The Wedding Date

by Ally Blake

  ‘Hannah Banana!’

  She spun, to find Elyse barrelling her way. Her eyes instantly searched over her sister’s shoulder, but thankfully Elyse was alone.

  Elyse threw herself into Hannah’s arms and hugged tight. ‘Isn’t this place gorgeous? You were soooo right in suggesting it. Tim and I owe you big-time!’

  Hannah hugged back, at first in surprise. But soon she found it felt familiar, and really nice. She closed her eyes and a million small memories came flooding back to the surface. Sharing bedrooms. Sharing dolls. Sharing a secretly pilfered tube of their mum’s lipstick to paint their dolls’ faces. Memories she’d purposely tucked far away in order to make the move from Tasmania to Melbourne a completely fresh start.

  ‘It’s the least I could do,’ Hannah said, eventually patting Elyse on the back and pulling away before it began to feel too nice. ‘Considering I couldn’t do much proper bridesmaid stuff from the other side of the pond.’

  ‘You did just grand. Best maid of honour ever.’ Elyse’s eyes were already sweeping the big empty room. ‘So where’s your gorgeous man?’

  ‘Off to chat up the management,’ Hannah said, without thinking. She felt herself pinking and glanced into her drink. ‘But he’s not my man. He’s my boss. And he’s here to work.’

  Elyse’s perfectly plucked eyebrows disappeared under her perfectly straight fringe. ‘So it’s pure coincidence that you came on the exact same plane? And that of all the places in all the world he had to be today it was Cradle Mountain? The man has ulterior motive written all over him!’

  Hannah coughed out a laugh. Her little sister might still look as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but the girl was all grown up. ‘Believe me, there is less than nothing going on between me and Bradley Knight.’

  Elyse leaned her elbows on the bar and tapped the floor in front with a pointed toe—an old habit from long-ago ballet training. ‘So he’s not here because he’s secretly in love with you and is afraid you’re going to run away with the best man and leave him broken-hearted?’

  This time Hannah’s laughter was uproarious. ‘I’m sorry to break your romantic little heart, but Bradley would be more likely to fear a sudden departure on my end would leave him with no dry-cleaning.’

  She glanced out through the arched doorway to see the man in question still leaning on the reception counter. His dark wavy hair curled slightly over the back of the wool collar of his leather jacket. His jeans accentuated every nature-hewn muscle. Even from that distance the man was so beautiful he almost shimmered—like a mirage.

  She glanced at the guy behind the reception counter and smiled to herself. If he’d managed to land a woman she might have begun to worry her bet was on shaky ground.

  ‘So he’s not coming to the wedding, then?’

  Hannah dragged her eyes back to Elyse, smile still well in place. ‘I’m afraid not. It was sweet of you to ask. But he really does have to work. He’s a workaholic. Big-time. Should have the word tattooed on his forehead. If they made marrying one’s job legal, he’d beat you to the altar.’

  When she realised she was rambling, she put down her drink and with one finger pushed it out of reach.

  A glutton for punishment, she looked back towards Reception in time to find Bradley’s eyes scanning the massive foyer. They angled towards the bar and stopped.

  He was too far away for her to be sure, but she knew he had her in his sights. She could feel it as if a laser had pierced her stomach, burning her up from the inside out. The piano music and the chatter of newly arrived guests spilling into the bar became a blur of white noise behind the thump, thump, thump of her heart.

  Bradley gave her a slight nod. All she could do was swallow. There was so much blood rushing to her face it felt numb.

  ‘Anyhoo,’ Elyse said, ‘everything’s going like clockwork. So tonight no organising from you. Just party! Okay?’

  Hannah frowned at her toes a moment, before lifting her head with a bright smile. ‘Party sounds great.’

  ‘Now, my love bunny and I haven’t seen one another all day, and the poor pet will be fretting. I’d best head up to our room and ease his mind.’

  With a wink that told of salacious goings on, Elyse flounced off.

  Elyse—all grown-up and irreverent with it. Her mother—not unhappy to see her. A pleasant kind of warmth that had nothing to do with flickering fires or Boston Sours or even Bradley Knight began to spread through her.

  Until a hotel room key slid in front of Hannah’s face, with Bradley’s long, tanned fingers on the other end.

  ‘What is that?’ she asked, her drink threatening to come back out the way it had gone in.

  ‘Do you really need to ask?’ Bradley drawled as he slid around behind her, the lapels of his jacket brushing against her back, causing her spine to roll in delicious anguish, before he straddled the bar stool beside her.

  She spun on her seat to glare at him. Her knees knocked his before he shifted, placing a hand on her knee and allowing it to tuck neatly between his. Even then he didn’t let go—just rested a hand there as if it was nothing.

  As cool as she could manage, Hannah said, ‘If you promised the man your firstborn son you’ve lost all my respect.’

  The smile in his eyes gave her hot chills. As if she was sitting on the edge of a volcano. The kind from which you knew you ought to flee if only you could just let go of the primal urge to jump right in.

  ‘I didn’t do anything drastic,’ he said. ‘Or illegal. I simply negotiated. The only way I could get a room was to get us a suite.’

  ‘I’m sorry, did you say us?’

  Bradley glanced at the bartender, who poured a fresh packet of peanuts into a small glass bowl. ‘Separate rooms off a shared lounge. Better even than the honeymoon suite, or so I’ve been told.’

  While he was crowing, she was fast turning to a wobbly mess. But what could she say? They’d shared suites on numerous occasions before—at TV trade fairs or in pre-production on new shows—using the joint lounge as a makeshift office. Of course they’d been constantly surrounded by the half-dozen odd staff who travelled everywhere with him. Who were right now in New Zealand.

  Her unimpressed air must have been crystal-clear, because he added, ‘From what I heard they only let the Platinum Suite to their most favoured VIPs.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s my mother’s suite. I had to schmooze like crazy to make sure she got that room in the first place.’

  Something that seemed a heck of a lot like a blush washed across Bradley’s face. But Hannah was too infuriated to take any heed.

  ‘I bumped into Virginia at the desk. She overheard my predicament and offered to swap rooms. She now has your single, and we have her suite.’

  Hannah had her face in her hands and was rocking on her chair by that stage.

  Bradley’s thumb curving over her knee brought her out of her trance. She ran her hands down her face and did her best to act as though it was irrelevant that he was touching her at all.

  She turned to glare at him, only to find glints throwing out specks of silver in his dark grey eyes. He said, ‘Turns out that despite Virginia’s predilection for … what was it?’

  ‘Pink cardigans and cocktails with umbrellas in them,’ she muttered.

  ‘That’s right. I couldn’t remember beyond rhinestones. It turns out that she’s an entirely sensible woman.’

  Sensible? Sensible?

  ‘Oh, no, no, no,’ Hannah said, waggling a furious finger in front of his face. ‘Don’t you go falling for her act. Virginia is the very opposite of sensible. She’s a narcissistic, selfish, hurtful creature who always has an agenda. And it always revolves around how any situation can benefit her.’

  Her harsh words seemed to echo in the large space, coming back at her and back at her, like some kind of horrible Groundhog Day moment.

  Bradley’s hand slipped away from her knee and she felt the cool slap of his silence. She hunched her shoulders in mortification and stared unseeingly
at a patch of carpet.

  ‘Evidently,’ he drawled into the painful silence, ‘until this moment I wasn’t aware just how deeply the issues run between your mother and you.’

  She ran her fingers through her hair, needing to shake off the crazies. ‘Well, now you are.’

  Suddenly Hannah felt very, very tired. As if her years in the city, working her backside off, building an impeccable professional reputation, creating a life for herself from nothing, doing her best to forget the period of her life at home after her dad died, were catching up with her in one fell swoop.

  With a groan, she let her head fall to the bar with a thunk.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bradley’s fingers fiddling with the room key. Maybe one good thing had come from her pyscho rant. Maybe he was realising the level of drama he’d be subjecting himself to by standing anywhere near a Gillespie girl in full flight. Maybe he was thinking of leaving her and her mad family in peace.

  She lifted her head and swept her hair from her eyes. He was looking into the middle distance, the expression in his eyes pure steel. Whatever he was thinking there would be no talking him out of it.

  She breathed in deep and waited.

  Finally he turned to face her, and said, ‘I’m coming to your sister’s wedding.’

  She moved to let her head thunk against the bar again—only this time he saw it coming. He took her by the shoulders, holding her upright. She wobbled like a marionette.

  She must have looked as pathetic and wretched as she felt because his hands slid to cradle her neck, to slip beneath her hair, his thumbs touching the soft spots just below her ears. He had to be able to feel her pulse thundering in her neck at his gentle but insistent touch, but he didn’t show it.

  He just looked her right in the eye—serious, determined, beautiful. ‘By the sound of things you’re walking into a lions’ den this weekend, with no back-up. It wouldn’t be showing you any kind of thanks for having my back all these months if I just walked away and let that happen. Especially after exacerbating the problem. I’ll be your wing man.’

  His hands dropped to her shoulders, and then away.

  Hannah wondered if a person could get jet lag from a one-hour flight. Because, blinking slowly at Bradley’s mouth, that was just how she felt—woozy, off-kilter, slipping in and out of a parallel universe. Surely the fact that Bradley Knight had just offered to be her wing man was a hallucination.

  She glanced at her drink. It was still three-quarters full.

  ‘Hannah—’

  She closed her tired eyes and held up a hand. ‘I’m thinking.’

  ‘About?’

  About the fact that she couldn’t twist his offer to mean anything other than what it meant. There was no punishment for rhinestone comparisons at play. By offering to throw himself in the path of the drama tornado, for her, he was being nice. Thoughtful. Selfless. Things she’d taken pains to remind herself he was not.

  She took a deep breath and said, ‘It’s a really nice offer, Bradley. Truly. But this holiday is not all about my family. It’s about taking a break from work … and those I work with.’

  She glanced up at him with one eye open.

  Taciturn, stoic, unreadable as ever, he said, ‘Meaning me?’

  She opened the other eye and nodded. ‘You. And Sonja. And dealing with prima donnas all day. And Spencer following me around like a lovesick puppy while I’m trying to work. And sixty-hour weeks. And no sleeping-in—’

  ‘Okay. I get it. I hadn’t realised you found your job such a hardship.’

  Grrr! That one man could be so smart one minute and so dumb the next …

  Hannah shuffled on her stool. ‘Don’t be daft. I love my job. More than anything else in my life. Truly. But in order to do it right I need to recharge. This weekend is my chance.’

  Finally, after such a long time she wondered if he’d heard a word of what she’d said, he nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

  Then, after an even more interminable silence, he said, ‘But I know how even the most … thorny of families can have the kind of pull over you nothing else can. And that doesn’t mean you have to take their crap. Not alone, anyway. If that’s a concern in your case, my offer stands.’

  She let out a great fat sigh. And, whether it was from the shock of his little insight, or a masochistic streak she was becoming all too familiar with, she threw her hands in the air and said, ‘Fine. Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’ He perked up. As if he was finding himself quite enjoying playing the hero.

  It was irresistible. He was irresistible. And he was going to be her plus one at her sister’s wedding.

  She was in mounds and mounds of trouble.

  He took her hand, slipped it into the crook of his elbow and helped her off the stool.

  ‘Come on, kiddo, let’s go see what’s so amazing about the suites in this place.’

  ‘Prepare to have your socks literally knocked off.’

  Glancing up at him as they walked through Reception, arm in arm, her blood fizzing more and more every time her hip bumped against his, she saw an ever so slight curve to his mouth.

  Mounds and mounds and mounds of trouble.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE lift doors opened to reveal a line of people outside the Gatehouse’s basement nightclub. The doof-doof-doof of the beat echoing from behind the bouncer-manned double doors thundered in Hannah’s chest.

  It didn’t help that she was overly aware of the big warm man standing so close behind her she could feel the brush of his jeans against her backside every time the line moved.

  ‘Stop fidgeting,’ Bradley said, his breath brushing her chandelier earring against her bare neck. ‘You look fine.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said dryly. But she could hardly tell him the fidgets were all his doing.

  The doors opened. Lights flashed over their faces. The line moved forward. Hannah took her chance and arched away from him. The doors closed. Doof-doof-doof.

  ‘I was serious when I said you should get a guide to take you out for a night tour of Cradle Mountain rather than coming along to this pre-wedding party thing.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Look,’ she said, leaning back so she could drop her voice in case any of the bouncy young things in line were from Elyse’s wedding party, ‘it’s just going to be a bunch of locals, all of whom will pinch me on the cheek and remind me they were there the time I took off down Main Street naked. You’ll be bored out of your mind.’

  When he didn’t answer straight away she looked up at him, surprised to find his jaw was clenched. He asked, ‘You took off down Main Street naked?’

  The husky timbre of his voice gave her pause before she cleared her throat and explained, ‘I was two, and not overly keen on having a bath that evening.’

  The slightly haunted look in his eyes disappeared. ‘You were a tearaway?’

  ‘Hardly. I was the perfect first child. Studious, polite, a pleaser. I took singing and dancing lessons for four years because Mum wanted me to—even though I’m tone deaf with two left feet. In compensation, when I did have my moments, I made the most of them—usually in front of the entire town.’

  ‘Coming in?’ the bouncer asked.

  Hannah looked up to find they were at the front of the line. And she was still leaning back against her boss as though they were in the middle of a crushing crowd.

  She pulled herself upright, rolled her shoulders and said, ‘You betcha.’

  The bouncer smiled. ‘Knock ‘em dead.’

  Hannah gave him a bright smile, feeling for the first time that night as if maybe she could. As if she was no longer the naked two-year-old, or the gawky, soccer-playing tomboy kid of the local beauty queen. ‘You know what? I’m going to do just that.’

  The guy cleared his throat and blushed.

  Only when she nodded did he open the door.

  Bradley placed his hand against the small of her back and gave her a not too subtle shove. In fact she practically had to t
rot to stop from falling over.

  ‘Somebody has a fan,’ Bradley murmured against her ear once they were inside and the doof-doof-doof had become music so loud she could barely hear herself.

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘That big, burly bouncer back there thinks you look more than fine tonight. He thinks you look downright gorgeous. And you know what?’

  Hannah was feeling so dizzy from the effects of that voice skimming her ear she was amazed she had the ability to speak. ‘What?’

  ‘He has a point.’

  Then the door swung shut behind them, and it was too loud to do anything but shout to be heard.

  The club was rocking. Tasmania-style.

  There were men with burnt-orange copper mine dust stained into their jeans and the grooves of their hands, mixed with women and men in business suits, twenty-somethings in classic black club attire, and tourists in sensible layers.

  And then there was Hannah.

  Bradley might not have been to a wedding in his life, but he had seen his fair share of bachelor parties. Leaving studious, polite and pleasing Hannah to her own devices at such a do, looking the way she did, was never going to happen.

  Smoky make-up and glossy pink lips. Tousled hair that seemed to shimmer every time she moved. And an outfit that seemed demure at first glance only to cling in all the right places the second she breathed.

  Not that his imagination needed help. All that talk of her running naked down Main Street had brought her dash from the bathroom back to the front and centre of his mind. In full 3D. Technicolor. As for her perfume … It had his nostrils flaring like a horse in heat every time she moved.

  If she’d come to the wilds of Tasmania looking for a wild fling then she was going the right way about it. Hell, without even turning his head he could see a dozen men checking her out, and the look in their eyes was creating a red mist behind his.

  Because he had her back. He’d promised he would, and he was a man of his word.

  He moved in closer, putting his hands on her shoulders as she began to snake a path through the club, so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. Her hair spilled over his fingers, silky soft. His thumbs rested against the back of her warm neck.