Kitabı oku: «Last-Minute Bridesmaid»

PROLOGUE

High school parties were the worst punishment in the world! In fact, there should be a law banning them for all girls who had not managed to find a date—especially on Valentine’s Day.

Squeezing in between the gaggles of teenage girls who had formed a tight huddle on the other side of the dance floor, Kate Lovat clutched her empty plastic cola glass with both hands and tried to push her way through to the bar by waggling her hips and elbows.

It would be so much easier if she was a couple of inches taller!

Not even the high-heeled sandals she had bought in the January sales could bring her up to the shoulders of the posh clique of rich girl prefects who had made it their duty to take guard duty on the bar.

From this much sought-after position they could snigger and make snide comments about what every other girl at the sixth form school party was wearing or not wearing, who they had brought as their date and generally act superior in their designer mini dresses, which barely covered their gym-tight assets.

Kate had seen those assets in the school showers many times over the past three years and they still had the power to make her feel that she came from a different species of teenage girl. The kind that hated exercise and would rather eat her own feet than strut around the changing room in only a thong and heels, pretending to look for a hairdryer, which was Crystal Jardine’s speciality.

Shame that Kate was providing them with such excellent entertainment.

So far the evening had been a disaster and she could not even rely on her pals to get her out of this one. Kate lifted her chin and tried to look around the crush of bodies to catch a glimpse of her backup crew.

Amber was laughing and chatting away with Sam in the corner, oblivious to anyone else in the room, Saskia was doing her best to entertain a girl cousin who had arrived from France the day before, and Petra was flirting with every boy in the room while her handsome date was at the bar. Nope. For once she was on her own.

‘Kate...what a lovely dress,’ Crystal simpered as she sneered down at her. ‘It was so clever of you to find something second-hand suitable for a petite figure. Is that why you’re the only girl in the class to turn up without a date on Valentine’s? What a shame. After you’ve gone to so much effort to clean yourself up.’

A ripple of amused snorting ran around Crystal’s little band of followers, which had been dubbed the Crystallites by Saskia. Cold and transparent and all the same.

She couldn’t help it. Kate had to run one hand down the side of her new strapless dark purple satin prom dress. She didn’t have much in way of boobage or hips for a girl aged seventeen years and one month, but she had done what she could with the help of her friend Amber’s bra collection. ‘Oh, do you like the dress?’ Kate looked up with an innocent expression and tried to fling off a casual reply. ‘I designed it myself but I wasn’t sure about the colour for my evening gloves.’

The tall blonde replied with a dismissive choke, ‘Evening gloves? For a school disco? What era do you think this is? It’s really embarrassing for the rest of us—in fact I suggest that you should take them off right now.’ And with that she reached down and started pulling the sleeve of the glove down from Kate’s elbow before she had time to snatch it away.

Kate gasped in disbelief and took a breath, ready to tell Crystal exactly what she could do with her suggestion, but before she had a chance to reply, four things happened in quick succession.

The plastic cola glass in her right hand fell, clattering, to the hard floor, Crystal blinked, pushed out her chest and did the hair-over-one-shoulder flick she reserved for full-on boy entrancement, the other girls in the group stopped yapping and started gawping and Kate instantly knew in every cell of her body, even before she turned around, that a very tall, very gorgeous man boy had just invaded their little world.

Her senses seemed to tune out the noise of the disco blasting out from the stage and the chatter that only forty teenage girls and their assorted friends and dates could make. It was as though she had been waiting all evening, no, all her life, to hear that rustling sound of crisp fabric and a rich aromatic aftershave which smelt of everything that represented old-school class, elegance, wealth and gorgeousness.

But she was still not prepared for the manly arm that wrapped around her waist and practically lifted her off her feet.

‘Katherine, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

Kate half turned in the circle of his arms and slowly, hesitantly looked up into the face of the one and only Heath Sheridan.

Amber’s stepbrother. Captain of the university polo team, heir to the Sheridan publishing empire, top of his business class, the celebrity party favourite, nice to children and animals.

And, to her, the most gorgeous twenty-year-old man alive.

He was smiling down at her with the full-on power smile she had seen him use before on the rare occasions that he came over to London from the Sheridan estate in Boston.

But she had never been on the receiving end of it up close and personal before. At this distance she could see the flecks of gold in those amazing dark brown eyes and the small scar on his smoothly shaven chin where, according to Amber, he had fallen off his sledge as a boy.

Well, that boy was long gone.

And hurrah and hallelujah and no complaints from her about that fact.

Heath’s neat brown hair was clipped tight around his ears but just long enough at the back of his neck for her hand to touch as she raised both arms and linked them behind his head—just to lay it on extra-thick for the open-mouthed gawping audience, of course.

The fact that he instinctively slid both arms around her middle, forcing her to literally cling to his body, was a truly special bonus.

‘Darling, you look wonderful,’ Heath said, his gaze totally locked on her face. ‘And that dress is divine on you. I am so sorry my flight was late getting into London. Can you ever forgive me?’

His voice was so husky, tinged with a soft transatlantic accent and deep and intimate that she could eat it with a spoon. It seemed to echo back in the small space that separated them, burning up the air and lodging inside her head, making her feel dizzy from lack of oxygen.

‘Of course, Heath,’ she replied in a low whisper. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second as her chest pressed against the open-necked silky white shirt he was wearing, which revealed just the smallest amount of chest hair but enough to do serious damage to her blood pressure, especially when his lips pressed into the top of her hair.

‘Sorry, ladies,’ he breathed, scarcely breaking his gaze to flick a look at Crystal, ‘but I am going to have to steal my gorgeous girl away from you. We’ve been apart for far too long. Don’t you agree, baby?’

A very unladylike squeak and part giggle escaped her lips and she managed a tiny self-satisfied but apologetic shoulder shrug as she slid back into her sandals, her feet hit the floor and she clung onto Heath’s arm.

With a brilliant smile, his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even tighter against his body and his lips met her forehead this time, claiming her in front of the entire posh clique, who were slowly moving from stunned shock to dagger-looks mode. As they moved away like some romantic three-legged race, Kate flicked her hair back and silently mouthed the words elbow gloves to the thunderous face of Crystal Jardine.

Two minutes later, Kate’s feet had hardly touched the floor and she found herself standing propped up by Heath, next to Amber and Sam, who were smirking like mad—at her.

‘How did I do, Kate?’ Heath whispered in his very best husky voice into her ear, with his chin pressed against her temple. ‘Do you think those girls got the message? Now why don’t I get you that drink before I escort you all home?’ Heath grinned and tipped up her chin with a cheeky wink. ‘I take my job as a stand-in party date very seriously. So don’t you dare go away. I’ll be right back.’

She waited until Heath’s hand had slid languorously down her arm and his back was turned before grabbing Amber by the arm and flicking her head towards the ladies’ room.

‘We’ll just be a minute,’ she absent-mindedly flung at Sam, who simply shook his head, far too used to their little gang of rebels sticking together whenever possible. Petra seemed to have gone outside with a boy—typical—but Saskia didn’t even have time to ask what was happening before Kate propelled her into the powder room and as far away as possible from the cubicles where most of the other girls in their class seemed to be either crying or noisily suffering the effects of cheap wine and vodka cocktails.

‘What’s the emergency? Has Crystal been winding you up again?’ Saskia asked, trying not to shout above the ear-damaging background noise. ‘I keep telling you that the girl is only jealous.’

Kate swept her two best pals into a tight huddle before taking a breath so that all of her words came out in one long rush. ‘Heath Sheridan has just rescued me from the Crystallites and called me darling. And now he has gone to get me a drink. Amber, help me out here. What shall I do? I didn’t think that Heath even knew my name!’

‘Do?’ the six-foot-tall stunning blonde replied with a laugh. ‘You’re asking the wrong person. He might be my stepbrother but Heath has always looked out for me. I say go with it and then accept his offer of a lift home. Your grandfather’s place is just a few streets away and, from what I saw, he would be more than happy to see you home safely after he has dropped me off.’

‘Safely? This is your Heath we are talking about here. You know, the boy who has his pick of the rich, gorgeous girls at university? And what about those celebrity mags you keep showing me? He always has some flash, sophisticated lady draped over him at some big cheese event or other. Boys like that don’t have time for a seventeen-year-old wannabe fashion student.’

Saskia wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulder. ‘Stop putting yourself down like that. You’re gorgeous and he knows it. Top marks to Heath—and it’s not as though he’s a stranger. You have met him before and Amber adores him.’

Amber sniffed. ‘I do. There is nobody else my mum would trust to deliver me home safe and sound—not even Sam. Go for it, Kate. He won’t let you down. Be brave.’

* * *

Brave? Brave was fine when she was with her pals but it was a very different matter sitting in the passenger seat of Heath’s sports car an hour later.

Alone. With Heath Sheridan.

Listening to his warm deep voice chatter on about the lecture he was planning to attend the next day. The radio was tuned to popular music, the brightly lit streets spun by and it seemed only minutes between leaving Amber’s third dad’s house and pulling up onto the pavement outside Kate’s grandfather’s shop. Her brain was spinning to come up with something clever and witty and eloquent to say. No chance! Breathing was hard enough, never mind talking.

Heath must think that she was a complete idiot. It was so humiliating.

And now he was opening the car door for her. If she was going to say something this was the time.

‘Thank you, Heath,’ she choked through a throat as dry as the Sahara as she took his hand, locked her knees together and swung her legs out of the car with as much decorum as she could manage and lifted her chin. ‘It was very kind of you to bring me home.’

His reply was to wrap one arm around her waist, push the car door closed with the other and half support her all of the four steps to the front door of the shop. Then wait until she had fished her key out of her tiny evening bag.

It was heaven and she sneaked a cuddle before he laughed out loud and whirled her around. ‘You are most welcome, lovely lady. Any time.’ And before she could reply he had lifted her gloved right hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. ‘It was my pleasure.’ He wrinkled his nose up and winked at her. And slowly, slowly, slid his hand from hers and half turned to go.

He was leaving. Heath was leaving. No!

Which was when she did it. Kate Lovat, doing-okay-but-not-likely-to-win-any-prizes high school student, trainee fashion designer and glove aficionado extraordinaire, stepped forward, grabbed the lapels of Heath’s jacket with both hands, raised herself as high as she could on tiptoe, closed her eyes and kissed him on the mouth. Hard.

The startled and strangely delighted look on his face when she did squint her eyes open made her whirl around, turn the key in the door and hurl herself inside before she had to face him.

‘Goodnight, Heath,’ she whispered as she pressed her back to the door, heart thumping and lungs heaving. ‘Goodnight. And very, very sweet dreams.’