by Anna Cleary
‘Oh sure, sure. I was only thinking of, you know, screen presence.’
‘Doesn’t beauty count for anything?’ Guy said mildly. ‘Grace?’
He flushed a little after he’d said that, and Amber felt herself pinken. There was a small silence. People were exchanging astounded glances with each other, then someone hastened to say, ‘Oh, yeah—sure, boss.’
Amber made a face at Guy but he pretended not to catch it. After a fraught second the torture started again.
‘Turn this way, dear. No, the other way. The right is her best.’
‘Look up there, sweetheart. Now walk over to the desk. Now back.’
‘Oh, yes, yes. Lovely walk. Look at those calves. And the arms. Nice muscle tone.’
They didn’t mention her behind, though she felt pretty certain Guy was holding his breath waiting for it.
One of the women’s jobs was to write instructions onto a notepad as fast as they fell from the experts’ lips.
‘That’s it, that’s it!’ someone exclaimed. ‘If we can catch her like that. Watch for that angle, André.’
‘What about her hair?’ the older guy asked. ‘Do you want it up or—?’
‘Down,’ Guy cut in. ‘Definitely.’
‘Shouldn’t we turn her into a blonde?’
‘Why?’ Guy said sharply. ‘Her hair’s a rainbow. Catch her in the sun and you’ll see it’s filled with light. It’s rich in chestnut, reds, golds, violets.’
He checked himself, blinking a couple of times. Amber thought she could detect another faint stain to his cheek.
‘Anyway, there’s no time,’ he added curtly, deflecting more startled glances from his team.
‘Yeah, course. Fine,’ the older man hastened to reply. ‘Works for me.’ He shrugged and sent Amber a wink.
‘What about that costume? I could have put something really good together if I’d had more advance notice,’ Maggie grumbled in an aside. ‘What’s the big rush, anyway?’
There was a small silence while people held their breaths.
‘Are you saying you can’t do it, Maggie?’ When he spoke Guy’s tone was level. Pleasant, even. But it left an edge that had Maggie scrambling to backtrack.
‘Oh, heavens—course not. I have one or two things we can use. I’ll just have to do a few tweaks here and there.’ The sudden tension in the room relaxed as Maggie got herself off the hook.
‘Which one is it?’ Amber enquired.
‘Here.’ Guy directed her gaze to a lady in the picture wearing a delicate floral gown, her hair decked in flowers. She was scattering roses from some she carried in the apron of her skirt.
‘We need to put you in a floaty number like one of these.’
Amber stared at the screen. With the lighting behind it the picture looked almost transparent. ‘Floaty?’ she murmured doubtfully. ‘It’s not see-through, is it?’
‘Yeah, see-through.’ The young red-haired guy guffawed, nudging his neighbour and grinning. ‘Exactly.’
Guy turned a stern glance on the boy, then coolly beckoned him aside. The lad’s grin was wiped. Whatever Guy had murmured to him was inaudible to everyone else, but the boy visibly wilted. When he slunk back to rejoin the team he didn’t look nearly so chipper.
Amber felt so sorry for him. It was soul-destroying to be shamed in front of a group. Honestly, Guy needed to get a grip. To make matters worse, he intercepted the sympathetic glance she gave the boy and sent her a warning frown.
What the …! He wasn’t deluded into thinking he was her boss now, was he?
Amber noticed Maggie shooting glances between her and Guy, and had the sinking feeling the game was up.
‘All right—er—Amber,’ Guy said briskly, suddenly seeming to pull himself together. ‘Maggie’ll take you down now for some make-up.’ He turned his gaze in Amber’s direction. But only in her direction, not right to her. He didn’t meet her eyes, as a friend would. Or an acquaintance from the local flower shop. Even a perfect stranger who’d just happened in off the street.
Only lovers covering up tried not to gaze at each other. She knew it, Maggie knew it, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole crew knew it.
She’d have laughed if Guy hadn’t been so concerned about his team knowing. At the same time she felt her insides melting with love for him for not being able to conceal his passion.
Maggie’s manner as she beckoned Amber to follow her made Amber wonder if the woman was peeved about something. She hustled her along to a suite of wardrobe rooms not unlike the rooms backstage at a theatre, though on a much smaller scale. Then after measuring her, without much ceremony Maggie pushed, prodded and pinned her into a variety of dresses.
Usually Amber adored the whole costume business, and entered into the spirit of the thing with gusto. This time the experience was bit too brusque to enjoy.
‘This feels quite tight,’ she suggested to Maggie as she was being pinned into a long dress.
‘Hmm.’ Standing with pins in her mouth, a stapler in her hand and a tape around her neck, Maggie was the picture of the long-suffering seamstress. ‘Hang on while I clamp this bodice.’
‘Oof. I do have to breathe, you know.’
‘Think how it enhances your shape. He’ll love it.’ Maggie glanced at her then, a challenge in her eyes.
Amber didn’t waste time pretending not to know who Maggie meant. She just lifted her brows haughtily. ‘So long as it works for his scenario, Maggie. That’s all Guy will be interested in.’
Maggie glowered, focused on her pinning. After a while she said fiercely, ‘Guy’s a nice man. He’s not the sort who plays around with people.’
It was Amber’s turn to frown. Did this Maggie assume she was the sort to play around with people? She was strongly tempted to inform Maggie that she actually found Guy really very playful, but decided against it. She and Guy were none of the woman’s business.
Besides, she didn’t want to risk being stuck with pins.
Once she was back in her own clothes again, a young woman introduced as Kate sat her in front of a fluoro lit mirror and started smoothing stuff onto her face.
Maggie’s phone buzzed and she turned away to deal with it. ‘Thanks, boss.’ Slipping the phone away, she turned to Amber and Kate. ‘Guy’s given us an hour. Where’s that picture?’
There was a massive amount of hustle, with Maggie darting about collecting things in between madly machining darts into the dress to make it fit. Meanwhile, Kate worked magic on Amber’s face and powdered her throat
When her make-up was done to their satisfaction, Maggie helped her back into the dress. It was ivory, with a deep-scooped neckline, long lacy sleeves and a softly billowing skirt.
‘I’m not sure,’ Amber said doubtfully, trying to suck in her tummy while Maggie fastened at least a hundred buttons. ‘The fabric’s good, but I don’t know how spring-like it is. It feels a bit as if I should be walking up the aisle of Westminster Abbey.’ She surveyed Maggie’s copy of the picture again. ‘Do you really think this dress will cut it?’
‘It’ll just have to do,’ Maggie said grimly, piling flowers onto her workbench. ‘It’s long, isn’t it? If people don’t give you any notice to work miracles they have to be satisfied with what they get. Italian paintings, for pity’s sake. What next? Did the boys bring up that other box of flowers, Kate?’ She started rooting through shelves of plastic packing boxes. ‘Don’t you worry, my love. We’ll tart you up with so many flowers old Botticelli himself wouldn’t know the difference.’
Guy stood staring through his precious viewfinder at the Chinese Garden of Friendship. His camera team—André and the red-haired boy—lounged on the grass. As an informal make-up station for Kate, they’d set up a folding table and a couple of chairs.
The location looked tranquil enough, with its waterfalls, willow lawns and charming little bridges. At least this time early on a Tuesday afternoon every man and his dog were partying somewhere else. Apart from the risk of accidentally includ
ing a pagoda in the shot, there had to be at least one good angle here where a goddess could scatter roses.
Guy decided on the most likely spot and galvanised the red-haired boy to help him distribute a few of Amber’s flowers about. ‘Try to make it look natural,’ he said, stapling a rose to a twig. ‘Remember she’s a flower goddess.’
The boy started to speak, then checked himself, casting Guy an anxious look to see if he’d heard. Guy made a wry grimace to himself. He’d seen their knowing glances. He knew they were surmising over his relationship with Amber.
He gritted his teeth. Why couldn’t they all get over it and let him get on with his life? It seemed that everyone he knew was constantly on the lookout for a happy ending for him. Of the marriage variety. As if that was the only kind of ending that counted.
If only people understood how humiliating that was.
Normally he loved a shoot. This was what he enjoyed most: seeing his vision come to life and capturing it on camera. It was a beautiful day, the city traffic was barely audible here, and he was about to see Amber looking even more impossibly desirable than ever.
He had to admit, though, he was having second thoughts. Not about Amber. Hell, no. Just thinking of her made his heart beat faster. And the sex. How had he survived so long in the wilderness without a warm, lovely body to curl up to?
No, it was this that was wrong. Involving his team in his personal affairs. Risking dragging it all up again. How could he have forgotten that some of them were friends with Jo? The other day Maggie had even casually dropped in to the conversation that Jo was back in Sydney. As if he might be interested.
For pity’s sake.
But what if one of them hinted something to Amber? She’d be racing for the nearest set of hills like a horrified gazelle. Embarrassed.
Even worse, she’d be embarrassed for him. Imagining her reaction, he felt himself start to sweat. He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. If only there was some way he could insulate her from people who knew him.
It had definitely been a mistake, rushing to her rescue like that. Who did he think he was? Sir Galahad?
But was it too late to call a halt today? He was nearly as good with a camera as André. If he could come up with a reasonable excuse he could send them all off home and do the whole shoot himself.
He was just racking his brains for one when the sound of voices echoing down the path alerted him to the approach of the women.
His pulse quickened. His vision was about to crystallise. Enter Spring.
Kate appeared first, carrying a box with her make-up case balanced on top, while Maggie walked alongside Amber, holding her bunched up skirt off the ground. At first glance the three were all clumped together. It took Guy’s bedazzled brain a moment to separate them into their individual components.
The same instant he did, Maggie allowed the dress she was holding to fall around Amber, and stepped away from her. Guy’s lungs seized as something like a twelve bore shotgun blasted a hole through him.
What were they thinking? They’d done her up as a bride.
The women fluttered around her, tweaking her dress and the little flower sprays pinned all over her—at her bosom, her waist, on her skirt. A wreath of pink, red and white flowers adorned her head, while more were plaited through her long hair.
André and the lad hauled themselves up off the grass and clustered around her, goggling as if they’d never seen a woman with a pretty cleavage before in their lives.
The boy kept saying, ‘You look hot, Amber. Hot.’
‘Nice one, Maggie.’ That was André, circling Amber like a grinning shark.
‘Thanks, boys,’ Maggie said. ‘Scrubbed up all right, didn’t she?’
Guy saw Amber give them a quick modest smile, then look straight to him for his reaction. Thing was, he couldn’t say anything right then. A cold wind was whistling through the space in his guts.
He read puzzlement in her blue eyes, and had to turn away before he disgraced himself with some blistering comment.
André swanned into the foreground, salivating like Mr Fox. ‘Stand over here, Amber, and let me see you with the trees behind you.’ Smooth as butter, kneeling down with the camera on his shoulder, pretending he was interested in the shot when it was plain to anyone with half a brain he just wanted an excuse to ogle her.
The boy just continued gaping with his mouth open.
With superhuman resolve Guy snapped himself together. This was his disaster. He was in charge and he’d set the course.
Blinking, he said, ‘Let’s not waste time oohing and aahing. Thanks, Maggie, that’ll have to do, though I’m not sure a wedding was quite what I had in mind. Did you bring some roses for her to scatter?’
They were all looking strangely at him. Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth in a betraying little gesture of dismayed comprehension that jabbed his raw spot like a knife.
And Amber …
What had he done? The hurt in her face, the confusion. How harsh had he sounded? What had he actually said? He closed his eyes, trying to recall his exact words, his blood pressure pounding in his temples.
What was wrong with him? She wasn’t a bride. This was another time, another place, and he was two years older. Amber O’Neill was not a bride.
‘Amber,’ he said hoarsely, shielding his eyes against the sun so as not to see his vision too clearly, ‘show us how you can walk like the springtime.’
CHAPTER TEN
THE shoot took longer than Amber had anticipated. She was asked to float like a goddess and scatter roses so many times their store ran out. Then people had to scramble about picking them up again.
Guy seemed a little worried about how she was standing up to the repetition, but after a while he relaxed. If she’d wanted to she could have reminded him she was used to far more strenuous exertion at a highly concentrated level. But she didn’t care to bring up her past glories. Not in front of the crew.
Eventually the strained atmosphere mellowed slightly, thank goodness, and there were even some fun moments when the whole company collapsed in laughter, though it was an edgy sort of laughter. Guy joined in, but something in him felt different. Not so much a coolness, as a quietness.
A reserve.
When he and André were finally satisfied with their footage, and they’d wrapped up, the crew congratulated Amber and told her she’d been excellent. Professional, André said. Maggie especially seemed to be making an effort to be kind, actually suggesting she might drop by the shop the next time she was in Kirribilli. Amber was scratching her head. Had Maggie forgotten her dastardly plan to run off with her beloved boss and screw his brains out?
She noticed Guy look too hard at Maggie when she made that astounding suggestion. The lines around his mouth were rather grim.
The trip home had a vastly different mood from the morning’s. Guy didn’t have much to say, while Amber felt anxious and confused. Awash with misgivings, in truth. Considering how frankly passionate he’d been towards her a few hours ago, this constraint was depressing. The big question was why? What had she done to make him go off her so dramatically?
‘Do you think the shoot went well?’ she ventured at last, her heart thumping like an idiot’s.
He nodded. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to do something with it.’
She made her tone bright and upbeat. ‘What a relief. What happens next?’
‘Well, we’ll edit it. Play around with it to get the tones and colours right. Layer on some music, of course. Something to suit the motion of the piece. A voiceover, some graphics …’ He smiled to himself. Or maybe it was a grimace of nauseated derision.
‘Plenty of airbrushing, I hope?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe a bit of enhancement. To the dress,’ he finished, with a rather sibilant hiss.
She was silent for a while, wondering if she’d imagined that he was burning with resentment over something. ‘Sounds like a lot of work.’
‘Yep. The next p
art will have to be filmed in your shop.’
‘Oh?’ She glanced at him in surprise. ‘You mean there’s more?’
‘Only a couple of seconds’ worth. But that couple of seconds will have to show the shop in the best light possible. I’m thinking we may as well send the people who do our set designs around to start your makeover.’
She felt a flutter of excitement followed by anxiety about how much it must all be costing.
She glanced at him, hesitating. ‘Look, I’m so grateful to you for all this, Guy. Honestly. Offering all your resources, your—your people. It’s so very generous. Truly kind. But I can’t help worrying about the money. I know it must be costing you heaps.’
He frowned, embarrassed, and shook his head. ‘No need to feel like that. This is business. If we can make Fleur Elise attractive, the glow will reflect on Wilder Solutions. When you’re rich we’ll add it to the bill.’
‘No,’ she said firmly, a decision she’d been mulling over for weeks suddenly crystallising in her mind. ‘That’s good of you, but—I want to pay for my own renovations. It’ll be great if you recommend your designer. But I’ll pay for all the work and the materials myself.’
He looked sharply at her, but didn’t question her ability to pay. Just as well. She had no intention of asking anyone’s permission to seek a small business loan from her bank. It was her shop, and it was her decision. She’d borrow the bare minimum and use some of the money for stock.
He glanced at her, his grey eyes appraising. ‘Would you object if I suggested a couple of guys that could do the actual work?’
‘No, of course not. So long as they’re excellent.’ Amber smiled, pleased with her decision. She glanced at him. ‘Will I be wearing the same costume for the shop part of the ad?’
He drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils. ‘No.’
Amber started. The harsh syllable echoed in her ears as the air crackled with tension.
What was wrong with him? So he hated that dress. Or was it her? Questions kept popping into her head, only for her to dismiss them just as quickly. Whatever was eating him had to do with her in the dress, obviously. She herself hadn’t thought it a great representation of the gown in the painting. Was he still mad because Maggie had failed to realise his divine vision?