A Bride for Christmas (6 page)

‘That’s why you’re thinking of doing it,’ she said softly, on a note of discovery, thinking it through as she spoke. ‘I couldn’t understand…’ But suddenly she did, seeing clearly where her impetuous nature had landed Guy. ‘The Carver empire doesn’t need this wedding, but Anna needs the Carver emporium.’ She bit her lip. ‘I should have thought about that when I was contacted. Oh, heck. I was angry with you, and I didn’t think.’

To say Guy was bewildered was an understatement. That Jenny was sensitive enough to see connotations that he’d only figured because he moved in those circles….

His estimation of the woman in front of him was changing by the minute. Gorgeous, smart, funny…

He didn’t do gorgeous, smart and funny. He didn’t do complications.

He rose, so sharply that he had to make a grab to catch his chair before it toppled. ‘I need to go.’

‘You haven’t had coffee,’ Lorna said mildly, but he didn’t hear. He was watching Jenny.

‘You agree to staying on my payroll until Christmas?’

‘Can Kylie have a Carver Wedding?’

‘Yes,’ he said, against the ropes and knowing it.

She hesitated, but then gave a rueful smile. ‘Okay, then. I’ve never worked for a boss before.’

‘What about me?’ Lorna said, indignant, and Jenny grinned.

‘That’s different. I walked into your shop for the interview and Ben was there. I was family from that minute on.’

‘You were, too,’ Lorna said, and reached over and squeezed her hand.

Family.

Something knotted in Guy’s gut that he didn’t want to know about. He backed to the door.

‘Where are you staying, young man?’ Jack asked.

‘My secretary booked a place for me. Braeside?’

‘You been there yet?’

‘No. I—’

‘You’ll never find it,’ Jack said with grim satisfaction. ‘It’s up back of town, by the river. Tourists get lost there all the time.’ It seemed a source of satisfaction. Jack was looking at him with what seemed to be enjoyment.

‘I have directions.’

‘I’ve seen the directions they use. You’ll be driving through the mountains ’til dawn. Jenny’ll have to take you.’

Jenny stilled. Then she nodded, as if she agreed. ‘You will get lost. I’ll drive there, and you can follow me.’

‘What fun is that?’ Jack demanded. ‘You haven’t had a drive in his Ferrari. I’ve got a better idea. You drive him home in his Ferrari and then bring it back here. Then pick him up on the way to work tomorrow morning.’

‘I can’t drive a Ferrari,’ Jenny said, astonished.

‘Course you can,’ Jack said roundly. ‘If you can make your ancient bucket of bolts work, you can make anything work. Her wagon’s held together with string,’ he told Guy. ‘She ought to buy another, but she’s putting every cent she owns into a fund for Henry’s schooling.’ His face clouded a little. ‘There’s been a few costs over the last couple of years we hadn’t counted on.’

Of course, Guy thought, his eyes moving to Henry’s face. The little boy’s face was perfect on one side, but on the other were scars—lots of scars.

‘I can’t drive a Ferrari,’ Jenny said again, and he forced himself to think logically. Which was hard when his emotions were stirring in all sorts of directions.

‘Yes, you can,’ he said, and managed a smile that he hoped was casual.

‘There you go, then,’ Lorna said, triumphant. ‘Jack and me will put Henry to bed. Henry, your mother is going to have a drive in the lovely car. Isn’t that great?’

‘Ace,’ said Henry.

CHAPTER THREE

IT FELT weird, Jenny thought as they walked across the yard towards his car. It was almost dark. She should be reading her son his bedtime story.

She shouldn’t be climbing into a Ferrari.

‘You drive,’ Guy said, and tossed her the keys.

‘This is a bad idea,’ she muttered. ‘This is a borrowed car. Surely your friend wouldn’t agree to me using it?’

‘If you crash it I’ll buy him another.’

The idea made her stop in her tracks. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘Why would I kid?’

‘I don’t want to go with you,’ she said, and it was his turn to pause and stare.

‘You have ethical objections to money?’

‘No, I…’

‘You should be charging Kylie. There’s no need for you to be broke.’

‘Isn’t there?’ she snapped, and glared.

‘Giving your services for free is noble, but…’

‘You have no idea, do you? This community…we’re here for each other. We do what has to be done, and asking for payment—’

‘Your career is a bridal planner. Selling yourself short is stupid.’

‘When Ben was killed, Henry was injured, and he had to spend months in a burns unit in the city,’ she snapped. ‘Jack has macular degeneration—his eyesight’s not what it should be—and Lorna hasn’t driven since her stroke. Shirley Grubb was one of a team who took it in turns to drive Jack and Lorna down to see us. Twice a week for nearly six months. Every other day they drove Lorna into the bridal salon and someone stayed with her all the time. The business stayed open. There were casseroles—you can’t believe how many casseroles. And you know what? Not a single person charged us. Did they sell themselves short, Mr Carver?’

‘Guy,’ he said automatically, and opened the driver’s door of the Ferrari. ‘Get in.’

‘I’m not driving.’

‘You are driving. You need to bring it home yourself, so you can try it out now.’

‘We can take my wagon.’

‘Your wagon backfires. Backfiring offends me. And I have no intention of being lost in these mountains for want of a little resolution on your part. Get in and drive.’

It was such a different driving experience that she felt…unreal.

The road up to Braeside was lovely. It followed the cliffs for a mile out of town, and the big car swept around the curves with a whine of delight. By the time the road veered inland, following the river, she had its measure, and was glorying in being in control of the most magnificent piece of machinery she’d ever seen.

‘Nice, huh?’ Guy said, five minutes into the drive, and she flashed him a guilty look. She’d been so absorbed in her driving that she’d almost forgotten he was there. Almost.

‘It’s fantastic.’

‘You get this wedding working for me and you can keep it.’

She almost crashed. She took a deep breath, straightened the wheel, and tried to remember where she was.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not being ridiculous. I’ll merely pay my friend out. It’s not like it’s a new car.’

‘It’s not like it’s a new car,’ she said, mocking. ‘No, thank you, Mr Carver. My salary is stipulated in the contract. I’ll take that, but that’s all. I’d be obliged to you for ever, and I’ve had obligations up to my neck. So leave it.’

He left it. There were another few moments of silence while Jenny negotiated a few more curves. It was so wonderful that she could almost block Guy out—and his preposterous offer.

‘Feels great, doesn’t it?’ he said, and she was forced to smile.

‘It’s magic.’

‘Yet you don’t want it?’

‘I couldn’t afford the trip to Sydney to get this serviced,’ she told him. ‘Much less the service itself. Leave it alone.’

‘I’m not used to having my gifts knocked back.’

‘Get used to it.’

‘Jenny…’

‘I’m not for sale, Guy,’ she said roughly. ‘And don’t interfere with my life. I intend to do these two weddings and then get out of your business for ever. You’ll go back to Manhattan and live your glamorous life, a thousand miles from mine—’

‘What do you know about my life?’ he said, startled, and she screwed up her nose in rueful mockery.

‘I’ve spent the last two years in doctors’ waiting rooms.’

‘So?’

‘So I reckon I’ve read every issue of Celebrity magazine that’s ever been printed. With you being rich and influential, and associated with every celebrity bash worthy of the name, your life is fair game. I know how rich you are. I know you don’t like oysters and you never wear navy suits. I also know you were in a car crash with your childhood sweetheart about fifteen years ago. Her father and your father were partners. She’d been at your parents’ company Christmas dinner alone, and then she’d collected you from some celebrity bash you’d been organising. She was killed outright. Your parents disowned you then. They said she’d been drinking because she was angry. They said if you’d stayed in the family law firm like you were supposed to it would never have happened. And you…The glossies say you’re still grieving for your lost love. Are you?’

‘No,’ he said, stunned.

‘I hope you’re not.’ She took a deep breath, deciding whether to be personal or not. What the heck? ‘It’s hard,’ she confided. ‘Ben’s only been dead for two years, but you know, my photographs of Ben are starting to be clearer than the image I hold in my head. I hate that. Are you better at it than me? Can you remember…what was her name? Or do you only remember photographs?’

‘It was Christa,’ he said, in a goaded voice. ‘I can’t imagine why you’d be interested enough to read about us.’

‘I wasn’t very,’ she admitted. ‘It was just something to read in the waiting room—something to take my mind off what was happening to Henry. But I remember thinking it was crazy, wearing the willow for someone for fifteen years.’

‘So how long do you intend to wear the willow for Ben?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You’re living with his parents.’

‘That’s because they’ve become my parents,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether I fell in love with Ben himself or if I fell in love with the whole concept of family. Like you tonight, looking round the dining table and looking…hungry.’

‘I didn’t,’ he said, revolted. ‘Can we leave it with the inquisition?’

‘Sure,’ she said, and she thought maybe she had pushed it too far. This man was supposed to be her boss. She should be being a bit deferential. Subservient.

He didn’t make her feel subservient. He made her feel…

She didn’t understand how he made her feel. She tried to conjure Ben up in her mind. Kind, gentle Ben, who’d loved her so well.

‘It’s tough,’ he said into the stillness, and she wondered what he was talking about. ‘The first Christmas was the worst, but it’s still bad,’ he added, and she knew he knew.

‘It’s okay.’

‘But it’s tough.’

‘I’ve got thirteen years before I catch up to you in the mourning stakes,’ she snapped, and turned the car into the front yard of Braeside. ‘Here’s your guesthouse.’

It was a fabulous spot, Guy thought, staring around with appreciation. The moon was glinting through bushland to the river beyond, hanging low in the eastern sky over the distant sea. The guesthouse was a sprawling weatherboard home, with vast verandas all around.

‘I’ve heard it’s sumptuous,’ Jenny said, climbing out of the car to stretch her legs.

‘You’ve never been inside?’

‘The likes of me? I’d be shown out by security guards.’

‘I’m sorry about Paris.’

‘I shouldn’t have told you about Paris.’ She hesitated while he hauled his gear from the trunk. ‘Are you serious about me driving this thing home? You realise it’ll be parked near chooks.’

‘Chooks?’

‘Feathery things that lay eggs.’

‘Park it as far away as possible,’ Guy said, sounding nervous.

‘Okay. I was just teasing. I might even find a tarpaulin. I’ll collect you tomorrow at nine, then. With or without chook poo.’

‘Fine,’ he said. He turned away. But then he hesitated.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ he said. ‘And we really will give Kylie a great wedding.’

‘I know we will.’ She trusted him, she thought. She wasn’t sure why, but she did.

But suddenly she didn’t trust herself.

She should get into the driver’s seat, she told herself. Guy needed to walk away.

But then…and why, she didn’t know…it was as if things changed. The night changed.

‘Jenny?’ he said uncertainly.

‘I know,’ she said, but she didn’t know anything. Except that he was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

She could have pulled back. He was just as uncertain as she was—or maybe he was just as certain.

He dropped his holdall. Moving very slowly, he reached out and caught her hands, tugging her towards him. She allowed herself to be tugged. Maybe she didn’t need his propulsion.

‘Thank you for dinner,’ he said, and she thought, He’s making this seem like a fleeting kiss of courtesy. Though both of them knew it was no such thing.

‘You’re welcome,’ she whispered.

His lips brushed hers, a feather touch—a question and not an answer.

‘You’re very welcome,’ she said again as he drew back—and suddenly she was being kissed properly, thoroughly, wonderfully.

She’d forgotten…or maybe she’d never known this heat. This feeling of melting into a man and losing control, just like that. There was warmth spreading throughout her limbs. A lovely, languorous warmth that had her feeling that her world was changing, right there and then, and it could never be the same again.