The waiter took their empty coffee cups away and an awkward silence fell between them that Eloise struggled to break. The sounds of the park—the clatter of cutlery in the café, Daisy’s breathing—became something intrusive.
They spoke at the same time.
‘I have to go—’ she said.
‘Would it be out of order to—?’
‘To what?’ She held her breath for his answer.
‘Ask if you’re free for dinner tonight?’
She didn’t know who was more surprised, Josh or her at her rapid reply. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I mean no, it wouldn’t be at all out of order.’
CHAPTER THREE
JOSH COULDN’T BLAME the dog, or Eloise, or anyone else but himself for his spontaneous dinner invitation. At that moment, the need to see Eloise again while he was in town had overwhelmed good sense.
It had nothing to do with Tori or his self-appointed role of investigator. Fact was, he had enjoyed every second in Eloise’s company and didn’t want to say goodbye. There was something about her that fascinated him—and it wasn’t just the resemblance to his friend. It had been a long time since he’d anticipated a date with such enthusiasm. And because he was a visitor in town only briefly, the encounter could be contained to just the one evening without there being any expectations of further dates. It could be awkward explaining to women that he didn’t want the complication of commitment at this stage of his life.
But his obligation to Tori was a complication. Back in his hotel in Double Bay, not far from Eloise’s atelier, he paced the room as he thought about what he would say to Tori. The time distance between Sydney and Boston meant late morning in Sydney was late evening back home. She would be anxiously waiting for his report on his sighting of her Australian lookalike, but he was curiously reluctant to speak to his friend. His reactions to the woman who must surely be Tori’s long-lost twin were too new, too unexpected, too private for him to be interrogated or teased in best female friend style.
Josh wasn’t a man to draw out decisions. He’d got where he was by being decisive, and acting swiftly on a mix of intuition and canny market knowledge. Yet he here was being indecisive as hell. Over a woman.
He knew that he could not lie to his friend about actually engaging with Eloise, sharing a coffee with her, arranging to see her again. Loyalty was important to him. In a world when even his own mother had ultimately proved disloyal, Tori and her family had been unfailingly loyal to him.
He picked up the phone. Tori reacted to his news with predictable excitement, demanding to know every detail twice over. The possible finding of a long-lost sister was a big deal and he knew it. He had lost a sibling, through unmitigated selfishness and greed on his brother’s part, but it was a loss all the same and had left a brother-sized gap in his life. If Tori chose to make contact with Eloise she would find a kind person as besotted with dogs as she was. That could only be a blessing.
He recounted the incident with the dog and her ball and how it had brought him into accidental contact with Eloise. He told her they’d had coffee, how he was convinced the two women must be twins. And that even though they’d grown up separated from the age of two they had a lot in common and he was convinced Tori would like Eloise a lot. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to pick up anything from his tone that revealed his unexpected and overwhelming attraction to Eloise.
Tori sniffed back tears. She thanked him effusively for tracking Eloise down for her. He told her he was seeing Eloise for dinner and she didn’t object. Not that her objection would have stopped him. But he agreed again not to tell Eloise about Tori just yet.
As soon as he put down the phone he realised how difficult he had made things for himself. If at some stage the twins met each other, he would be the bad guy for not having told Eloise the truth straight away. Immediately he dismissed the thought. Surely Eloise would see he had done the right thing by staying silent about his real purpose for being in the park this morning. It was Tori’s story to reveal, not his. He hoped she’d take action on it sooner rather than later.
He turned his mind to his work. From when he’d first started in his line of business he’d had dealings with people from all around the world and, while much of his business was conducted online, he liked to meet people face to face. His personal touch had won him business others had missed out on. He was tough in negotiations, but always fair. The ideal was that all parties to the transaction walked away from the negotiating table believing they’d got a good deal. That way led to ongoing, profitable business relationships. The end game was, after all, profit. Every new million he made was a kick in the teeth for the father and brother who had written him off as unworthy.
With recent world events, however, flights to Australia had been disrupted, so the point of this trip was to touch base with people he hadn’t seen for far too long. But when an important client of his digital app marketplace called with a suggestion to meet for dinner that night he straight away declined the invitation. Then took a pause when he realised it was the first time he’d put a date with a woman ahead of a business deal.
* * *
Eloise had arranged for Josh Taylor to meet her at a favourite restaurant in nearby Potts Point. As her mother might say, it was wise to stay cautious about a man she had picked up in the park. No matter how genuine he seemed or how attractive she found him.
She’d quickly searched him online, of course—just enough to check if he was who he’d said he was—only to find he’d been remarkably self-effacing about his achievements. At twenty-nine, he was considered to be one of the world’s leading tech moguls. He also appeared in several lists of ‘most eligible bachelors’ in the United States. Who knew? And she’d thought him just a friendly fellow dog lover. She could have read up on him all day but she’d had to rush into work.
But she made sure she and Daisy got back to her apartment in time for her to dress carefully for her date with Josh. Could she call it an actual date? He’d probably only suggested dinner because otherwise he’d be facing an evening alone in his hotel room and she was a friendly face. And that was okay because otherwise she would be curled up on the sofa, with Daisy at her feet, binge-watching TV.
But it didn’t hurt to look her best. Despite its population of more than five million, Sydney was a small town—the eastern suburbs especially—and she never knew who she might see when she was out. Reputation was vital in her business and she couldn’t be seen to be dressed anything less than stylishly. Not that it was a hardship. She adored dressing up and wearing make-up.
Tonight she was trialling one of her own designs, a heavy silk, full-skirted, calf-length nineteen-fifties-style dress in a flattering deep rose that she thought would be a hit for bridesmaids at a day-time wedding. She had a particular Bridezilla in mind, one who had told her she had directed her bridesmaids to lose weight so they’d all fit into the same size dresses.
This dress required a trim waist, so might work for those particular attendants. She’d had to use all her diplomatic skills not to retort that if she were a bridesmaid, she would immediately resign from bridesmaid’s duties if any bride ever ordered her to lose weight, get a boob job, dye her hair to the wedding approved colour, or sign an agreement not to get pregnant before the bride’s big day.
Eloise had heard them all. And every time was surprised at the women who went along with the crazy directives. Yet the perfect dress for the bride and for her attendants was a pivotal part of any wedding. It was her role to help every bride achieve her dream—the ideal gown for her fairy-tale wedding. What the bride and the bridesmaids did themselves wasn’t Eloise’s concern.
That wasn’t a conversation she’d have with Josh over dinner though. Part of her success came from the fact that she always maintained strict confidentiality about her clients. Despite her design credentials, she would never have got the Roxee gig without her reputation for being scrupulous about her clients�
� privacy. She’d had no qualms about signing the strict non-disclosure agreements, and both before and after Roxee’s wedding she had refused substantial sums to dish the dirt on what happened behind the scenes at celebrity weddings. In interviews she spoke about the thrill of working for the stars, snippets about her design process, but nothing that hadn’t been cleared by her clients. Her business would soon dry up if she was indiscreet. And she fiercely protected her business. It was something that was all her own and that gave her a certain sense of security in a world that had been turned upside down when she was thirteen and had never quite spun on the same axis again.
Eloise was proud of what she had achieved. From making gorgeous original prom dresses for her friends at high school, to creating exclusive wedding dresses for clients including international superstars, her business brought her independence and fulfilment and she loved it.
The early days of her career, working in established fashion houses, had made her all the more determined to strike out with her own business, where she wouldn’t be answerable to anyone. One well-known name had taken credit for her designs and then fired her when she’d asked for some acknowledgement—apparently all her work was his intellectual property and it said so in the contract she hadn’t properly read. She’d resigned from another who used cheap materials but charged huge prices to the bride. With her own business she could work the way she wanted—and if it failed she could only blame herself. She’d worked hard to make Eloise Evans Atelier the success it was. She would do anything to protect it. How a man could expect her to give it up or let him take a hand in its management was beyond her. And that was what the most recent man in her life had expected her to do if she’d married him.
She should have seen the warning signs flashing around Craig sooner than she had. He’d been very good-looking and she’d fallen right back into that instant attraction trap. She’d been infatuated with him in the beginning and stupidly blinded to the reality of the man until finally her self-preservation mechanisms had kicked in. But not before he had inflicted serious damage to her self-esteem.
Craig had drip-fed criticisms of her—sometimes in the guise of barbed compliments or ‘helpful’ advice—until she had started doubting herself, censoring her answers to him so they wouldn’t annoy him. He had pressed for an engagement but some deep instinct held her back. One day he had gone to kiss her and she hadn’t wanted to kiss him back. Not then. Not ever. When she’d finally broken up with him, he had shown his true colours in a stream of invective that had shattered her. Then she found out he’d been cheating on her. No wonder she had soured on the idea of marriage. No wonder those old feelings of not being able to trust anyone close to her had resurfaced.
Fortunately, she’d then been plunged into the distracting workload of Roxee’s wedding, which had involved several trips to LA, and there’d been no time for her to date.
Josh had arrived at the restaurant before Eloise. As she came in she saw him sitting at the table he’d booked, head down as he scrolled through his phone. She took the opportunity to admire him. The man was every bit as hot as she remembered. And as well dressed. Sophisticated in a lightweight charcoal sweater—cashmere, she was sure—with the sleeves pushed up to reveal that bank-balance-defying watch, and black linen trousers.
After the Craig fiasco more than a year ago, she hadn’t dated at all. Casual dinners with trusted male friends only. She was surprised at how content she was being single. It meant she could live her life on her terms, could work all hours without being accused of not giving her man enough attention. Or having to worry what he might be up to while she had to work—a particular kind of worry she could well do without.
Of course, sometimes she got lonely for a man’s company, a man’s arms around her. Just that morning when she’d set off for her walk with Daisy she’d realised with a pang just how many couples there were in the park, from teenagers entwined around each other to silver-haired seniors holding hands. For a moment she’d felt suddenly alone in a world of couples. Until Daisy had sniffed out another single, quite probably the most attractive man in the park. And here he was now, waiting for her in her favourite restaurant. A casual, no-strings date with a handsome man might be just the lift her spirits needed.
He looked up, saw her, and smiled. Her eyes connected with his and for a long moment the noises surrounding them—the clatter of cutlery, the murmur of conversation—faded away. The shimmering thread of awareness drawing her to him seemed almost tangible until, flustered, she gave a shaky smile back and headed to the table. What was happening here?
The admiration in his eyes as he rose to greet her assured her that the pink dress had been a good choice. She’d teamed it with a lacy knit vintage cardigan in a paler shade of pink embellished with silver beading and wore her favourite silver stilettos.
‘You look lovely,’ he said. ‘One of your own creations?’
‘But of course,’ she said, preening just a little.
She took her seat opposite him, settling her full skirts around her. They ordered first drinks and then their meals. There wasn’t any of the awkwardness of a first date. She marvelled at how she slipped into conversation with him as easily as she had at the park.
‘Where’s Daisy?’ he asked, pretending to look around for a dog.
‘Did you expect me to bring her?’
‘It would have been nice to see her again,’ he said with an obvious sincerity that pleased her. Craig had pretended to like dogs until he’d felt more certain of her. Then he’d let slip that he would never allow her to have a dog after they were married. Allow her! That might have been the moment her feelings for him had started to turn.
‘She’s safely asleep at my apartment, all tired out from her run in the park and then a visit to my workroom, where the staff all make a fuss of her.’
‘You take your dog to work with you?’
‘The advantage of being the boss. Of course, we have to keep her away from the expensive fabrics and laces we have in the workroom. Other foster dogs I’ve had haven’t been as easy as this little one. She’s happy to be crated if need be.’
‘Do you usually work weekends?’
She leaned across the table towards him. ‘I work any day I need to. Weekends suit some clients better. I like to do the final fitting for a bride whenever I can rather than leave it to one of my staff.’
‘So I’m having drinks with a perfectionist?’
‘Some say workaholic.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t mind which label you use. There’s a lot of hope and dreams invested in a wedding dress and I want that dress to look as perfect as it possibly can on my bride so she feels confident and comfortable.’
‘There are a lot of dollars invested in your gowns too.’
‘We use only the finest fabrics and trims; they don’t come cheap.’ She paused. ‘How do you know how much my gowns cost?’ She put up her hand in a halt sign. ‘Wait. I get it. You looked me up online.’
‘Of course.’ He paused for a beat. ‘Didn’t you do a search on me?’
‘Er...yes. Seems you own half the digital world. You were remarkably modest about your achievements.’ She wouldn’t say anything about the eligible bachelor lists that seemed to haunt his internet presence.
‘So were you. Bridal wear designer to the stars. You don’t get more famous than Roxee.’
‘I know.’ She grinned. ‘I was positively star-struck when she got in touch. But she’s a lovely, warm person and was wonderful to deal with. Her fabulous wedding and her commendations of my label have been brilliant for me. Business went ballistic. I’ve had to take on more staff and be prepared to fly more often to the US for personal fittings for her celebrity friends.’
Eloise waited for him to ask for inside gossip on the mega star—as so many people had since the wedding—and was relieved when he didn’t. She would have thought less of him.
‘It seems the desig
ner became famous too.’
‘Not really. It’s second-hand fame, isn’t it? I don’t like being in the spotlight. I’m a backroom girl. I find interviews excruciating.’
‘I don’t care for the spotlight either, except when it serves my purposes,’ he said shortly. ‘My personal life is my own business.’ She was glad she hadn’t mentioned the eligible bachelor thing.
The waiter came with their starters—organic Sydney rock oysters for him and a salad of seared, cured trout for her.
‘How did you get to be a wedding dress designer to the stars?’ he asked when she had finished her salad.
‘I’ll ignore that label, if you don’t mind,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I’m just as happy working with a girl from the suburbs who’s saved up for one of my dresses, and gets to be a star for a day at her wedding.’
‘Seriously,’ he said, putting down his tiny oyster fork. ‘When you were a little girl, did you say “I’m going to grow up and design wedding gowns for international superstars”?’
‘Actually, I said I was going to grow up to be a mermaid.’
He laughed. ‘Cute.’
‘I don’t know why, as I’m not a particularly keen swimmer. I think it was the idea of having a glorious tail, glistening with multicoloured scales. Which, when you think of it, is not so different from a bride’s glorious long train trailing after her as she glides her way up the aisle, picking up the light from the beautiful beading and crystals stitched onto it.’
‘You’re obviously highly creative,’ he said, a smile twitching around the corner of his mouth. ‘And imaginative.’
‘Even as a little girl I loved colour and texture and fabrics. Most of all I loved clothes. My grandmother—my Australian grandmother, that is—was no fashionista but she taught me basic sewing and I stitched garments for my dolls as soon as I could use scissors and needles and thread. The same grandmother gave me a sewing machine for my eleventh birthday and I started making my own clothes. I was a puzzle to my mother. She’s a scientist with, as she herself says, no real interest in fashion. She lets me choose her clothes for her now, which is fun.’
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