Wedding-Night Baby

‘I probably should,’ Georgina agreed. The battered Beetle was where she had left it in the shared parking space. About to duck in through the door, she thought better of the operation and took off her hat, laying it carefully on the rear seat. ‘It’s open,’ she told her companion, who was staring, quite rudely, at her hair. It was thick and glossy, a deep shade of russet, her best asset—her only asset, she sometimes thought. It fell, river-straight and glossy, to her waist.

With ill-concealed amusement she watched him attempt to fold his long, lean frame into the passenger seat.

‘Doesn’t this blasted thing adjust?’ he asked as he finally managed to squash himself in. ‘No wonder you leave it open; no one in their right mind would steal this death trap.’

‘It did adjust once, but it’s stuck. You’d better put your seat belt on; I wouldn’t want your neck on my conscience. If it’s any comfort I have a legitimate MOT.’ What was he used to—chauffeur-driven limousines?

‘You’ll have more than my neck on your conscience if I have to travel far in this thing. Couldn’t you get a cab?’

She laughed as she started the engine. ‘All the way to Somerset? I’m not made of money. Don’t worry,’ she added, in case he got the wrong idea. ‘I can pay your fee.’

‘I’m relieved,’ he observed drily. ‘I could drive,’ he added tensely as she negotiated a bend.

‘I wouldn’t have thought you could afford to be chauvinistic in your line of work,’ she shot back, ruffled at the implied criticism of her driving. Then, in case she’d wounded his feelings, she added, ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with your line of work.’

Work of any sort was hard enough to come by these days. Perhaps the man had family responsibilities, or he was out of work. Casting a sidelong glance at his profile, she had to admit he didn’t look like someone harassed by domestic detail. She was anxious in case she’d sounded prudish and judgemental.

‘Have you used the agency often?’ he enquired casually.

‘Never before, but my friend Bea has several times. Lots of women are too busy to have a relationship and certain social occasions can be uncomfortable without a male escort.’ She darted a glare at her companion, daring him to contradict her, uncomfortably aware that she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

The blue eyes were fixed on her profile and she swiftly averted her gaze to the road, finding the intensity of the startling blue glare disorientating.

‘I’m sure you’re right, but I doubt if that state of affairs would continue for long... You’re a very attractive lady.’

Georgina gritted her teeth. ‘I’m sure you have a very nice line in insincere compliments,’ she hissed, ‘but I’d like to make it quite clear that I require an attentive, presentable escort, nothing more.’

‘Just an observation.’ He’d seen more attractive women, known truly beautiful women, experienced instant attraction and sometimes done something about it, but never before had he experienced such an immediate and urgent desire to touch, to claim a woman in a profoundly primal way.

This visceral reaction had been triggered by the briefest touching of eyes. The muscles in his belly still contracted as he recalled the blind bondage of that fleeting instant before his brain had started to function with its usual clarity. Callum frowned; he had every intention of keeping his hormones in check.

Georgina made a disgruntled sound of disbelief in her throat. She’d have to make it quite clear from the outset that she was not some pathetic female who had to hire a man to flatter her. He was window-dressing and he’d better remember it, she thought grimly.

‘What’s your cousin’s name? I really should have a little background information, to make things look realistic. I have my reputation to think of,’ he observed reasonably, entering into the spirit of the thing.

‘Harriet She’s marrying a solicitor, Alex Taylor, who, as you’ll no doubt hear, dumped me about eighteen months ago.’ Chin high, she crunched her gears noisily at a junction. ‘Hence the need for an attentive escort. You, Mr Smith, are a face-saving device,’ she told him, making a clean breast of the matter. In one way it was a relief to have someone she didn’t have to keep up appearances with; it didn’t matter what Callum Smith thought of her.

‘You couldn’t take all the sympathetic glances and whispers? ’ He was silently congratulating himself on his decision to follow his instincts where this woman was concerned. She didn’t feel obliged to employ any artifice with him; he was only the hired help. If she knew who he was he would be seeing quite a different picture; of that he was sure.

‘Precisely,’ she replied, relieved he was quick on the uptake. ‘I suppose you’ve been in similar situations before.’

‘Not precisely like this,’ he observed truthfully. ’But I’m quite resourceful,’ he added with almost languid confidence as she cast him a look of alarm.

‘I hope so,’ she said fervently.

‘Couldn’t you have got a friend to help you out today?’

‘Meaning I don’t have any friends or I wouldn’t have resorted to hiring you?’

’Now there’s an interesting thought.’

Georgina flicked him a brief, fulminating glare before gritting her teeth. ‘I come from a small village where the fact that my cousin is marrying provides hours of entertainment. I don’t want to expose a friend to that sort of curiosity. I need someone who can disappear without trace. Someone presentable, but—’

‘Forgettable?’

She grudgingly nodded her agreement. ‘You’ll stick out like a sore thumb,’ she complained, her mobile mouth pursing as she considered her ill luck.

‘Why’s that?’ he enquired, evincing interest.

‘We’ve had about two days’ insipid sun so far this summer; you look too tanned,’ she said critically. The fact was that he was far too arresting to fade into the background, but she wasn’t about to feed his ego; she felt sure he knew perfectly well what she meant. Under normal circumstances a man like him wouldn’t be seen with a girl as ordinary as her. ‘Don’t you know sunbeds are bad for the skin? Skin cancer!’ she elaborated darkly.

‘I’m touched by your concern but I’ve been working overseas, outdoors.’

‘Manual work?’ That would explain the splendid physique.

‘Don’t worry, it’s not catching.’

The disdain in his voice made her flush angrily. ‘I don’t give a damn if you’re an itinerant labourer or a brain surgeon so long as you don’t blow this for me. There’s nothing wrong with manual work.’

‘I feel better already.’

‘I’m glad one of us does,’ she said grimly. She’d had enough of the objectionable Callum Smith and the day had hardly begun!

CHAPTER TWO

THE VILLAGE CHURCH was the same one in which she had imagined herself walking down the aisle with Alex, and now she’d have to smilingly watch her cousin make that journey she’d so longed for. I don’t care any more, she told herself firmly as the constricting waves of emotion rose to suffocate her. She had no intention of wallowing in self-pity even though the temptation was strong.

She started as Callum held the door open for her; she hadn’t noticed him get out of the car.

‘Thank you, Mr Smith,’ she said, ignoring his outstretched hand.

‘I think you’d better make that Callum, in the interests of authenticity,’ he observed drily. ‘Don’t forget the hat.’ Slightly narrowed eyes had taken in at a glance all the tiny details of stress in the face of the girl beside him. She was hiding it well, but the tautness about her mouth and the rigidity of her usually mobile features gave away the inner turmoil. He found his eyes strangely reluctant to leave her slightly parted pink lips.

Flustered and mildly resentful because he appeared to be taking charge, Georgina grabbed the silky mushroom and crammed it on her head, tucking strands of her hair into the crown. ‘How’s that?’

‘You missed a bit.’ He took hold of a strand that had slithered down her neck and slid it under the fabric rim, recalling as he did so that he’d heard her referred to as ‘Miss Efficiency’ in scornful tones very recently. At the moment she looked very young and quite appalling vulnerable. Was that how she’d got to the old fox? he wondered cynically.

His fingers were very long, Georgina noticed as she gave a small, delicate shiver. The slight touch of faintly calloused fingertips against her throat was distracting, though not exactly unpleasant, she conceded. In fact, it was quite nice to be distracted from the ordeal ahead. ‘Charming. I’m sure the groom will be consumed with regret,’ he said, his lips twisting cynically.

‘I really couldn’t give a damn,’ she said haughtily. The implied criticism made her bristle defensively.

‘What a little trouper.’ The mockery was even more apparent this time, but before she had time to put him firmly in his place she found that one of his arms had snaked around her waist, his dark, tanned face was close to her own, and he was laughing huskily as though she’d just said something wildly witty.

‘What the...?’

‘Wedding guests at ten o’clock, closing fast,’ he hissed close to her ear. For good measure he nibbled said orifice. For some reason her eyes closed and a shiver went right down to her toes.

Blinking, she stared into the intense blue eyes. Deep tramlines radiated from the corners, and his lashes, whilst dark and thick, were straight. They weren’t just arresting eyes; they gave the impression of intelligence and humour, and a certain implacability shone clearly in the azure depths. He wasn’t just a physically overpowering person; intellectually, even on the briefest of acquaintances, he gave the impression of being a force to be reckoned with.