But they were in a private villa, and he’d be damned if he’d let her escape again without talking to her.
Halfway through the meal, one of the servers stepped to Amelia’s side and whispered something. Amelia nodded, rose and followed the woman out of the room. Toby saw his opening and headed after them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Candace stand and Vincent pull her back down into her seat. He’d thank his buddy for that intervention later.
“Yes, that’s fine. You can serve it with chocolate ganache and fresh raspberries instead of whipping cream,” he heard Amelia say as he neared the kitchen, and then her heels clicked in his direction.
He ducked into an archway of the nearby study and then snagged her arm as she passed and reeled her into the room.
She squealed in surprise and then recognized him and jerked her arm free. “You scared me.”
He shut the door. “I wouldn’t have to sneak up on you if you’d quit avoiding me.”
He missed her, dammit. Missed her sappy romantic notions. Missed her snappy set-downs when his ego got out of hand. Missed her touch. Her kisses. Her bony knees, for god’s sake.
“I’ve been busy. What do you want? I have to get back.”
He studied her pale face and the shadows beneath her hazel eyes that even heavier-than-usual makeup couldn’t disguise. “I’m sorry.”
Her chin lifted. “Sometimes sorry isn’t enough.”
“Dammit, Amelia—”
“What do you want from me, Toby?”
“I…don’t know. But…not this.”
She folded her arms across the top of a sleeveless lavender lace dress that outlined every single one of her delicate curves to mouthwatering perfection. “This is of your own making.”
He didn’t want to fight with her. He wanted her back in his bed wearing a sheen of sweat, a satisfied smile and nothing else.
But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now.
“I won the bet when we slept together the first time.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” Her sarcasm cut deep.
“I won and I didn’t tell anybody because I—” He scrubbed the back of his neck. “Because I didn’t want them to know.”
She studied him in silence. Waiting? For what? He didn’t know. He inhaled, exhaled, searched in vain for the answer. “You were giving drivers frostbite left and right. Vincent was facing a setback. One of the grafts didn’t take, and they’d just told him he might never regain use of his right hand. He was pretty torn up.”
“I remember.”
“I was trying to give him something to think about besides another round of debridement and more surgery. But one of the other guys overheard and news of the bet spread like stomach flu.”
Her face softened. But he didn’t see forgiveness. And that was what he wanted, he realized. He wanted her to forgive him. “I never intended to hurt you, Amelia.”
“It was still a rotten thing to do.”
“Yeah.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “But we would have ended up together sooner or later. This thing between us—”
“It’s over, Toby.”
He couldn’t accept that. She reached for the doorknob, but he wasn’t ready to let her go. He splayed his palm on the wooden panel, holding it closed.
“The neurologist I’ve been seeing over here has cleared me to drive.” He’d found out this morning and he hadn’t told anyone. Not Vincent or even his teammates, who had vested interests. But he’d wanted to tell Amelia.
“Congratulations,” she replied in a flat tone.
“I’ll be flying back home immediately after the wedding reception Saturday to try and make the race. I’d have to start in the back of the pack since I’ll miss qualifying, but it’ll be worth it to get behind the wheel again.”
“Driving with jet lag would be stupid.”
“You’re the one who said jet lag kicks in later. It shouldn’t hit me until after the race.”
She looked ready to argue. Instead she bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “It’s your life.”
She tried to step around him.
He cupped her shoulders and felt the muscles bunch. “Amelia, I am sorry.”
Her eyes, more green than gold at the moment, met his. The sadness in the depths hit him like a head-on collision. “So am I.”
She ducked away and left him. And he didn’t feel any better.
The most romantic wedding in the world was going to be absolute torture.
Amelia fidgeted with the silk wrap of her strapless dress, the flowers in her upswept hair and then her monochromatic bouquet. Multicolor bouquets were considered in poor taste in Monaco, so Candace had chosen all white flowers.
Madeline came up beside Amelia to study their reflections in the big gilt mirror, and the phrase “Misery loves company” sprang to mind.
“We’re a pitiful pair, aren’t we?” Madeline whispered.
They were dressed similarly but in different shades. Candace had been determined to squeeze color into the ceremony somewhere and she’d done so with the bridesmaids’ gowns. Madeline’s dress was the palest green, Amelia’s a soft-blush pink.
Madeline shifted a long, dark curl. “What were we thinking?”
Amelia met her friend’s gaze. Madeline’s vacation affair with the prince had also blown up in her face. They’d commiserated last night over drinks after the rehearsal dinner. Amelia still felt a teensy bit hungover.
“We weren’t thinking. That’s the problem. And you were right—my taste in men sucks. I couldn’t find true love with a map.” Amelia glanced at Candace on the far side of the room with the photographer. Her friend’s wedding gown—an exquisite creation of a hand-beaded bodice and a silk douppioni skirt that hid her pregnancy—made Amelia’s heart sigh. “And Candace deserves better than two wet-blanket bridesmaids, so slap a smile on.”
“I will if you will.”
Both forced smiles at their reflections and then grimaced.
Amelia shook her head. “Not very convincing.”
Stacy glided up. Her gown was pale blue, her smile genuine and blindingly bright. “It’s not over until you leave Monaco.”
“It’s over,” Amelia and Madeline chorused simultaneously.
Toby planned to leave Monaco immediately after the reception, which would end in—Amelia glanced at her watch—four hours tops. The difference was that she now trusted his judgment. If he said he was ready to drive, then he was. He wouldn’t take unnecessary risks. But that didn’t stop the apprehension from tensing her muscles. Just because they couldn’t be a couple didn’t mean she didn’t want him to stay safe.
“You two shouldn’t give up so easily. You still have a chance for your dreams to come true.” Stacy’s lover had proposed last night at the dinner after the civil ceremony, and the accountant’s face glowed with as much happiness as the bride’s.
Madeline’s laugh held no humor. “And I thought Amelia was the romantic of the bunch.”
Amelia shook her head. “Not me. As you pointed out, even though I didn’t know it, my feet have always been firmly planted on the ground. And I plan to keep them there. The blinders are off. No more temporary men.”
The music swelled outside the antechamber and someone tapped on the door. Candace snapped to attention. “That’s our cue.”
She gathered the folds of her gown and floated toward them in a cloud of rustling silk. “Before we go, I want to thank all of you for making this day—heck, this entire month—unforgettable.”
“If you make me cry and ruin my makeup, I will never forgive you,” Madeline said but blinked furiously.
Amelia laughed her first genuine laugh in a week. “Ditto. Let’s go tie this knot before your groom realizes your bridesmaids intend to vacation at your villa in Monaco every year for the rest of their lives and changes his mind.”
Candace grinned mischievously. “That’s the beauty of the French system. We tied the knot with the civil ceremony last night. There’s no stress of wondering if he’ll change his mind and bolt today. It’s too late. I’ve already hooked him.”
She grabbed Amelia’s and Madeline’s hands. “Today is just for fun. So try to have some.”
Not likely, Amelia thought as she followed Stacy and Madeline toward the nave. Stacy walked down the aisle first, followed by Madeline. Amelia took her place and looked up.
Mistake. Her gaze found Toby’s. He wore a black tux, a stark white shirt and black tie. His golden hair gleamed in the candlelight, and he was so handsome he took her breath away.
Her heart pounded. Her knees locked. Her stomach knotted. This would be the only time she’d ever walk down the aisle toward this man, the man she loved.
“Go, sweetie,” Candace’s father prompted from behind her.
Amelia blinked, refocused on Vincent and headed toward the altar a few beats behind schedule.
Had someone leaded the soles of her designer sandals?
Vincent gazed beyond Amelia, his attention no doubt on his beautiful bride. The love in his eyes brought a lump to Amelia’s throat. Would a man ever look at her that way?
Neal hadn’t. No, the look in Neal’s eyes had been more like…gratitude, she realized. He’d been thankful to have her, but he probably hadn’t loved her. Why else would he have kept postponing their marriage?
And she hadn’t loved him either. Not the way he truly deserved. Amelia missed a step at the discovery. She’d wanted to love Neal because he was perfect in every way—except for his terminal illness. Gentle. Reserved. Predictable. Despite that, she hadn’t been able to make herself love him wholeheartedly or make herself desire him.
Desiring Toby had come all too easily, starting at that first meeting. Loving him had sneaked up on her, and that unexpected blow had made it all the more powerful.
At the brunch he’d said he hadn’t meant to hurt her, but that wasn’t the same as loving her.
She reached the end of the aisle, took her place and lifted her eyes to find Toby’s silvery-blue gaze focused with unwavering intent on her. She saw want and regret and frustration in his expression, but she didn’t see love. And his love was the one thing she wanted more than anything else.
She blinked and turned away.
The service began. Amelia barely heard the words. And if a tear or two slipped down her cheek, she hoped everyone would attribute it to tears of happiness for her friend.
She wasn’t going to sleep with another man unless he loved her. She deserved that, didn’t she? And if that meant she either had to do without sex or had to buy herself a battery-operated boyfriend, then that’s what she’d do.
From now on it was all or nothing. No more dead-end affairs. No more men who couldn’t commit.
If she couldn’t have the kind of love she saw shining on Candace’s and Vincent’s and Stacy’s faces, then she’d rather be alone.
Alone. And empty.
Amelia followed the steward carrying her luggage off the yacht. The owners who’d hosted the engagement party had been kind enough to offer her refuge after she’d fled Hôtel Reynard.