Merger to Marriage (Boardrooms and Billi - By Addison Fox Page 0,12
late. Wildly swinging emotions had accompanied her for the last month, her traitorous mind focused too often on the image of broad shoulders.
She could even still feel the imprint of his smile against her lips.
Holt.
As another tear slipped from the corner of her eye, she pulled herself from her reverie and let out a hard sigh. She was out for a fun weekend and she was going to enjoy herself. With a quick dash at the last tear, she headed for the beach.
Lush grass flattened under her flip-flops and she focused on the cool texture against her feet to take her mind off her maudlin musings. A tennis court was visible in the distance and she lined up the shot, her artist’s eye pleased with the contrast of the red clay court and the waning gold color of late afternoon. She took the images from several angles and, satisfied with the shots, moved on.
The sounds of the beach grew louder and she gravitated toward it like a compass needle to true north. Wind whipped her hair and she turned slightly to catch the breeze so that it blew the strands away from her face. It was as she turned that the man came into view. He stood down on the beach, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves and his khakis wet at the bottom from the surf.
Her artist’s eye assessed the shot.
The solitary figure. The hard crash of the incoming waves. The vivid streaks of color across the late afternoon sky.
Without conscious thought, she lifted her camera and lined up the shot. As she focused on the man through the viewfinder, something about that solitary figure tugged at her heart.
He looked so alone.
And lonely.
She took a few photos before she stopped, sensing his movement before he actually turned. And it was only when he did turn, the sun shining warmly over the dark blond strands of his hair, that she knew.
Chapter Three
ELIZABETH.
Waves crashed behind Holt, the foam lapping at his ankles. Their heavy sound matched the thoughts crumbling in his mind.
She was here, standing farther up the shore, taking his photo. The sun made a halo around her head, and for the briefest moment it seemed as if she was a figment of his imagination. Then she lifted her hand and offered up a small wave and he knew she was real.
He moved toward her, the sand clumping around his feet as he stepped farther out of the water. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
She’d lowered the camera, and he didn’t miss the way she fidgeted with the strap. “You’re here for the party?”
“I am. I just got here a little while ago.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, irritated at the sudden awkwardness between them. “You’ve been quite the mystery, Elizabeth. I casually mentioned you to Nathan, and he said there was no Elizabeth invited to the wedding.”
A wry smile bloomed on her lips, and the unmistakable air of embarrassment joined it in the bright flush that crept up her neck. “I’m not sure my brother-in-law knows my middle name, come to think of it.”
“Middle name?”
She extended a hand, the gesture at odds with what they’d shared a few weeks before. “I’m Mayson Elizabeth McBride. Keira’s sister.”
Holt hesitated for the briefest of moments before reaching for her hand. He’d remembered her as delicate, and the narrow width of her hand offered a visceral reminder. “Do you often use your middle name when you meet men?”
“No.”
“So why was I so deserving of the deception?” A cool annoyance filled his veins as they continued to stare at each other, their hands dropping to their sides. The combination of feeling as if he’d been misled, coupled with the lingering frustration at how she’d simply vanished, had him off-kilter.
“I don’t make it a habit to go off with men I don’t know.” She played with the camera once more before her hands stilled, as if she realized how she fidgeted. “And I used my middle name on impulse, and then,” her voice hitched ever-so-slightly, “after things progressed, it was too late to change it.”
Holt couldn’t quell the irritation at being lied to—a reaction, he knew, that was tied to his relationship with his mother far more than Mayson’s actions. His frustration did ease slightly with the knowledge she hadn’t expected where things had gone. And a surprising sense of delight filled him at the news she didn’t make a habit of one-night stands.
On impulse, Holt stuck out his hand once more. “I’m Holt Turner.”
A flash of