Dream Wedding

by Helen Brooks

  When he said the figure she almost asked him to repeat it. It was a small fortune—a small fortune.

  'And, of course, your employees' salaries and travelling expenses will be met by me separately through you.'

  She was glad that she was sitting down.

  'You can forget references or anything of that nature,' he continued quietly. 'Frank is an old friend of mine—as I understand he was of your father—and his word is better than any written confirmation as far as I am concerned. So…' He stood up suddenly, his masculinity seeming to fill the small room. 'Is it a deal or are you having second thoughts?'

  'Mitch?' She wanted to take the job; against all rhyme and reason she wanted to take it, even knowing that they were going to be stretched to breaking point and beyond, but, as Mitch had pointed out a few minutes earlier, they were partners and she had had no right to accept it without consulting him first. 'What do you think?'

  Mitch stood up slowly and walked across to Reece Vance with his hand outstretched. 'You have a deal, Mr Vance. If you are prepared to take a chance—'

  'Oh, I'm not taking any chances.' The cold voice was derisive. 'There will be schedules to meet and it's of no concern to me whether you have any sleep in the next two weeks or not. What is of vital importance is that everything goes smoothly on the day, and to that end you will work every hour it takes to make my sister's day a happy one. And it will be happy.' As Miriam joined them she saw that the silver eyes were as hard as stone. 'Won't it, Miss Bennett?'

  'Yes.' She raised her small chin as she spoke, her red hair flaming in the sunlight that filled the pretty room. 'It will.'

  'Good.' His smile was totally without warmth. 'Then we understand each other. If you would care to accompany me back to the main house I'll iron out some of the formalities with you and we can sign whatever needs to be signed.' He ushered them out of the flat as he spoke and they were halfway across the vast hall before he spoke again. 'Unfortunately my housekeeper fell downstairs this morning and broke her ankle; she and the maid are at present at the hospital. However, I can offer you a cup of coffee—or perhaps something stronger—'

  'The poor woman.' Miriam looked at him aghast.

  'Yes.' He eyed her grimly. 'However, my sympathy is somewhat tempered by the fact that she was carrying far too much at the time—something I have warned her about over and over again—and the accident has had the effect of making a difficult situation well nigh impossible. A temporary housekeeper will be more trouble than she's worth, especially now—' He broke off as he made an exclamation of irritation. 'And for crying out loud stop looking at me as though I've developed horns, would you?'

  'I'm sorry.' Miriam lowered her head quickly before the urge to say more spilled over. She had never met such a heartless brute in all her life. Was he for real?

  'So what do you intend to do?' Mitch asked quietly as they walked through into the main part of the house again and towards the room that they had vacated a few minutes earlier.

  'There is little I can do,' he replied tersely. 'Obviously Mrs Goode will have to do the best she can with limited mobility, but muddling through is not an activity that appeals to me, Mr Bennett. I can, and shall, employ temporary staff while my guests are in residence, but it's inconvenient—damn inconvenient.'

  'Can't your sister help?' Miriam ventured tentatively as he waved them to the two seats in front of the desk again. 'I know it's a busy time for her but—'

  'Exactly.' He eyed her frostily. 'And frankly, Miss Bennett, once you have met Barbara you will understand why I have no intention of letting her loose on my household; the results would be chaotic.'

  He raked his hand through his hair in a gesture that spoke of immense frustration. 'And it shouldn't be necessary anyway. Everything was organised most capably by my secretary three months ago, when Barbara announced her engagement. I paid an inordinate amount of money in order to secure the services of first-class companies to prevent this very thing from happening.'

  'Well, the best laid plans of mice and men…' Miriam said philosophically. 'I'm sure it will all work out in the end.'

  'Then you are more confident than I, Miss Bennett,' he growled tightly, his scowl indicating his opinion of hear optimism. 'Now, I can spare you a further five minutes so let's go over the bones of the thing.'

  By the time they left, exactly five minutes later, Miriam knew that she loathed Reece Vance. He might be fabulously wealthy and live in the sort of mansion that she had only seen in glossy magazines; he might be more-much more, if she was being honest—than averagely attractive, with the sort of rough, he-man sex appeal that some women found irresistible, but to her he was—the pits.

  She glanced at him now on the doorstep as he towered over them, his harsh, dark face and narrowed eyes infinitely cold. Definitely the pits. Rude, aggressive, unapproachable… The list was endless.

  'I shall expect one of you here tomorrow at ten o'clock to make contact with Mrs Goode,' he said abruptly.

  'That's no problem.' Miriam nodded quickly. 'I'll come; Mitch has an appointment.'

  'Right.' The tone was terse. 'And you'll bring a rough outline of what you propose, along with time schedules and—'

  'I'll bring all that's necessary.' He hadn't liked her interrupting him—she could see it in the silver-grey eyes that reflected the cold winter sky overhead—but now she smiled cheerfully as she held out a small, slim hand for him to shake. 'Goodbye, Mr Vance. We have an appointment shortly, so do excuse us rushing off.' It was a blatant lie but it was either that or giving in to any of a number of impulses that were running through her mind, all of which would have had dire consequences on the prospect of their employment.

  'Goodbye, Miss Bennett.' As he took her hand in his she was suddenly conscious of the feel of his warm, hard flesh encompassing hers, and a little flicker of sensation shivered right down to her toes, bringing her soft violet eyes wide open with surprise. She wanted to snatch her hand away, to object somehow, but in the next instant she was free anyway as he turned his rapier-sharp gaze to Mitch.

  She stood, more shaken than she cared to admit, and watched him as he said goodbye to her brother, noticing that there were flecks of silver in the jet-black hair that added to rather than detracted from the virile magnetism of the man.

  He frightened her. The thought was there before she could control it and, once given life, shocked her. But it was true. There was something about him that had nothing to do with his outward appearance—a dark force, a fascination, compelling and cold and quite unfathomable, that she had never, ever come across in her life before.

  'Till tomorrow.' He dismissed them with a cool nod but didn't step back inside the house as she had expected; instead he stood and watched them walk over to their little beaten-up jalopy, his eyes burning into the back of her head. She suddenly found that she didn't quite know how to walk, was vitally conscious of her body in a way she never had been before, and breathed a soft sigh of relief as she pulled open the door and sank down onto the moth-eaten seat.

  'Well, what do you think?' Mitch turned to her as he slid into the car beside her with a slightly dazed grin, which faded as he noticed her pale face. 'What's the matter? You aren't having second thoughts about this now, are? you?'

  'Just start the engine and drive the gar, Mitch.' She knew, without looking, that he was still there on the steps, the big, lean body relaxed and indolent as he watched them leave and the hard, superior face alert, silver eyes intent.

  'All right, all right.' The car took several seconds to flare into life, as it always did, and by the time Mitch persuaded it into a semicircle and they passed the house Reece Vance had gone. It was only at that point that she relaxed back in the seat.

  'It's no good looking like that, Mim,' Mitch grumbled softly at her side as he negotiated a small patch of black ice in the middle of the long, winding drive that led from the grounds surrounding the house to the main road in the far distance. 'You were the one who jumped in with both feet. I thought y
ou wanted to accept the job anyway. What—?'

  'I do, I do.' The interior of the car was even colder than the icy weather outside, and she blew on her hands before wrapping them under each armpit. 'I'm just not looking forward to seeing any more of him, that's all.'

  'Why?' Mitch turned the heater on and then quickly off again as a blast of arctic frost seared their faces. 'I'd better let it warm up a bit first.' He turned to her for a second, his face enquiring. 'Why don't you want to see him again?' he asked mildly. 'I thought he was OK, and the deal is one hell of a generous one if we can pull it off.'

  'Of course we can pull it off,' she said firmly, her voice determined. 'It's the chance of a lifetime for a small firm like ours, and if we do a good job he might recommend us to a few of his friends. It's just…' Her voice trailed away as her brow wrinkled. 'He's so rude and abrupt—'

  'The guy is in a bit of a spot, Mim,' Mitch said quietly, his tone so reasonable that she immediately felt guilty. 'First the caterers rocking the boat and now his housekeeper out of action. It'd make anyone…edgy.'

  'Hmm.' Miriam eyed him carefully. 'Well, how about if I do the Baker job tomorrow and you come back here, then?'

  'No way.' The response was instantaneous, followed by the sheepish smile that Mitch did so well. 'You know you're the one to deal with any difficult customers; you never let anyone get to you like I do.'

  'There's always a first time.'

  'You'll be fine.' Mitch patted her hand in a gesture that was meant to be comforting but was merely irritating. 'You probably won't see him again anyway. Moguls who generate that amount of power and money don't sit at home twiddling their thumbs, Mim; they're out making the city hum or whatever they do. Now, what we've got to do tonight is sort out a plan of action and go for it. If I deal with the jobs we've got on at present and leave you clear to concentrate on this until I'm needed does that suit you?'

  'Does it matter if it suits me?' Miriam asked resignedly.

  Mitch smiled cheerfully as he gave her a swift hug. 'That's my girl! How many part-timers can we call on, anyway?'

  They discussed tactics and figures until they got back to the office attached to the small factory unit they rented, whereupon Mitch disappeared to organise the job for the next day, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  It was only after a good ten minutes that she found she was daydreaming about a host of possible situations she might find herself in, where she could put Reece Vance very firmly, and with great composure and coolness, in his place. Wherever his place was. She grimaced to herself helplessly. He didn't fit into any mould or slot that she could think of, that was sure. But, like Mitch had said, it was highly improbable that she'd see anything at all of him over the next few days—of course it was.

  She gave herself a mental shake and applied herself to the task at hand, but it was harder than normal to concentrate. A cold pair of silver-grey eyes kept getting annoyingly in the way—so much so that at five o'clock, when the others left, she was still far from finished.

  When the phone rang at just after six she picked it up automatically, her thoughts on the time schedule she was pencilling in, and then almost dropped it as that particular cold male voice barked the firm's name. 'Bennett and Bennett?'

  'Yes.' Her voice was weak and she beard it with a strong burst of self-disgust. 'This is Miriam Bennett speaking,' she added more firmly. 'How can I help you?'

  'This is Reece Vance; we met earlier.'

  'Yes, Mr Vance?' He's going to cancel, she thought helplessly as a strange feeling coursed through her limbs. Would she be relieved? He'd obviously made enquiries and gone for one of the more up-market firms who were all window-dressing and caviare. She couldn't blame him, but—

  'I'm afraid Mrs Goode is still in hospital,' he said grimly, 'which rather upsets the arrangements for tomorrow.'

  'Oh, I'm sorry.' She desperately tried to appear businesslike but there was a definite tremble in her voice when she spoke again. 'She's more badly hurt than you thought?'

  'The break is a complicated one.' Miriam would have hated to be in the poor housekeeper's shoes next time she saw her employer; even with several miles between them she could feel the angry vibes flowing down the phone. 'She'll be operated on tomorrow morning and hopefully be home within a few days. The thing is, as you so rightly mentioned this afternoon, time is of the essence.'

  There was no sarcasm in the deep voice but she felt herself blushing as she remembered the emotion that had prompted her words.

  'I wondered…' He hesitated for just a moment. 'I wondered if you could start to organise things without her. Jinny, the maid, will help all she can, but it will put even more pressure on you, I'm afraid. Mrs Goode has been with the family since Barbara and I were born and knows everything and everyone; I was banking on her to clear the way for you, so to speak.'

  'It's no problem, Mr Vance.' The sudden relief she had felt told her that she did still want this job, very badly. 'A job of this nature is ninety-nine per cent preparation work, and you've provided both the resources and the finances for that to go smoothly. There won't be any problems we can't overcome.'

  'You're very positive.' There was a note of approval in the hard voice for the first time and it was ridiculous how much it pleased her.

  'So I'll still come to the house as arranged?'

  'Yes, please. I'll be there myself and we can—'

  'There's no need for that.' She had spoken quickly, far too quickly, and the blank silence at the other end of the phone told her that the rapier-sharp mind knew it. 'I mean…' She paused as she searched the air frantically for a way to say exactly what she didn't mean, the truth being insulting. 'I know you must be a very busy man, and this sort of thing is my job, after all. There won't be anything I can't handle—'

  'Ten prompt, Miss Bennett.' As the phone went down she stared at the receiver in her hand with her heart thudding and hot rage taking the place of embarrassment. He'd hung up on her! How dared he? She bit her lip painfully. Not even a courteous farewell or a thank-you! They were certainly going to earn every penny of this undertaking.

  She lounged back in the padded seat and shut her eyes, taking a few deep, calming breaths. She wasn't going to let him get to her. The resolution suddenly crystallised in her mind.

  This was ridiculous. Here she was expending all this hot rage and energy on someone she would never meet again once the next two or three weeks were over, and it wasn't like her—it wasn't like her at all. She was the sunny-natured one of the partnership, always looking for a silver lining when Mitch presented them with dark storm clouds, and, what was more, usually finding it. No, for some reason which she couldn't quite fathom she had allowed Reece Vance to get under her skin from the first moment she had met him, and it had to stop.

  Right now. She nodded to herself determinedly and suddenly felt miles better.

  She'd do the job he was paying her so handsomely to take care of and she'd do it well. She'd pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat, work twenty-four hours a day, eat humble pie till it came out of her ears, whatever it took. She nodded again. It wouldn't be too difficult. After all, two weeks was a mere hiccup in her lifespan and Reece Vance was only a man like any other, even if he did think the world revolved around his particular orbit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  'You're late.' She had flung herself out of the taxi and hurtled up the steps to the huge, studded front door, her briefcase clutched protectively across her chest and her cheeks flushed, but just as she'd raised her hand to the bell the door had opened to reveal Reece Vance's scowling dark countenance in the aperture.

  She stared at him now as her mind went momentarily blank, and then pulled herself together sharply. 'I know.' She took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, Mr Vance, but the car wouldn't start and I had to get a taxi at the last minute.'

  'By 'car' do you mean the vehicle you travelled in yesterday?' he asked grimly as he stepped aside and ushered her in with a jerk of his head. 'I'm not surprised it wouldn't
start; the very fact that the thing has four wheels amazed me.'

  'Really.' All the good resolutions of the night before went flying out the window as she struggled to remain civil. 'Well, I can assure you it's normally quite reliable. How is Mrs Goode this morning?' she added stiffly.

  'Petrified of the anaesthetic,' he answered surprisingly as he led the way, not into the room of yesterday, but into a huge, luxuriously furnished drawing room where a massive log fire, set back under the ornately carved mantelpiece, dominated the room with its warmth and colour.

  He turned and gestured to a large, winged leather chair pulled up close to the flames. 'Do sit down. I've managed to organise coffee and cake, if that's all right? Jinny is staying with Mrs Goode at the hospital for the time being as the poor woman is quite beside herself at the thought of an operation.' A certain note in the deep-timbred voice told her that he found such an attitude unfathomable.

  'Lots of people are nervous of hospitals.' She smiled politely but he looked at her blankly.

  'How illogical.' He was dressed more casually than the day before, when he had worn an elegant, lightweight suit. Now the tall, powerful body was clothed in loose grey cotton trousers and an open-necked shirt, and the effect on her senses was…disturbing. The broad, muscled shoulders and strapping chest were impressive, but it was the whole compelling aura of the man that she found unsettling—his raw, untempered masculinity too vigorous, too dominating for comfort.

  She held onto her smile through sheer will-power and glanced round her surroundings with what she hoped was cool aplomb. 'What a beautiful room.' She settled herself in the chair and prayed for composure. 'You are fortunate to live in such lovely surroundings, Mr Vance.'