or get too close, so they never looked too deep or too close in return. And that suited Noah perfectly.
Too deep and too close led to the sort of pain he wasn’t willing to feel again.
But Eloise... Maybe it would do him good to see some reality again. As long as he wasn’t the one getting real.
‘So... Oldest friend?’ he asked as she led him along a wide corridor, carpeted in deep, dark green pile. They really did go all out with the luxury at this place. Not that Noah was complaining. He’d worked hard for years to earn this sort of luxury. He deserved it. And he would ignore any and all voices inside his head that said otherwise. Even if they did sound like Dad.
What was it about this place that was dredging up all those old insecurities he thought he’d left behind seven years ago? He bit back a laugh. Hadn’t Eloise warned him he might find ghosts here?
‘We’ve known each other pretty much all our lives.’ Eloise sighed. ‘Born in the same hospital, went to the same playgroup, same schools, then had the same part-time jobs as chambermaids here at Morwen Hall.’
‘So you basically lived the same lives until Melissa set out to conquer Hollywood?’ Interesting. He’d expect Eloise to show a little more envy, in that case, but mostly she just seemed...inconvenienced by Melissa’s arrival.
‘Not exactly the same lives,’ Eloise said. ‘But yes, there were similarities, I suppose.’
‘And you never fancied Hollywood?’ With Eloise’s striking looks, he was pretty sure she’d have found some work at least. But Eloise laughed.
‘No, not for me.’
‘How come?’
She paused outside door number three-one-nine and flashed him a smile. ‘Too many actors. Now, let me show you your room.’
He was almost sure she was joking, Noah decided, as Eloise gave him the nickel and dime tour of his suite. For all that Morwen Hall was unlike any building he’d ever been in from the outside, he’d expected the rooms to be fairly standard. ‘Luxury hotel’ didn’t have so many different meanings, in his experience.
The main room of the suite confirmed his guess—there were a couple of creamy sofas, a coffee table laden with magazines and local information, a large window with a round table and two wooden chairs in front of it, a TV, fridge, desk, the usual. But then Eloise led him through to the bedroom.
‘Huh.’ Noah stared at the giant four-poster bed in the middle of the bedroom, decked out with heavy forest-green drapes and blankets over crisp white sheets. The wall behind the bed had been left bare, exposing the original stone of the house, but with tapestries hung either side of the four-poster for warmth. A pile of cushions and pillows in varying shades of green and different textures sat by the wooden headboard, ready to sink into.
‘Do you like it?’ Eloise asked and, for the first time, Noah heard a hint of uncertainty in her voice. ‘With Melissa and Riley out in the Gatehouse suite, this is the best room in the hotel.’
‘It looks it,’ Noah said, eyeing the bed appreciatively. He had some awesome ideas for that bed.
He turned his attention back to Eloise, wondering if she might be willing to help him out with some of them. Given the way she was backing away, probably not.
‘Well, if you’re all settled...’
‘What are you doing this evening?’ Sometimes you just had to take your chances, Noah had learnt. And right then he needed a distraction from all the thoughts of the past that had been plaguing him since he’d arrived—since he’d started reading that script, he realised. That was it. It wasn’t about ghosts, just a story that hit too close to home.
Still, a night with Eloise would probably cure that too.
‘Melissa and Riley have planned a welcome drinks party in the Saloon for all their guests,’ Eloise said promptly. ‘If you head down to reception for seven—’
‘You’ll be there?’ Noah gave her his warmest smile, feeling she might be missing the point slightly.
‘In my capacity as Hotel Manager? Absolutely.’
Definitely missing the point. Was she just shy, star-struck or honestly indifferent to him? Noah couldn’t tell. A perverse part of him almost hoped it was the last option. It had been too long since a woman had offered him a real challenge.
‘In that case, I’m looking forward to it,’ Noah said. Perhaps he’d fit a nap in before seven. That would get him back on his game.
But first he had to finish reading the script before his agent called to ask what he thought.
Work before fun, whatever the press wrote about him.
‘Great,’ Eloise said, sounding as if she was dreading every second. ‘I’ll see you then.’
As the door shut behind her, Noah made himself a promise. Before Melissa and Riley said ‘I do’ he’d get Eloise the Hotel Manager to warm up to him—or even warm him up.
No one ever said that Noah Cross wasn’t up for a challenge.
* * *
Eloise shut Noah’s door behind her and felt every muscle in her body relax for the first time since she’d spotted him outside the hotel. The last thing she needed this week was a distraction—let alone a stupid girlish crush.
Sucking in a deep breath, Eloise made a resolution before striding down the corridor back towards the lifts: under no circumstances would she allow a ridiculous attraction—to a film star of all people—to derail any of the plans for Melissa and Riley’s wedding.
All she needed to do, she reminded herself as she waited for the lift, was to make it to January the first. Then her lovely, normal, sensible and stable life would return and she could forget all about Melissa Sommers until her inevitable divorce and remarriage. No, even then, surely Melissa wouldn’t return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. It had to be bad form to hold a second wedding at the same venue as the first.
If this wedding went well, it could be the last time she had to see Melissa Sommers—ever. If that wasn’t motivation to not mess it up, nothing was.
Downstairs in the lobby, Melissa was still berating Laurel about something or other. Eloise got close enough to hear the words ‘wedding favours’ and ‘an embarrassment’ and backed off to loiter at the reception desk until they were finished. Anything wedding-related that wasn’t actually part of the venue was, unfortunately for Laurel, Laurel’s problem. And, as much as she liked Melissa’s half-sister, Eloise had enough problems of her own at Morwen Hall without borrowing other people’s.
After a few minutes where Eloise pretended to check the reservations system on the computer, Laurel approached, her smile fixed and tight. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to abandon you for a few hours. Melissa needs me to pop up to London.’
‘Wedding favours?’
Laurel nodded. ‘Apparently the ones we decided on three months ago are now passé and embarrassing.’
‘Of course.’ Eloise sighed. There was no way to tell whether Melissa was seriously unhappy with the favours or just trying to make Laurel’s life difficult. Either way, Laurel would need to fix it. ‘So, what’s the plan?’
‘Apparently she’s made some calls and there are now one hundred and fifty alternative favours—something to do with artisan chocolates and mini personalised perfumes, I think—waiting at some boutique in central London. So I’m off to pick them up.’
‘A wedding planner’s work is never done.’
‘Especially not with this wedding.’ Laurel gave her a tired smile. ‘Anyway, I’m going to hitch a lift with the next car arriving from the airport and get it to drop me off on its way to pick up the next set of guests—there should just about be time, as long as the traffic’s not too awful.’
‘How will you get back?’ Eloise asked because she probably shouldn’t grab hold of Laurel’s leg and beg her not to leave her alone with these awful people.
‘The last car heading back from the airport will have to swing past and pick me up.’ Laurel sighed. ‘And I’ll just have to pray that the guest inside isn’t some absurdly high maintenance celeb that objects to travelling with the help—or taking a significant detour.’
Eloise laughed. ‘I cannot imagine where you might have got the idea that Melissa would be friends with that sort of person.’
‘I know, right?’ Laurel smiled again, a real grin this time. Then her expression turned more serious. ‘Will you be okay here without me? Really? I know there’s still masses to do...’
Eloise waved away her concerns with a flap of her hand. Laurel panicking all over London wouldn’t help either of them, or get this wedding going. ‘I’ll be fine. Everything’s set up for the welcome drinks, and Chef’s already in the kitchen working on the canapés and such, so I’m free to supervise the check-ins. Once I’ve shown Melissa and Riley to the Bridal Suite, anyway. I hope they like it.’
‘How could they not? It’s gorgeous.’ Laurel tugged the strap of her messenger bag higher up on her shoulder. ‘Right, I’d better go. Good luck!’
‘You too. May all your favours be cutting edge and perfect.’
‘That’s the hope!’ Laurel waved as she shoved the heavy front door open with her shoulder, and then Eloise was alone with Melissa and Riley. Exactly the scenario she’d been hoping to avoid.
With a bright smile, Eloise turned to walk towards the bride and groom, who were indulging in a nauseating public display of affection in her lobby. Because this week wasn’t awkward enough already.
‘If you two are ready, I’d love to show you both to our Bridal Suite. I think you’ll agree it’s something a bit special.’
Melissa pulled away from Riley, who kept his hand low on her hip. ‘I can’t wait to see it! You’ve converted the old gatehouse, Laurel said?’
She sounded enthusiastic enough, which gave Eloise hope. Maybe Melissa had grown up at last and all the tensions of the last six months were just the usual stresses of being a bride, plus the added stress of doing it all in the limelight. It seemed unlikely but Eloise lived in hope.
‘That’s right,’ she said, leading them out of the hotel’s front door and down the steps to the driveway. ‘It’s just a short walk from the Hall proper, but we find that our happy couples enjoy the privacy.’
Riley’s mouth twitched into a grin at that. ‘I bet they do. I know I plan to!’
Melissa dodged his hands as he grabbed for her waist again. For a moment she looked so girlish and young that they could all have been sixteen again. Except, Eloise reminded herself, if they were, she definitely wouldn’t have been invited to hang out with them.
‘Not until after the wedding, you don’t!’ Melissa squealed as she danced across the driveway in her ridiculously expensive leather boots and impractical bright white coat. Her blonde hair shone in the winter sunlight, her pale skin flawless as she smiled.
It was, Eloise decided, a good job she wasn’t the jealous type.
‘Can you believe it?’ Riley asked, falling into step with Eloise. ‘She’s making me wait until after the wedding. I have the most beautiful fiancée in the world and I’m not even allowed to touch her.’
‘Oh, like you haven’t touched me plenty before,’ Melissa said with a flirtatious laugh. ‘I seem to remember you could barely do anything else for the first month or two...’
Eloise picked up the pace just a bit, relieved when the Gatehouse came into view around the edge of the trees.
‘Not for the last forty-eight hours!’ Riley protested. ‘It’s cruel and unusual torture; that’s what it is. Eloise agrees, don’t you?’
Eloise pretty much thought it was none of her business, and she’d rather keep it that way, but the client was the client.
‘I think that seeing the Bridal Suite might tempt her resolve,’ she said diplomatically.
‘That’s why he won’t be staying in it until the wedding night.’ Melissa’s tone was triumphant, and the small smile on her face as she looked at Eloise made it clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘Oh, didn’t Laurel tell you that Riley would need a separate room until Saturday?’
Eloise bit the inside of her cheek in a desperate attempt to keep a hold on her temper. Melissa knew perfectly well that she hadn’t—probably because she’d never mentioned it to Laurel in the first place. In fact, Eloise suspected that she’d just come up with it at that moment and was now using the idea to play Eloise and Laurel off each other. That would be just the sort of thing she would do.
Well. Eloise might have fallen for it when she was sixteen. But she wasn’t sixteen any longer.
‘Actually, she did suggest it might be a possibility so I’ve got a very special room put aside for Riley in the hotel, just in case he needed it.’
Riley looked impressed. Melissa looked murderous. Eloise smiled serenely and moved past them both to unlock the door to the Gatehouse.
‘Now, how about we take a look at where you’ll be spending your first night as man and wife?’ she said. Then she could get onto building an extra hotel suite for Riley. There had to be a solution somewhere. She just hadn’t thought of it yet.
Even Melissa had to be impressed by the Gatehouse Suite, and Riley’s eyes were huge as Eloise gave them the tour. Morwen Hall was a luxury hotel from top to bottom but the Gatehouse kicked that luxury up a notch further. The stone building had been completely renovated—walls had been knocked through to turn what had been a small family home into a spacious suite for two. Downstairs was laid out as an open-plan living area, with a small kitchen counter running along one side. It wasn’t a functioning kitchen—that wasn’t what guests needed here. Instead, it had a small fridge filled with champagne and another stuffed with high-end chocolates, caviar and other delicious treats. A top of the range coffee machine with quality china fulfilled guests’ caffeine needs, and an extensive menu was available twenty-four hours from direct dial to the front desk.
