“You had other opportunities. The engagement party. The bachelor party. You could have dropped him a text anytime in the last eight months.”

  “Did you want me to tell him?”

  “No. I don’t know,” she muttered, exhaling with frustration.

  He waited, but she didn’t add anything.

  “In my perfect world, I would never cross paths with your brother again,” Remy said. “But that wasn’t reason enough to get in the way of Hunter’s life plan. Whatever this feud is that Micah thinks we’re engaged in, he’s the only one playing.”

  “Really. Because that’s what he said about you.” Her tone was pithy. Her big brown eyes were swallowing her face, swimming in confusion.

  “Damn.” He almost missed his turn. “Do you want to come with me? I can drop you in Toronto.” He pointed at the sign that warned of low-flying helicopter traffic.

  “Oh. Yes. Thank you. I would really appreciate that.”

  He snorted. They were enemies, he reminded himself, and he only wished he felt it more deeply.

  * * *

  Remy drew to a stop outside a heliport where colorful flags hung motionless in the afternoon sun. A family picnicked on a table nearby and a woman pointed at Eden as she emerged from the car.

  “Look! They’re getting married in a helicopter!”

  Not. But Eden didn’t want to curdle everyone’s ice cream with a glower so she picked up her skirts and followed Remy into the building.

  “You’re early, sir.” A young man straightened from chatting up the pretty young woman behind the heliport’s check-in counter. “I had a bird strike on my way in. One of the rotors is damaged...” His voice trailed off with confusion as he noticed Eden behind him.

  “It’s being repaired?” Remy asked.

  “Not yet.” The young man dragged his distracted attention back to Remy. “They didn’t have a spare here. The replacement is on its way. Their mechanic can install it when it arrives, but I expected you to be three or four hours at least.”

  “I’ll charter one of yours,” Remy said to the young woman who had a name tag that read Andrea.

  “All of our machines are in the air,” Andrea said with an apologetic look. “We’re fully booked for tours.” She gestured at the family in the waiting area.

  A boy was guiding his toy helicopter on a path around the coffee table. His adolescent brother studied Eden with puzzled curiosity. Their mother met Eden’s eyes with a stare that both dared and pleaded with her not to disappoint her young family.

  It had probably taken her all year to save up for this treat for her boys. Eden was willing to tell her what kind of day she was having, though, to see if they could come to an understanding.

  “Let me have a look,” Remy said gruffly, shifting his gaze from the family to Eden. He flickered his eyes at the gown that was beginning to weigh on her like a soggy fishing net. “If I can’t fix it myself, it’s likely to be a few hours. Maybe call your friend to come get you?”

  Seriously? He thought she would plant herself in that tiny waiting room eating dry popcorn until Quinn got here?

  “Is there somewhere more comfortable where we could wait?” she asked Andrea as Remy walked out to the tarmac.

  “We have some partner hotels who are very good to us. Let me make a call.”

  Eden had meant a private lounge, but Andrea was already dialing and, yes, she would prefer a hotel.

  She took a quick peek at her own phone. There were a plethora of texts and voice mails—her mother, Micah, Quinn, Vienna and other guests from the wedding. Oof. Shareholders. BH&G’s chief financial officer was also trying to reach her.

  This was a seriously terrible, no-good awful day.

  “They’re trying to get off on their honeymoon, but there’s a mechanical issue.” Andrea’s giggle penetrated Eden’s awareness. “No. Not that kind! But they are anxious for some alone time.” She winked at Eden’s stunned expression. “Be a cupid—Oh, wait. Let me ask.” She tucked the phone into her neck. “Budget?”

  “Money’s no object,” Eden said flatly. The cost of her wedding was up in flames. What was one more hotel room on top of it?

  “The best you have. Perfect,” Andrea purred into the phone. “They’ll be there shortly.” She hung up and scribbled out an address. “Ask for Jorge. Tell them Andrea sent you.” She pronounced it On-dray-yah.

  Eden accepted the chit of paper and wondered if one really could die from a thousand paper cuts, because she was ready to give it a whirl.

  Remy strode in from the tarmac with a scowl of annoyance. “It’s not something I want to risk. I’ll have to wait for the repair.”

  “No problem. On-dray-yah booked us a room.” Eden said it with an admirable lack of sarcasm.

  “Great.” He took the directions and they went back out to his car.

  Eden dropped back into her seat with defeat. Exhaustion was catching up to her. Not only from her poor sleep last night, but also from the marathon that was the organization of a wedding and the fraught emotional journey of taking control of BH&G only to discover it was adrift on stormy seas.

  “I kind of want to get drunk off my face,” she said as he pulled away from the heliport.

  “Fill your boots. I have to fly later so I’ll stick to water.”

  Maybe she should stay the night after all. Quinn would happily get drunk with her.

  A few minutes later, Remy pulled into the shaded portico of a ritzy hotel. A man in a hotel uniform hurried out to greet them. His name tag read Jorge.

  “You must be Andrea’s honeymooners. Let’s get you comfortable.” He took the duffel from Remy’s popped trunk, then looked with puzzlement from Eden to the empty trunk to her parade float of a dress.

  “Do you have a boutique in your lobby? Send up a selection,” Remy said tersely. “Put everything on my card.” He handed it over.

  Moments later, they were shown into a top-floor suite.

  “It’s the only thing that wasn’t booked. I hope it suits?” Jorge asked.

  It had a full living room with an electric fireplace, a kitchenette, a bedroom with a king-size bed and a Jacuzzi tub with shutters that stood open, allowing the bathers to take in the spectacle of the waterfall beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Eden paused to take in the massive wonder that she had never made the time to see before. It was a stunning sight. Frothy, green-blue water poured over a horseshoe-shaped ridge. Mist billowed off the heavy curtain and floated toward the cloudless sky.

  Housekeeping staff were hustling around, setting out a bucket of champagne and gift baskets of fruit and other snacks. One paused to light some candles. Eden shook her head.

  “That isn’t necessary.” Hysteria was threatening to explode out of her. “Can you all please leave?”

  “She really is in a hurry,” one muttered as they melted away.

  The door shut and there was only the faint but distinct rush of water over the falls.

  “If you laugh, I will throw myself off that balcony right now,” Eden warned Remy.

  “I’m not enjoying this, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” He began unbuttoning his morning coat, then halted. His cheek ticked. “Do you need help getting out of that?”

  “And wear what?” she cried.

  “There must be a robe in the bathroom. Or...” He moved his duffel onto the sofa and dug through it, coming up with a gray T-shirt and maroon shorts with a drawstring.

  Dear Lord, those looked so comfortable she could have wept.

  “I’m about ready to cut myself free of this,” she conceded. It was the foundation layer of shapewear that was killing her. “If you could just open the little catches...” She fiddled at the base of her spine, but the hooks and eyes were hidden behind a fold of satin.

  She turned her back and he came up behind her.

  “Your skirt is in the way.” The satin shifted against her legs as he brushed it aside.

  He stepped closer and pressed bunched silk to the backs of her thighs. Her skin tightened. Her scalp tingled with awareness of his looming presence. She thought she felt his breath against the back of her neck, but she was barely breathing herself. Her eyes drifted shut. His light touch grazed where the back dipped to expose the top of her spine.

  “They’re behind the—”

  “Yes, I’ve worked it out.” His voice sounded strange. Deep, but tight. His fingers slid under the edge of the satin, where it hugged the skin of her back. The bodice tightened slightly.

  Her nipples stung and a weighted heat rushed into the place between her thighs. A noise like a sob tried to escape her throat.

  There was the barest hint of release, then the squeeze again as he drew the gown tight so he could release the next hook.

  “It’s a pretty gown. It suits you.”

  “Thanks?” Was he not drowning in sensuality and absurdity, the way she was?

  Another constriction, then another release.

  “Does that hurt? It left a mark here.” His thumb lightly grazed her shoulder blade.

  “It’s fine.” Her voice was pitched three octaves too high.

  Slowly, slowly, he freed her. When the front began to slip, she pressed her forearms across it. Her breathing grew more uneven as he worked. Her skin was so sensitive to the brush of his knuckles, she was bereft when the faint contact ceased.

  She practically swayed where she stood. This was the part where her groom was supposed to take her to the bed and finish seducing her. Kiss me. Touch me, her body cried.

  “Thank you,” she said, forcing out the words. Her voice was barely a whisper.

  She scooped up her purse and started for the bedroom.

  “Eden.”

  Her name in his deep voice halted her.

  Her head swam at the conflicting dictates between rational thought and carnal desires. She reeled at his calling her back, unprepared for whatever he was about to ask her.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t forget these.” He offered his shirt and shorts.

  She snatched at them. “Thanks.”

  Mortified, she hurried into the bedroom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  REMY WAS SERIOUS about zero alcohol when he had to operate anything larger than a toaster, especially an aircraft, but damn, did he want a drink.

  He settled for an icy bottle of spring water and drank it so fast he gave himself a throbbing ache behind his left eye.

  Too bad it didn’t numb the pulsing heat behind his fly.

  Five years ago, the moment he had realized who Eden was, she had become more than off-limits to him. He would call this inconvenient desire taboo if it didn’t sound so deliberately titillating. The fact that she had just ended her relationship with his best friend made her even more forbidden, but his libido didn’t seem to care.

  He rubbed his face, trying to erase the jumble of thoughts and emotions flooding into his head. The whole time she’d been involved with Hunter, he’d been trying to use their relationship to fuel some sort of repulsion in himself, but it had never worked. He hated thinking of her in bed with anyone, but in the grander scheme of things, he really didn’t care whom she slept with. Everyone had a history, including him.

  Nothing seemed to change how he reacted to her. The only thought in his head as he had stood so close to her while unfastening her dress was that she smelled amazing. Any man would be undone by the graceful line of her spine, appearing inch by inch. It had been all he could do not to dip his head and taste her skin where her neck met her shoulder, especially when he had noted her fine trembles. They had matched the unsteadiness in his hand, as though they were vibrating on the same wavelength.

  His eyes drifted closed and he once again saw her smooth, narrow back. The gown’s satin against the luster of her skin had mesmerized him. The edges had tickled his knuckles, making him want to draw out undressing her until they were both crazed with lust. He imagined the dress falling loose at the front, inviting his touch to slide around and cup her breast. Her flesh would be warm and weighty, filling his palm, firming the way his flesh was firming—

  What the hell was this chemistry between them? Why was it so potent? It had poured into him from that first glimpse he’d had of her in the Louvre and had been simmering and sizzling within him ever since. It was maddening. Nearly irresistible.

  He moved to the window, barely taking in the view as he considered whether to walk out on her. He could text Vienna to send Quinn or Micah here. There was no reason he had to stay, even though he had offered to take her to Toronto. Just make the call.

  A knock at the main door broke into his brooding. As he crossed to open it, he braced himself to dodge a thrown fist, half expecting Micah to have found them.

  It was Jorge with a rolling rack of clothing, apologizing profusely for interrupting. “I wasn’t sure if I should...” He flicked his gaze around, looking for Eden.

  “Thanks.” Remy slipped him a tip, took back his credit card and closed the door.

  If only he was about to have sex with Eden. If only.

  Snap out of it.

  He took a cursory look through the options they had delivered, then released a sigh at himself before going to the bedroom door. He knocked and called, “The clothes are here. You don’t have to wear mine.”

  No answer.

  Now he was growing aroused thinking of his clothes against her skin.

  He would leave, he decided. But he was done with this wedding suit. He peeled off his jacket and tie on his way to where his duffel still sat on the couch. A pair of low-waist trousers in pale green came to hand along with a short-sleeved shirt patterned with asymmetrical shapes in red, yellow, and green on an ocean-blue background.

  He was known for his fashion choices, but his flair was by association. His sister had always been enthralled with textures and fabrics. She had begun designing the minute their grandmother had taught her to thread a needle. She worked for a top label in New York and used Remy as a walking mannequin for her creations. He didn’t mind. He genuinely liked the colors and cuts she chose for him.

  His sister. Thinking of her certainly killed his lingering arousal. She was yet another reason—the core reason—he shouldn’t be anywhere near Eden.

  He stripped, sighing in relief as the air-conditioned room brought down his temperature.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry!” Eden’s voice blurted as the door latch clicked open and slammed shut.

  Remy swore and snatched up his trousers, keeping his back to the door as he shot his legs into them. As he adjusted himself and zipped, he called, “I’m dressed.”

  He hurried to thread his arms into the light shirt, hearing the bedroom door slowly reopen behind him.

  “I didn’t know if you heard me,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to see she was wearing a hotel robe.

  “I heard the door and honestly thought you left. You don’t have to stay. I’m not going to do anything rash.” She moved to the rack and began flicking through the sparse selection. She sounded as though she’d been crying.

  His heart lurched. He turned to see she was holding a shapeless top in camel-brown against her front. The color leeched any vibrancy from her face. Her makeup was smudged and lines scored both sides of her unhappy mouth.

  “You definitely need an intervention if you’re considering wearing that,” he said as he pulled out a silvery pink skirt and a sleeveless silk turtleneck in buttercup-yellow. “Keep it bright,” he suggested as he hooked both across the top of the rack. “Don’t let anyone see how much you’re hurting.”

  Her thick black lashes lifted and her dark brown gaze flicked over the loud colors in his own shirt, then rose to meet his eyes. Hers were filled with questions.

  “Or so I’ve been told.” He walked away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I don’t know how to feel,” she said heavily. “I’m so angry, I want to punch Hunter in the throat, but the fact that his priorities are in order tells me I wasn’t wrong to trust him, just underinformed. I keep telling myself none of this was my fault, but I’m the one who wanted the big wedding. That’s why there were so many people there, witness to my disgrace. I’m so nauseous—”

  “Are you pregnant?” A thick blade seemed to slice across his chest.

  “No.” Her eyes went wide with surprise at how intensely he had reacted.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She shuffled a few more items on the rack, her complexion darkening with a flush.

  She paced restlessly away without choosing anything, moving to pull the bottle of sparkling rosé from the bucket. “Maybe tequila would be better.” She looked toward the bar and shoved the bottle back into the ice. “I should probably eat something first.”

  There was a cellophane-wrapped basket on the coffee table. She peered at the butter cookies and mixed nuts on offer, then pressed her hand to her stomach.

  “You’d think I’d have an appetite. I’ve been starving myself for three months. And, yes, I know how unhealthy that is, mentally and physically. Again, I’m the one who wanted this pageant. Hunter told me flat out his preference was something quiet at a courthouse.”

  “His stepmother.” That woman had been making public scenes as long as Remy had known Hunter and Vienna. Well before, from what Hunter had told him.

  “He went along with what I wanted and I wanted the fairy tale. As if there is such a thing. I think I was compensating.”

  “For?”

  Eden went back to the pink bubbly. It was from a local winery. She peeled off the foil to reveal a cut-glass stopper. As she struggled to pry it out, Remy started toward her.

  She handed him the bottle and walked away.

  “I don’t really want it. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to marry him! There. I said it.” She dropped onto the sofa and hid her face behind her hands, buckling forward as though in pain. “My life is a disaster and I’m so humiliated I want to die, but I’m relieved.”