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But before she could slip out of the car, Leo’s hand dropped onto her thigh. She froze at the warmth of it, the soft squeeze he gave her flesh. “Amelia—” He pulled in a ragged breath then let it out, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes held an edge of hurt, or panic, or something deeper and older that she couldn’t read. “Come to the retreat with me.”
His voice came out as a whisper, but it might as well have been a shout for how badly it made Amelia jump. She flung his hand off her thigh and slipped out of the car. “Absolutely not,” she said into the open door, then slammed it shut.
Another door opened, and Leo’s stupidly beautiful head popped up on the other side. “Please.”
“Are you kidding me? No!”
“I’ll pay you.”
“I don’t need your money.” Her business was finally generating enough income to live on, and she’d endured countless sleepless nights over the past months and years to get it to that point. She didn’t need to rely on anyone else for anything, and that’s how she liked it. She’d only ever relied on one man, and he’d torn her to pieces. She wasn’t going to let that happen again—financially, emotionally, or otherwise.
“I’ll… I’ll…” Leo cast around him, like he could find the right offer written somewhere in the parking lot. He dropped his shoulders and met her gaze again.
“Grab the cake,” Amelia said before he could say anything else. “And give me my car keys.”
Leo held her gaze for a long moment, determination hardening the line of his jaw. He actually meant to convince her about this stupid scheme. Well—he’d have a long way to go. Amelia wasn’t going to pretend to be anyone’s fiancée. No amount of money would ever convince her. No glittering green eyes. No attractive hands. No knuckle kisses.
No way, no how.
They headed inside and left the cake in the hotel’s kitchen. Guests were still gathered in the lobby bar, and Amelia checked her messages. Her sister was on the way back, so it was time to move everyone to the ballroom for Maggie and Emory’s grand entrance.
Thank goodness. That gave her an excuse to act busy and forget about whatever the hell had just happened. She found the bridesmaids gathered together at one of the high-top tables, and the four of them began gently guiding everyone to move to the ballroom.
Leo watched her for a moment, and she felt his gaze as intensely as she’d felt the touch of his thumb on her lip. A tiny, rebellious part of her wondered what she could get out of him in exchange for her attendance at the work retreat. That part of her whispered that maybe there was something between them. Maybe he felt the sparks as much as she did. Maybe…
She clamped down on the whirling thoughts, banishing them to the void. A man as attractive and irresistible as Leo St. James had his pick of women. He wouldn’t pick some sexless harpy who happened to be a little too independent and opinionated to be attractive. She was patently incapable of stroking men’s egos, and Leo’s ego looked like it required endless attention.
He wouldn’t get it from her.
But as Amelia entered the ballroom, she glanced over the shoulder and met his jade-colored gaze. She knew one thing: Leo hadn’t given up on the prospect of bringing her to his company retreat. Not even a little bit.
FIVE
Speeches,food, dancing, happiness—it was all too much for Leo. He found himself stealing glances down the long table at the front of the room to the maid of honor’s chair. She ignored him so thoroughly, it was almost impressive.
Even more impressive was the way she managed the proceedings, consulting her tablet every once in a while and darting around the room to make sure everything was in order.
Maggie and Emory didn’t appreciate her nearly enough. Their wedding was perfect, and Leo saw that it was because Amelia didn’t stop working for a second. She didn’t even eat her meal. A waiter whisked it away, untouched, so the cake cutting could proceed. Once the cake cutting was done, Amelia was at the bar, making sure they had everything they needed, organizing a delivery of limes when she noticed they were getting low. A minute later, he saw her by the DJ’s table, deep in conversation, trusty tablet in hand.
“Careful,” Marlon’s deep voice said from behind Leo’s back.
Leo spun around and arched a brow at his brother. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Amelia Darcy isn’t one of your women, Leo.”
“‘One of my women?’” he repeated, rearing back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marlon studied him from beneath thick, dark brows. He let out a long sigh and scrubbed the stubble on his cheek, finally shrugging one large shoulder. Taller than Leo by a couple of inches, Marlon took “dark and brooding” to another dimension. “Emory won’t like it if you touch his new sister-in-law.”
Leo glanced across the ballroom to where his best friend was deep in conversation with some aunt or another. He scowled. “I’m not touching anyone.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Never seen you run out of a room as fast as when you saw Amelia darting across the lobby.”
“You know what? I’ve heard enough of this.” Leo made to step around his brother, but Marlon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
