Last-Minute Bridesmaid (3 page)

And at that, by some unspoken signal, the main entrance doors slid open and Heath stepped inside with a quick smile and a wave.

But, just as he turned away from the press, a man’s voice echoed from over his shoulder, ‘Is it true that your late mother and Alice Jardine were good friends, Mr Sheridan? How do you feel about that?’

The doors slid shut and Heath carried on walking across the pale marble floor of the hallway, apparently deaf to the question, and it was only in the solitary space of the elevator that he slowly unclenched his fingers.

One by one. Willing each breath he took to slow down as the words of that last question repeated over and over again inside his head.

Feel?

How did he feel about the fact that the woman who had been his mother’s best friend was marrying his father?

How did he feel about the fact that Alice had been with his father while his mother lay dying in a hospice?

How did he feel?

Heath tugged hard at the double cuffs of his tailor-made shirt and fought back the temptation to hit something hard.

But that wouldn’t fit into his carefully designed image.

Heath Sheridan did not get ruffled or upset or display outrageous bursts of emotion and temper. Oh, no. He played it cool. He was a Boston Sheridan and the Boston Sheridans kept their feelings buried deep enough to be icebergs.

Well, this ice man was not going to melt and let the rest of the world feel the heat of the raging temper that was burning inside him at that moment, threatening to spill out into some ill-judged outburst.

So what if his father’s choice of bride hit one of his hot buttons?

He could deal with it. Was dealing with it. Would continue to deal with it.

Ironic that he should be asked that question outside the very house where his mother had spent the first twenty years of her life. The house had been built for his grandparents, who had been part of a group of aristocratic artist writers and intellectuals in the Arts and Crafts movement in the nineteen-thirties and the Art Deco features were original and stunning, especially in the library. Two storeys of hand-carved teak shelves were connected by a circular staircase which led onto an upper-level gallery, lit by a central domed roof.

Of course it had the wow factor for visitors to Sheridan Press, who were too much in awe to take notice of the fact that the recent catalogue of Sheridan books would fit neatly into one small part of the lower shelf.

Heath remembered playing hide-and-seek in the many stunning rooms, attics and cellars when he was a boy on rare visits to London with his parents, but now it was little more than a private meeting venue for his father and his circle of artist friends like Alice Jardine.

Closing his eyes, he could almost see his mother playing the piano in the drawing room below while he played with his grandparents in the patio garden outside the open French windows. The smell of lavender and beeswax. Old books and linseed oil. Because, above everything else, this house had always been filled with artists, the dinner table chatter was about art, the library full of books and exhibition catalogues about art and, of course, every available wall had been a living, constantly changing art gallery.

The thought of Alice walking these corridors where his mother had been so very happy was something that he was slowly coming to terms with. But he wasn’t there yet. And he wasn’t entirely sure that he ever would be.

That was something else he was going to have to work on.

In the meantime? He had a wedding to survive. A wedding where it was going to be crucial to pretend that all was rosy in the Sheridan family, and father and son were working together like the dream team they were pretending to be.

Heath strolled over to the lovely polished marquetry desk and sat down heavily on an antique chair, which creaked alarmingly at the weight.

His father and his new fiancée had ordered a relaxed country house wedding—and that was precisely what they were going to get—with his help.

Heath opened up his laptop and was just about to dive into the checklist for the wedding arrangements when his cellphone rang and he flipped it open and answered without even checking to see who was calling him.

‘Sheridan,’ he said, and jammed the phone between his solid wide jaw and his shoulder blade so that he could scroll down the project plan and highlight the key activities while taking the call at the same time.

‘Heath? Heath, is that you?’ a female voice called down the worst phone line that he had ever heard. Loud crackling noises and what sounded like thunder screamed out at him.

Heath instantly focused on the call. ‘Olivia, I was starting to get worried. Did you make your flight to London on time? Sorry about the British weather but the forecast is looking good for the next few days.’

The response was a loud clattering sound as though heavy objects were being dropped onto a metal floor, and Heath held the phone a few inches away from his ear until he heard his girlfriend’s voice, which gradually became clearer. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but all the lines are down. I’m still in China. Heath?’

He closed his eyes and counted to ten before blinking. ‘Olivia, tell me that you’re joking.’

‘The tropical storm that hit three days ago has just been declared a typhoon,’ her echoing voice replied. ‘A typhoon! Would you believe it? Even the helicopters have been grounded.’

Heath pinched the top of his nose, and then quickly typed in search details for the weather in Southern China. Whirls of thick white cloud and misty shapes of land masses covered with warning symbols reflected back at him from the screen as he replied. ‘This looks serious. Are you okay? I mean, do you have somewhere safe to go until the weather clears?’

‘The valley has already flooded,’ she yelled, ‘so the whole team is being evacuated further up the mountain into the cave system.’ Then she paused for a second. ‘I have to be honest with you, Heath. Even if the weather had been good, I had already decided not to fly to London for your father’s wedding.’

Tension creased his brow as Heath tabbed though the images and he slumped back in the hard chair. ‘What do you mean? We talked about this a few weeks ago,’ he replied and clasped the fingers of one hand around the back of his neck and rubbed it back and forth as a cold hollow feeling pooled in the pit of his stomach.

‘No. You talked. And I tried to explain that I needed time away on my own to think about where our relationship was heading. It’s been almost a year now, Heath, and you are just as cold and guarded as you were the day I first met you. Your work is more important than me. Than us. I’m sorry, Heath, but I can’t keep this relationship alive on my own. I think it is better if we go our separate ways. I want something more. We both deserve a chance for happiness. And mine is not with you.’

She seemed about to say something when muffled voices and engine noise echoed down the phone. ‘I have to go. Please send Charles and Alice my apologies and tell them I’ll catch up the minute I get back. I’ll be thinking of you this weekend and we’ll talk more when I get back. And I am sorry, Heath, but this is goodbye. Have a great time at the wedding. Bye.’

And then the phone went dead.

Heath Sheridan stared at the completely innocent telephone for several seconds while he suppressed the urge to throw it out of the stained-glass window.

This is goodbye? Have a great time at the wedding?

What had just happened? Because, unless he had completely got it wrong...his girlfriend had just broken up with him. On the telephone. From China.

Okay. It was July and this would have been the first time that they had spent more than a couple of days together since New Year. He had frantically completed a major promotional tour for his bestselling thriller author before moving to Boston to work for Sheridan Press. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day, especially over the past few months.

And what about her work?

Olivia’s anthropology project with Beijing University had turned into a major excavation into cave art which would take years to complete. She had even had to send the dressmaker her dimensions for her bridesmaid’s dress by email. He knew this because he was the one who had taken the barrage of complaints from Kate Lovat about making a bridesmaid’s dress for a slim five-foot-three girl who would have to wear the dress without a single fitting.

Heath’s fingers froze on the keyboard.

Oh, no.

He was going to have to tell the bride that she was going to have to walk down the aisle of the village church on her family estate with three bridesmaids instead of four.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

He was toast.

TWO

Kate stood in
the doorway to the library room and took a breath.

The last time that she had seen Heath Sheridan was at a high school dance and it had certainly been a memorable occasion. Just thinking about that moment when she had jumped on him to say goodnight made her feel so embarrassed and intimidated. And that was without the height difference, which meant that he towered over her without even trying.

Kate shrugged off her nerves. That was years ago. This time they were equal. Two professionals with their own businesses.

Unfortunately for her poor heart, Heath Sheridan had the nerve to have actually become even more handsome than the man she remembered and Amber talked about constantly.

The star student who had made his name turning around the popular fiction division of the family publishing company should be round-shouldered and wear cardigans with leather patches at the elbow.

He had no right to be so tall and clear-skinned. And that hair! Lush dark brown hair which curled into the base of his neck and seemed to have a mind of its own. He had never been vain—she knew that from talking to Amber—but style and vanity were two very different matters and Heath Sheridan had style to spare.

Why shouldn’t he?

Amber wore gowns by top fashion houses and his family were on the top level of Boston society. It made perfect sense for him to be wearing a tailored black suit and shirt which fitted him so perfectly she knew instinctively that they had been made to measure.

Those strong shoulders, slim waist and hips would be a gift to any tailor.

Oh, my. And how she would like to dress him.

Suddenly the room become stiflingly hot and it had nothing to do with the weather!

‘Ah! There you are,’ Kate called out through a tight throat. ‘Special delivery for the man of the house, courtesy of Lovat courier services. Great to see you again, Heath.’

She waited for him to turn around and give her one of those fabulous grins that used to make her teenage knees wobble.

And she waited. And then she waited a little longer. But his gaze stayed totally locked onto whatever he was finding so fascinating on his computer screen. She could see that he was reading and typing so he was not asleep.

So she tried again.

‘Hi, Heath. Your one-woman dressmaker and delivery service is here.’

Kate looked at Heath and then looked at the pretty dress box that she had slaved for hours to create and then carted across London in a downpour.

She might forgive him for not turning around to greet her but there was no way that he was going to ignore the fabulous work that she had done.

‘Thank you, Kate. You were such a star to drop everything else that you were working on to create four amazing outfits at the very last minute as a personal favour,’
she murmured under her breath as she slung her shoulder bag higher over her shoulder.

‘Sorry I cannot find the time to even look at your work,’
she added with a mock lilt in her voice.
‘Don’t let the door swing on your way out.’

Heath did not even glance at her.

Right. Well, that answered that question. ‘Bye, Heath. See you around some time. Have a fabulous wedding. The bill is in the post.’

Still no reply.

What had she been thinking?

The fashion design company she had created from scratch and passion was in so much trouble. She should be back in her studio working on ballet costumes for her pal Leo, not spending what little free time she had stolen from the day getting dressed up to deliver wedding clothes as a favour for her friend’s stepbrother.

Her friend’s gorgeous, handsome, debonair and totally oblivious to the fact that she existed brother.

She was delusional. And more than a little pathetic.

‘Have a lovely wedding. I do hope everything goes well. Why don’t I just leave this last dress with you and call you later? Bye!’ she smiled and sang out in a sing-song voice.

Nothing. Not even a raised eyebrow.

Kate pressed a hand to each hip.
Well, now he was just being rude.

Kate tossed her bag onto a chair and stomped over to the desk and, before Heath could do anything to stop her, closed the lid down on his laptop and swivelled the chair away from the desk.

And at that very moment he looked up and turned his head.

His mouth twisted into a half smile that screamed out that he had known that she was there the whole time. Eyes the colour of the burnt sugar coating on the top of a crème caramel dessert smiled at her, dazzling and driving any chance of sensible thought from her brain.

She half closed her eyes and scowled at him then rapped her knuckles twice on his forehead. Hard.

‘Hello. Is anyone at home?’ she said, ignoring his shouts of protest. ‘Remember me? The girl who has just gone out of her way to hand-deliver the last bridesmaid’s dress so that your new stepmum won’t be followed down the aisle by a girl in cargo pants?’

‘Kate. Yes. Of course. How long have you been waiting?’ Heath replied with a groan as he rubbed life back into his forehead.

‘Long enough to realise that you have not been listening to a word that I have said. In fact a person of delicate sensibilities might even call you rude and insulting.’

‘Oh, no. Did I just zone out on you?’

She nodded slowly, up and down, her lips pushed forward. ‘If that is what you call totally ignoring me for the past five minutes, then yes, you did.’

Then he did the smiley thing again and there was just enough of a twinkle in those eyes to drive away the clouds.

Wow, some men just ticked all the boxes. It was so unfair to the others.

‘I apologise. It is one of my many flaws and I had no intention of being rude or ignoring you. I spend most of my time in an open-plan publishing office with a team who are never off the phone. Being able to disconnect is actually an advantage. But not always.’

She leant back and scowled at him, ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he whispered, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. ‘I do that a lot when I’m stressed. And I am stressed. This wedding is driving me crazy. Am I forgiven?’

‘I’m thinking about it,’ she retorted. ‘Well, that is such a pathetic excuse, but I suppose that it will have to do. But why is this wedding driving
you
crazy? Are you thinking of leaving the publishing world behind to retrain as a wedding planner?’

His eyes closed and he gave a pretend dramatic shudder. ‘I don’t know how they do it. This was supposed to be a small family wedding. Low-key. Intimate. You would think that it would be easy to manage. Think again.’ He raked both hands back through his hair and her breathing rate went up a notch just at the sight of it.

‘So why are you helping to organise this wedding?’

‘Family, duty. And the fact that my dad asked me to be his best man just when he was supposed to be in the middle of launching a new publishing line in Britain. It was only when I started asking questions that it soon became apparent that the whole event was in need of serious organisation.’

He shook his head. ‘Artists and writers are so talented, but their focus isn’t usually on the minute details. The bride’s cousin offered to make all of the arrangements as her—’ and at this he made inverted commas with his fingers ‘—wedding present to the happy couple. I thought that my mum’s family were bad enough but the Jardines have taken chaos to the next level.’

‘Hey. I’m an artist. And we can be organised when we have to be!’

* * *

Heath Sheridan swivelled around in the heavy leather chair and gave his full attention to the pint-sized bundle of brightness and fun and energy who had burst into the hallowed library.

And then looked twice. Then looked again.

The girl standing looking at him in the elegant grey business suit had Kate’s voice but she had certainly changed a lot from the fashion student with wild hair and wilder clothing who he vaguely remembered as one of Amber’s school friends.

Her layered short brown hair framed delicate features and a pair of clear, determined and very green eyes. A sprinkle of summer freckles covered her nose but her eyes and lips had been expertly made up to make her features look magical in the diffuse light of the library.

Kate Lovat was a pixie in a skirt suit.

She seemed taller than he recalled from their last meeting but then he was sitting down and she was wearing...what was she wearing on her feet? Platform stiletto boots—but the front had been cut away so that her toes stuck out.

Why would anyone wear ankle boots—which were open-toed?

There had to be some logical explanation but at that moment he could not think of a single one, except that, oh yes—the quirky Kate was still there under the slick make-up and suit.

‘Organised? I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he coughed, quickly trying to drag his gaze away from her legs, ‘because that would make two of us. My father wanted the wedding to go smoothly. So there was only one thing for me to do—take control of the arrangements as my gift to my dad. It’s a different sort of wedding present, but at least it saves on wrapping paper.’

‘Ah. Control.’ She smiled and gave a small shoulder wiggle, which acted like a shot of warmth in the cool room. ‘Now I’m getting the picture. Well, now you can relax because I have something special for you. The last of the bridesmaids’ dresses. I finished it this morning and it is fabulous—’ she paused and looked up from unwrapping a long thick card box and gave a small shrug ‘—of course—’ then went back to untying the ribbons and lifting off the lid ‘—so you can relax and tick that off your list. They are all done. And, what’s more, you have a chance to check the merchandise before the bride. Now that is an opportunity not to be missed. But clean hands only. No sticky paws.’

Sticky paws? What?

Heath closed the distance between them and leant down to peer inside the card box, which seemed to be filled with sheets of silky cream tissue paper.

Kate’s tailored pale grey and white tweed jacket hung open at the front, revealing a coral-coloured stretchy-looking top which clung to her curves above a slim matching grey pencil skirt.

She might be wearing high-heeled shoes but she still only came up to his shoulder. A floral fragrance of roses, gardenias and jasmine filled his head. She smelt of summer on a wet and windy day and suddenly his world seemed a happier place.
How did she do that?

‘I have to admit,’ she continued and slipped away from his touch, ‘I am always happy to make personal deliveries to my customers, but you did cut it fine.’

He paused and glanced out of the window before strolling across to the fine wooden cabinet with a hidden refrigerator inside and picking out two bottles of water and two glasses. ‘Last-minute decision. What do you give the bride who already has everything?’

‘Um. Good point. A toaster wouldn’t exactly cut it. I mean...’ she turned her head from side to side as though to check that they were alone ‘...I take it that the bride is not some flighty gold-digger after your dad’s loot.’

The water caught in his throat and went down the wrong way, making him cough and splutter over his computer. Kate stood on tiptoe to thump him hard between the shoulder blades. Twice. Until he lifted his hand in submission and turned back to her. After a couple of deep breaths he blinked and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, well aware that Kate’s gaze was locked onto his face.

‘Thank you,’ he wheezed. ‘And no. Alice is definitely not after my dad for his money. She was the one who wanted a family wedding at the Jardine country estate. She knows how my dad hates fuss. This suits him very well and I’m happy to help make it all go smoothly.’

‘Are you in training for Amber’s wedding?’ She nodded. ‘What? Why are you shaking your head like that?’

‘Because there is no way that I ever want to do this again. Once is quite enough. You have no idea of the things I have had to deal with. And just wait until Alice and my dad get back from the airport with the last batch of guests. You do not want to be here when I break the news about Olivia.’

Kate reared back with a puzzled look on her face. ‘Olivia? What news about Olivia?’

Heath pressed a finger and thumb into the bridge of his nose.

What news? How about the fact that my girlfriend has just decided to dump me days before my father’s wedding? That’s all. Because apparently I am cold and guarded. Nothing important. Nothing to worry about. Just one more relationship down the pan.

He closed his eyes for a second in a futile attempt to regain control. But Olivia’s words kept echoing through his brain until they were all he could think about.

Cold and guarded.

This was pretty much the same thing the two girlfriends before Olivia had complained about. Was he cold? Guarded, yes. He did protect himself from becoming emotionally dependent on anyone, and especially a woman. Why shouldn’t he? He had seen the massive damage that kind of relationship could have on the family and the man. There was no way that he could ever allow himself to love one person and one place so completely. Not when they could be snatched away from him at a moment’s notice and he was powerless to prevent it. But cold?

Blinking his eyes open, Heath was about to reply to Kate’s question with some casual throwaway comment, when his gaze fell on the open box.

Something sparkling and shiny nestled in the tissue paper.

In two steps he was standing, looking in disbelief at the confection of dusty pink lace and satin, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, pointing to the swirls of iridescent ivory-coloured pearls which had been sewn into the lacework across the bodice and sleeves.

‘Embellishment, of course.’ She grinned.

He should have known that things were going too smoothly. Embellishment!

Amber had trusted Kate, but then again Amber adored her friends and was obviously incapable of being objective about their abilities.

After today’s little bombshell from Olivia, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with faulty bridesmaids’ dresses.