Читать книгу Last-Minute Bridesmaid - Нина Харрингтон - Страница 11

TWO

Kate stood in the doorway to the library room and took a breath.

The last time that she had seen Heath Sheridan was at a high school dance and it had certainly been a memorable occasion. Just thinking about that moment when she had jumped on him to say goodnight made her feel so embarrassed and intimidated. And that was without the height difference, which meant that he towered over her without even trying.

Kate shrugged off her nerves. That was years ago. This time they were equal. Two professionals with their own businesses.

Unfortunately for her poor heart, Heath Sheridan had the nerve to have actually become even more handsome than the man she remembered and Amber talked about constantly.

The star student who had made his name turning around the popular fiction division of the family publishing company should be round-shouldered and wear cardigans with leather patches at the elbow.

He had no right to be so tall and clear-skinned. And that hair! Lush dark brown hair which curled into the base of his neck and seemed to have a mind of its own. He had never been vain—she knew that from talking to Amber—but style and vanity were two very different matters and Heath Sheridan had style to spare.

Why shouldn’t he?

Amber wore gowns by top fashion houses and his family were on the top level of Boston society. It made perfect sense for him to be wearing a tailored black suit and shirt which fitted him so perfectly she knew instinctively that they had been made to measure.

Those strong shoulders, slim waist and hips would be a gift to any tailor.

Oh, my. And how she would like to dress him.

Suddenly the room become stiflingly hot and it had nothing to do with the weather!

‘Ah! There you are,’ Kate called out through a tight throat. ‘Special delivery for the man of the house, courtesy of Lovat courier services. Great to see you again, Heath.’

She waited for him to turn around and give her one of those fabulous grins that used to make her teenage knees wobble.

And she waited. And then she waited a little longer. But his gaze stayed totally locked onto whatever he was finding so fascinating on his computer screen. She could see that he was reading and typing so he was not asleep.

So she tried again.

‘Hi, Heath. Your one-woman dressmaker and delivery service is here.’

Kate looked at Heath and then looked at the pretty dress box that she had slaved for hours to create and then carted across London in a downpour.

She might forgive him for not turning around to greet her but there was no way that he was going to ignore the fabulous work that she had done.

‘Thank you, Kate. You were such a star to drop everything else that you were working on to create four amazing outfits at the very last minute as a personal favour,’ she murmured under her breath as she slung her shoulder bag higher over her shoulder.

‘Sorry I cannot find the time to even look at your work,’ she added with a mock lilt in her voice. ‘Don’t let the door swing on your way out.’

Heath did not even glance at her.

Right. Well, that answered that question. ‘Bye, Heath. See you around some time. Have a fabulous wedding. The bill is in the post.’

Still no reply.

What had she been thinking?

The fashion design company she had created from scratch and passion was in so much trouble. She should be back in her studio working on ballet costumes for her pal Leo, not spending what little free time she had stolen from the day getting dressed up to deliver wedding clothes as a favour for her friend’s stepbrother.

Her friend’s gorgeous, handsome, debonair and totally oblivious to the fact that she existed brother.

She was delusional. And more than a little pathetic.

‘Have a lovely wedding. I do hope everything goes well. Why don’t I just leave this last dress with you and call you later? Bye!’ she smiled and sang out in a sing-song voice.

Nothing. Not even a raised eyebrow.

Kate pressed a hand to each hip. Well, now he was just being rude.

Kate tossed her bag onto a chair and stomped over to the desk and, before Heath could do anything to stop her, closed the lid down on his laptop and swivelled the chair away from the desk.

And at that very moment he looked up and turned his head.

His mouth twisted into a half smile that screamed out that he had known that she was there the whole time. Eyes the colour of the burnt sugar coating on the top of a crème caramel dessert smiled at her, dazzling and driving any chance of sensible thought from her brain.

She half closed her eyes and scowled at him then rapped her knuckles twice on his forehead. Hard.

‘Hello. Is anyone at home?’ she said, ignoring his shouts of protest. ‘Remember me? The girl who has just gone out of her way to hand-deliver the last bridesmaid’s dress so that your new stepmum won’t be followed down the aisle by a girl in cargo pants?’

‘Kate. Yes. Of course. How long have you been waiting?’ Heath replied with a groan as he rubbed life back into his forehead.

‘Long enough to realise that you have not been listening to a word that I have said. In fact a person of delicate sensibilities might even call you rude and insulting.’

‘Oh, no. Did I just zone out on you?’

She nodded slowly, up and down, her lips pushed forward. ‘If that is what you call totally ignoring me for the past five minutes, then yes, you did.’

Then he did the smiley thing again and there was just enough of a twinkle in those eyes to drive away the clouds.

Wow, some men just ticked all the boxes. It was so unfair to the others.

‘I apologise. It is one of my many flaws and I had no intention of being rude or ignoring you. I spend most of my time in an open-plan publishing office with a team who are never off the phone. Being able to disconnect is actually an advantage. But not always.’

She leant back and scowled at him, ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he whispered, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. ‘I do that a lot when I’m stressed. And I am stressed. This wedding is driving me crazy. Am I forgiven?’

‘I’m thinking about it,’ she retorted. ‘Well, that is such a pathetic excuse, but I suppose that it will have to do. But why is this wedding driving you crazy? Are you thinking of leaving the publishing world behind to retrain as a wedding planner?’

His eyes closed and he gave a pretend dramatic shudder. ‘I don’t know how they do it. This was supposed to be a small family wedding. Low-key. Intimate. You would think that it would be easy to manage. Think again.’ He raked both hands back through his hair and her breathing rate went up a notch just at the sight of it.

‘So why are you helping to organise this wedding?’

‘Family, duty. And the fact that my dad asked me to be his best man just when he was supposed to be in the middle of launching a new publishing line in Britain. It was only when I started asking questions that it soon became apparent that the whole event was in need of serious organisation.’

He shook his head. ‘Artists and writers are so talented, but their focus isn’t usually on the minute details. The bride’s cousin offered to make all of the arrangements as her—’ and at this he made inverted commas with his fingers ‘—wedding present to the happy couple. I thought that my mum’s family were bad enough but the Jardines have taken chaos to the next level.’

‘Hey. I’m an artist. And we can be organised when we have to be!’

* * *

Heath Sheridan swivelled around in the heavy leather chair and gave his full attention to the pint-sized bundle of brightness and fun and energy who had burst into the hallowed library.

And then looked twice. Then looked again.

The girl standing looking at him in the elegant grey business suit had Kate’s voice but she had certainly changed a lot from the fashion student with wild hair and wilder clothing who he vaguely remembered as one of Amber’s school friends.

Her layered short brown hair framed delicate features and a pair of clear, determined and very green eyes. A sprinkle of summer freckles covered her nose but her eyes and lips had been expertly made up to make her features look magical in the diffuse light of the library.

Kate Lovat was a pixie in a skirt suit.

She seemed taller than he recalled from their last meeting but then he was sitting down and she was wearing...what was she wearing on her feet? Platform stiletto boots—but the front had been cut away so that her toes stuck out.

Why would anyone wear ankle boots—which were open-toed?

There had to be some logical explanation but at that moment he could not think of a single one, except that, oh yes—the quirky Kate was still there under the slick make-up and suit.

‘Organised? I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he coughed, quickly trying to drag his gaze away from her legs, ‘because that would make two of us. My father wanted the wedding to go smoothly. So there was only one thing for me to do—take control of the arrangements as my gift to my dad. It’s a different sort of wedding present, but at least it saves on wrapping paper.’

‘Ah. Control.’ She smiled and gave a small shoulder wiggle, which acted like a shot of warmth in the cool room. ‘Now I’m getting the picture. Well, now you can relax because I have something special for you. The last of the bridesmaids’ dresses. I finished it this morning and it is fabulous—’ she paused and looked up from unwrapping a long thick card box and gave a small shrug ‘—of course—’ then went back to untying the ribbons and lifting off the lid ‘—so you can relax and tick that off your list. They are all done. And, what’s more, you have a chance to check the merchandise before the bride. Now that is an opportunity not to be missed. But clean hands only. No sticky paws.’

Sticky paws? What?

Heath closed the distance between them and leant down to peer inside the card box, which seemed to be filled with sheets of silky cream tissue paper.

Kate’s tailored pale grey and white tweed jacket hung open at the front, revealing a coral-coloured stretchy-looking top which clung to her curves above a slim matching grey pencil skirt.

She might be wearing high-heeled shoes but she still only came up to his shoulder. A floral fragrance of roses, gardenias and jasmine filled his head. She smelt of summer on a wet and windy day and suddenly his world seemed a happier place. How did she do that?

‘I have to admit,’ she continued and slipped away from his touch, ‘I am always happy to make personal deliveries to my customers, but you did cut it fine.’

He paused and glanced out of the window before strolling across to the fine wooden cabinet with a hidden refrigerator inside and picking out two bottles of water and two glasses. ‘Last-minute decision. What do you give the bride who already has everything?’

‘Um. Good point. A toaster wouldn’t exactly cut it. I mean...’ she turned her head from side to side as though to check that they were alone ‘...I take it that the bride is not some flighty gold-digger after your dad’s loot.’

The water caught in his throat and went down the wrong way, making him cough and splutter over his computer. Kate stood on tiptoe to thump him hard between the shoulder blades. Twice. Until he lifted his hand in submission and turned back to her. After a couple of deep breaths he blinked and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, well aware that Kate’s gaze was locked onto his face.

‘Thank you,’ he wheezed. ‘And no. Alice is definitely not after my dad for his money. She was the one who wanted a family wedding at the Jardine country estate. She knows how my dad hates fuss. This suits him very well and I’m happy to help make it all go smoothly.’

‘Are you in training for Amber’s wedding?’ She nodded. ‘What? Why are you shaking your head like that?’

‘Because there is no way that I ever want to do this again. Once is quite enough. You have no idea of the things I have had to deal with. And just wait until Alice and my dad get back from the airport with the last batch of guests. You do not want to be here when I break the news about Olivia.’

Kate reared back with a puzzled look on her face. ‘Olivia? What news about Olivia?’

Heath pressed a finger and thumb into the bridge of his nose.

What news? How about the fact that my girlfriend has just decided to dump me days before my father’s wedding? That’s all. Because apparently I am cold and guarded. Nothing important. Nothing to worry about. Just one more relationship down the pan.

He closed his eyes for a second in a futile attempt to regain control. But Olivia’s words kept echoing through his brain until they were all he could think about.

Cold and guarded.

This was pretty much the same thing the two girlfriends before Olivia had complained about. Was he cold? Guarded, yes. He did protect himself from becoming emotionally dependent on anyone, and especially a woman. Why shouldn’t he? He had seen the massive damage that kind of relationship could have on the family and the man. There was no way that he could ever allow himself to love one person and one place so completely. Not when they could be snatched away from him at a moment’s notice and he was powerless to prevent it. But cold?

Blinking his eyes open, Heath was about to reply to Kate’s question with some casual throwaway comment, when his gaze fell on the open box.

Something sparkling and shiny nestled in the tissue paper.

In two steps he was standing, looking in disbelief at the confection of dusty pink lace and satin, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, pointing to the swirls of iridescent ivory-coloured pearls which had been sewn into the lacework across the bodice and sleeves.

‘Embellishment, of course.’ She grinned.

He should have known that things were going too smoothly. Embellishment!

Amber had trusted Kate, but then again Amber adored her friends and was obviously incapable of being objective about their abilities.

After today’s little bombshell from Olivia, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with faulty bridesmaids’ dresses.

Heath picked up his tablet computer and scanned through emails. ‘Alice sent me very specific instructions about the bridesmaids’ dresses that she required for her wedding. All four had to be the same design and made of the same fabric. Very plain. And no mention of the word embellishment.’

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. ‘Has she made any comments about the first three?’

Kate nodded. ‘Alice has been travelling with your father for the past two weeks so I sent them over to the Manor yesterday. She texted me to say that they had arrived safe and sound but she wasn’t going to open the boxes until her bridesmaids arrived.’

‘So Alice hasn’t checked the dresses yet.’

‘What? And spoil the fun of opening the boxes with the gals? It will be like Christmas morning.’

‘Right. All I asked you to do, Kate, was make four very plain dresses. That was simple enough, wasn’t it?’ His gaze focused on the beaded neckline. ‘I didn’t think that you would change the design into something more elaborate.’

‘You’re forgetting something very important.’ She glared at him. ‘People pay me to transform a simple idea into a beautiful design. Otherwise why bother having dresses made-to-measure? Alice could have gone to a department store for a plain dress. She expects me to do something creative with this idea. Don’t you like the idea of being creative?’

Creative? He had grown up with an artist mother whose idea of responsibility was making sure there was always paint and canvas in the house. Everything else was unnecessary. Timetables were for other people to follow, not her. She was talented, celebrated, enchanting and, for a teenage boy desperate for some structure in his life, totally exasperating.

Kate Lovat was clearly cut from the same mould.

Not even an elegant grey and white pinstripe skirt suit could hide the fact that she was just as irresponsible and creative as the girl he remembered from the last time they’d met.

He should have guessed that Kate had not changed that much. Who else would choose to wear quirky red leather ankle boots with her toes sticking out the front on a wet July afternoon?

His gaze scanned her legs—and lingered a little too long on those shapely smooth legs before focusing on the footwear. Her toenails were painted in the exact same shade of red as her boots.

Fire engine red.

A flaming symbol of her attitude to life.

Well, it certainly fitted, because she had just managed to spark a match under the very last scrap of patience he had held on to for emergencies and burnt it to a crisp.

There was one thing he hated above anything else—and that was surprises.

‘Are all four dresses like this one?’ he asked with a rock-stiff jaw.

‘Of course they are. You ordered matching outfits.’

A deep furrow appeared between Heath’s brows and the air practically crackled with electricity as he exploded with a reply. ‘Kate, Alice ordered plain. I don’t know much about fashion, but this is not plain.’

Kate stepped forward so that her entire body was only inches away from his, and the fire in her eyes was the same colour as her toenails.

‘And I know about fashion. Alice. Will love. These dresses. The bridesmaids will love these dresses. Your father will love these dresses. The entire clan gathered for this shindig will love these dresses. And the wedding will be a huge success, Heath. Job done.’

‘Job done? I don’t think so. Have you any idea how important this wedding is? This is the first time in ten years that my father’s asked me to do anything for him. I’m not prepared to see their wedding day ruined by you taking creative licence. These dresses will have to be altered.’

Concern fuelled his anger but Kate’s response threw petrol onto the flames.

Because she did not look away or back down. She stared him out, and the look in her eyes was something new, something he had not seen before.

This was not the same girl he remembered. Little Kate had certainly grown up.

‘Change them? Do you have any idea what you are saying?’ Her words came out in a staccato retort of crisp clear sounds as though she was struggling to contain herself. ‘There is no way that I can alter even one of these dresses before the weekend. So, as far as I am concerned, this is it. No negotiation. No replacements.’

A surge of disbelief swept through him and he was about to launch into a tirade when his cellphone rang. His personal assistant was returning his call.

‘Don’t go anywhere,’ he ordered, pointing the phone at her chest like a baton and turned back to the desk and the sales figures.

* * *

Kate desperately fought to find the words needed to frame some kind of response but was saved when he moved out of earshot.

With a twist of her heels she turned away from him and leapt back up the stairs and tugged open the glass cases that held the books and pretended to be fascinated in the first book she picked up.

Her eyes were too blurry to read the title on the spine or admire the fine end papers.

The one thing that she had been secretly dreading for years had finally happened.

She wasn’t good enough for Heath.

And he had no idea whatsoever of how much pain and humiliation she felt at a few simple words of condemnation.

He was rejecting this dress that she had worked on for hour after hour of painstaking hand-sewing after a few seconds of his so very precious time. How could he not know that when he rejected her work he was rejecting her and everything she stood for and had worked for at the same time?

Time and time again she had come up against the same attitude, the same complaint, and the same demand. Keep it simple. Don’t get clever. Conform to what everyone else is doing. That way we might like you and take you seriously.

Even her own parents thought that she should conform. Sacrifice her creativity and ideas on the altar of the bland and the stale and the conventional.

And just the thought of that made her heart shrink with pain and anguish.

She had always known that Heath would be different, but facing it head-on in a stark announcement like this was a lot harder than she had expected. The pain hit her just behind the knees and she casually flicked her skirt out and sat down on the step before she fell down and felt even more of a fool.

She had to get out of here.

That was it.

She had made her delivery. Her job was done.

The moment her legs started working again she could take off back to the studio and lock the door and laugh about what a silly teenage crush she had once upon a time on a man who turned out to be not worth it after all.

This was so totally crazy it was mad.

Heath had never looked on her as anything else than Amber’s funny little school friend. Someone he had never taken seriously. Someone he humoured because he loved Amber and wanted to make her happy.

Part of her respected that.

Shame that the rest of her wanted to get home as fast as she could and cry her heart out over a bucket of ice cream.

This was not just futile but ridiculous and pathetic. She had finally had the rose-tinted spectacles whipped from her eyes so that she could see Heath for who he was and not the boy she had kissed on her doorstep all of those years ago.

Strange. She should be used to being disappointed with men, but she had always hoped that Heath would be different. That he would be the caring man that Amber adored.

She had dated fashion designers, artists and musicians who all claimed to be creative and experimental—but in the end they all turned out to be bland and conformist, too willing to change their ideas to fit in, and she had walked away from every one of them.

Hoping for something better. Hoping for someone who liked her exactly the way she was and loved what she did and did not want to change her or ‘shape her talent’ as one agent had called it.

No, thanks. She decided what she did. She set the standards and followed her dream and nobody, not even Heath, was going to stop her from keeping her fashion designs alive.

No. She would stay as she was. Amber’s little friend. That way, Heath would never know how much effort it took for her to get back to her feet and look at him crossing the room through the raging sea of confused emotions and regret that were still roiling inside her.

‘Fine,’ she replied, and folded the tissue paper over the dress, closed down the lid on the box and popped it under her arm before staring up into his face with a clear serious expression. ‘I’ll take this dress. But you have to understand something. This might be your father’s third marriage, Mr Sheridan. But this will be my fifteenth. Yes, that’s right; so far fourteen brides have trusted me to be creative with their wedding garments and by the end of the season that will be twenty.’

She took a tight hold of the box, which seemed outrageously large compared to her tiny frame. ‘You know where to find me if you change your mind. Good luck on the big day. You’re going to need it. Because right now your precious girlfriend Olivia doesn’t have a bridesmaid dress—and try explaining that to the bride. End of.’

And with that she turned on her heel and walked straight out of the door, her hips swaying, her high-heeled boots clicking on the hardwood floor and her seriously annoyed nose high in the air.