The Best Man for the Job (6 page)

As his pulse began to race at the thought of the long, hot, steamy night ahead, during which he’d make sure she expressed her gratitude over and over again, Marcus wondered if she’d be up for meeting up once back in London.

Now that they’d lost the hostility he wouldn’t mind getting to know her a bit better. He might have been acquainted with her for close on the twenty years he’d known Dan, but he didn’t really have a clue how she worked. As an adolescent he hadn’t been interested, at eighteen he’d just wanted to get into her pants and as an adult the animosity had acted as a barrier to thinking of her as anything but a thorn in his side. Now, though, he was thinking he’d quite like to find out.

Which was odd because up to this point he’d never really wanted to explore the minds of the women he’d dated. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they’d be all that interesting. In fact, he was sure they would be, because he didn’t date bimbos. The women he went out with were bright and entertaining, yet despite that he’d just never been sufficiently engaged to want to try to dig all that far beneath the surface, even with those who lasted weeks instead of only one night. He didn’t really know why this was, it was just the way it had always been.

Celia, however, intrigued him. Her mind, her work ethic, her ambition and her drive as much as the spectacular body beneath the dress. With hindsight she always had fascinated him, even when she’d been needling him. Maybe
particularly
when she’d been needling him. And he didn’t really know the reason for that either.

What he
did
know, however, was that he’d like to see more of her. Literally, of course, because he still hadn’t seen her naked, but also because this thing between them deserved a lot more exploration.

And while anything long-term clearly wasn’t an option when they had polar-opposite views on marriage and family, that didn’t mean that if she was up for it they couldn’t have some fun in the meantime, did it?

In fact, why wait till later? he thought, lowering his hand and vaguely wondering if it would be all right to just dump the flowers on the ground as his heart began to thump. Why not whisk her away now as he’d implied earlier he wanted to? She was right there, standing beside him and waving as the car headed down the drive. What could be quicker than sending her up to get her stuff and then dragging her off to his hotel? Or hers. He wasn’t fussy.

‘So another couple bites the dust,’ he murmured, deciding as he watched the red brake lights disappear round the corner that etiquette probably took as dim a view of abandoning the bouquet as Celia would of him throwing her over his shoulder and carting her off.

‘In a cloud of dust,’ she said, screwing her face up in disgust and now flapping her hand in front of her face to wave it away. ‘Do you mind?’

‘What about?’

‘Your best friend’s just got married,’ she said. ‘Your relationship will change.’

Contemplating the idea, Marcus figured that Celia was probably right about that, although he wasn’t unduly worried. It wasn’t as if he and Dan saw each other all the time. They met up once, maybe twice a month at the most, and he couldn’t see why that should change. ‘Zoe doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who’d ban her husband from seeing his friends,’ he said.

‘No. She’s lovely. And I think they’re going to be very happy.’

This she said with what he would have thought was a trace of wistfulness if it had been anyone other than Celia, but, because it
was
Celia, she was probably not considering her own happiness but the way
her
relationship with her brother would change.

But then to his faint alarm she sighed deeply, and he shot her a quick glance only to find a kind of dreamy expression on her face that he’d never have expected.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, not sure quite what to make of it.

‘Fine,’ she said, giving herself a quick shake and smiling at him brightly—too brightly, perhaps. ‘You?’

‘Never felt better.’ Oddly enough, it was true. He might not have slept in the past twenty-four hours but he felt great. Amazing the effect some seriously wild, uninhibited, unexpected sex could have on a man...

‘Congratulations, by the way,’ she said, her smile still fixed in place, her eyes oddly unreadable.

‘What for?’

‘That,’ she said, glancing down at the bunch of flowers he was still, for some unfathomable reason, holding. ‘It means you’re next.’

Marcus gave a theatrical shudder to mask the less theatrical one he felt deep inside. ‘Hell will freeze over first,’ he muttered.

‘Then you really shouldn’t have caught it.’

‘I like to win.’ And he had, even though Kit and Lily had put up an excellent good-natured battle. Celia, come to think of it, hadn’t put up any kind of a fight. She’d just stood there looking as if she’d been miles away.

‘And what will you do when word gets out? You’ll be swamped.’

‘I’ll use you as my shield.’

She tilted her head and looked at him sceptically. ‘Meaning what exactly?’

Who knew? All he knew was that as long as they had mileage, and they clearly did what with the electricity that was bouncing back and forth between them, he’d be pursuing it. ‘Meaning go and get your things, Celia, and say your goodbyes.’

‘I’m just about to.’

‘Good.’

She took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back, her smile fading a little. ‘About us leaving together, Marcus...’

‘What about it?’

‘We won’t be.’

That was fair enough. Her parents were here and he could understand her desire for discretion. He was perfectly happy for them to leave separately and meet up later. ‘Fine,’ he said easily. ‘Where were you planning on staying tonight?’

‘At home.’

He went still at that. Frowned. ‘What?’

‘I’m heading home,’ she said, drawing out the syllables as if he were a bit slow on the uptake, which he was because he was having trouble processing what she was saying. ‘So if you’ll excuse me I’d better get a move on.’

Leaving him standing there like a tongue-tied brainless idiot, she turned and set off for the house at such a cracking pace she was practically through the front door by the time his brain had kicked in and he realised that she really was intending to leave and that if he wanted to stop her he was going to have to be quick.

Setting his jaw, he strode after her, dumped the roses on the table just inside the door, which was groaning with presents, and when he saw her halfway up the stairs swiftly crossed the hall. ‘You’re leaving now?’ he said, wondering why she’d changed her mind.

‘I have a train to catch,’ she said without breaking stride. ‘In just under an hour.’

‘You weren’t planning to stay?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I knew this wouldn’t be the kind of wedding that goes on till dawn and I have to be at work early tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow’s Sunday.’

‘So?’

Taking the stairs two at a time, he caught up with her in a matter of seconds. Long enough for it to get into his thick skull that she had no intention of changing her plans despite what had happened earlier. Which disappointed him more than it ought to, although he didn’t have time to wonder about that right now.

At the top of the stairs he gripped her wrist and she stilled, but he could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers, which he didn’t think was hammering just from the exertion of climbing the stairs. ‘What’s going on, Celia?’

‘Nothing’s going on,’ she said flatly, tugging her hand away and rubbing her wrist. ‘I just have to get back, that’s all. I really do.’

He believed her because her dedication to her work was something only an hour or so ago he’d been admiring. Now, though, it just pissed him off because basically she was letting him know in no uncertain terms that, regardless of the attraction that still existed between them, continuing where they’d left off was at the bottom of her list of priorities. While it was at the top of his.

‘You know, you really need to address that work-life balance of yours,’ he drawled, oddly hurt by the idea she attached so little importance to it.

‘To make it more like yours, you mean?’ she said, marching across the landing towards a bedroom.

He followed her through the door and leaned back against a wall as he watched her pick up a suitcase, drop it on the bed and fling the top back. ‘Working on a Sunday isn’t normal.’

‘It is if you have a tricky deal that needs to be pushed through in record time. Not to mention a document that’s gone missing and of which I have the only copy.’ She scooped up a handful of clothes, dumped them beside the suitcase and began folding and packing, folding and packing, still looking everywhere but at him. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand, what with you now being a man of leisure.’

The mocking judgemental tone that he’d assumed had gone was back, and it annoyed him even more. ‘I’ve put in my fair share of weekends at work.’

‘At the moment I work
every
weekend,’ she said pointedly, and he found himself frowning and wondering, what the hell was this? Some kind of competition? ‘Taking today off was a luxury,’ she added, ‘and I need to make it up.’

‘What about what happened this afternoon?’

‘What about it?’ She paused in the folding/packing thing she had going on and stared at him as if she didn’t have a clue what he was getting at. Which wasn’t entirely surprising since he wasn’t sure
he
had a clue what he was getting at. So she didn’t want to spend the night with him. What was the big deal? Why was he pursuing it? And, actually, wasn’t he beginning to sound a bit pathetic? A bit needy? A bit desperate?

He was, so he bit back the urge to ask her if the afternoon had meant anything to her, because it clearly hadn’t, and stamped out the disappointment swirling around inside him.

‘Forget it,’ he said, fixing a cool smile to his face and reminding himself that it hadn’t meant anything to him either. It had been good sex, nothing more, and it wasn’t as if he’d never had good sex before.

She sighed and stopped folding. ‘Look, Marcus, this afternoon was fun but we both know it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.’

Did they? He’d thought that they’d been about to go back to his hotel room, and had hoped that things might carry on when they got back to London, but clearly he’d been picking up the wrong signals. No matter. ‘I know it wouldn’t have gone anywhere,’ he said, and she was right. Ultimately it wouldn’t.

‘Yet you’re sounding like you thought this was more than it was.’

He had. Maybe. A bit. For a moment. ‘Evidently my mistake.’

‘It’s unlike you to make a mistake about something like this.’

It was. Which was undoubtedly why he was feeling so wrong-footed. The thing making his stomach churn was confusion at the unexpected turn of events, that was all. ‘I blame the champagne.’

‘Did I ever agree to leave with you?’

No, dammit, she hadn’t, he realised belatedly. He’d jumped to that conclusion all by himself and he’d been an idiot to do so. ‘No.’

‘So that’s it, then,’ she said as if there was nothing more to be said. ‘Just think of me as another of your conquests.’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘But it was fun.’

‘It was.’

‘And
so
what I needed,’ she said with a smile, looking at him
finally,
‘so thank you for letting me use you.’

Her words sank in and for a moment Marcus didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, he was speechless, because of all the things that he’d thought about since they’d had sex it had never once occurred to him that she’d used him.

If he’d contemplated her motives he’d have come up with something pretty much along the same lines as his. Overwhelming desire. Years of pent-up build-up. Irresistibility. An interest in seeing where things might go. He’d never have guessed that all she was after was a one-night stand. And didn’t that make him a fool because he’d told her that he and the women he slept with were always on the same page, yet here he was, not just on another page but in a different book entirely.

So much for the idea that Celia was vulnerable, he thought, feeling something inside him that had momentarily thawed ice over again. So much for the thought she needed protecting. She was made of steel. She had no soft centre. And he’d been a complete and utter idiot to imagine otherwise, because he might be many things but he didn’t use people, whereas she had absolutely no qualms about doing such a thing.

‘No problem at all,’ he said, pushing himself off the wall and making for the door, wiping Celia and the afternoon from his head with the kind of ruthless determination that had got him back on track and made him a millionaire at twenty-five. ‘Happy to have helped. Have a good journey home and I’ll see you around.’

SIX

Over the
next month Celia was so flat out at work that Marcus barely crossed her mind. She had a deal to think about. Contracts. Documents. Emails and calls and meetings and an ever overflowing in tray. She didn’t have the mental space or the time to think about that afternoon. Except in the early hours of the morning when she did make it to bed and couldn’t sleep, of course. Then, dizzy with exhaustion, she let herself remember and indulge, knowing that come daybreak the memory would be buried beneath work, work and more work.

Despite his parting shot, she hadn’t seen him around. She hadn’t expected to. For one thing, Dan—their only real reason for coming across each other—was still on honeymoon, and for another, why on earth would Marcus choose to put himself in her path after she’d deliberately told him that she’d used him?

She pushed open the door of the bar and cringed as the memory of the scene that had taken place in Zoe’s parents’ spare room flashed into her head.

It hadn’t been her finest moment, she had to admit. In fact it had been one of her lowest, but she hadn’t known what else to do. She’d had to get him out of that room before she’d run out of clothes to fold and pack and no longer had anything to distract her from the knowledge that they were in far too close proximity to a bed and she wanted him badly, despite being well aware that he was the last person she should want.

What had happened in the kitchen garden was meant to have been a blip. The release of fifteen years’ worth of build-up, and closure. But as she’d stood in that driveway waving Dan and Zoe off, a sudden wave of longing for what they had had rushed over her and had thrown her even more off balance.

Totally bewildered by what was going on inside her head, she’d just wanted to escape. So she’d headed into the house, fleeing the romance and sentimentality of the afternoon, the happy, mildly boozed-up guests, the sinking sun, the sky streaked with red and the lengthening shadows, ready to pack up and leave and figure things out in the cool peace of her flat.

Marcus had followed her, of course he had. Naturally enough, given that she hadn’t given him cause to think otherwise, he’d assumed that she was intending to leave with him. And for a split second she’d been so very tempted to do just that. Logically she knew that he’d never be the man for her, but that hadn’t stopped her for one crazy moment desperately wanting him to be. And it had scared the living daylights out of her, which was why she’d pushed him away.

Not that she generally thought about it much. She’d analysed it to death on the train home, staring blankly out of the window as the countryside rushed by, her laptop remaining closed on the table in front of her. Once she’d got home, satisfied she’d done the right thing by putting a stop to anything more, she’d cast it from her mind.

But as she was about to have a quick drink with Lily—who hadn’t taken no for an answer—Marcus and what they’d got up to the afternoon of the wedding had snuck into her head quite a bit today. And every time she did find herself losing herself in the memory she went all soft and warm inside. It was infuriating, not least because she had plenty of other more important things to think about and really didn’t need the distraction.

Spying Lily sitting at a table in the corner of the busy City wine bar and fiddling with her phone, Celia weaved through the tightly packed clientele and wondered if it was overly hot in here or if it was just her.

‘Hi,’ she said, eventually making it over, then shrugging out of her jacket, draping it over the back of the chair and sitting down.

‘Hello,’ said Lily, putting her phone on the table and glancing up with a broad beam. That faded as swiftly as her eyes widened. ‘God, you look dreadful.’

Celia bristled even though Lily was right. She was looking awful at the moment, which was why she tried to avoid the mirror as much as she could because she knew her skin was pasty, her eyes were puffy and her body several pounds lighter than it should be, and who needed visual proof of that? ‘Thanks.’

‘Well, sorry, but you do.’ Lily filled a glass with wine and pushed it towards her. ‘Here. You look like you could do with this.’

‘Thanks,’ she said again.

‘So what is it?’

Celia shrugged and took a sip. ‘Just work,’ she said, her stomach shrivelling a little at the acidity. ‘Things are pretty hectic at the moment,’ she added, although in reality ‘pretty hectic’ didn’t come close to describing her workload at the moment.

Lily frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she said, pasting a smile to her face and making an effort to relax. ‘It’s just a phase. This stage is always like this. And it’s not like I’m the only one putting in the hours. We all are.’

Lily sat back and twiddled the stem of her glass between her fingers as she looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Don’t you ever worry about burning out?’

‘All the time,’ she said with a smile that was wry because in reality there was no way in hell she was burning out. She couldn’t afford the time.

Still, she could definitely do with maybe a bit more sleep because she was exhausted, these headaches were a pain, and the heart palpitations that had started last week were beginning to get a bit more frequent and a bit longer in duration.

If she was being honest she hadn’t been feeling all that great for a while. Maybe she’d make an appointment with her GP, although she knew he’d simply tell her that it was stress and she should ease up on work. As if it were that simple.

Or maybe tonight she’d try and get home early, although given it was already nine and the bottle of wine on the table was full that seemed unlikely. In fact, seeing as she was going to be here for a while she might as well head back to the office once she was done here, do a bit more work and then spend the night there.

But it was fine. She’d survive. She always had in the past. Anyway, the deal was nearly done and then she’d catch up. On sleep. With friends. On everything else that had been put on hold.

‘So what’s news?’ she said, taking another sip of wine and assuring herself that she and her manic schedule could easily stick it out for another week or so.

‘Nothing in particular. Busy at work.’

‘Missing Zoe?’ she asked, thinking that as Zoe was responsible for half of the sisters’ business her absence must be making things tough.

‘Heaps. But it’s fine. I’m managing. Are you missing Dan?’

‘A bit.’

Her brother had never been away for two months before and she regularly found herself picking up the phone to call him, putting it down a second later and feeling rather empty and alone. It didn’t help that her parents had been in regular touch to have a moan about each other. Usually she shared the brunt of their non-relationship with Dan, and the fact that she couldn’t only added to her current stress levels.

‘Kit and I have set a date for the wedding,’ said Lily, dragging her out of one pity party and tossing her into another.

A wedding, Celia thought, her heart squeezing for a moment. Another one... Then she pulled herself together and remembered that once the deal was through, rectifying her love life was something else she was going to tackle. The minute she had the time she’d embark on a dating mission to end all dating missions. And because this was Lily and she was aware of the ups and downs of her and Kit’s relationship, she was genuinely pleased they’d set a date. ‘When?’

‘December.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘Thanks.’

‘How are things going with you two?’

‘Remarkably well,’ said Lily, looking a bit surprised at the thought. ‘But let’s not forget that there’s every possibility I’ll muck it up.’

Celia smiled. ‘I’d be surprised if Kit let you.’

‘He keeps telling me he won’t.’

‘There you go, then.’

‘And speaking of gorgeous men,’ Lily continued. ‘I ran into Marcus last week.’

At the casual mention of his name Celia felt her heart lurch and her hand shake, and she put her glass on the table. ‘Really?’ she said, her throat dry and scratchy as she thought that, damn, stress had a lot to answer for.

Lily nodded. ‘At a party.’

‘Where else?’

‘Want to know how he is?’

A surge of curiosity rose up inside her but she stamped it down hard because she couldn’t care less. ‘Why would I want to know how he is?’

‘Well, you know, after what happened at Dan and Zoe’s wedding.’

Celia felt her entire body flush and this time she knew it had nothing to do with an overheated bar. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘Not what it looked like when I interrupted you.’

‘We’d been chatting, that’s all.’

‘So you said. And I believe you as much now as I did then.’ Lily drained her glass. ‘You know, I don’t blame you in the slightest. Marcus is seriously hot.’

So was she. Boiling. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be getting married in December?’ she said a bit tetchily.

Lily grinned. ‘Doesn’t stop me from appreciating a fine specimen of manhood when I see one.’

Marcus wasn’t a fine specimen of manhood. Yes, he was gorgeous, and he’d helped her out when she’d asked for it, but he was still as promiscuous as he’d ever been.

On the
extremely
rare occasion he’d crossed her mind in the week that followed the wedding when, despite her best efforts, the freshness of it all had meant that it refused to scuttle to the back of her mind where she wanted it, she’d found herself wondering if she hadn’t made a mistake in pushing him away. Something about the look in his eye when she’d finally plucked up the guts to look at him back there in that bedroom made her wonder if maybe he’d been disappointed that she hadn’t wanted to stay. If maybe he’d hoped for something more. If maybe she’d misjudged him yet again.

But she hadn’t and he clearly hadn’t wanted anything more because, why, only last week he’d been snapped outside some theatre or other with not just one, but two blondes hanging off his arms. The week before that he’d escorted a ravishing brunette to some charity gala in aid of cancer research. And the week before that he’d been on a beach in the Mediterranean cavorting in the waves with a bevy of Sardinian beauties.

Not that she’d been checking up on him or anything, but what was he doing about those projects he’d told her about while all this partying was going on? No mention of
them
in any of the papers.

‘Well, whatever,’ she said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘I have no idea where Marcus is or what he’s doing and I really don’t care.’

‘OK, you win,’ said Lily with a smile and a dismissive wave of her hand that had she been firing on all cylinders Celia would have found suspicious. ‘Want to come for supper next Saturday?’

As she wasn’t firing on all cylinders Celia relaxed and thought that yes, she did. Very much. And not just because she was thankful for the change of subject. The deadline for the deal was next Friday so Saturday would be her first day off in weeks. She had no plans other than to sleep, so supper at Lily’s after a twenty-four-hour nap sounded like a fine way to celebrate. There’d be good food, plenty of fabulous wine and possibly even a gorgeous single man or two for her to set her sights on.

‘That would be lovely,’ she said, with genuine gratitude. ‘Thank you.’

Lily beamed and refilled their glasses. ‘Great. Now let me tell you all about my wedding plans so far.’

* * *

What the hell he was doing standing on Kit and Lily’s doorstep and ringing the bell Marcus had no idea.

By now he ought to have picked Melissa up and taken her to the opening night of an exhibition one of his artist friends was putting on. He ought to be sipping champagne, discussing perspective and admiring his date. Yet he’d ditched both Mel and the exhibition in order to be here.

Why he’d changed the habit of a lifetime and wilfully cancelled one plan for another he didn’t want to consider too closely. He had the horrible suspicion that if he did he’d find it had quite a lot to do with Lily’s mention in passing that Celia was also on the guest list, and frankly that didn’t make any sense at all because Celia had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him any more and he’d taken that on board. He was totally fine with it. Hadn’t thought about it for a second more, once he’d got back to London that Sunday morning.

It wasn’t as if he’d been sitting at home burning with disappointment that she’d rebuffed him again, moping around like a wet weekend and feeling sorry for himself. He’d had a great time in the past month. He’d hit the social scene with a fervour bordering on vengeance. He’d dated a string of intelligent, entertaining, beautiful women, although irritatingly enough none of them had made him want to go further than a friendly goodnight kiss, let alone scratch beneath the surface. He’d taken a week’s holiday just because he hadn’t had one in years and now he could. And in amongst the fun he’d slowly been making plans about what he wanted to do next work-wise.

All in all he’d barely had a moment to himself, and he’d congratulated himself on not having thought about Celia once.

Yet when Lily had rung him up a week or so ago inviting him to dinner and mentioning Celia was coming, for some unfathomable reason his pulse had started thumping in a way it hadn’t since that afternoon in the walled garden and he’d found himself mentally ditching his plans and saying yes, even though he didn’t know either Lily or Kit all that well.

So there was little point in pretending that Celia didn’t have anything to do with the reason he was here and even less point in continuing to tell himself that because he thought about her at night instead of during the day it didn’t count.

In all honesty it was unsettling just how much she
did
invade his thoughts during the hours of darkness. The minute he crashed into bed she was right there with him, messing with his sleep by filling his dreams and doing the kinds of things to him that had him frequently jerking awake, hot and hard and shuddering with desire.

Which meant he probably shouldn’t be here, he thought, a film of sweat breaking out all over his body, because what was he expecting? That she’d be as happy to see him as he suspected he would be to see her? What was he? A masochist?