The Plus-One Agreement

by Charlotte Phillips

  ‘Us,’ she said. ‘You and me. It’s not going to work out.’

  He gaped at her.

  ‘Is this because I won’t come to your gay brother’s wedding? Honey, have you any idea how much is riding on this new contract? This is the next stage of my career we’re talking about.’ He shook his head at her in a gesture of amazement. ‘The effort that’s gone into lining up this meeting. I’m not cancelling that so you can show me off to your relatives at some small-town pink wedding. And it’s not as if I’m stopping you going. That Neanderthal platonic pal of yours has said he’ll step up to the plate.’

  She was vaguely aware of people staring with interest from the surrounding tables. His slight about Dan irked her. Neanderthal? Hardly. He looked like an Adonis, and he was smart, sharp and funny. She clenched her teeth defensively on his behalf.

  ‘I want you to come with me. I want you to meet my family.’

  ‘And I will, honey. When the time’s right.’

  ‘It’s a family wedding. Everyone who knows me will be in one place for the first time in years. When could the time possibly be more right than that?’

  His face changed. Subtly but instantly. Like the turning of a switch. The easy, open look that had really taken her in when she’d first met him, the way he’d listened to her as if she mattered and showed her real, genuine interest, was gone. That look was now replaced by a sulky, petulant frown.

  ‘Because it’s all about you, of course,’ he said. ‘No regard for my career. You have to make these opportunities, Emma, and then follow them up. You don’t mess people like this about, because there are no second chances. I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.’

  For a moment the Emma she’d grown up to be actually questioned her own judgement on the strength of that last comment of his. The insecure Emma, whom she’d begun to push out of her life when she’d at last moved away from home and gone to university—a place where she had finally been accepted without reference to Adam or anyone else. With her own successes not watered down but recognised. After university she’d moved to London instead of going home to the West Country, in case that old, pessimistic Emma was somehow still there, lurking, ready to take over.

  No way was she going back to that mindset now.

  She pushed her plate to one side and leaned down to pick up her bag and take out her purse. She took enough money to cover her own meal and put it down on the table. She didn’t throw it down. She wasn’t going to resort to stupid tantrum gestures—she was a professional.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alistair.’ She shook her head at him. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought there would be more to us than being driven by your career. You want me to travel with you so I can iron out your legal issues, don’t you? Maybe draw up the odd contract, or just hand out advice where you need it?’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Come on—be honest with me. Is that what this has really been about?’

  A long pause.

  ‘Well, you can’t deny it’s an advantage,’ he said eventually. ‘But only in the same way as if you were a hairdresser or a stylist.’

  ‘I thought we were having a relationship. I didn’t realise I was joining your entourage,’ she snapped. ‘I should never have let myself get swept away by this. Have a nice trip back to the States.’

  She left the table and aimed her shaky feet at the exit, determined not to look back. When she did, inevitably, she saw that he was signing autographs for the people at an adjacent table. No attempt to follow her or talk her round. But why would he? He undoubtedly had a queue of people waiting to take her place.

  She pressed her teeth hard together and concentrated on them to take her mind off the ache in her heart and the even worse heat of stupidity in her face.

  She’d bigged up her relationship with him beyond all reason. How could she have been such a fool?

  Now she had to face the climb down.

  FOUR

  Emma glanced around the half-empty office, grateful that her colleagues had finally drifted out for lunch. She’d informed HR first thing that her new, glamorous life as the jet-set girlfriend of Alistair ‘White Lightning’ Woods was no longer happening and the news had quickly filtered through the staff. At least she hadn’t jacked her job in completely. That would have made things a whole lot worse. And it was best to get the humiliation over with, right?

  Except that she wasn’t sure how many more sympathetic stares she could take.

  Her phone blared into life and she looked down at the display screen.

  Dan. Again.

  She pressed her hot forehead with the heel of one hand, as if it might help her think clearly. There’d been rather a lack of clear thinking around her lately.

  What the hell had possessed her to let Alistair Woods sweep her off her feet? She was a sensible professional. She knew her own mind and she never took risks. Was she so bogged down in a stupid teen inferiority complex, in a lifetime of failed one-upmanship with Adam, that she’d momentarily lost all common sense? She’d built a life here in London, where she blended in. She’d excelled at not being noticeable and her professional life had flourished. And now, the one time she’d ventured out of that safe box, the same old outcome had happened. Her judgement had been rubbish, she hadn’t measured up and it had all come crashing down around her ears. Why had she ever thought things would be different with Alistair?

  Defensive heat rose in her cheeks even as she picked up the phone. By extreme bad luck Dan had been there in the restaurant to see that her romance with Alistair wasn’t such a bed of roses after all. The thought of filling him in on all the details made a wave of nausea rise in her throat and her eyes water.

  ‘Hello.’ She shaped her voice into the most neutral tone she could muster.

  ‘Hey.’

  His voice was warm, deep and full of concern, and her heart gave a little flutter because as a rule Dan Morgan didn’t do concern. He did sharply professional business demands, he did high expectations, he did arm’s length.

  ‘Just checking that you’re OK.’

  I blabbed to everyone who knows me in London that I was on the point of eloping with the most desirable man in sport. I’ve made the biggest fool of myself and now I have to tell everyone that, actually, he’s an arse and it’s not going ahead. So, yes, thanks, I’m just peachy.

  Climbing down in front of Dan was somehow worst of all. And not just because she was embarrassed at her own poor judgement when she should have known better. There was a tiny part of her mind that was busy pointing out that for the first time ever Dan was showing interest and support for her beyond what she could do for him and his work. Had he suddenly realised he valued her as more than just a handy plus-one? How many missed calls from him had she had since lunchtime? Five? Wasn’t that a bit excessive?

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she said.

  ‘Things just seemed a little tense at lunch yesterday.’

  As if you could cut the atmosphere with a chainsaw.

  ‘Did you get everything sorted with Alistair?’

  A rush of bitterness pelted through her as she answered. ‘Oh, yes. I definitely got everything sorted with him.’

  ‘He’s changed his plans, then? He’s coming to the civil partnership?’

  Oh, bloody hell, the civil partnership.

  An unsettling wave of trepidation turned her stomach over. The biggest Burney family get-together in years and she no longer had a date. Could her crushed and battered ego survive a whole weekend of jibes from her mother about the race for grandchildren being hampered by her inability to keep a man?

  ‘Not exactly,’ she said.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  There was a sharp over-interested edge to his voice that she recognised from the many work dinners she’d accompanied him to. This
was how he sounded when he was on the brink of nailing a new client—as if nothing could distract him from his goal. Five missed calls and now he was hanging on her every word.

  Oh, hell.

  She leaned forward over the desk in exasperation and pressed her hot forehead against its cold wooden surface.

  ‘Alistair and I are off,’ she blurted out. ‘He’s a total arse. He wouldn’t even talk about making it to the wedding.’

  ‘You broke up because he won’t come to your brother’s wedding?’

  ‘Pretty much, yes,’ she said.

  She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth—that Alistair had only treated her like a princess because he’d wanted a live-in lawyer. Her cheeks burned just at the thought of it.

  ‘I couldn’t let Adam down and he just couldn’t see that. It made me realise that work will always come first for him.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’

  Was there a twist of cool I-told-you-so about his voice? She pulled her head from the desk and narrowed her eyes, trying to decide. He was probably glad it was all off. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d wanted? For things to get back to normal? Then again, at least he wasn’t saying it out loud.

  She tightened her grip on the phone.

  Wallowing in self-pity was one thing, but it didn’t change the fact that in a week’s time she had to keep her parents in check while surrounded by Ernie’s family. Knowing Adam, it would be the most stuffed-with-people event of the year. She’d become so used to relying on Dan at family get-togethers that the prospect of coping with that by herself filled her with dread.

  With her dreams in tatters there was a warm tug of temptation just to scuttle back to the way things had been. And wasn’t that exactly what Dan had been angling for all along? Why not resurrect the old plus-one agreement? That nice, safe social buffer that had stood between her and humiliation until she’d stupidly given it up. Her reason for ending it was on its way back to the States right now. She’d dipped a toe in the murky waters of proper dating and it had turned into a train wreck.

  She thought it through quickly. Dan was brilliant with her mother, never remotely fazed and the epitome of calm. Exactly what she needed to get her through that scary event. And maybe then she could begin to look forward, put Alistair behind her, make a fresh start.

  ‘Actually, about the wedding...’ she said.

  * * *

  ‘You want to reinstate the plus-one agreement?’ He might as well give it its proper ludicrous name.

  ‘Yes. I know it’s a bit of a turnaround.’

  Just a bit.

  He couldn’t quite believe his ears. So now she wanted him to step back in as her handy fake boyfriend, as if the last couple of weeks had never happened? What about her insane plan to dump him in public? And she hadn’t done him the one-off favour of going with him to his Mayfair charity ball—oh, no. He’d had to spend the evening peeling Eloise off him. But now she needed him things were different.

  And he wasn’t about to make it easy for her.

  ‘I thought having each other as a social backup was holding us back?’ he said. ‘Your words.’

  A pause on the end of the phone, during which a hint of triumph coursed through him as he reclaimed the upper hand. He was back in control. How they proceeded from here would be his decision, not hers.

  ‘I may have been a bit hasty.’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Please, Dan. Ernie has a massive family and his father’s a High Court Judge. Our family is me and my parents plus a few distant relatives that my mother’s alienated over the years. I’ve promised Adam I’ll keep my mum in check, and the thought of doing it on my own fills me with horror. Please. You’re so good with them.’

  She paused again, and when he didn’t immediately leap in to agree, deployed the big guns of guilt.

  ‘I thought this was what you wanted—everything back the way it was? I know I screwed up, and I’m sorry. But how many times have I helped you out at the last minute? What about that race meet where you landed your biggest client? You called me two hours before and I stepped in. Won’t you even consider doing this one tiny event for me?’

  He hesitated. She had a point about the race meet.

  ‘Please, Dan. I want to make sure everything runs smoothly for Adam. You know how hard it is to please my mother.’

  She’d lowered her voice now and a pang of sympathy twisted in his gut because he did know.

  He could tell from her defeated tone that she thought he was going to refuse. This was his opportunity to bring things right back to where he wanted them. Their agreement had paid dividends—there was no denying that—but he’d let it run on far too long. He’d become complacent and let her become too important to drop easily. He couldn’t have someone like that in his life, even if it was supposed to be under the heading of ‘work’. She wanted a fake boyfriend for the wedding? He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the world. For old times’ sake. And then he’d dump their agreement without looking back for a second.

  ‘OK,’ he said.

  Emma took a deep breath as sweet relief flooded her. It had absolutely nothing to do with the prospect of Dan’s company of course. She was way past that. It was just the thought of having an ally in what was bound to be a social minefield.

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d agree after I said no to your charity thing. Thank you so much. And you know I’m happy to step in next time you need someone—’

  ‘Please let me finish,’ he cut in. ‘I’ll do it. But this is the last time. I’ll stand in for you in acknowledgement of all the times you’ve stepped in for me at the last minute. But when we head back to London after the wedding, that’s it. Our agreement is over. I’ll manage my own socialising going forward, and you can carry on as before.’

  Emma took a sharp breath, because for some reason that hurt in a way that the Alistair debacle hadn’t. He didn’t sound inclined even to retain a friendship between them. They would revert to being Mr Morgan and Ms Burney, businessman and lawyer, nothing more. Had she really meant so little to him?

  It was a stupid, stupid pang of disappointment because she’d already dealt with the idea that nothing would ever happen between her and Dan. Her ridiculous crush on him was a thing of the past. She’d been planning to travel the world with Alistair, for Pete’s sake, never looking back.

  It had somehow been much easier to deal with when she’d been the one making that choice.

  * * *

  Emma glanced around the lobby of the Cotswolds hotel that Adam and Ernie had chosen as their wedding venue, surprised at the stunning old-world charm of the place. Huge vases of spring flowers softened the dark wood panelling of the walls. Beautifully upholstered chairs and sofas stood in cosy groupings around the fireplace, which was taller than she was.

  She would have expected Adam to want to make his vows somewhere screamingly modern in the midst of the buzz of London. Apparently Ernie’s family were a lot more old-school than that. They’d lived here in this honey-coloured stone village for generations. She felt a stab of envy at the give and take in her brother’s relationship. It seemed Adam didn’t have a problem putting his partner’s family first.

  On the other hand it might have been less nerve-racking if the wedding was taking place on home ground. Here they would be surrounded by Ernie’s nearest and dearest, all eagerly awaiting the impression the Burney family would make. Her stomach gave a churn of unease at the thought.

  ‘What name is it?’

  The blonde receptionist ran a manicured fingernail down her computer screen.

  ‘Burney,’ Emma said. ‘I’m part of the Burney-Harford wedding party.’

  Adam had made a block reservation.

  Dan strode through the door, fresh from parking the car. He rested one hand on t
he desk and ran the other through his dark hair, spiking it more than ever. His blue eyes crinkled as he smiled his gorgeous lopsided smile—the one that had melted half the female hearts in London.

  The manicured fingernail came to an instant standstill and the receptionist’s jaw practically fell open as she gazed at him.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Burney?’ she asked.

  Emma sighed.

  ‘No, that would be my parents.’ Mercifully they weren’t here yet. ‘It will be under Miss.’

  The girl handed over keys—proper old-fashioned ones—and a wad of check-in paperwork.

  Emma gave Dan an expectant look.

  He smiled at her.

  ‘Great venue.’

  ‘What about you?’ she said.

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Your booking,’ she whispered.

  In her peripheral vision she picked up the interested change in the receptionist’s posture. She’d seen it a hundred times before. She took in her appearance. Blonde hair—check. Sleekly made-up face—check. Eager smile—check. She knew exactly what would come next.

  She waited for Dan to confirm loudly that he had a separate booking—ergo, he was free and single, and in possession of a hotel room and a shedload of charm. Instead he held her own gaze steadily, as if his radar no longer picked up pretty blondes. Not a hint of a flirt or smoulder. Not so much as a glance in the girl’s direction.

  ‘Didn’t make one,’ he said cheerfully.

  Emma stared at him incredulously for a moment, before realising that the receptionist was watching them with an interest that was way beyond polite. She walked away into the corner and when he didn’t immediately follow gave him an impatient come-on beckoning gesture. He sauntered over. The receptionist made a poor attempt not to watch the laconic grace of his movements.

  ‘What do you mean, you didn’t make a booking? You had your invitation—where did you think you were going to sleep? On the lawn?’