The Best Man And The Bridesmaid

‘He doesn’t,’ she snapped back. ‘I love my job.’ Perhaps it was guilt at lying to him that made her so sharp. She certainly didn’t feel capable of the usual easy banter that sustained their conversation. ‘Shall we go?’

Robert Furneval reached the pavement and without thinking hailed a passing taxi. ‘We could easily have walked,’ Daisy said.

‘If you’ve been working, you deserve to ride.’ If? What on earth had made him say that? The feeling that she hadn’t been quite honest with him? Daisy had looked so guilty when she’d told him that she’d been working late. Guilty and unusually glamorous. If George Latimer had been forty, thirty years younger even, he might have suspected there was something going on.

Ridiculous of course. But being busy until nine-thirty smacked of the kind of affair where the man needed to be home with his wife and children at a respectable time. He glanced across at her, and even in the dim light of the cab he could see that her eyes were very bright. And she’d flushed so guiltily. But Daisy would never have that kind of affair. Would she?

He thought he knew her, yet it occurred to him that he had no idea what she might do if tempted. What exactly did she do in the evenings when the shutters came down at the gallery?

She never talked about herself much. Or was it that he never asked? No, that wasn’t right. He was good at relationships, knew how to talk to women … But he knew Daisy so well. Or thought he did. The girl sitting beside him in the taxi seemed more like a stranger.

He’d always thought of her as Michael’s kid sister, always there. Good natured, fun, a girl who didn’t make a fuss about getting a bit muddy. But tonight her eyes were shining and her cheeks looked a touch hectic. It was a look that he knew and understood. On Daisy, it made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Almost as if he had lifted aside a veil and seen something secret.

She turned and caught him looking at her, and for a moment he had a glimpse of something much deeper. Then she cocked a quirky eyebrow at him and grinned. ‘What’s up, Robert? Still missing the gorgeous Janine?’ she teased.

He relaxed. She hadn’t changed. He was the one who was tense. ‘Hurt pride, nothing worse,’ he admitted.

‘You’re getting slow. If you’re not very careful one of these days you’ll find yourself walking down the aisle and you won’t be the one behind, flirting with the bridesmaid, you’ll be the one in front, with the ring through your nose.’

‘That’s it, kick a man when he’s down.’

‘I’ll give you half an hour before you’re bouncing right back. Tell me, which terribly nice young man are you planning to send me home with tonight?’

‘Who said I was planning to send you home with anyone?’ he demanded.

‘Because you always do. I sometimes think that you must keep a supply of clones handy, to be activated in emergencies.’

‘Emergencies?’

She clutched her hands to her heart. ‘You know … Fabulous redhead … Let’s go on to a club … Duh! What’ll I do with Daisy …?’ She grinned. ‘That kind of emergency.’

‘Oh, cruel! For that, miss, I shall take you home myself and—’

‘And?’

And what? He might have teased her about boyfriends, but as far as he knew she’d never taken things further than goodnight-and-thank-you with any of the guys he’d deputised to take her home, some of whom had begged him for the privilege. Not that he was going to tell her that. She didn’t deserve to be flattered. ‘You won’t get away with a polite handshake and goodnight with me. I’ll expect coffee and a doorstep-sized bacon sandwich for my trouble.’

‘How do you know they just get a polite handshake?’ she asked archly. ‘Do they report back to you?’

‘Of course,’ he lied. He didn’t need to be told, their disappointment was self-evident. ‘I want to know that you arrived home safely.’

She grinned. ‘And it never occurred to you that they might not be telling the truth?’

‘They wouldn’t dare lie.’

‘Is that right?’ She was laughing at him. So that was all right. Wasn’t it? ‘One day, Robert, you’ll come seriously unstuck. But if you can tear yourself away from the first gorgeous redhead who smiles at you, or the first blonde, or brunette, you can have all the coffee and bacon sarnies you can eat. But don’t expect me to be holding my breath.’

‘Actually, I’m saving myself for the lovely bridesmaids,’ he said, mock seriously. ‘You did say they were lovely, didn’t you?’

‘Stunning. I’ll give you a run-down over supper. If you remember.’

‘Cat,’ he murmured, as the taxi slowed. He climbed out first, and by the time he had paid the driver Daisy was inside, the welcoming crowd parting to swallow her up in its warm embrace. She was, he knew, one of those girls everyone was glad to see. He was always glad to see her, too. He didn’t see her often enough.

Someone put a drink in his hand, then he was grabbed by an acquaintance who wanted some free advice about an investment, and he had just been buttonholed by a girl who seemed to know him, but whose name he couldn’t remember, when he saw Daisy chatting to a tall, fair-haired man he didn’t know. A man who was looking at her in a way that suggested he had only one thing on his mind.

It was a look that aroused all kinds of ridiculous protective male urges in him. ‘Excuse me,’ he murmured to the blonde, abandoning her and the mental struggle for her name without a second thought.

The man was Australian, lean and suntanned and revoltingly good-looking, and Daisy was laughing at something he’d said. In fact she looked as if she was having a very good time. That irritated him. She was his date. ‘Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?’ he said, slipping his arm about her waist.

‘No, thanks,’ she replied, turning to look at him with some surprise. Justifiable surprise, since he rarely worried about her once they were at a party. After all she knew everyone. Almost everyone. ‘Nick’s looking after me. Have you met?’ she asked. ‘Nick, this is Robert Furneval. Robert, Nick Gregson.’

Robert gave the Australian the kind of look that suggested it was time to find someone else to talk to. For a moment he looked right back, then, getting no encouragement to stay from Daisy, he shrugged and disappeared into the crowd.

‘What’s the matter?’ Daisy asked, turning to him. ‘Didn’t the blonde go for your usual chat-up line?’ She raised her voice as someone turned up the music.

He got the impression Daisy wasn’t very pleased with him. ‘What chat-up line?’ he demanded.

‘I’ve no idea, but you must have one. You can’t possibly think up something new to say to every girl you meet.’

‘You’re very touchy tonight, sweetheart. Is this my payoff for agreeing that you’ll look like a duck at Michael and Ginny’s wedding?’

‘What?’

‘For saying that you’ll look like a duck …’ Unhappily, ‘‘… you’ll look like a duck …’’ coincided with one of those sudden drops in noise level that occasionally happens in a crowded room, and everyone turned to stare.

Daisy flushed. ‘Well, thanks, Robert,’ she said. ‘I really needed that.’ And she placed her glass in his hand and walked away.

Daisy was furious. She couldn’t ever remember being angry with Robert before, and the sensation was rather like taking a deep breath over the bottle of smelling salts that her mother used as a reviver on particularly strenuous jaunts around stately homes. A dizzy blast that was a lot more intoxicating than the wine she had been drinking.

Maybe that was why, when her natural circulation of Monty’s flat brought her back to the Australian with the sun-bed tan, she was rather more encouraging than she might have been. Especially since Robert was glowering at him rather than giving his full attention to a luscious brunette who quite evidently hadn’t learned a thing from her predecessors’ mistakes. But then maybe she didn’t care about commitment. Robert was very good looking.

Nick jerked his head in Robert’s direction. ‘Are you and he …’ He shrugged, leaving her to mentally fill in the gap with whatever relationship she thought appropriate.

She dragged her gaze back from Robert and gave Nick her full attention. ‘Robert and me?’ She managed a laugh. ‘Heavens, no, we’re just good friends. I’ve known him since I was in my cradle. He’s more like a brother.’

‘Is that right?’ He grinned. Well, he did have an exceptional set of teeth, dazzlingly white against the tan. ‘It must be brotherly concern, then. But since your good friend looks as if he’d like to put a knife in my back, maybe we should move on. Try a club, maybe?’

Why not? The brunette was clearly intent on getting her wicked way with Robert. Another five minutes and he’d have totally forgotten the bacon sandwich deal, if he hadn’t already. Forgotten about her, in all probability until the next time he needed someone to stick a maggot on a hook, or fill in as a date at a dinner party. Well, that was the way she’d chosen to play it, and he did always come back to her for tea and sympathy. If she was careful, he always would.

In the meantime it was rather pleasurable having a good-looking man showing a more than passing interest.

As she looked up at him, it occurred to Daisy that Nick would impress the heck out of her mother. Well, why not? ‘Do you have anything planned for two weeks today?’ she asked.

Nick opened his mouth, closed it again, then said, ‘Not that I can think of.’ He flashed his teeth at her again, using them in much the same way as the brunette was using her eyelashes. It could get boring, she decided. ‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Nothing exciting. I wondered if you’d like to come to my brother’s wedding, that’s all.’

‘Brother as in brother?’ He glanced across at Robert. ‘Or brother as in ‘‘good friend’’?’