by Sarah Morgan
‘What are you wearing?’
Brittany’s voice came down the phone and Skylar grinned.
No doubt about it—without her friends she’d go insane.
Friends were like solar power: bringing warmth and light to dark corners.
‘The silver dress with the white coat. Totally impractical.’
‘No burgers, no ketchup, and stay away from red wine. I bet you look like a snow queen. We rang to wish you luck, because after tonight you’ll be too famous to talk to us. Are you excited?’
Skylar tried to forget the conversation with her mother. ‘I think so.’
‘You think?’
This time it was Emily.
‘Sky, this is huge. You should be so proud. We are.’
‘Drink champagne, take photos and we’ll celebrate when you’re home.’ Brittany’s voice echoed down the phone. ‘Wish we could be there with you. You shouldn’t be alone.’
Skylar hesitated, not sure whether to tell them or not. ‘I won’t be alone. Richard is coming.’
There was a brief silence and then Emily spoke.
‘That’s great.’ Her voice was just a little too bright. ‘We thought he wasn’t going to make it.’
‘Last-minute decision.’
‘Why the change of heart?’
Sky wondered why the question should make her uncomfortable when she’d asked herself the same thing. ‘He shifted his schedule. I guess that’s a sign that he cares.’
‘Right. Well, we’re glad he came through for you.’ Brittany’s tone was warm. ‘I hope having him there makes tonight special.’
They didn’t say anything more. They didn’t have to.
She knew they were worried about her relationship with Richard.
Now that he’d won his senate seat she needed to persuade him to spend more time with her friends. She was sure that if he knew them better he’d love them as she did.
‘I have to go.’
‘Call us later! And if you see Lily and Nik give them our love.’
The call left her smiling, and she was still smiling as she stepped out of the cab.
The gallery was nestled between an antiques store and an exclusive boutique. Taking pride of place in the window of the gallery was one of her favourite pieces: a vase modelled on an ancient Greek amphora, with birds twisting sinuously against luminous blue glass.
Tempest Designs.
Maybe it had started as a hobby, but now it was a business. She had a small but exclusive international clientele and this was her first show in London. To be able to support herself doing something she loved had made the dream a reality.
So why were her mother’s words the loudest thing in her head?
‘You’re the only one without a job.’
She paid the driver, reminding herself that Richard believed in her. He’d chosen to fly over for the weekend, which had to be the ultimate in romantic gestures and proof that he was taking her choice of career seriously.
It didn’t matter what her parents thought.
This was her big night and nothing was going to spoil it.
Alec Hunter left the Maritime Museum in Greenwich, shoulders hunched against the sharp bite of the wind and the falling snow. He’d planned a late-afternoon stroll along the river, but the lecture he’d delivered had ended later than planned and afternoon had blended into evening.
In front of him the River Thames wound ribbon-like towards the bright lights of the city. He turned up the collar of his coat, pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked up-river towards the city.
He had four messages.
One from the BBC, following up on the meeting they’d had earlier in the week to discuss his possible involvement with a documentary on Antarctica, one from his mother, asking him to buy extra champagne, and one from his younger sister telling him he’d better have bought her a great present or he needn’t bother coming home.
That one made him smile.
He texted her back and received a flurry of emoticons in return.
The final text was from his friends back in the US, reminding him that tonight was the VIP night for Skylar’s exhibition.
He could imagine them, gathered together in Harbor House on Puffin Island, sharing a bottle of wine and laughing while they sent a joint text.
You need to be there, Alec. The rat boyfriend has decided to show up and she needs the support of her friends.
Rat boyfriend?
Several thoughts flitted through his mind. The first was that he and Skylar could hardly be described as ‘friends’. On a good day they tolerated each other for the sake of their wider friendship group; on a bad day they barely managed to be civil. His second thought was that Skylar’s choices in her relationships appeared to be no better than his own, and the third was that Brittany clearly had no idea how far Greenwich was from Knightsbridge.
He checked the time and calculated that by the time he got across town in the traffic her VIP night would be over. But if he didn’t at least show his face his life wouldn’t be worth living.
Brittany and Emily would both kill him, and Ryan would cut off his supply of free beer at the Ocean Club bar.
With a faint smile he texted a reply, promising to go, and then pocketed his phone.
He doubted Skylar would be pleased to see him, but he would have done his duty and with any luck would still be invited to spend Christmas at Harbor House.
Skylar, he knew, would be going home to her family in Long Island.
Walking away from the river to the street, he hailed a cab.
It was going to take a lifetime to cross London, but hopefully he’d be in time to show his face.
He’d congratulate her, she’d smile politely, he’d leave.
Duty done.
The room was buzzing.
‘The turnout is amazing.’ Judy, the owner of the gallery, was on her second glass of champagne. ‘Do you see who is over there? Cristiano Ferrara. He owns an exclusive hotel chain. Sicilian.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Very sexy.’
‘And very married. He commissioned a piece of jewellery for his wife, Laurel. She’s pregnant.’
And that, Sky thought, was romantic. Not a stark piece of paper that declared you husband and wife, but thoughtful, loving gestures that showed how much you cared.
It was her favourite type of commission.
A gift designed as an expression of love.
And there was no doubt about how much Cristiano loved his beautiful wife. When people approached him he was polite, but it was obvious that tonight was his wife’s treat and she was the focus of his attention. He looked at his wife as if she were the sun, the moon and the stars all in one perfect package.
Sky watched them wistfully.
She wanted that. She wanted that intense passion. But most of all she wanted someone who thought she was the best thing on the planet.
Confused, Sky glanced across at Richard, who was working the room.
Did he feel that way about her? And could she feel that for him? Did she feel enough? Was this all there was?
Her head was full of questions she couldn’t answer.
She’d always believed that if she ever fell in love she’d recognise the feeling instantly, but maybe it wasn’t that simple.
Richard had been the last to arrive and had barely paused to greet her before vanishing into the crowd. Now he was now talking to Nik Zervakis, the wealthy Greek-American owner of ZervaCo, who had flown in with his fiancée, Lily, an archaeologist friend of Brittany’s who had helped Sky with ideas for her new collection.
‘Nik has given me free rein to buy anything I like,’ Lily confided. ‘So far I’ve bought those gorgeous starfish earrings and that pot in the corner. It’s similar to one he already has at his home in Crete.’
‘Your home too.’
‘Yes, my home! Unbelievable, isn’t it? I still want to pinch myself every day.’
‘How did you know?’ Sky’s mouth was dry. ‘How did you know he was the
right one? That this really was love?’
‘I don’t know—I can’t describe it. But sometimes it feels as if my heart is too big for my chest.’ Lily walked over to the pot. ‘I really do love this.’
‘I should be giving you that—no charge. None of this would have happened without your help. You’re the Greek ceramics expert.’
‘Not any more. I’m turning into a corporate wife. My choice.’ Lily glanced towards Nik, her eyes sparkling like the lights on a Christmas tree. ‘Give my love to Brittany when you see her. Will you be spending Christmas on Puffin Island?’
‘No. I’ll be spending the holidays with my family.’
Her family and a hundred and forty strangers.
People of influence.
It would be as much fun as a trip to the dentist.
Trying not to think about that, she mixed and mingled, accepting compliments and answering questions about her work.
It occurred to her that the only person who hadn’t congratulated her was Richard.
Even after the two wealthiest people in the gallery had left to go on to another Christmas event he continued to mingle, pumping fists and slapping backs as he made his way round the room.
Sky was starting to wonder why he’d bothered coming when she saw him speak to the gallery owner, clear his throat and get ready to make a speech.
Her heart sank. Was he going to congratulate her publicly?
She would have preferred a more intimate exchange—a few personal words that showed he was proud of her—but she understood that this was the way Richard did things. He was all about reaching the widest audience possible. Why charm one person if you could charm ten?
He lifted a hand to silence the hum of conversation.
‘I want to thank you all for being here tonight.’ He delivered his most engaging smile—the one that had carried him all the way to Capitol Hill just weeks earlier. ‘We’re all busy people but, like you, I couldn’t miss Skylar’s little party. I want to thank you on her behalf.’
There were a few ‘ah’s but Skylar frowned.
Little party?
He made her feel as if she was back in kindergarten. And she didn’t need him to thank people on her behalf. She’d already thanked them—as he would have known if he’d arrived earlier. He’d blamed traffic, and she’d felt churlish for thinking that he should have allowed more time.
There was a rush of cold air as the door to the gallery opened and she swivelled to see if she recognised the latecomer.
She caught a glimpse of ebony hair, a long black coat, and powerful shoulders dusted in silvery snow.
Several women glanced towards the handsome stranger—and then he turned and she saw that it wasn’t a stranger.
It was Alec Hunter.
Another friend of Brittany’s, he was a maritime historian and his expertise and on-screen charisma had combined to give him a lucrative career that straddled academia and media. They called him ‘The Shipwreck Hunter’, and he’d been credited with single-handedly making history sexy. Thanks to his adventurous exploits in front of the camera, he had droves of female admirers.
She wasn’t one of them.
What was he doing here?
Yes, they occasionally socialised, but the truth was they tolerated each other for the sake of their mutual friends. He didn’t hide the fact he thought she was decorative and shallow. What had he called her back in the summer? A fairy princess.
If she’d been a dog she would have been growling deep in her throat.
Reminding herself that she didn’t care what he thought of her, she looked away.
It was one thing to try and please her parents for the sake of family harmony, but she was damned if she’d go out of her way to win the approval of a hardened cynic like Alec.
She knew he was the casualty of a bitter divorce and it didn’t surprise her. For her, the surprise was that someone had married him in the first place.
There was no way he would have chosen to come to her exhibition voluntarily—which meant that Brittany must have threatened or bribed him.
She stood still, making mental promises to kill her friend, and then realised that Richard was speaking directly to her.
‘Skylar …’ His voice carried across the room. ‘Come up here and join me, honey. There’s something I want to say to you.’
Honey? Honey?
When did he ever call her honey?
Not wanting to make a public scene, Skylar walked forward.
Out of the corner of her eye she was conscious of Alec, his stillness setting him apart from the rest of the crowd. There was something remote and inaccessible about him. She knew that those perfect masculine features masked a sharp intellect and an equally sharp and sarcastic tongue. Most women found him insanely attractive. She found him superior and patronising.
Leave, she thought. Go home. I don’t want you here, ruining my night with your brooding scowl.
But he didn’t leave. Instead he watched her, with that intense, focused gaze that made her dress feel too tight.
Her skin prickled and heat whispered across her skin. She nodded her head briefly in acknowledgment and then forgot about him—because Richard had taken her hand.
Sky looked into his eyes and tried to work out if her heart felt too big for her chest.
It didn’t.
As far as she could tell it was behaving as it should. Normal rhythm. Normal size.
Richard smiled. ‘A few weeks ago I achieved a life goal. That achievement meant all the more to me because you were right there by my side.’
Forgetting about her heart, Skylar blinked in confusion.
This was her special night and he was talking about himself?
‘Richard—’
‘I promised myself that when I reached a certain point in my professional life I’d turn my attention to my personal life. That moment is now. There’s something I want to say to you, and there is no better time than now—in front of our friends.’
Her only friends had been Lily and Nik, and they’d left.
The rest were acquaintances, high-profile clients and the press.
And Alec.
It niggled that he was here.
Good manners dictated that she speak to him, but what was she going to say?
Go home and stop ruining my fun.
No wonder you’re divorced …
All the options that came into her head were socially unacceptable, and she knew that when the moment came she’d simply thank him politely for showing up. She’d offer him a glass of champagne and they’d make polite conversation about their friends.
Fake, fake, fake.
She wouldn’t mention the fact she knew he was here under sufferance, and no doubt he wouldn’t mention it either. On the surface they’d be civil, even though neither of them felt remotely civil in one another’s company. She could keep up appearances. After all, she’d been trained by experts. She could talk about nothing for hours.
Richard lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask you.’
Trying to forget Alec, Sky forced herself to pay attention. ‘Ask me what?’
‘I want you to marry me.’ He’d had voice coaching, and training in public speaking, and it showed in the way he addressed the room. ‘I want you by my side for the rest of my life. From now on we’ll be pursuing my goal together.’
Sky gaped at him, wondering if she’d misheard.
‘You’re in shock.’
He was confident. Sure of himself. A man dazzled by the light of his own rising star. He was an only child, the sole focus of his parents’ ambitions. Unlike her, he’d exceeded their expectations.
‘I didn’t buy a ring. I thought you could make your own and give me a discount.’
He included the crowd in the joke and there was a ripple of appreciative laughter.
Skylar wasn’t laughing. Nor was she appreciative.
Married?
She thought about the conversat
ions they’d had over the past year. Intimate exchanges in which she’d revealed her dreams.
Had he not listened to a word she’d said?
Apparently not, or he’d know that marriage didn’t interest her.
Love? Now, that was a different matter. She wanted love. What she didn’t want was a flamboyant public proposal. He was paying more attention to the guests than to her, to the point where she wanted to wave her arms in the air and yell, Hello? I’m over here!
Beyond Richard’s shoulder she could see Alec Hunter, and she discovered he wasn’t laughing either. He was standing in the same place, the collar of his black coat brushing against the dark shadow of his jaw. She would have drawn him as a vampire or a wraith, she thought. A creature of the night. Even still and silent he had presence—a quality that had no doubt contributed to his success as a TV presenter and his large female fan base.
Had he proposed to his ex-wife in public?
No, because despite his public persona he was intensely private.
‘Skylar?’ Richard’s smile was a little tense around the edges. ‘We’re all waiting for a response.’
All? She wondered at what point a marriage proposal had become a group activity.
Her response was, You have to be kidding me! But she didn’t want that to feature in the press reports of her gallery event the following day.
Grateful for her years of practice in producing fake smiles, she produced one.
‘This is a surprise.’ Keeping the smile in place, she turned to her guests. ‘I hope you’ll excuse us? Richard and I need a little time alone.’
She turned and walked through the gallery and into the storeroom that was next to an office.
Her heels tapped on the wooden floor. Her knees shook.
She hoped he was going to follow her, because what she didn’t want was to say what needed to be said in public.
There was a click as he closed the door behind them.
‘Sky? What the hell are you doing?’
No, Richard, the question is what are you doing?’
‘I was proposing. All you had to do was say yes and you would have had great media coverage for your little party. Instead you had to go for drama.’ He shot her an exasperated look. ‘Always with you it’s drama.’