Книга - A Convenient Groom

A Convenient Groom
Darcy Maguire


When Riana Andrews wakes up to find an engagement ring on her finger, she is more than a little confused.Especially as the guy she thinks proposed is Joe Henderson, the oh-so-sexy famous photographer shooting her wedding dress designs! Joe may have a hidden agenda, but he is acting like her fiancé, and she's definitely not imagining the tingles she gets whenever he's around.…







Dear Reader,

I went to a friend’s wedding recently and was touched deeply by the ceremony, by the exchange of vows, by the circle of warmth encapsulating the bride and groom.

I felt how being near those totally and utterly in love has a lasting impact on all who share that moment.

I wanted to write about the women behind the scenes, the ones who make those special days happen, the ones who play fairy godmother, helping to create a memory built on love that extends beyond the span of days, months and years. The ones who, no matter how expert they are at helping others, can’t quite sort out their own lives.

I hope you enjoy reading their stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Best Wishes,







Darcy Maguire wanted to grow up to be a fairy, but her wings never grew, her magic never worked and her life was no fairy tale. But one thing she knew for certain was that she was going to find her soul mate and live happily ever after. Darcy found her dark and handsome hero on a blind date, married him a year later and found that love truly is the soul of creativity. With four children too young to play matchmaker for (yet!) Darcy satisfies the romantic in her by finding true love for her fictional characters. It was this passion for romance, and her ability to sit still every day, that led to the publication of her first novel, Her Marriage Secret. Darcy lives in Melbourne, Australia, and loves to read widely, sew and sneak off to the movies without the kids.




Books by Darcy Maguire


HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3745—HER MARRIAGE SECRET

3754—ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

3801—A PROFESSIONAL ENGAGEMENT* (#litres_trial_promo)

3805—THE BEST MAN’S BABY* (#litres_trial_promo)


A Convenient Groom

Darcy Maguire






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE (#u8aa90149-0349-5662-9951-0655a4a3e76d)

CHAPTER TWO (#u2699c6bc-e2c2-5435-a7e2-3b8a71b96ed7)

CHAPTER THREE (#u81a1177f-8396-5f10-818d-f777d0dad2a6)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u9361320f-b87c-5332-aebd-0e443a6e317b)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE


‘HEY, I lost my phone number…can I have yours?’

The nasal whine to the man’s voice didn’t give Riana Andrews any encouragement; neither did the pick-up line.

She shook her head vehemently and stared into her cocktail without even looking at the man. She wasn’t at this club to get a guy—she already had someone in her life. So Stuart may have said he was too busy to see her this week—she lifted her chin—she was busy too.

She looked at her watch. Where was Maggie? She was meant to be here by now…

Maggie was her best friend-cum-co-worker. She’d persuaded Riana to come to the trendy club to convince a top photographer to rearrange his schedule so he could shoot her gowns. It was cutting it close for time but she needed the work done before her debut into the big world of fashion next week. Everyone would want photos of her designs—she hoped.

She was fine with waiting at the bar, except for the guys with the corny pick-up lines that seemed to be rife tonight. Riana had heard about all the lines in existence and then some in the last half-hour.

She picked up her drink and swung around on the bar stool. She had to admit the club was up-market. The Spot stood on prime real estate in the centre of Sydney, drawing in its clientele from all the young up-and-comings that lived, partied and socialised in the inner city.

The Spot was tall, wide and solid stone, an old building with classic architecture of times gone by, and someone had had the brilliant idea of turning it into a trendy little club.

The music pumped out of speakers set well back in the room, wound up to a level that required a person to come within inches of another’s ear to hear. If only the patrons weren’t so big on sleazy pick-up lines…

A young man in a black jacket stopped beside Riana’s stool and leant close. ‘Do you believe in love at first sight? Or do I have to walk past you again?’

Riana opened her mouth, and closed it. He was just a boy, and the optimistic glint in his eyes struck her deep in the chest.

She tucked her dark hair behind her ears, stalling, trying to think of some easy let down. ‘I do believe in love at first sight—’ she paused, considering her words ‘—and I’m sure I’ll know him when I see him…’

The boy raised his eyebrows. ‘He’s not me?’

Riana patted the young man on the shoulder lightly and offered him a conciliatory smile. ‘I’m afraid not. Sorry.’

She sighed as the young man weaved his way through the crowd. She wasn’t that much older than he was but she knew what she wanted. Tall, blond and hunky Stuart Brooks, of the Double Bay Brooks—a man that she knew right down to his slicked-back hair and suede jackets was the one for her.

Riana placed her empty glass on the bar.

‘If I told you that you have a beautiful body would you hold it against me?’ a deep, velvet-soft voice asked close to her.

Riana swallowed hard, a ripple of excitement coursing traitorously through her at the sensuality in his tone.

She shook herself. This was such a bad idea. She should put a sign up on herself saying ‘taken’. She glanced at her left hand—it wouldn’t be long now.

She turned, her breath catching in her throat. He was close, he was tall, and oh-so-cute.

His features were strong, almost chiselled. His hair short and chestnut brown, his eyes hazel with golden flecks, his jaw shadowed and his mouth all promises.

Her body warmed.

He leant closer. ‘I’m waiting for your witty comeback.’ And he smiled.

She lifted a finger, willing her brain to work, her senses spinning out of control at the sheer radiance of his smile, of the fire in his eyes, and of the mesmerising effect staring at his lips had on her.

He leant forward again, his spicy cologne invading her senses. ‘You could just tell me to nick off, like the rest of them.’ He threw a thumb in the direction of the crowd behind them.

Riana turned, surveying a bunch of guys gathered at a table in the far corner. Recognition slowly dawned. They were the one-line pick-up men that had propositioned her, one after another after another.

She expelled a breath, her mind clearing and her blood heating. ‘What is it? Some game you guys are playing?’

Mr Golden Eyes shook his head, leaning close again to talk. ‘No, it was Phil’s last day with us at work—he had a better offer—and one of the boys gave him this book about dating.’

She frowned. ‘And those terrible pick-up lines are in the book?’ She had to laugh. ‘And someone paid good money for it?’

He rubbed his neck. ‘I have to be honest with you. The book says not to use them but we figured some of them didn’t sound half bad. Besides, there are some real classics there.’

‘Righty-o.’ Riana frowned. ‘How much have you guys been drinking?’

‘Touché.’ He smiled again, his golden eyes glinting. ‘Okay, they may not be the best of lines but worth a try before we for ever scratch them from our repertoire.’

Riana leant in again to make herself heard over the music, and she couldn’t help but breathe in his rich, spicy cologne. She wasn’t sure whether to damn the music for being so loud, or to thank it. ‘I can’t imagine you using them.’

‘Thanks.’ His breath was warm on her neck. ‘But you’d be surprised at how blank a mind can go when faced with a beautiful woman.’

She leant back. Was he saying she was beautiful?

Mr Golden Eyes leant an elbow on the bar and moved closer. ‘So how am I doing?’ he said close to her cheek.

How could he not think he was doing fine? He appeared to be everything a woman would want. Tall, dark, handsome, funny and intelligent. There had to be a catch somewhere…there always was.

‘Talk fast,’ she said to his neck, managing to keep a straight face. Let him sweat. Let him work to convince her why he was going to be different from all the rest.

‘No more corny pick-up lines, I take it?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll give you ten seconds. Nine…eight…seven.’

‘You’re the most beautiful woman here.’

Riana glanced at him, something strange fluttering in the pit of her belly. ‘Flattering, but not good enough. Three…two…one.’

He widened his eyes, his eyebrows tilting to give him the most devastating puppy-eyed look she’d seen in her life. ‘I just need to be loved, like everyone else does.’

Riana sucked in her breath and gave him a second look, past the handsome face, deep into his golden eyes where she saw an honesty that scared her.

He meant it.

That was what it was all about—looking for someone to share your life with, putting up with loud music, clubs and pubs, parties and people of all shapes and sizes to find the one meant for you.

She nodded, her pulse quickening. This guy was a crush waiting to happen on a girl’s heart.

‘That works,’ she offered, trying to sound as calm and cool as she wanted to look. She could barely comprehend what she was doing. What about Stuart?

‘Good, I’ll tell the lads.’ And his mouth curved into a smile.

Her stomach curled. What? Couldn’t she at least have the satisfaction of telling him she was taken? That it was her that didn’t want him? ‘You don’t want my number?’ she blurted.

‘No.’

‘Oh? Not that I’d give it to you—’ She raised her chin. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him? Stringing girls along until they were all flustered…

He nodded. ‘Sure.’

His disbelief was in his tone, as if no woman could refuse him! Riana crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure in torturing women?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice even. ‘Chat them up and then leave them high and dry?’

He shook his head. ‘Not usually, but in this case…I figured I’d even the score for the lads.’

She turned towards the men in the corner. She had been a bit short with some of them, a bit hard on others. She bit her bottom lip. He may have a point.

‘Well done,’ she said finally. ‘But if you look at it from my point of view for a moment you may see that you lot owe me for putting up with being harassed.’

He leant closer, giving her another look, running his eyes down her body to her black leather boots, up her black trousers over her small metallic blue top to her lips and to her eyes.

Riana’s body tingled as though he’d run his large hands over her, turning every nerve on as he went. She shifted on her stool.

‘You’re right,’ he murmured. ‘Let me buy you a drink for being such a good sport.’ He gestured to the barman.

She smiled, satisfaction flowing through her at his concession.

‘But you know, if a pretty woman like yourself doesn’t want to get harassed by men you shouldn’t sit at the bar alone.’

She lifted her chin, sobering. ‘I’m waiting for a friend.’

‘Male?’

She looked him in the eyes. Very presumptuous of him to ask, seeing as he didn’t want her number. ‘No. I’m waiting for my female colleague so I can meet a work contact.’

He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. ‘Mixing pleasure with business?’

She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

Mr Golden Eyes leant on the bar and surveyed the room. ‘Me too. I have to meet some stuck-up designer who will probably waltz in wearing something screaming how good she thinks she is.’

Her breath caught in her throat.

He looked over her head. ‘Who has the audacity to consider that I would turn my schedule upside down and inside out—’

She opened her mouth, a thousand retorts on the tip of her tongue. She took a long, slow breath. ‘Really, a designer?’ Riana asked slowly, leaning forward, her pulse quickening. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be a gifted but extremely arrogant photographer?’

His eyes widened a little. ‘You?’

She held out her hand. ‘Riana Andrews—stuck-up designer.’ She waved a hand down her blue top and black trousers, trimmed with a silver belt, and large silver hoops at her ears.

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Joe Henderson, foolish ass with foot in mouth disease.’ He stared her right in the eyes, taking her hand firmly in his large warm one.

Sensation sizzled up her arm and ricocheted around her chest. Riana glanced around for Maggie, still a no-show. ‘I can’t say I’m thrilled to meet you like this,’ she stated dryly.

‘Likewise.’ Joe let go of her hand and slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘You wouldn’t hold this against me, would you?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘What? Your arrogant assumption or my beautiful body?’

He ran a hand through his hair and gave her a shrug, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile. ‘Sorry about that.’

She tipped her head a little, eyeing him carefully. ‘How sorry? Sorry enough to turn your schedule upside down to make amends for your big fat—’

‘Possibly.’ Joe nodded, rubbing his jaw. ‘I hear you’re quite a talent and are making a substantial mark on the world of wedding fashion.’

She stood up. ‘I’m flattered at your late attempt at sweet-talk, but I assure you the only way you can make up for your terrible behaviour is to do my fashion shoot,’ she said evenly, refusing to be intimidated by his sheer height, breadth and presence.

Joe stiffened.

Riana licked her lips. ‘I know it’s short notice and all, but you did agree to this meeting on the off-chance that you could accommodate me.’

Joe nodded slowly, running his hand over his rough jaw, eyeing her. ‘I could probably manage it, seeing as you didn’t come waltzing in here in one of your designer outfits.’

‘That’s big of you.’ She looked across to the door. ‘But did you consider for a moment that the last place I’d be flaunting my designs would be in a club like this?’ She glared at the man. ‘Seeing as they’re bridal gowns and all.’

He shrugged, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. ‘No one would have harassed you if you were wearing a wedding gown.’

She stared at him, her heart thundering in her chest. This guy was different.

‘True.’ She nodded, fighting a smile of her own. ‘But then, you wouldn’t have come up to me and I wouldn’t now be waltzing out of here knowing how good I am.’

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her. ‘So I wasn’t wrong? You are stuck-up and all?’

‘I wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery for you.’ Riana smoothed down her outfit and stepped away from the bar. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

She forced her legs into action, determined to get away from the guy. She’d wait for Maggie outside in the fresh air and tell her of her success in securing Joe Henderson and his services.

She bit down on the end of her thumbnail. She wasn’t so sure it was a good thing, though. That Joe wasn’t crush material—he was a crash waiting to happen!




CHAPTER TWO


‘SORRY I’m late.’ Riana rushed into the fashion end of the bridal boutique that her family owned and ran. Nothing had gone right this morning. The power had gone out some time in the night so her alarm hadn’t gone off, the hot water service had broken and she’d missed her train.

‘Late?’ Joe glared at her from a director’s chair set up in the middle of the room, as though he was lord and master. ‘You call this late? I call this a total disaster.’

‘What?’ Riana glanced around her. The room was filled with people, lights and camera equipment. A few of the men that milled around looked a lot like the guys who had accosted her with the bad pick-up lines that night at the club.

She crossed her arms over her chest. The room was usually where the friends and family of the bridal party could audience a private showing, with the bride-to-be having her very own fashion parade. She’d decorated the place so it felt intimate and cosy. Today, it was wild.

‘I said I was going to be here at eight a.m. sharp.’ Joe narrowed his eyes, scrutinising her as though she had where she’d been written all over her. ‘After all the trouble you went to to get me here I expected you to at least show some interest and have everyone ready to go.’

‘Of course.’ She sidled towards the heavy red curtains at the back of the room. ‘And they will be.’

Joe’s features darkened. ‘It’s after nine.’

She straightened tall. No way was she going to make excuses. She was his boss today and nothing he said could change that.

Sure, he’d caught her off-guard that time at the club, but not today. She’d keep distant, professional and absolutely cool when it came to Joe Henderson and his golden-flecked eyes and nicely built body.

She pulled her shoulders back. The lights were on, and there was no alcohol involved…There was no reason for her body to react to the guy at all.

Joe slipped off his seat and reduced the distance between them as though he were a charging bull. ‘I need to talk to you.’

He stopped an arm’s length away.

Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Why?’ She wet her lips and swallowed hard, trying to dispel the strange sensation in her belly.

He was cuter in the light than he’d been in the dimly lit club. Sure, his jaw was as shadowed as though he’d forsaken shaving in favour of the rugged look. And his blue jeans did hug his hips and long legs, driving home to every traitorous nerve in her body the perfection of his. And his chest—spread wide before her beneath a too-tight black T-shirt—screamed bad boy.

‘How’s it going?’ Riana said calmly, meeting his brilliant eyes. ‘I don’t mean with the shoot—obviously, because you’ve just told me and I’m late. And not personally, because frankly I don’t care what you’re feeling personally.’ She bit her tongue. She was babbling!

‘Thanks.’ Joe pursed his lips as though reconsidering something. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am about that other night,’ he stated dryly. ‘It’s been on my mind. I need to say that in no way did I want to hurt you by misleading you into thinking that I wanted a date with you.’

‘Yes, you did.’ She glared up at him. ‘Evening the score I think you called it.’

Joe shrugged. ‘You were hard on some of the lads.’

She stared up into his golden eyes, determined to get over whatever it was that being near him was doing to her body. ‘It was no picnic for me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Riana stiffened. He sounded pretty sincere.

‘Don’t think for a moment that I wanted to go out with you.’ She forced a laugh. ‘I already have a wonderful man in my life.’

He crossed his arms over his wide chest. ‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Serious?’

What did he think? That she was devastated because he hadn’t taken her number and needed his pity because she was oh-so-desperate? ‘I have a date with him tonight actually.’ She lifted her chin. ‘It’s at the romantic D’Amore and everyone knows that’s where certain special announcements are made.’

He frowned. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Typical. Only an absolute romantic-heathen wouldn’t be aware that everyone who was anyone in Sydney got proposed to at the cosy little French restaurant. ‘Stuart is going to propose to me tonight.’

‘Oh.’ He stiffened, his mouth thinning. ‘And are you thinking of accepting?’

She smiled. ‘Hell, yes. My two older sisters are happily married, you know.’

He tilted his head sideways, frowning. ‘And that means…?’

Riana stared at the man. For someone purported to be savvy in business and getting quite a name in the industry for his expertise with the camera, he was absolutely hopeless. ‘That it’s my turn,’ she said with emphasis.

‘O-kay.’ He rubbed his bristled jaw. ‘I thought marriage was about love.’

Riana pressed her lips together tightly, holding the flood of retorts on the tip of her tongue. She let out her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Just because you haven’t got someone special in your life who loves you doesn’t mean you can go and—’

He shrugged and turned away from her. ‘Maybe you could get back there organised so I can stop sitting around and I can start doing my job.’ And he strode away from her.

Riana gritted her teeth. As if she cared that she’d blurted out her most personal thoughts to a complete stranger and he’d walked away on her. Fine. Absolutely fine. He was the one who had stopped to chat in the first place…It wasn’t as if it mattered who knew that Stuart was going to propose to her tonight. Tomorrow it would be in all the papers.

Riana slipped out the back, her chest tight. Maggie had assured her she wasn’t needed at the six a.m. start the models would make to get organised with their make-up and hair, and she’d set out all the gowns days ago.

What had gone wrong?

The back room was in bedlam. Tall, lanky models stalked around, robes on, make-up and hair done to perfection.

Riana couldn’t see there’d be a problem. The place was intact. The models all present and apparently accounted for. The gowns all hanging where she’d left them. ‘Maggie?’

Maggie stuck her head out from one of the sewing rooms they were using as a changing-room. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. No one can agree who gets to wear what.’

‘That’s it? That’s what all the fuss is about? For this I’m being harassed by Joe Henderson and his inflated self-importance?’

Maggie shrugged sheepishly. ‘He’s the best in the business.’

‘Which is why I’m going to put a great big smile on my face and not wrap my hands around his neck.’ Riana grabbed the first lanky model and a gown off the rack. ‘This, for you. Quickly.’

The woman dropped her robe and stepped into the gown. Riana adjusted the fit of the bodice, turned her around and laced up the back of the gown.

‘Maggie, hand me the tiara with the medium veil.’

Riana took the tiara from Maggie and stood on tiptoe. She secured the tiara and veil to the woman’s hair and gave her a gentle shove in the back. ‘Right. Go.’

‘He’s a genius, that Joe, you know,’ Maggie said, snaring another model by the arm and shoving her towards Riana. ‘Have you seen his work?’

‘Yes.’ Riana took another gown off the rack. ‘But the man’s a monster. An arrogant self-absorbed, self-inflated—’

The model dropped her robe. ‘Joe does demand a lot from everyone around him,’ she said softly. ‘But he’s great, once you’ve got to know him.’

‘That’s good to know.’ Riana zipped up the back of the dress and added a long veil, rolling her eyes at Maggie. The man probably knew every model on the continent, intimately.

‘No truly, he helped out one of the young models who had got into drugs,’ she said reverently. ‘He’s so nice. Always there for us all, you know.’

Riana stared at the tall, lithe blonde. She didn’t want to hear how nice the guy was. She didn’t care. She had Stuart, and Stuart was head over heels about her.

‘He cares, that’s all I’m saying, I guess.’ The woman rotated slowly as Riana adjusted the fall of the skirts. ‘Joe got her into rehab. And back with her family. They’d had a falling out over her modelling instead of going to university.’

‘Thanks for sharing.’ Riana managed a smile and pushed the model towards the front curtain. She didn’t want to think about the guy a second more than necessary, especially how exactly all the models knew him so well. ‘Next.’

‘He is sort of cute in a rugged sort of way.’ Maggie handed her a long, flowing veil.

She cringed. ‘I’ve got Stuart.’ And the last thing she needed was a crush on Joe, no matter what he made her body feel.

Maggie took a gown from the rack. ‘Have you seen Stuart?’

Riana helped the next model into the gown, biting her lip. ‘No, but he’s so busy at work at the moment.’

Maggie zipped the gown up and fluffed up the flowing satin. ‘Bummer.’

‘Yes, I know. Just when I’m thinking that it’s time we get more serious and spend more time together…But his work is very important.’ Riana fixed the veil in place.

Maggie put her hands on her hips. ‘He’s an economist.’

Riana shrugged. ‘Yes. Well, he takes the economy very seriously.’

‘U-huh.’

Riana turned her attention to adjusting the fit of the strapless bodice of the satin gown. She knew Maggie’s view of Stuart intimately. So, she didn’t like him that much. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be the one marrying him. Riana was. Mrs Riana Brooks had such a nice ring to it.

And she was sick of being alone, sick of the dating games, the bad kissers, the sleazy hands, the selfish needs of men out there, and of frozen dinners for one.

She was getting married. This year. She was sure of it. And Stuart Brooks was the man.

The D’Amore was all they said it was. From the time her oldest sister had announced her engagement, Riana had dreamt of this night.

Everyone knew the French restaurant was a place to take a girl to let her know how serious the relationship was. Her older sister, Tara, used it all the time for her proposal clients.

Riana shivered with anticipation and unabashed excitement. Stuart was seriously into her.

Would he push for a spring wedding? Would they honeymoon in Europe? Move in together in his apartment in the city or buy a house in the northern suburbs?

It was about time a guy fell totally in love with her. Wanted her to marry him. Live happily ever after.

Classical music drifted through the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she sauntered into the bar, walking slowly, conscious of the impression Stuart would have of her when he saw her.

The kick-ass red dress she’d made for herself after her older sister’s wedding clung to her curves, accentuating her shape, leaving no doubt that she was serious in her hunt for the perfect partner. The thin straps and plunging neckline gave the message of her simple elegance, and the thin necklace with a small golden heart spoke a thousand words as to what she wanted from him.

Stuart was at the bar, his hand gripped tightly around a double Scotch…or was it a triple?

‘Honey?’ She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned over and kissed him. His breath was heavy with alcohol. How many drinks had he had?

‘Riana, darling.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’re late.’

‘I’m always late.’ She smiled.

He waved a finger at her, frowning. ‘You know that I don’t like it when I’m kept waiting.’ He took her arm, his sober expression giving nothing away. ‘Shall we eat then?’

She nodded. He didn’t appear to be in the best of moods, but that could just be an act so she’d be more surprised when he popped the question. ‘I hear the food here is wonderful,’ she offered hopefully.

Stuart grunted and steered her to the entrance to the dining room.

The maître d’ seated them near the back of the crowded restaurant. The table was small, draped with a pearl-white lace tablecloth with shining cutlery laid out, and a vase of roses nestled in the middle.

Stuart dropped into his seat, running his eyes over her body as she sank into her own seat. ‘I have something important to ask you.’

Riana’s breath caught in her throat. Already? She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could see it now. A beautiful apartment on the north side with views to the harbour, a man by her side sharing her life, a fluffy little dog and maybe, and in time, a child or three.

‘Yes?’ she whispered, leaning forward. Was he going to go down on one knee like in the movies? Was he packing a ring in his pocket? Did he have champagne organised as soon as she’d said yes?

He leant his elbows on to the table. ‘I want you to go away with me.’

Riana looked into his face. ‘Away?’ Maybe he was taking the long way round to his proposal of undying love and intense need for her to be his for ever. Was it the honeymoon he was referring to?

‘To Switzerland.’ He lifted his hand for the waiter. ‘My family has a chalet there and it’s my turn to take advantage of it.’

Riana took a sip of water. ‘How romantic,’ she said with extreme calm, holding in her eagerness for the real question.

Did she have to wait long?

Switzerland had those beautiful mountains, with the snow-covered peaks, with the blue-blue skies overhead and a sprawling chalet just for the two of them…It would be a beautifully romantic place to have Stuart propose to her.

Stuart pulled out his cigarettes and tapped the box on the table as though he was itching to light up. ‘Of course, we won’t be alone exactly.’

Riana’s body became heavy. ‘Exactly?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow at the man opposite her.

He waved a hand in the air dismissively. ‘Well, there are a few friends I’ve asked to come to the chalet as well.’

Her body chilled. ‘You’ve already asked them?’

Stuart waved a hand dismissively. ‘Of course. I could hardly keep it to myself.’

But she was only just finding out? She swallowed hard. ‘Sounds crowded.’

He shook his head and grinned at her. ‘Not at all. We’ll have a great time with my mates. And when I get tired of them—’

Riana stared at him, her mouth dry.

‘You’ll be there.’ He took a gulp of the drink the waiter had put down in front of him. ‘But I couldn’t imagine being there without you. You’re such fun to be with.’

‘Fun?’ she said dully. Was that all she was to him or was he just teasing her?

‘Of course. You’re a real blast to be with, Riana. Never a dull moment.’ He leant closer, taking her hands in his. ‘You’re my little party animal…What’s the matter?’

Riana looked at Stuart, her mind struggling to make sense of his words, while she tried not to. ‘I thought…I thought we were moving to the next level…you know?’

She lifted her chin and glared at the man opposite her. This couldn’t be happening to her.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d misheard, been mistaken. Stuart Brooks wasn’t the sort of man who would toy with a woman. He had breeding, class and manners.

She shifted in her seat, determined. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, least of all Switzerland, until she knew exactly where he figured this relationship was heading.

He furrowed his brow. ‘Next level?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly, trying to smile at his act of naïvety. ‘I thought you were going to propose to me tonight.’

Stuart closed his mouth tightly, making rumbling noises as though he was going to explode. ‘Come on, you’re kidding, right?’ He laughed loudly.

‘I thought you loved me?’

Stuart took a gulp of his drink. ‘Do you love me?’

Riana placed her hand over her heart. ‘I thought we had a future together.’

‘Riana. Of course we do. A future of fun, sport, holidays…’

She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

Stuart sculled the contents of his glass. ‘You’re not exactly marriage material, are you?’

‘Not marriage material!’ She held her hands tightly on her lap, willing her legs to work, to get up, to get away, but she could barely breathe, let alone walk.

She was numb.

He wasn’t serious about her. Not serious at all, and she’d just made a giant fool of herself, blurting out what she felt, yet again, to a man out to break her heart if she let him.

She stared at the man opposite her, watching his lips move, trying to take in his long-winded explanation over the rush of blood to her face and the heavy weight in her chest.

She choked back the burning sensation in her throat. She wasn’t going to be Mrs Brooks. She wasn’t going to be Mrs Anybody.

She wasn’t ever going to find someone to love her, and the fact tore through her heart, ripping all her dreams to shreds.




CHAPTER THREE


JOE rearranged the tripod for the tenth time, standing back to assess the angles.

Thank goodness Tara Andrews had been around to let him in an hour ago. It had been late but she’d understood his need to get the equipment set up right for tomorrow. So much so that she’d left him to it, with exact instructions on how to lock up when he left.

Tara looked a lot like her sister, but had shorter hair, a far more cool and calm demeanour and a few years more experience in the world.

Joe rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the tension. He wasn’t sure what it was about today that sat uneasily in his chest. The lighting had been good. The models fantastic. The gowns awesome. Riana sure had a flair for the exquisite in her designs.

He looked through the lens. What was it that was off? Wrong? Off kilter? He couldn’t put his finger on it…

He shook his head. Whatever it was he’d have to sort it out tonight for the re-shoot tomorrow. It was an absolute pain but he wanted to get it perfect for Riana.

‘Marry me?’

Joe spun around at the woman’s voice.

Riana stood in the doorway in a tight red dress that caressed her curves, accentuating how womanly she was. Her shoulder-length hair spilled around her shoulders like ebony waves, her lips pouty, her eyes wide and on him.

She leant heavily on the door-frame as though her legs weren’t strong enough to hold her, a bottle dangling from one hand.

He frowned as the label became clear. Vodka. Half gone. What was going on? ‘What—?’

She staggered forward. ‘I said…Will you marry me?’ she slurred.

He shook his head. He couldn’t be hearing right. Or he was hallucinating. What was she doing here at this hour? Drunk? And proposing? He shook his head, trying to work her out. ‘What—?’

She lifted the bottle and pointed it at him. ‘Have you got a hearing problem?’

Joe slipped his hands into his pockets, eyeing her warily. This didn’t feel like her at all. ‘No,’ he said carefully. ‘No hearing problem.’

‘Then?’ She opened her eyes wide and waved her free hand in a circle as though she was rolling the tape faster.

She wanted to marry him? His blood heated. Did she like him? Was frustration behind her behaviour towards him today? ‘Why on earth would you want to marry me?’

‘Apart from your charming smile and scintilating wit…’ She tried to smother a laugh, and failed. ‘Because—’ her voice broke ‘—because Stuart didn’t propose at all. He didn’t want me to marry him, he just wanted me to go to ski with him in the Alps…when he got bored with his friends.’

He cringed. The poor girl. She’d been so fired up earlier that the bloke was the one for her…

Riana shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘He must have seen the look on my face.’ She sighed heavily. ‘And asked me what was up, so I told him…that I thought he was going to propose to me.’

Joe ran a hand through his hair. Hell. Talk about putting herself on the line. ‘And?’

She took a gulp from the bottle, and gasped as the liquid slid down her throat, waving her free hand in front of her mouth as though the air would cool her mouth.

How was she drinking the stuff straight? If she was out to get herself blind drunk she certainly was on the way.

‘And apparently he’s so rich…his family has social standing…somewhere…and he made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t…marriage material.’

Jeez, the guy was a total jerk. Wasn’t it enough to break her heart? Did he have to drive what was left of her into the ground? ‘So…’ he offered cautiously.

She lifted her chin, took another swig from the bottle and swayed. ‘So, I’m not his girlfriend any more.’

He stiffened.

She staggered forward, leaning against a chair. ‘I’m the only one now who’s a hopeless loser…I can’t find anyone who wants to marry me.’

Joe ran a hand through his hair, his chest tight. This was the last place he’d expected to find he was needed. And she was the last person he expected to need him. ‘Riana—’

She staggered across the room. ‘I thought I’d be fending off the proposals by now.’ She waved her arm around wildly. ‘But…apparently…I’m all right for a bit of fun but not—’

Joe moved forward, his attention on all the cords, stands and equipment around the room. The last thing she needed was to be a damaged designer. ‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you.’

She brandished the bottle, staring at him, her dark eyes blazing. ‘Yeah, right. Nothing. Then why am I alone again? Have you any idea how many boyfriends I’ve had?’

He shook his head. He could imagine. She was beautiful. Not the cover model sort of beautiful, but the smooth-skinned, bright-eyed, sweet-faced sort of beautiful that made your loins ache and your blood heat.

She stabbed the bottle of spirit towards him. ‘I don’t know either. I’ve lost count. It’s so depressing, isn’t it?’

He shrugged casually, inching closer to her, around the spotlights. He needed to make her safe, before something else happened to her. ‘You weren’t dumped every time?’ he asked, more to make conversation than satisfy his curiosity. She couldn’t have been. Who in their right mind would want to dump her?

‘Course not,’ she slurred. ‘I dumped them before they could dump me.’ She glanced around her. ‘I can tell when they get that look in their eyes, when they’re lying to me,’ she whispered and lifted her chin defiantly. ‘And there’s no way I’d give them the satisfaction.’

She took another swallow from the bottle and swayed dangerously close to one of the tripods he’d set up earlier for his cameras.

Joe lunged forward and clasped her by the shoulders. She was softer than he’d imagined, her skin smooth and warm. Vulnerable.

Something primitive lurched inside him.

Joe shook off the sensation and propelled her over the cords to the carpeted steps of the platform, vividly aware of his hold on her.

He clenched his jaw tight and guided her down to a safe landing, trying not to think about how sweet she smelled, of strawberries and vodka. Of how warm the bare skin of her shoulders was, under his hands that itched to explore her. Or how beautiful her dusky eyes were, staring up at him with an open expectation that made his chest tight. What could he say? ‘Steady on there.’

He straightened her up on the step. Her clients would probably strut their outfits here for their family and friends. All happy and full of hope. Nothing like Riana was now.

He sat down beside her as casually as he could manage. He had to get that bottle off her before she did something stupid. ‘I could do with a drink myself,’ he suggested lightly.

‘Here.’ She thrust the bottle at him and smiled. ‘I like to share, and I’d make a good wife…I’m pretty sure.’

He took the bottle from her, ignoring the crazy lurch of excitement in the pit of his gut at her smile, at her warm body pressed beside his, of how close her full red lips were.

Joe took a swig, breathed through the liquid fire sliding down his throat and tucked the bottle behind his leg, out of view. ‘Why marry me?’

‘Why not?’ She shrugged. ‘I figure, what the hell…If I can’t be anyone else’s wife, I’ll be yours.’

Joe stared at her. Words escaped him. Not the sort of flattery he was after. ‘Right,’ he managed. ‘Okay.’

She leant towards him. ‘You really want to know why?’

‘Yes.’

‘Cause if you won’t have me,’ she whispered, staring up into his face, her eyes glistening. ‘No one will.’

His chest tightened. Hell. Was he that bad? How could she have got an impression like that about him? He shifted on the step, looking towards the door.

‘Yep.’ She nodded. ‘You’re rude, obnoxious and awfully scruffy…’ She ran a hand down his coarse whiskers, shaking her head.

His blood rushed hot through his body, her fingers leaving a trail of burning desire down his jaw. What was she doing to him?

‘I’m the bottom of the barrel?’ Joe asked slowly. Surely all those years in university and then working his way into a reasonable reputation for finely executed photographs had counted for something?

She nodded earnestly. ‘Yep. Bottom-bottom.’

Joe swallowed hard. ‘And why do you feel that you need a man in your life, a husband, to feel complete?’ he asked, cringing at his own idiocy. A bit of layman psychology wasn’t going to be enough for this situation, not in a long shot.

She waved her hands in the air, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Everyone knows that life isn’t the same if you don’t share it.’ She sagged against him as though the effort of talking had taken what was left of her energy, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘Where’s the fun in doing stuff, movies, meals, places, if you don’t share it?’

‘True.’ He had to agree on that one. Sure, he wasn’t going looking for someone to marry but when you found the right person to fit comfortably into your life and share it with…

Riana straightened. ‘So, will you share my life with me or will I have to go and find another bottle?’ She stared at her empty hands then looked around her. ‘Where’s my vodka?’

‘You don’t need more booze. It won’t solve anything.’

‘Huh. Says you.’ She dug around in the purse hanging off her shoulder as though she could find it in there.

Joe’s gut tightened. ‘You know the stuff can kill you?’

She shrugged, tipping her bag out, the contents spilling on to the floor. ‘What the hell, like it matters…’

Joe stared at the scattered contents of her bag. She had enough make-up to start a small shop, plus a small can of hairspray, a couple of brushes, a mobile phone, loose change and receipts.

His gaze stopped on her car keys, memories of his sister flooding his mind. A tough breakup, booze, tears and car keys…

Raw grief sliced through him.

Hell, there was no way he could sit by and let Riana do this to herself—he looked her in the eyes—not when he could do something about it.

‘Yes.’

She swayed towards him, her finely arched eyebrows lifting. ‘What?’

He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

Her brow creased. ‘Yes what?’

Joe cupped her face with his hands and stared into her beautiful dark eyes, praying that this would make all the difference to her. ‘Yes, I will marry you.’

She smiled, her full red lips curving into a smile, her eyes brightening. ‘You will?’

‘Sure.’ And as soon as she sobered up and came to her senses she’d dump him like she’d dumped every other man that came into her life. But at least she’d make it through the night without making a mistake that could cost her life.

She swung her arms around him and held him tightly. ‘I’m so happy.’

Desire rippled through him. She felt so good. He tried not to breathe in her scent, take in the feel of her body pressed against his, or think about the wild responses deep within him.

She was all woman. Her alluring softness pressed against him. The sweetness of strawberries surrounded him. The soft scent of her shampoo invaded his senses as she held him close to her.

‘I’m not a loser then, am I?’ she whispered into his ear, her breath caressing the nerves in his neck, making promises that Joe knew could never be.

He shook his head, sucking in deep, slow breaths, bringing his arms up. He hesitated. Hell. He closed his arms around her, holding her close.

He couldn’t have her think he didn’t care about her. She had to believe that the proposal was real for now. That he loved holding her, loved the feel of her, the smell of her, the sweetness of her voice, no matter how slurred.

She had to see how much life she had yet to live.

Riana pulled back, running her soft fingertips down his bristly cheek, biting her bottom lip. ‘Where’s my ring?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’ve got to give me a ring if we’re engaged.’ She smiled wildly at him.

Joe stared at her. Was she for real? She was amazing…unbelievable…drunk as hell…and such a romantic.

Hell. A ring. Where the hell was he going to get a ring from at this time of night?

He glanced at his fingers, all empty. Now would have been the perfect moment for that silver skull ring his mother had confiscated from him at sixteen.

Joe pulled the nearest camera bag over to him and flipped it open. Something he could use as a ring…? He undid one of the tripod legs and took the brass packer off the end. It looked about the right size.

He offered the small brass ring to her on his palm.

Riana pouted. ‘Do it properly.’ And she held out her hand as though she was in some old movie, awaiting a kiss from a handsome prince on her left hand. ‘And you have to kneel.’

Joe ran a hand through his hair. ‘Okay.’ He tucked the vodka bottle into the camera bag and shoved it to one side. He dropped to the floor in front of her.

He looked up into her face, saw the tears brimming in her eyes. His gut tightened.

He swallowed hard and slipped the ring slowly onto her finger, his mind a mass of crazy thoughts, his body a frenzy of tangled urges. None of which he had any intention of pursuing.

‘With this ring…’ she murmured, listing to one side, a soft smile on her face, her eyes closed.

‘That comes later,’ he said, shaking his head. And in this case, not at all. He was already seriously involved.

She fell sideways.

Joe caught her in his arms, holding her. What a night.

He lifted Riana into his arms, sending a prayer to the ceiling that the morning would bring her some sense as well as sobriety.

The last thing he needed was another fiancée.




CHAPTER FOUR


RIANA held her head and opened her eyes gingerly. Damn, what had she been drinking? She pried her tongue off the roof of her mouth and wet her dry lips, swallowing hard, trying to dispel the fur lining.

She was lying on the white sofa in her back office, her shoes on the floor, the spring silk samples draped over her like a blanket.

What was she doing here?

She vaguely recalled coming to the boutique last night…and before that? The wave of despair hit her. Stuart didn’t want to marry her!

Her eyes burned. He was such a jerk. Using her like a plaything, something just for fun, to amuse him until someone worth getting serious over came along.

She stared at the ceiling. Why on earth wasn’t she serious material? Sure, she may not have come from a rich family, or gone to a private school, but she had a class all of her own.

She shook her head. She was an idiot for even considering that he was worth her time, let alone her hand in marriage. The nerve of the man to tell her that she wasn’t good enough for him or his high-and-mighty rich family! 41

She rolled off the sofa, holding her stomach with one hand, her head with the other, bracing herself against the pitching of her senses.

The floor wavered. Darn. She should have kept drinking so she didn’t have to think about him, or feel like this.

She closed her eyes, resting on the edge of the sofa. At least she’d ended up safely here at Camelot Bridal Boutique and not in some gutter somewhere. That wouldn’t have been a good look for a wannabe up-and-coming designer.

She cupped her cheeks, holding her face in the hope that it might still the vibrations gnawing at her head. She hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Seven-thirty. At least Joe couldn’t complain this morning about her tardiness. Did she still have that change of clothes in her office from the last time she went straight from work to a club? She hoped so. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Joe’s face when he arrived and she was already here.

Joe…

She strained to think. There was something about him that she was missing. She shook her head tentatively. Whatever it was, it could wait. The last session with him was today and she wouldn’t have to think about the scruffy-looking control freak again.

Riana stood up and staggered to the bathroom, her legs feeling as though all the alcohol she’d drunk last night had solidified there, every step jarring her brain and her stomach.

Waves of nausea slapped her senses.

Riana flicked the light switch in the bathroom and blinked away the pain behind her eyes.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. Mistake. Her hair was sticking out at wild angles as though something unspeakable had nested in it for the night. The smudges around her eyes from her make-up gave her the classic been-in-a-pub-brawl look, and her skin was as pasty as olive skin could get on a bad day. And, sheesh, it was a bad, bad day.

She turned the tap on. What she needed was a long hot shower to make her feel better, wash away all the comments Stuart had thrown around. Huh! She wasn’t just for a good time.

She cupped her hands under the streaming warm water, her attention caught by the glimmer of gold on her hand.

What? A ring? On that finger?

Her belly lurched. She brought her hand up closer to her face. The small band looked like a wedding ring. She shook her head as much as her aching brain allowed. But it couldn’t be. Whirlwind weddings didn’t happen in Australia. There were no Vegas altars available twenty-four-seven here.

Riana knew this for a fact. Her older sister, Skye, was forever being asked how fast a wedding could take place—mostly by young couples too caught up in the amazing raptures of love to think straight.

It was a month, she was sure of it. And it could only be less if someone was dying—if she was remembering right. She did have the habit of blocking out her sisters’ talk about work.

She fingered the band. Who?

Had she done it herself, knowing she deserved to be as happily married as her sisters? Or had someone else put it there? Why?

She scrunched her eyes tightly closed, clawing for any hint of last night’s desolation and subsequent commiseration with a bottle of vodka.

Joe’s face came to mind.

Riana grabbed the sink for support. Something to do with Joe Henderson, photographer extraordinaire, last night?

She could remember his face, strong and angular, his jaw rough with bristle. She closed her palm, almost feeling the sensation on her fingertips.

She’d touched him?

Flashes came to mind. Of kind words, his velvet-smooth deep voice, his golden eyes looking down at her with a warmth that made her toes curl.

What had she said to him? Her throat burned. The last thing she wanted was that man to know all her woes, especially after bragging up Stuart’s imminent proposal.

She sagged to the floor. Could she have acted more like an idiot if she’d tried? Fancy believing in the jerk so much that she’d told everyone that he was going to propose, including Joe.

Tears burned her eyes and made her throat ache with the need to yell. She was a fool.

Memories flooded her mind—of all the time she’d taken to spend with Stuart, of all the energy she’d spent on him, all the smiles, the flirting, the amazing outfits. And he was just like every other jerk that she’d met.

She stared at the ceiling, futilely blinking back the tears. She’d even told her mother she could stop worrying about her, that she was going to settle down too, like her sisters.

She let the tears flow, let the sobs rack her body, cursing her big fat mouth. Everyone was going to know now how much of an idiot she’d been with Stuart. He hadn’t loved her at all.

There was a light tap on the door.

‘Hey?’ said a deeply male voice. ‘Are you okay in there?’

Riana staggered to her feet, choking back the tears and the pain in her head. Couldn’t a girl have a quiet cry on her own bathroom floor without being interrupted? She flung the door open. ‘What?’ she snapped.

Joe Henderson stood in front of her, freshly shaved, his hair combed back, his blue jeans fitting very nicely on his body, and his white T-shirt stretched tightly across his wide chest.





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