* * *
Dan watched her over the rim of his glass, trying to maintain a relaxed air of mingling wedding guest when all he wanted to do was stare at her. She looked prettier than ever in a silver-grey silk dress that set off her creamy complexion. Her hair was lying in soft waves, one side held back from her face by a sparkly clip. His desire for her was as strong as it had been the previous night. Nothing had changed. Had he really thought it would?
She held his gaze boldly and he heard her take a deep breath.
‘You helped Adam,’ she said. ‘I know about the loan. I thought you didn’t want to get sucked into family stuff.’
He deliberately didn’t meet her eyes and kept his tone light.
‘Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking straight when you first suggested it,’ he said. ‘Maybe I just wasn’t crazy on Adam’s timing.’
He watched the blush rise on her cheeks at his reference to the previous night and heat began to pool deep in his abdomen.
‘Well, if you think I’ll just hop into bed with you now, because you stepped up to the plate with Adam, you’re wrong,’ she said.
If only that were the limit of his need for her.
‘If I’d wanted to go to bed with someone I wouldn’t have wasted half the night counselling Adam. I would have been down in the lobby chatting up the receptionist.’
If he needed any reminder that he was in over his head here, there it was. This was not just about getting her into bed.
He’d actually done far more than he’d intended when he’d left her sleeping in the small hours. The plan to just give Adam some kind of rousing pep talk had gone out of the window when he’d realised the monumental size of the mess he was in. Within five minutes it had become clear that a couple of websites and the number of a debt helpline were simply not going to cut the mustard, and the temptation had never been stronger to simply bow out of the situation and leave all of them to it while he went right back to his safe and organised life in London.
But all he’d been able to think about was Emma floundering the next morning, trying to pick up the pieces, and he simply hadn’t been able to do it to her.
And what that decision meant filled him with far more trepidation than practically writing out a blank check to her lunatic brother.
He had feelings for her. Beyond anything he’d felt since Maggie. And even she now seemed to be taking on a vagueness in his mind that she hadn’t had before—as if the edges of her memory were being softened by the reality of the present.
‘To prove a point, then,’ she said, narrowing her eyes. ‘You can’t stand being wrong and I touched a nerve.’
He cocked an eyebrow.
‘With your “sad workaholic singleton” comment, you mean? I think I’ve had a few worse insults than that over the years.’
‘Then what? Why would you do that about-face if it wasn’t so you could have the last word?’
The cynical tilt of her chin finally tipped him into irritation.
‘I notice you haven’t asked me if I just did it out of the goodness of my heart. It hasn’t occurred to you that I might just want to help.’
‘Of course it hasn’t. Because there’s always an ulterior motive with you. Normally it’s to do with work. Or possibly sex.’
‘Emma, are you so used to being second best that you have to find some negative reason when the truth is staring you in the face? Why is it that you can’t possibly contemplate that I might have just done the whole bloody thing for you?’ he blurted in exasperation. ‘You’re maddening, your family are insane, you snore and your luggage habits are scary. But for some reason I’d rather commit myself financially to your mad brother and stay here with you instead of going back to London and my nice, peaceful, “sad workaholic singleton” life. Do you think I don’t want to run for the hills? Truth is, I can’t. I’ve realised there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.’ He paused for breath. ‘With you.’
She was staring at him.
His pulse vaulted into action as he met her wide brown eyes. He could see the light flush on her cheekbones. All the unrequited tension of the night before seeped back through his body. All around them the socialising carried on, and the urge raced through him to ignore the lot of them, grab her by the hand and tug her upstairs—let this crazy charade go on without them.
He closed the gap between them and lifted a hand to her cheek. The softness of her skin was tantalising beneath his fingers.
‘Dinner is served.’
The Master of Ceremonies’ curt tones cut through the background buzz of chatter and snapped him out of it.
‘Do stop dawdling, darling,’ Emma’s mother called as she swept past them in her ghastly coral ensemble, undoubtedly en route to the top table.
Oh, for Pete’s sake...
* * *
By the time the meal was over the presence of Adam’s entire social circle was beginning to seriously annoy Emma. It was extremely difficult to have an in-depth personal conversation while seated at a table of eight overenthusiastic art groupies.
Dinner finished with, the marquee was cleared of the tables in the centre to reveal a glossy dance floor. Strings of fairy lights and candelabra supplied a twinkly, magical ambience. You couldn’t move without tripping over a champagne waiter. And this after the most sumptuous four-course meal she’d ever been too strung-out to eat. Clearly there had been no expense spared. She wondered just how big Dan’s loan to Adam was. If this was the level of his spending habits he’d still be paying it off when he was drawing his pension.
‘I mean, really—no speeches? No best man. No bridesmaids. No tradition whatsoever! I just want to know—and I’m sure I’m not alone in this—’ her mother glanced around for confirmation ‘—what happens about the name-change? Who takes whose name?’
She looked expectantly at Adam, standing nearby, who shifted from foot to foot.
‘Mum, it’s no different to any other wedding. You can take or not take whatever name you please,’ Emma said, pasting on a smile to counteract any offence that might be caused. ‘You’re living in the past.’
‘I don’t agree. I don’t see why Adam should change his name.’
‘I’m not,’ Adam said. ‘And neither is Ernie.’
Her mother rounded on Ernie, who took an automatic defensive step backwards.
‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘Is our family name not good enough?’
‘Mum, please...’ Emma said.
Ernie held his hands up.
‘It’s perfectly fine, Emma. It’s nothing to do with family names.’ He looked kindly at her mother. ‘I’d walk over hot coals for him, darling, but I cannot possibly be known as Ernie Burney.’
Adam took his arm and they moved away. Her mother gaped for a moment, and then took refuge in her usual critical safe bet in order to save face.
‘Of course if you could only find a man who would commit there wouldn’t be any of this lunacy,’ she snapped at Emma. ‘We could have a proper wedding with all the trimmings.’
The band chose that moment to launch into full-on swing music, mercifully making it impossible to hear any further argument, and the compère took to the glossy parquet floor.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...the groom and groom.’
Her mother’s mouth puckered and then disappeared as a pool of light flicked on in the centre to reveal Adam and Ernie striking a pose. A kitsch disco track kicked into action and they threw themselves into a clearly pre-rehearsed dance routine.
Dan stared in amazement as Adam danced past them, finger stabbing the air above his head, back to his full quota of sweeping flamboyant enthusiasm. Ernie skidded across the parquet on his knees, snapping his fingers above his head. A circle of guests began to form at the edges of the dance floor, clapping along. The room worked itself into a cresce
ndo of rhythmic toe-tapping. It was bedlam.
‘And...the parents of the happy couple...’
Ernie’s father, completely unaware of what he was letting himself in for, held out a hand to Emma’s mother and began propelling her around the floor. Emma watched her mother’s stiff and obvious fluster with a grin.
‘She can’t complain. She did want a bit more tradition after all,’ she said.
‘And...family and friends...please take the floor...’
Dan held his hand out, a smile crinkling his eyes. She stared at him, her heart skipping into action.
‘I don’t dance,’ she said, shaking her head.
He totally ignored her. Before she could wriggle free he’d caught her fingers in his own and tugged her against him, curling his free hand around her waist.
‘Just hang on, then,’ he said.
The jaunty music demanded a lot more balance and rhythm than a swaying slow dance, and Emma silently cursed Adam for his disco obsession.
Dan turned out to be an excellent dancer. He propelled her smoothly around the floor in perfect time to the music and she somehow managed to hold on to him instead of falling over. Then at last the music mercifully slowed and embarrassment slowly gave way to consciousness of him. She could feel the hard muscle of his thighs moving against her own. Sparks jumped from her fingers as he laced them through his. His heartbeat pressed against hers.
‘Why now, then?’ she said, looking up at him, a light frown shadowing her face. ‘You haven’t answered that question. You had months to make a move on me if you were interested. Months of work dates back in London. Why now? Why here? Because you’d made it clear our agreement was over? Is that it? You were pretty keen to draw a line under our relationship when this weekend finished, so did that make me fair game?’
‘If I’d known you were interested maybe I would have made a move before,’ he said, knowing perfectly well he’d never have allowed himself to do so.
She made an exasperated sound.
‘That’s crap. I’m so not your type.’
‘In actual fact you’re exactly my type. And that’s why I never made a move. I met you in your work role and you were so bloody good at it I wasn’t about to ruin that by sleeping with you. I needed you too much.’
She pulled away from him a little as she processed what that might mean.
‘And now you don’t need me any more, sleeping with me is suddenly back on the agenda? Is that it?’
‘That’s not it at all. This weekend is the first I’ve spent with anyone at such close quarters without sex being the only thing on the agenda. And it isn’t a piece of cake, I’ll be honest with you. Nothing about you is easy. You’re a pain to share a room with, and your family are more bonkers than I realised, but for the first time in I don’t know how long work isn’t the first thing I’m thinking about.’
She looked up at him and met his eyes, his expression clear and genuine.
‘When I talked to Adam I realised there would be a massive fallout if the wedding didn’t go ahead. I could imagine the embarrassment, the fuss, having to send the guests away. It wasn’t about Adam. He’s got himself into trouble and he should dig himself out of it. It might even be character-building. When I couldn’t walk away I realised that the person I was really doing it for was you. And that’s when I knew that, whatever I felt about you, platonic work colleague didn’t really cover it any more.’
He carried on talking, thinking vaguely that they seemed to have lost time with the jaunty beat of the music. Other guests began to whirl past them.
She stopped dancing. He attempted a couple more steps before giving up and joining her. The thing about dancing was that you needed your partner at least to attempt to engage—otherwise it was akin to dragging a sack of potatoes around the floor at speed. Trepidation spiked in his stomach at the look of disbelief on her face, telling him that his feelings for her had climbed way further than he’d thought. He’d been kind of banking on a smile at the very least.
‘Say that again.’
‘Emma, we’re in the middle of the bloody dance floor. Let’s go and sit down, get a drink.’
‘I don’t want a drink. Say that again.’
‘I couldn’t give a toss about Adam getting into trouble?’
She punched his shoulder.
‘Not that bit.’
He saw the mock-exasperated smile on her lips, saw it climb to her eyes.
‘Platonic work colleague didn’t cover it any more?’
The smile melted away. She was looking up at him, brown eyes wide, soft lips lightly parted, and the madly circling dance floor around them disappeared from his consciousness.
‘Yes. That bit.’
He tightened his grip around her waist and slid his fingers into her hair, stroking his thumb along her jawline as he tilted her lips to meet his.
* * *
Emma’s heart was thundering as if they’d done another disco turn instead of swaying languorously around the dance floor.
The Dan she’d known for a year and long given up on would never have helped Adam out for nothing in return—would never have taken the time to explain his feelings to her. And he would never have turned back having driven halfway to London—not when he’d made his point before he left. She’d bucked his little-black-book no-strings trend. He’d put her first.
Sweet excitement began to swirl in her stomach as her mind focused on the feel of his body hard against hers and she breathed in the scent of spicy aftershave and warm skin as he kissed and kissed and kissed her.
At last she opened her eyes to see the déjà-vu disapproving stare of her mother across the room. Necking on the dance floor, this time, instead of in corridors—how common. Except that this time she found she really couldn’t give a damn.
She laced her hand through his and tugged at his arm.
‘Let’s go upstairs.’
TEN
She followed him into the hotel room, buying a bit more time and space for her skittering nerves by leaning gently back against the door until it clicked shut. The party carried on in the marquee below them and music and faint laughter drifted in through the window, open a crack. The closed curtains fluttered lightly in the night breeze.
Delicious anticipation fluttered in her stomach as he turned back to her in the soft amber glow of the table lamp and tugged her into his arms, his mouth groping for hers, finding it, sucking gently on her lower lip and caressing it softly with his tongue.
His fingers slipped beneath the fall of her hair to find the zip of her dress and he pulled it slowly down in one smooth motion, sliding the fluttering sleeves from her shoulders, his mouth tracing the blade of her collarbone with tiny kisses. He smoothed her dress lower, until it fell from her body into a gleaming puddle of silk on the floor. And then her mind followed his hands as they explored her body, as he unhooked her bra, cast it aside and cupped her breasts softly in his palms. Her nipples were pinched lightly between his fingers, sending dizzying flutters down her spine where they intensified hotly between her legs.
Then came brief unsteadiness as he slid his hands firmly beneath her thighs and lifted her against him. She could feel his rigid arousal press against her as she curled her legs around his waist and he carried her the few paces across the room to the antique desk. He held her tightly against him and she leaned sideways as he swept her belongings carelessly onto the floor. Body lotion and hairbrush fell with meaningless thuds onto the deep-pile carpet, and then there was cool, smooth wood against her skin as he put her down on the desk in just her panties.
She’d had a few boyfriends, yes. In the dim and distant past she’d done the rounds, albeit in a minor way, at university. None of it had felt like this. And if during the last year she’d let herself imagine what it might feel like to be with him it had never
touched this reality. His every touch made her heart leap and her stomach flutter. His touch was expert, but there was nothing by rote about this. He seemed in tune with her every need and desire, as if he could read her mind.
His hands found her thighs again, parting them softly, and then he was tracing kisses down her neck, his mouth sliding lower until he closed his lips over her nipple, teasing it softly with his tongue. Heat simmered in her stomach and pooled meltingly between her thighs as he sank to his knees and traced his mouth lightly over the flat of her stomach. She sucked in a sharp breath as his lips sank lower still and the heat of his breath warmed her through the lace of her panties. She gasped as his fingers teased the thin fabric aside and his tongue slipped against the very core of her.
Her hands found his hair and clutched at it as he stroked and teased until she ached for him to go further, and then delicious pleasure flooded her veins as he slid two fingers inside her in one slow and smooth movement. She moaned softly as he found his rhythm, moving his fingers steadily as his tongue lazily circled the nub of her, moving with her, until she cried her ecstasy at the ceiling and he moved both hands beneath her, holding her against his mouth, wringing every last second of satisfaction out of her.
* * *
Anonymity was gone. That inconsequential, easy gratification wasn’t there. Because for once this wasn’t about quick fun, satisfaction. Dispensable satisfaction.
This was about her. Wanting to please her. And that was a real novelty that knocked his senses sprawling.
The light change in her breath as he ran his fingertips over the softness of her thighs, the way she gasped and clutched at his hair as he moved them higher—all those little gestures delighted him and turned him on all the more.
Dan got to his feet in the hollow between her parted legs and pulled her close. She curled her arms around him, tugging him against her, her fast, short breaths warm against his lips. Her evident excitement, such a foil to her usual carefully controlled attitude, thrilled him to the core, and in the all-encompassing heat of his arousal he marvelled at the surge of excitement pleasing her elicited.
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