Falling for the Bridesmaid

by Sophie Pembroke

  Except it did, however much it hurt to admit. ‘Why does it matter so much to you that you know everything about my life?’

  ‘Because I want to understand you!’ Violet glanced around her to make sure no one else had come into the bar and started listening, but Tom obviously didn’t care if they had. He was on a roll. ‘Violet, you are a mystery to me. And uncovering mysteries is kind of my job.’

  ‘But why do you care?’ Violet whispered, knowing she was really asking Why did you kiss me? and wishing she didn’t need to know the answer so much. How had he got so cleanly under her skin? She’d only known the man a couple of weeks, but suddenly all she wanted in the world was to hear him say that she mattered to him.

  ‘Because...because you’re more than your past. You’re...God, Violet, you could be anything you wanted, and you’re hiding away at Huntingdon Hall. I want to understand you, to know the truth of you. I want...I want you to trust me.’

  Didn’t it always come down to that? Violet took a breath. ‘I came here today, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did,’ Tom admitted. ‘And why was that? I mean, why did you take on the concert at all if you’re not desperate to get back to doing something with your life?’

  Why had she? It seemed so long ago already that she’d agreed to it. ‘I think it was partly to prove a point to you,’ she admitted. ‘After we met at the airport... It felt like you thought I was nothing more than my parents’ name and my own infamous internet appearance. I wanted to prove I was something more, I guess.’

  ‘Good! Because you are. And I’m so damn glad you’re starting to see it.’ He took a long sip of his pint, then frowned. ‘If that was only part of the reason, what was the rest?’

  He was sitting too close to her to let her think straight. Violet wished she’d picked one of the other tables, one with two chairs on opposing sides, rather than this booth table with one long semi-circular seat. Here, he could keep sliding round until their legs were nearly touching and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else...

  A question. He’d asked her a question.

  ‘I guess...I didn’t want to let Rose down. Or my parents. And...’

  ‘Yeah?’ Another inch closer, and she could feel the length of his thigh against hers, warm and comforting. His arm was almost around her shoulders, resting on the back of the booth behind her, cocooning her, keeping her close and safe. Letting her know she could tell him her secrets.

  ‘I wanted to do...more, I guess. I know you think I’ve just been hanging around at home, arranging the odd bouquet or something. And maybe that’s what I wanted people to think, because then they wouldn’t expect too much. I don’t know.’ She took a breath. This wasn’t like her past, this was her life, and she wasn’t ashamed of it—actually, she was pretty proud of it.

  ‘I do a lot in our community, besides just the flowers, you know. I help out with pensioners’ lunches at the church, I run a counselling group and...Mum and I, we set up a helpline. It’s national, and it doesn’t have our name on it anywhere. But we take calls from kids and teenagers who just need someone to talk to, or need help escaping from dangerous situations. I do a shift on the phones most days, and I take a lot of calls from teenage girls in their first relationships. Girls who’ve got in too far too fast and don’t know how to get out again. I help them.’

  She stopped, aware that Tom’s hand was on her shoulder now and he was staring down at her, his eyes full of intensity and feeling she couldn’t quite decipher.

  ‘So, anyway. Not just sitting around arranging flowers,’ she said. ‘But I wanted to do more, and the concert...well, it wasn’t about me, so it seemed like a safe way to try and do it.’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Every time I think I’ve got you sussed out, you go and surprise the hell out of me again and prove you’re more than I could have even imagined.’

  Violet stared up at him. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Their gazes locked, and she knew before he dipped his head that he was going to kiss her again. And she wanted it so much...but something made her pull back.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, and hoped she wouldn’t regret it for the rest of her life.

  * * *

  The woman was trying to kill him. That was all there was to it.

  Swallowing hard, Tom backed up. Not too far—not far enough to let her forget that gorgeous chemistry that sizzled between them. Just enough for her to know that he wouldn’t push anything until she was ready.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, trying to find some rationality. But all he could think about was kissing her again, even when she’d made it very clear she didn’t want that.

  God, he was an idiot. What was he doing? Hell, what was he thinking? She was a subject. Not even that, the daughter of his subject. A secondary interest, worth about twenty pages in the book.

  Not someone he should be falling for.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Violet stared down at her hands, and Tom wished he could read her mind. ‘I just...I’m not sure this is a good idea.’

  Tom was. At least his body was damn certain it was the best idea he’d had in years.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked, disappointment clenching his chest even as he tried to fight it off. She was wary, he knew that. He just needed to win her over. Talk her round. It was all just words—and he was good at words. It was kind of his job, right?

  ‘Because you’re a reporter. Because I don’t really do relationships. Because you’re working for Dad. A million reasons.’

  ‘None of which sound like you don’t feel the same things I do when we’re together.’ She had to feel it too, right? No way that kind of connection only worked one way. It wasn’t possible.

  Violet sighed. ‘Look, I’m not saying I’m not...that there isn’t... Okay, fine. Yes, I’m attracted to you, even when I don’t want to be. But that doesn’t mean we need to...do anything about it. You’re staying with my family, working with my parents... We can’t risk screwing all that up.’

  ‘It would be worth it.’ He was damn sure of that. Even if she was only making the same arguments that had been buzzing round his head for days.

  ‘Come on, Tom.’ Violet’s lips twisted up in a half smile. ‘This is your big break. Don’t tell me you’d be willing to risk that just for a quick tawdry fling with the Sex Tape Twin.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Tom snapped. How could she still say that, after everything she’d just told him? ‘That’s not who you are. Not any more. And never to me.’

  ‘I was, though. That was the first thing you knew about me. And the first thing I knew about you was that you’d watched that damn video.’

  ‘It was work. I didn’t...’ God, there was no excuse here that would work, was there? ‘You weren’t...you to me then. You weren’t Violet.’

  Violet’s smile was sad. ‘But that’s the point, isn’t it? I’m not me to anyone. I’m just that stupid, naïve girl in a sexy video. I’m never just Violet.’

  ‘You are to me now,’ Tom promised.

  ‘I hope so.’ She looked up at him at last, blue eyes wide. ‘But in lots of ways you’re still just The Reporter to me. I don’t...it’s weird to think that I’ve opened up to you more than anyone since Will, but I still barely know anything about you.’

  Well, that he could fix, surely? ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything,’ Violet replied. ‘But not tonight, I don’t think. I need a little time to...process everything. I mean, I did something huge today, facing down Jake Collins. I couldn’t have done that before, not even a month ago—I just froze up in front of people like that, knowing they were laughing at me inside. I’m changing, and I like it, and I think...I think a lot of it has to do with you being here. But it’s all happening so fast, and I still have so much left to do for the concert, and...’

  ‘You need time. I get that.’ Disappointment warred with relief inside Tom. She wanted to know everything—and that meant she wasn’t the only one who needed time. He needed to think about this too.
To figure out how much he could tell her, how far he could let her in before she reached the stuff that would just make her kick him out completely. ‘This wouldn’t...this isn’t a fling, Violet, not for me. And I don’t think it is for you either. So we can take our time.’ Even if the restraint it required was physically painful.

  He managed a small smile for her, and shifted just a little further back. ‘We’ll talk soon, yeah? I need to go figure out all my cutest childhood tales and stories of selfless behaviour to win you over with.’

  Violet paused with one hand on her handbag and threw him a serious look. ‘Those aren’t the ones I want to hear, Tom. I want the truth, same as you. It’s the only way I can learn to trust you.’ She leant over and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth before grabbing her room key from the table and heading for the lobby.

  The truth. Tom stared after her as she disappeared into the elevator, her golden hair flowing behind her.

  The truth was the one thing he definitely couldn’t tell her.

  Draining the rest of his drink, Tom grabbed his own room key and prepared to head up. He had a lot of thinking—and writing—to do.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  VIOLET HAD A horrible feeling that Tom was avoiding her.

  They hadn’t talked much on the way home from Brighton, mostly because Tom had been passed out in the passenger seat after muttering something about the mini bar, a spring sticking in his back, a broken window and a dripping shower keeping him awake. Violet hadn’t slept much better, but since her room had been perfectly comfortable the only excuse she had was her own thoughts.

  She did think, as she got back onto the motorway, that if he’d been that uncomfortable he could have always come and slept in her room...

  Except she’d made it very clear that was off the cards, at least until she got to know him a little better. She’d been in a relationship before where the guy knew all her innermost thoughts and dreams and it turned out she didn’t know him at all, and look how that ended. But while she knew that was a perfectly sensible decision in principle, that hadn’t made it any easier to dismiss the thoughts of what might have happened if she’d just let him kiss her again.

  In the days since then, he’d been nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t even joined them for dinner last night. ‘Working hard’, her dad had said with a wink. And Violet might have believed it if it wasn’t now Friday and she’d seen neither hide nor hair of him all week.

  Oh, he’d been around, she knew that much. Locked away in the studio with her dad conducting more of the interviews he had, in fairness, travelled thousands of miles to do. She’d even overheard him talking with her mother once or twice—more interviews, she supposed—before she’d stopped listening at doors and got back to what she was supposed to be doing.

  At least getting on with the planning for the Benefit Concert had mostly distracted her. With only a week left to go, she was reaching the hectic last few pages of Rose’s carefully made lists. Jake Collins had even sent in the signed rider, so she didn’t have to follow through on her publicity threats.

  Things were good, and dealing with Jake had given her added confidence to get on with her job. She was on top of everything, had spoken with almost everyone involved, or at least their representatives, personally—without a single mention of the words ‘sex’ and ‘tape’ in the same sentence. She was making progress.

  But, she had to admit, she missed Tom.

  ‘Miss him how, exactly?’ Daisy asked when she came over to try on potential wedding outfits the day before Henry Littlewood’s wedding. ‘I mean, he’s right here.’

  Violet sighed, and tried not to think that Rose would have understood. Even her twin would probably have struggled with this one, especially since Violet wasn’t sure even she understood it.

  ‘I guess I’d just got used to having him around.’ She grabbed another dress from the pile of maternity eveningwear Daisy had brought with her. ‘How about this one?’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘Lily Taylor wore that one to a gala last month. It’s already been photographed, and I don’t want to be in any of those “which mum-to-be wore it best?” comparison pieces.’

  So why did you bring it? Violet wanted to ask, but didn’t. Pregnancy had made Daisy a little touchy.

  ‘And he’s still around.’ Daisy shifted on the bed, her hand cupped around her growing baby bump. ‘He’s just a bit busy interviewing Dad and Mum, I suppose. And me.’

  ‘He’s interviewed you?’ Violet stopped looking through outfits and stared at her sister.

  Daisy blinked back blankly. ‘Well, yes. He’s interviewing all of us, isn’t he?’

  ‘Of course. Yeah.’ She’d just imagined that he might start with her.

  Daisy shifted again to tug on Violet’s hand and make her sit on the bed. ‘Okay, seriously. What’s going on with the two of you? He’s coming as your date tomorrow, Mum said the two of you disappeared to Brighton, of all places, last weekend, and now you tell me you haven’t seen him all week. I know you’d probably rather tell Rose, but she’s not here. So, fess up—what’s going on?’

  Violet bit her lip. In some ways, it was probably for the best that Rose wasn’t there. She’d have sussed out there was something going on by the time Violet and Tom went for that first lunch. As much as she loved her twin, maybe it was better that she didn’t have her über-protective identical sister around right now.

  And Daisy...Daisy had always been a good listener, when they’d given her something to listen to.

  ‘To be honest, I have no idea.’ Violet fell back to lie on the bed, feeling lighter just for saying it. ‘He indicated that he has...feelings, I guess. For me.’ By kissing her and making her whole world spin.

  ‘And you said?’

  ‘That it was a bad idea.’ Which, now, a week later, felt like a fairly epic mistake in its own right.

  ‘Why?’ Daisy asked, eyebrows raised in astonishment. ‘He’s gorgeous, seems nice, Dad adores him, which is always a good sign, and you’re obviously a little bit besotted. So what’s the problem? He’s...oh. He’s a reporter.’

  Rose would have got there half an hour ago, but in some ways it was more useful to hear the reasons why Violet should say yes. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

  ‘Actually, for a reporter, he’s kind of...un-slimelike.’ The admission didn’t come easy.

  ‘You really do like him, don’t you?’

  Violet sighed. Did she? She thought back over the last couple of weeks. Even after their awful first meeting, when really what she’d most wanted to do was strangle him, there’d still been a weird connection when she’d taken his hand. And he truly had been a help with the Benefit Concert. The way he’d spoken to Olivia’s manager... He’d stood up for her, been offended on her behalf. And then he’d taken her out for lunch to cheer her up—and interrogate her, of course. Then he’d come all the way to Brighton and stood back and watched her deal with things herself, and knowing he thought she could had given her the confidence she needed to do it.

  He understood about not trusting people. And she hoped he’d understood when she’d told him that she needed to know him better to trust him. Hoped he realised that just thinking she might eventually be able to trust him was a huge step for her.

  Hoped he wasn’t actually avoiding her.

  ‘I do,’ she admitted. ‘I do like him. I just...he’s asking all these questions about my life and my family. By the end of this book, he’ll be an authority on all things Screaming Lemons and Huntingdon-Cross. I just want to know him as well. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Of course it does!’ Daisy stroked a hand down Violet’s arm. ‘Oh, Vi, I hope he opens up to you. And if he does...if he gives you what you’ve asked for...you’ll give him a chance, right? I know it’s risky—relationships always are—but we all want to see you happy, and if Tom can make you that way...you have to let him try. Okay?’

  Violet nodded. Eight years was too long to hide away, anyway. She’d dealt with
pop stars, managers, suppliers and even the press covering the concert over the past week. She could deal with one date with a reporter who made her skin tingle. Right?

  * * *

  Saturday morning came almost too fast for Tom. He’d had a plan, a way to convince Violet that he was worth a chance. She wanted to know all about him? Fine. He’d tell her, up to a point. Nobody really needed to know everything about another person, right? She just needed to feel as if she understood where he came from, and that much he could give her.

  Except, he realised quickly, he was always better with the written word than the spoken one. So he’d decided to find the time to write it all down, starting in a freezing, leaking hotel room in Brighton and continuing in between interviews and typing up his notes and a rush job on a short article for an editor who’d called and offered him a last minute slot.

  Somehow, it wasn’t until Saturday morning that he realised that what he’d written was his own obituary.

  Tom stared at the words printed in front of him. Perhaps not the most auspicious start to a relationship, but it did give her all the pertinent information. At least all the information he felt able to share. And it was a start, right? A sign that he could give her what she wanted.

  And besides, it was too late to change it now.

  A quick shower and Tom dressed in his best suit, ran some gunky stuff through his hair to try and make it behave, and hoped he’d be good enough for the Littlewoods. And Violet.

  Rick was already in the kitchen pouring the coffee when Tom made it downstairs, and Daisy’s husband, Seb, sat at the counter sipping his own mug as he read the paper.

  ‘Ah, our third compatriot,’ Rick said, grabbing another mug and filling it to the brim with hot, strong black coffee. Tom took a sip the moment Violet’s father handed it over. Somehow, in the last three weeks, he’d actually converted to liking his coffee black. ‘This, gentlemen, is the part where we wait.’

  Tom checked his watch. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be leaving soon?’

  ‘Theoretically? Yes. But in reality?’ Rick shook his head.