Читать книгу Blind Date Rivals - Нина Харрингтон - Страница 8

SOMEWHERE in her bedroom a full symphony orchestra was playing what should have been a soothing overture to a lovely ballet. Except, to Sara’s ears, the instruments sounded as though they had been tuned in a sawmill.

She stirred and tugged the duvet farther towards her chin, then yawned loudly. The first thing on her to-do list that morning would be to retune the radio to a popular music channel.

She tried to snuggle back to sleep, but there was something uncomfortable on her pillow.

She reached up until her fingers closed around a string of pearls.

Oh, no! She must have slept in them all night. There would probably be bobble-shaped marks all over her neck and chin.

Never mind. It was early. She still had plenty of time to recover from last night and get smartened up before her meeting at the hotel.

Last night! Ah, the party. That would explain why she felt so weary. She ran her tongue over her parched lips. Juice. She needed juice. Then tea would be good.

Her eyes flickered slowly open and both hands lifted the duvet as she glanced down.

Helen Lewis had a lot to answer for. It had been years since she had been so tired that she had crawled into bed in her underwear. Sara glanced around her bedroom and, sure enough, her black dress lay across the armchair at the foot of her bed.

Sara was still mentally shaking her head when an Abyssinian ball of fur and mischief launched itself onto the duvet and sashayed up, until Sara could scratch between his ears.

‘Oh, Pasha, you know that you are not allowed in here.’

She laughed as the rich golden brown cat purred with pleasure, then started nudging her face, the cute red nose pushing against her neck so he could play with the pearls that she was still wearing.

‘Ready for breakfast? Good. I’ll head for the shower and repair the damage before anyone sees me.’

Sara pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It took a second or two before her world stopped spinning, but at least she was on her feet and ready to get to work. She had a lot to do today and not much time to do it in.

She was still feeling dreamy and slightly dazed when her toes crushed down onto something round and hard on the soft handmade rug that had come with the cottage when she inherited it …

She dared not look down.

Oh, please, not something else her cat had brought in.

Sure enough, Pasha came sidling up to her and started rubbing himself up and down her legs.

‘Pasha, if you have been in the kitchen bin again, you are in so much trouble!’

Her grandmother’s old cat had a knack for finding something from the floor to play with. Loose screws, plant ties, paperclips—they all ended up being scooped out and played with. And Helen had brought bags of treasures with her when they played dress up before the party.

Sara knew from personal experience that all jewellery and shiny small items had to be locked securely away unless she wanted them to be redistributed around the cottage as cat toys.

‘Okay. Let’s find out what you’ve brought me this time!’

Sara moved her foot and glanced down at the floor.

And stopped breathing.

It was a button. A large black button with a silver scroll on it. The sort of button that might be used on a coat. Or a black evening cloak. The kind of cloak a vampire count might wrap around a girl’s shoulders late in the evening. For example.

Eloise Sara Jane Marchant Fenchurch de Lambert had many doubts in life, but one thing was certain.

That button had not come from any garment she owned.

Suddenly she felt dizzy and collapsed back on her bed, trying to ignore Pasha, who was headbutting her legs.

Breathe deeply. That was the secret. Inhale, and then exhale slowly. Slowly.

She clasped both hands to the top of her head.

Think. Think. Last night. What was the last thing she could remember from last night? Her eyes clenched shut.

The party. Dracula. Sharing her buffet dinner … with Dracula. Escaping onto the terrace and walking around the garden and talking and dancing … with Dracula. Then Dracula turned into Caspar’s friend Leo instead of a bat and offered to walk her home. Then? Nothing specific. Her cottage. He opened the front door for her. Lights.

Her eyes opened just in time to see Pasha playing with the button between his paws.

Of course! She had been wearing his heavy cloak on their short walk from the hotel, but she had slipped it off as soon as she was inside and handed it back. The button must have come loose and Pasha had brought it in.

A great whoosh of relief came out of Sara’s mouth and her shoulders dropped six inches.

Sara reached forward and snatched the button away from her cat before it was completely clawed to pieces.

‘Sorry, Pasha. I need to give this back to Caspar so he can return it to his vampire friend.’

Shaking her head, Sara pushed herself off the bed and across the corridor to her plain white-tiled bathroom. This was going to be a two coffee morning if she had any chance at all of impressing the Events Manager at the hotel. It had not been easy to arrange a meeting on a weekend, but this was her one chance to convince him that Kingsmede Manor should choose Cottage Orchids for all their flower displays.

Of course she had made light of her business plans in front of Helen—her friend was getting married in a few weeks and she didn’t want to worry her with finances, but a regular contract with the hotel would make a difference to her investment plans. She had so many exciting ideas for the next twelve months! It would be wonderful if she could transform at least some of them into reality.

No pressure then. Oh, no.

The Venetian glass mirror with its silver surround had been her grandmother’s—and one of the few precious things her mother had allowed her to bring from the old house, only because the hotel did not want it. There was a chip in the frame where the mirror had once fallen off the wall when the plaster had got too wet to take the weight, but Sara didn’t mind.

She brushed her hair out and peered at the glass. Not too bad considering she had slept in her make-up. The red lipstick was gone, probably onto the pillowcase. Time to hit the shower; she needed to be sharp this morning and it was already … Oh, what time was it?