Dream Wedding

by Helen Brooks

  He was dangerously threatening to her peace of mind, she told herself desperately, whether he was being coldly patronising, coolly mocking or menacingly tender—like now. This sort of thing meant nothing to him, she knew that. With women like Sharon dancing attendance she had no chance at all, so why, why did her body have to react like this?

  'No answer?' he asked softly. 'Look at you now, rigid as a board. Do you think I'm going to drag you off into the bushes and have my wicked way with you or something? It's hardly the weather for such games, is it?' he added mockingly.

  'Don't be ridiculous.' She managed to jerk away, her cheeks scarlet, as her wits returned with his mockery. 'I just don't play the sort of 'games' that you obviously indulge in, that's all.'

  'It was purely a figure of speech, Miriam.' One dark eyebrow rose satirically upwards at her angry face. 'And, for the record, I don't play games either. Anything I do, I do for real.'

  'You know what I mean.' She backed away as she spoke, feeling safer with a metre or two of air between them.

  'Unfortunately I think I do.' He crossed his arms and stared down at her like a great black hunter sighting its prey. 'You seem to have the impression that I am—how can I put it without being too indelicate?—little better than a stud stallion.'

  'Well, if that's being delicate I'd hate to hear you when you're speaking frankly.' She blinked at him as a tiny star of snow settled on the eyelashes of one eye, and rubbed her wet face warily.

  'You're getting soaked.' He suddenly seemed to remember her bedraggled state. 'Come on; come into the house for a minute and dry off while I phone the garage. At the very least you can allow me the privilege of running you to your mother's,' he continued drily, 'when you are single-handedly saving Barbara's great day.'

  She eyed him suspiciously; the words had sounded very much like an insult wrapped in the bright paper of a compliment, but he stared back at her innocently, a small smile playing round the hard mouth.

  'Even the most dissolute of rogues is allowed to be noble on occasions, surely?'

  'And you think you fit that description? Of dissolute rogue?' she asked sweetly as she allowed him to take her arm and lead her back towards the house.

  'No.' He stopped abruptly and turned her into the length of him as all amusement left his face. 'I don't, but you sure as hell do.' And then he kissed her. Hard. With more than a shred of anger mixing with the hot hunger as his mouth ravished hers. And although she knew that it was madness, that she would regret it bitterly as soon as she was free of his arms, she kissed him back.

  'Miriam, Miriam…' He cupped her face with his hands, his kiss more penetrating now as his tongue plundered the sweetness of her mouth in fierce, darting movements that caused the blood to run wild in her veins. And just for a second, before reason asserted itself, she longed to melt into the body of this dangerous, hard individual and drown in his caress. 'So sweet,' he murmured against her parted lips. 'So defenceless…'

  Defenceless? If he had struck her she couldn't have reacted more violently as she wrenched herself out of his arms, her face flaming. And what exactly did that mean, as if she didn't know? she asked herself furiously. Substitute naive, simple—stupid, even. But she wasn't stupid and she didn't trust him, not an inch, and, what was more, she was at least worldly-wise enough to recognise that the only possible interest he could have in someone like her was a brief flaring of physical attraction that would die as swiftly as it was born.

  He wasn't her type and she certainly wasn't his. One look at Sharon had made that little fact abundantly and painfully clear, but she was a change from his normal diet of cool, elegant, sophisticated women of the world, and therefore something of a novelty. There was no reason why the knowledge should hurt so much. No reason at all.

  'Could I please just use the phone?' she asked tightly as she gathered the remnants of her tattered pride into place. 'I think I'd prefer that to the payment you obviously expect for a lift.' It was unforgivable, but just at that moment the need to prove that she was mistress of her own emotions, as cool and capable and independent as he was, was paramount. Inside she felt crushed and buffeted by a hundred different sensations but he mustn't guess—he mustn't ever guess.

  'Payment?' In the split second before his face became a blank mask, the hard jaw set and cold, she saw pure, undiluted rage in the silver-grey eyes and it was frightening. He swore once, softly but with great purpose, and then took hold of her arm in a punishing grip as he whisked her into the house, almost lifting her off her feet in his temper. 'Sit!' As he threw her into a big easy chair in the drawing room the tone was exactly the same as one might use to a disobedient dog, and she reared up at the sound.

  'How dare you—?'

  'Not a word—not a word, Miriam.' He glared at her one more time before leaving to return almost immediately with a massive, fluffy bath towel which he flung at her with more force than was necessary. 'Dry yourself,' he said tightly, 'while I get Barbara down here. And then you will get into my car—with my sister as chaperon, I hasten to add—and I will take you to wherever you want to go.'

  It sounded as if he could suggest somewhere that was very hot and very unpleasant, she reflected silently as she did exactly as she was told, rubbing her dripping wet hair weakly as she contemplated the rigid fury in his back as he strode from the room. Why on earth had she provoked him? she asked herself flatly.

  It was a question that continued to burn in the back of her mind all the way to her mother's house, even as she kept up a light conversation with Barbara, who chatted away in the back of the car quite oblivious to the tension between Miriam and her brother. She had allowed him to get under her skin, and at the very least it was grossly unprofessional and at the worst— She caught her lip between her teeth and bit down hard. At the worst it was suicidal, she thought miserably as she glanced at the dark, grim profile.

  As they drew up outside her mother's neat little detached house with its trim garden she forced a smile on her lips and turned to Reece, only to find that he had left the car and was opening her door, his face cold. 'You'd better give me your address,' he said abruptly. 'For the car to be returned.'

  'There's really no need…' She quailed under his ferocious glare and gave him the address in a small voice.

  'Thank you,' he said with infinite sarcasm as he turned to walk back round the bonnet of the car.

  'Reece?' Her voice halted him in his tracks as he glanced at her troubled face. 'I didn't mean it, about the payment.' She stared at him as he didn't move, his face perfectly still. 'It was a cheap jibe and I apologise, but I'd still rather sort the car out myself,' she added with a raising of her small chin.

  'The car is on my property; I know someone who will deal with it straight away so you won't be inconvenienced too much; it's simpler,' he said in a monotone. 'And the apology is accepted.'

  'Good.' She found herself smiling at his angry face in spite of herself, sensing that her apology had taken him by surprise.

  He stared back at her for a long moment and then she saw a glimmer of a smile touch the straight mouth. 'Good and gay,' he murmured to himself as he walked round the car, his face sardonic. 'I'd have preferred bad and gay, personally. I'll see you Monday morning, Miriam.' And then he was gone in a swirl of gleaming pale gold metal as Barbara waved cheerfully out of the car window.

  She was at home later that night when Frank rang, curled up in front of the small gas fire in her bedsit as she watched an old movie on TV and struggled to put every thought of Reece Vance out of her mind.

  'Hi, Mim.' Frank's voice was warm as he called her by the old nickname he had used ever since she'd been a baby. 'How's Bennett and Bennett, then?'

  'Fine.' She smiled into the phone. 'Thanks for putting us onto the Vance job, Frank, it's worth a mint.'

  'Thought so.' Frank's voice expressed his satisfaction. 'Reece Vance might be a difficult man to deal with, but he is fair. I was really ringing to see if all went well; it obviously did, then?'

 
'We've got the job, if that's what you mean,' Miriam said carefully. 'I met his sister today and got all the loose ends tied up.'

  'Barbara?' Frank was approving. 'Nice lady, isn't she? Never thought she'd ever get married, though; didn't think either of 'em would ever tie the knot. You know they're twins?'

  'Yes, Reece told me.' There was a blank little silence at the other end of the phone and then Frank spoke, his voice slightly hesitant.

  'Reece? You're on first-name terms, then?'

  'Yes.' She wrinkled her brow at the phone. 'Anything wrong in that, Frank?'

  'Not at all.' His voice was too hearty and he seemed to realise it too, because he had moderated the tone when he next spoke. 'The thing is, Mim, I know the ladies tend to be attracted to the guy, and I wouldn't like to think—' He stopped abruptly. 'That is…I was your father's best friend, Mim, and I promised him I'd always look out for the family if anything ever happened to him.'

  'And you have,' she said softly. 'In lots of ways.'

  'It's just that Reece Vance is the sort of guy most people would rather have as a friend than an enemy,' Frank continued slowly. 'Know what I mean? He can be ruthless in business, and from what I've heard he's pretty lethal in his personal life too. He works hard and plays hard but he never gets attached to anyone—keeps himself pretty remote. He's broken quite a few hearts in his time, I understand, although he makes it clear he operates on a strictly no-strings-attached policy, but you know what women are—always thinking they can change a man.'

  'Frank?' She interrupted quickly as he paused for breath. 'Why are you telling me all this?'

  'Why?' There was another brief pause. 'No reason, Mim; just filling you in on a bit of background, that's all.'

  'I'm only doing the catering for his sister's wedding,' Miriam said softly. She closed her eyes tightly.

  'Yes, fine…' Frank was clearly embarrassed now. 'And I know you'll do an excellent job too; you and Mitch have worked like beavers these last few years.' He hesitated and then spoke again, his voice resolute, as though he had nerved himself to say all he had planned. 'I just wanted you to understand, to avoid getting the wrong impression, that's all.'

  'The wrong impression?' she asked quietly as she opened her eyes.

  'Reece Vance is the kind of man who doesn't like women—' Frank's voice stopped abruptly. 'I don't mean he doesn't like women—that he likes men,' he added hastily. 'I mean— Oh, hell, Mim, you know what I mean.'

  'That he uses them for one thing and one thing only?' she asked softly as she felt a physical pain in her heart region.

  'Well, that's the way it seems.' Frank was dearly wishing that he had never phoned. 'Of course I could be wrong, but I don't think so. Anyway, congratulations on getting the job, Mim, and I'll probably see you at your mother's some time soon. Take care.'

  'And you, Frank.'

  She sat looking at the phone for some minutes after the call had ended, her heart heavy and her head spinning. Well, she had known, hadn't she? she asked herself sharply, biting back the urge to cry with savage intensity. He was the original loner—that much had been crystal-clear from the first moment she had set eyes on him. And of course the women would flock around him.

  She shook her head blindly as she stood up and walked over to the breakfast bar, switching on the electric kettle and spooning coffee and sugar into one of her china mugs. The same fascination that had gripped her would almost certainly affect the rest of the female population, she told herself grimly as she poured boiling water onto the dark granules of coffee and inhaled the fragrant odour before adding milk. She hadn't expected to be the only one attracted to him, after all.

  She continued to talk to herself in fits and starts for the rest of the evening, and woke early the next morning feeling as though she hadn't slept. The winter sky was a sea of silver and gold in the clear light just after dawn and she sat for over an hour watching the slowly changing cloud formation as she ate her breakfast of toast and marmalade.

  'Work, work, work.' She glanced across at the pile of files that she had brought home and felt a sudden surge of rebellion. She needed a day out in the fresh air to restore her equilibrium, and that was exactly what she was going to have. She rang her mother just after nine and asked her to have the dogs ready, after checking that Mitch had driven home in one of the company vans the night before. Then she set out on a brisk walk to her mother's house, which took exactly an hour through the deserted streets.

  After loading the delighted animals into the back of the van she set out for a country park that she had visited in the summer, arriving just after eleven and spending a wonderful day tramping through the wooded hills and hollows, to arrive back at her mother's house in time for tea with a van full of exhausted and happy dogs, mind and body restored to their normal stability.

  She ate a huge meal before plodding back through the dusk-filled streets, Defusing Mitch's offer of a lift home with unusual firmness but feeling more than a little glad as she turned into the street where her bedsit was situated. Her legs suddenly seemed to have gained the consistency of solid lead.

  Her car was parked outside the house. As she opened the door to her room she found a note on the floor, which had obviously been pushed under the door. 'Sorry I missed you.' As her eyes fastened on the strong male writing she felt her heart begin to pound. 'Mechanic fixed the car with no trouble and I thought I'd deliver it myself, see how the other half get about.' She could just imagine how he'd written that, tongue-in-cheek and loving the dig. 'Keys are with the delightful blonde girl next door, who very kindly gave me a cup of coffee before I began my weary trek home. See you tomorrow.' There was no signature but she didn't need one.

  He'd come here? She glanced round her tiny home and sat down very suddenly. Why? He could easily have let the mechanic deliver the car. What time had he come? Had he expected to spend some time with her? She felt a rush of intense disappointment before shaking her head violently. Don't be stupid, she told herself sharply. This didn't mean a thing—not a thing.

  She glanced again at his handwriting. So he thought that Charlotte was delightful did he? And she could just imagine what the tall, slim blonde next door had thought of Reece!

  She found that she was clenching the paper tightly in her fist and forced herself to relax her hand, shaking her head at her own thoughts as she did so. He was her temporary employer, that was all, and after what Frank had said she had no excuse to imagine anything more. He might be prepared to have a brief liaison with her, but that would be all it would mean for him. And she wasn't going to be one of his ships that passed in the night. No way.

  She stood up, her legs her own again now, and prepared to collect her keys from Charlotte and answer the host of questions that would undoubtedly come her way at the same time.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Miriam arrived at Reece's house with her two assistants just before nine in the morning to find that he had already left for the office.

  'Mr Vance said I had to give you the keys to the extension entrance,' Jinny the maid informed her after she had knocked on the front door. 'There's a door at the far end of the corridor which makes it nice and easy for delivering stuff to the kitchens and he said for you to come and go as you please. You know you can get through to the main part of the house through the hall?'

  'Yes. Thank you.' Miriam smiled at the young girl who grinned back cheerfully.

  'Mrs Goode is coming home today,' she said happily. 'Mr Vance is collecting her before lunch.'

  'That's good.' Miriam nodded and smiled again as she turned and walked back to the van, in which was packed a whole host of supplies from the wholesalers they used. She hadn't got time to stand and chat today; the work schedule was going to be tight as it was.

  After parking the van just outside the extension entrance on the tarmac pull-in, she helped Vera and Dave unload and set up in the kitchens and then the three of than started work in earnest. The up-to-date equipment and beautiful surroundings made cooking a joy, and s
he was just taking a batch of golden quiches out of one of the ovens when some sixth sense made her glance towards the door. Reece was standing in the doorway looking at her, his dark face expressionless.

  'Hi.' He nodded to the other two as he introduced himself and shook hands before turning to her again. 'Mrs Goode is home and I thought it might be an idea for you to meet her now; I want her to rest this afternoon.'

  'Of course.' She was shocked by how the sight of him had affected her and hoped, desperately, that he hadn't noticed her agitation. 'Thank you for delivering the car yesterday,' she added stiffly as she slipped out of her enormous work apron and pushed a stray strand of hair off her face. 'It was nice to be able to drive to work and pick up the van.'

  'No problem.' He walked over to the door without looking at her again. 'Ready?' He didn't speak as they walked down the corridor and through the big hall; indeed, he didn't seem conscious of her presence, Miriam thought silently as she followed him into the main part of the house, clutching the file that she had brought with her.

  'Reece?' She stopped him just as they were about to enter the drawing room. 'How much do I owe you?'

  'Owe me?' He stared at her in surprise.

  'For the car,' she said quietly. 'I'm sure you had to pay the man and I don't expect—'

  'Oh, forget that.' He shook his head almost irritably. 'It was nothing.'

  'But I must pay you—'

  'Don't be silly, Miriam; I told you, it was nothing.' He took her arm as though the matter was finished. 'Now come and meet Mrs Goode—'

  'Reece, I always pay my way.' She moved to stand in front of him as he went to open the door, her small face determined and her violet eyes very serious. 'I wouldn't feel comfortable otherwise.'

  'We'll see about it later.' Now there was a definite note of irritation colouring the deep voice. 'I might have known you would be the only female of my acquaintance who would insist on refusing a gift,' he added tightly. 'Most of them have no such scruples.'