“Good morning, darling.” She kissed Allie’s cheek. “The beefcake chauffeur is waiting for us. Let’s go.” She donned enormous sunglasses and headed outside.

Allie trailed after her. Once they’d settled into the back of the limo, Allie avoided glancing at Mags and stared out the tinted window instead. How could she look at the woman when Allie kept thinking about the nasty, amazing sex she’d had with Trevor the night before? Awkward.

“Are you and Trevor having a spat, dear?”

Allie turned her head, her eyes wide. “No.”

“Because he was terribly cross this morning. More so than usual, even.”

Really? Allie would have guessed he’d be in a great mood—very sated and relaxed. Maybe she was the only one who thought the sex had been amazing. Earth shattering. Hotter than Vegas in the middle of August. What if it was just another shag to him?

“What’s Nigel up to this morning?” Allie was desperate to change the subject.

Mags sighed. “He took breakfast in the bedroom. I’m afraid he’s pouting, as the Blake men are prone to do.”

“It’s none of my business, Mags, but why is Trevor so angry at the two of you?” Normally she wouldn’t have asked such a nosy question, but Trevor wouldn’t tell her anything and neither would Frances.

The older woman said nothing for several seconds. Then she sighed. “The truth is, Nigel and I were never very attentive parents. I’m a passionate woman”—she placed her hand on her chest—“and Nigel is, well, let’s just say he has extremely powerful lusts.”

Allie almost winced. “I shouldn’t have asked. It really is none of my business. I don’t need to know the details—”

“When Trevor was young, Nigel and I were too caught up in our stormy relationship to give him the attention he needed.” Mags carried on as if Allie hadn’t spoken. Like mother, like son. “We divorced when Trevor was six. I remarried”—she flicked her wrist—“several times. And Nigel remarried too. Also several times.” Her eyes narrowed briefly.

“Poor little Trevor got lost in the shuffle. I moved to Spain with one of my husbands, then to Australia with the next, to France, and finally to America. I just returned to England a year ago, where I reconnected with Nigel, and well, here we are.”

Allie stared at Mags with an open mouth. “What about Trevor?” Was this why Trevor never spent holidays with his parents—no, screw holidays. How about every day? “Where was he during all this? With Nigel?”

Shifting her legs, Mags twisted the diamond rings on her fingers. “Trevor went to boarding school when he was eight. Nigel and I thought it would offer him some continuity. And of course, he stayed with my father until then and spent holidays there as well.”

That was the grandfather, the one who watched old movies with Trevor. Two peas in a pod. Allie knit her brow. “Hang on, eight years old?”

Mags shrugged. “Boarding schools take children at a very young age. We thought it was for the best.”

For whom? Allie tried to imagine what it would be like to have two completely self-absorbed parents send her away at the age of eight. Her parents had always been loving and caring, not only to her and her sisters, but to each other. Yes, her dad checked out mentally when her mom got sick, but before that, he’d been a good dad. Poor Trevor.

“Why didn’t he stay with you during the holidays, Mags? Or Nigel?”

Mags swallowed. When she removed her sunglasses, her eyes were shiny with tears. As she blinked them back, her long lashes fluttered rapidly. “I realize I’ve been a horrible mother, Allie. I do know that. I feel it every time I’m in the same room with him. I’ve always been too involved in my own life, so has Nigel. That’s why we’re here. We want to set things right with Trevor. We want him to be a part of this wedding so that we can all move forward. A new beginning.”

Allie shook her head and tried to keep the judgment out of her voice, but it was difficult. “I don’t think it works like that.” They had damaged Trevor, abandoned him. How could he just get over that and move on?

The limo stopped in front of Crystals. Simmons opened the door for them, and Mags replaced her glasses before exiting first. As she stood at the entrance, her smile seemed forced. She smoothed her hand down her tight blue dress. “Well, we’ll just have to hope for the best with Trevor, won’t we? I think I’ll get married in red this time. I’m so tired of dreary white.” She nodded at Simmons before strolling through the door.

***

“What about this one, darling?” Mags stepped out of the dressing room wearing a very short, red bandage dress with a plunging neckline.

Allie was speechless. “I hope you’re not getting married in a church. That dress is sinful.”

“I was thinking about having it in Trevor’s garden.” Mags turned around and viewed her backside in the three-way mirror. “Of course, I haven’t told Trevor yet.” She twirled around and faced Allie. “How do I look?”

Allie smiled. “Beautiful.” In fact, Mags looked more sexy and voluptuous than ever. Perfect for a Vegas wedding.

Mags’s hands drifted over her breasts, her flat tummy, and hips, then smoothed their way across her ass. “I don’t like to brag, but I do look hot.” She grinned. “Oh, darling, who am I kidding? I love to brag.”

Allie smiled. That was such a Trevor thing to say. He was more like his mother than he realized.

“Now, what are you going to wear, Allison? How about something white and frothy? Like Changing Rooms, the bridal version?”

“I’m not sure what that means, but it’s your wedding, Mags.” Allie shrugged. She didn’t want to wear something white and frothy. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the wedding at all.

After hearing about Trevor’s childhood, Allie understood his animosity toward his parents. And while she liked Nigel and Mags, Allie disapproved of them too. She felt protective of Trevor, didn’t want to see him get hurt again. She knew he was a grown man, perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and she already had too many people to take care of. Still, she worried. That was the one thing she was good at.

Allie watched Mags and the saleswoman flit around the store while she remained in the comfy chair and sipped sparkling water. Mags indulged in champagne, but after yesterday, Allie was sticking to nonalcoholic drinks. She reached out to the mirror-covered square table and nabbed a toast point covered with caviar. After one bite, she grabbed a napkin and wrapped up the rest of it, sticking the whole thing back on the table. Sipping her water to rid herself of the fishy, salty taste, she heard her phone buzz and pulled it out of her purse.

“Where are you?” Trevor’s tone was clipped and impatient. The exact opposite of last night. Then, his words—whispered in a husky, sexy accent—had shocked and excited her. But now he acted like it never happened. So, last night really hadn’t meant anything to him.

Her heart skipped a couple beats. She was being stupid. For him, this was the norm—sex was just sex. He didn’t attach any importance to it. But she felt like an idiot for being so satisfied and content this morning.

She took a deep breath. “I’m great, English, thanks for asking.”

“Fine. Allison, how are you, darling? Well, I hope. Now, where in the bloody hell are you?”

“I’m in one of the most exclusive department stores in town, learning that caviar is disgusting and they should leave the poor fish eggs alone.”

“You’re shopping with my mother, then?”

“You got it, Slick.” She leaned back over the tray of goodies and picked up another toast point, this one with pâté. She nibbled the edge. “Oh, this is fantastic. The caviar was horrible, but the pâté is delish.”

She heard a long, deep sigh. “Don’t ever call me Slick again, Miss…Allison. And the way you’re moaning over that pâté has me as hard as a rock. Why don’t you come home and take care of that for me?” Suddenly, she felt lighter. He’d been affected by the hot sex too. So glad to know she wasn’t alone.