Appointment at the Altar

by Jessica Hart

  Lucy was gasping for one, but it didn’t seem very professional to admit it. ‘I probably need something to eat more,’ she said. ‘I didn’t have time for lunch.’

  ‘No lunch! Poor Lucy. That never happened at Wirrindago, did it?’ Guy’s eyes rested on her face. ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘We’ll go to the reception, have a drink and some of those nice canapés that Sheila always organises. I’ll make my speech and then I’ll take you out to dinner to thank you for all your hard work today. You’ve been brilliant.’

  ‘I’m not really dressed for a reception,’ she prevaricated.

  ‘Sure you are,’ said Guy briskly. ‘Everyone will be coming straight from work so they’ll all be in office clothes.’

  ‘They won’t be in borrowed suits!’

  ‘You look fine,’ he soothed. He studied her scoop-necked top and the neat little skirt whose matching jacket hung over the back of her chair. ‘More than fine, in fact. Go and put your lipstick on, or whatever it is you women do before you go out, and we’ll go.’

  So Lucy found herself in his private bathroom, pulling the clip out of her hair with hands that weren’t nearly as steady as she wanted. She looked a mess. Bending at the waist, she brushed her hair out vigorously before shaking it back and clipping it firmly away from her face once more. She was still at work after all. Executive PAs didn’t let their hair tumble to their shoulders, and she had better not forget that a PA was all she was-and a temporary one at that.

  Lipstick, blusher, a squirt of perfume and she was ready, but she found herself pausing with her hand on the bathroom door and taking a couple of deep steadying breaths before she put on a bright smile and went out to meet Guy.

  The reception was held on the mezzanine floor, overlooking the dramatic semicircular atrium with its curved glass walls. In spite of what Guy had said about all the guests being in their office clothes, everyone seemed alarmingly well-dressed to Lucy. Until then, this suit of Meg’s had been one of her favourites, and she had worn it several times, but now it was suddenly obvious that it came from a cheap and cheerful chain store.

  Still, she might as well wear it with pride, Lucy decided. She was lucky she had a suit to wear at all. If she had to stick to her own wardrobe, she would be standing here in a T-shirt and jeans.

  At least the reception was going well. The mezzanine was soon crowded and everyone who was supposed to come appeared. The buzz of chatter and laughter reverberated up into the stupendously high ceiling while the lights glittered in the mirrored glass.

  Guy made a mercifully short but very funny speech that had everyone laughing, and Lucy was conscious of a little thrill of pride as she watched him. She knew that he had given his speech some thought, but he didn’t use notes and looked utterly relaxed as he stood up there and held the attention of all with the skill of a born performer.

  Looking at him, she was conscious of a strange hollow feeling. With one part of her mind she registered the financier in the suit, the pale blue shirt with the faintest of stripes and the tie that matched perfectly, but with the other she saw him on the back of that horse, sitting easily in the saddle as he cantered around the ring, testing the weight of the rope in his hand, getting ready to send it uncoiling through the air.

  How did the other guests see him? she wondered, glancing around her. They no doubt saw, as she had not seen at first, that he was a man with power, a man who could make hard decisions, a man who could laugh and still earn respect. They might see him as a successful financier, perhaps just as a vibrant, handsome man, even a charming and extraordinarily eligible bachelor, but did they know that he could lasso a calf? Could they guess how he bantered with the waiters in a small Italian restaurant, or the good-humoured way he accepted his mother’s grumbling about his car?

  Did they know that his lips were warm and his touch was sure and that the mere thought of kissing him was enough to liquefy her bones and send the blood to her head in a dizzying rush that left her shaken and hollow with the longing to kiss him again?

  She did, and the knowing made her giddy all over again.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Guy had materialised at her side and was peering at her expression with concern.

  ‘Yes, I’m just a bit…light-headed,’ said Lucy truthfully. She gestured with her glass. ‘The result of two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach, I suspect.’

  And the thought of you-kissing you, touching you, holding you.

  ‘Come on, you need feeding,’ said Guy and took her arm, and even that was enough to make her pulse go into overdrive. ‘I’ve done my bit here. Let’s go.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY walked down the steps together to the waiting limousine, but when the chauffeur got out to open the door for her, Lucy’s nerve abruptly deserted her. She couldn’t sit in the dark intimacy of the car with Guy, not tonight. She was afraid of being alone with him, afraid of what she might say and what she might do.

  ‘Actually, Guy, I…I think I’ll just go home,’ she said. ‘I’m really tired.’

  Guy looked at her closely. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Really.’

  ‘I’ll get Steve to take you, then,’ said Guy, but Lucy was already backing away.

  ‘I’ll take the tube,’ she said. ‘It’s not late. Honestly, I’ll be fine.’

  By the next morning, though, her panic seemed ridiculous. Queuing for a cappuccino on her way into work, Lucy told herself that she had just been silly and that it had to stop. She couldn’t start getting into a spin every time Guy came near her. She was supposed to be acting as his PA, for heaven’s sake! And after her initial nervousness, she had really enjoyed the previous day. Maybe there was something in Guy’s idea of raising her expectations.

  She had just been over-tired last night, Lucy decided. That little turn had been brought on by a combination of weariness and champagne, that was all. It wouldn’t be like that today. From now on she would be coolness personified. She would be super professional and treat Guy as no more than her boss, which was all that he was.

  Even if he had kissed her twice.

  And she wasn’t even going to think about him kissing her any more, Lucy told herself sternly. Hadn’t she decided she was going to grow up and be more responsible? That meant not being thrown into a tizzy by a couple of little kisses that had only ever been intended to wind her up anyway. She should treat them as a joke, the way Guy obviously did.

  Fortified by caffeine and having talked herself into a positive frame of mind, Lucy sailed into work. She waved at Imogen and the new receptionist and joined the press for the lifts. Childish it might be, but it gave her a little thrill to press the button for the top floor. It felt as if she were literally going up in the world.

  Guy was out all morning. He wouldn’t be in until lunchtime, he had said, and Lucy told herself that it was much better that way. At least it was an opportunity to catch up on the backlog from the frantic activity of the day before. She worked steadily and didn’t think about how empty the office felt without him-at least not more than five or six times an hour. There were far fewer distractions without him hanging around, too. Having to lift her head every time she heard the ping of the lift doors opening, just in case he had decided to cancel one of his meetings and come back early, obviously didn’t count.

  In the event, Guy strolled back into the office just as Lucy had taken an enormous bite of her crayfish and roquette sandwich, and she promptly choked.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, her mouth full, and frantically tried to deal with the rogue piece of lettuce that was somehow stuck between her teeth. So much for cool and professional. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘I told you I would be in at lunchtime,’ he said, surprised.

  ‘I know. I…just wasn’t expecting you right then.’ Feeling a fool, Lucy brushed crumbs from her front. ‘I left a whole lot of messages on your desk.’

  ‘Good.’ Guy shrugged off his long cashmere coat and hung it up. ‘I had several comments this mo
rning from people at the reception last night. They were all impressed by how well it was organised.’

  ‘That was all down to Sheila.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but it needed you to see it through. I gather you dealt with a number of last-minute hassles.’

  ‘Well, there’s always something, isn’t there?’ said Lucy awkwardly, rather embarrassed by his praise. It seemed to her that the success of the reception was entirely due to Sheila. All she had done was chase up a few details.

  Expecting Guy to head for his office, she picked up her sandwich, but now he was taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves as if he were planning to make himself at home right where he was. ‘I spoke to Sheila this morning,’ he told her. ‘She thinks that she’s sorted out some care for her father, so she’s hoping to be back next week.’

  Next week. ‘Oh.’ Lucy put down her sandwich again.

  It didn’t look as if her glorious career as a PA was going to last long. Lucy was surprised at how disappointed she felt. It was nothing to do with the fact that she wouldn’t be working with Guy any more, of course. She had just been enjoying doing something a bit more challenging. ‘Will I be able to go back to Reception?’ she asked, thinking of the new girl who had been sitting beside Imogen that morning.

  ‘If you want to, but I was hoping you’d consider another job.’

  She looked at him curiously as he pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side of her desk. ‘What sort of job?’

  ‘I want someone to arrange a party,’ said Guy, ‘and you seem like someone who could do that.’

  ‘A party?’ Lucy brightened. ‘That sounds fun.’

  ‘Not an ordinary party,’ he warned her. ‘It’s being held to raise funds for a new paediatric unit in Michael’s memory, so it needs to be glitzy and glamorous and spectacular and anything else that will persuade people to buy tickets at vastly inflated prices and create an atmosphere that will make them want to donate even more when they get there.’

  Glitzy and glamorous. It was sounding better and better. She pulled a notebook towards her and looked for a pen. ‘When do you want to have it?’

  ‘That’s the trouble. The venue is booked for a month’s time.’

  Lucy had just located a pen under the sandwich bag, but she froze at that. ‘A month? That isn’t long to arrange a glitzy party,’ she said doubtfully. ‘You have to book everything about a year in advance for big events.’

  ‘We did start last year, but it’s one of those things that’s been dogged by ill luck, for some reason. The first organiser got pregnant and had to leave because of high blood pressure, her replacement only lasted a couple of weeks before accepting another job, and the next person picked up typhoid on holiday. There was someone in between but I can’t honestly remember what happened to them,’ he said.

  ‘All I know is that the whole thing is a mess at the moment and if it doesn’t get sorted we’re going to have to cancel, which would be a pity. I need someone who can go in and work out what’s been done and what needs to be done to make sure the event is a huge success-and then do it!

  ‘I know it’s short notice now, but anything can be done if you throw enough money at the problem. Sheila hasn’t got time to sort it out, and the party really needs a touch of flair to rescue it…so we thought of you.’ He fixed Lucy with his blue eyes. ‘Are you up for it?’

  ‘Is this another challenge?’ she asked him.

  Guy smiled. ‘This would be a real one,’ he said, ‘but I know you could do it.’

  Organising a party…how hard could it be? It might be hard work, but it would be fun. Lucy’s eyes shone with sudden excitement. ‘I’ll have a go.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Guy got to his feet and retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘That’s settled, then. You can look at the files tomorrow, and start work properly as soon as Sheila gets back.’

  Lucy was so excited at the prospect that she couldn’t wait to get into work the next morning. Leaving early, she bounced into the kitchen to find Meg by the fridge, drinking orange juice out of the carton. Meg narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Lucy’s bright-eyed expression.

  ‘Who are you, and what have you done with my friend Lucy?’ she asked sourly. ‘You’ve taken her over and turned her into a workaholic with a career in the City.’

  Lucy laughed as she buttoned up her jacket and swung her bag over her shoulder. ‘It’s only for a month, Meg. It’s hardly a career.’

  Still, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could open up in the future. Lucy hung on to the rail as the tube train rocked and swayed through the long tunnels. If she made a success of this party, she could find other jobs in events management. It was the perfect career for her-fun, focused, short-term. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of it before.

  Smiling, she swung up the steps and through the doors into Dangerfield & Dunn. ‘Hi!’ she called gaily to Imogen, who was absorbed in reading something below the desk.

  Imogen’s head jerked up and her eyes widened. ‘Lucy…hi,’ she said, hurriedly closing the paper she had been reading.

  Funny, thought Lucy as she joined the crowd waiting for the lifts. Imogen had looked at her in a very strange way.

  It was the same in the lift. Lucy had the weirdest feeling that everyone was looking at her, but whenever she glanced back their eyes would slide away and they would stare studiously at the lights above the doors.

  Odd. Did she have her skirt caught in her knickers or something? As discreetly as she could, Lucy felt round the back of her legs, but everything seemed to be in place. Her hair was clipped up as usual and her shoes matched, and she didn’t think she had anything on her face.

  Oh, well. There wasn’t much she could do about it until she could get to a mirror, and Lucy was feeling too positive to waste too much time feeling embarrassed until she needed to. She practically bounced out of the lift and swung down to Sheila’s office, throwing her jacket over the chair and switching on the computer in one energetic movement.

  ‘Ah, Lucy.’

  She spun round to see Guy, lounging in the doorway to his office, and right on cue her pulse went into overdrive. Everything about him seemed to be so sharply defined, so immediate, that the very air seemed to crackle around him.

  ‘Hi,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘I wasn’t expecting you in yet.’

  ‘Something came up.’ There was a peculiar note in his voice that made Lucy look at him sharply, reminded for some reason of the strange looks she had been getting that morning.

  ‘Have I got a smudge on my nose or something? Everyone keeps staring at me.’

  Guy straightened from the door and she noticed for the first time that he had a newspaper in his hand. ‘You’re behind with the news, Lucy. I take it you haven’t seen this yet?’

  ‘Er, no…’Oh, God, had there been some disaster she ought to know about? She should probably care now about things like the Dow Jones Index and the strength of the pound. As it was, she had picked up a free paper on her way into the tube, but she had been too busy daydreaming about her new career in events management to read it.

  ‘In that case, you might like to read this.’ Guy handed her the paper, which had been folded back to the gossip column.

  Lucy took it obediently and stared down at it, wondering why she was supposed to care if one of the princes had been to a party. It didn’t seem like very exciting news to her.

  ‘Not there,’ said Guy, seeing what she was reading. ‘Take a look at the next paragraph.’

  Humouring him, Lucy began to read out loud. ‘“I understand that another eligible bachelor is soon to be off the market,”’ she read. ‘“There will be a lot of disappointed socialites out there this morning. Guy Dangerfield, whose name has been linked with some of London’s most beautiful women, including Cassandra Wolfe, has turned his back on the party circuit to marry his PA, Lucy We…”’

  Lucy’s voice, which had been getting slower and slower
as she realised where the article was going petered out at last. ‘Oh…my… God!’

  ‘Quite,’ said Guy.

  Aghast, Lucy raised her eyes from the paper and stared at Guy. ‘How did they get hold of this?’

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,’ he said. ‘I certainly haven’t told anyone.’

  ‘Nor have I. Only the Pollards know.’ Her face darkened. ‘Unless that nurse of Richard’s said something.’

  Guy frowned. ‘How would a nurse know that we were engaged?’

  ‘Well, she was there when Frank told Ellen and Richard about you so she might have overheard. It’s not my fault,’ she protested defensively as exasperation crossed his face, and then she stopped. ‘Yes, it is my fault,’ she said in a different tone. ‘If I hadn’t said anything to Frank, this would never have happened.’

  She looked back down at the paper, skimming through the rest of the piece with increasing disbelief. ‘“…inseparable…Guy barely left her side at a reception…left together…a definite chemistry…” What?’ she interrupted herself, outraged. ‘What is all this stuff?’ she demanded. ‘And where did they get it from? Richard’s nurse wasn’t there last night!’

  ‘I suppose, once the idea had been suggested, some journalist started sniffing around.’ Guy shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be too difficult to find someone who was at the reception last night and then ask if they’d noticed you-as I’m sure everyone did.’

  ‘But why?’ Lucy was still fuming. What did they mean, “a definite chemistry”? ‘I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t trying to draw attention to myself. I just stood there and drank a couple of glasses of champagne. Why would anyone notice that?’

  ‘You’re the kind of girl who gets noticed,’ said Guy.

  There was an odd note in his voice and she looked at him sharply, suspecting mockery, but when her eyes met his the teasing laughter she was expecting to see was entirely absent and she could read nothing in the blue depths.

  Nothing that she recognised, anyway, but her heart was suddenly thudding and the air leaking out of her lungs until she made herself look away. She threw the paper on to her desk.