One Wedding Required!

‘And he laughed again, right?’

‘Yes, he did. And he asked me whether I could cook and I told him that, yes, of course I could cook—but was he looking for an assistant or a wife?’

‘Let me guess—he stared into your big blue eyes and said it was the latter and he’d been waiting all his life for a girl like you?’

‘He did not. He frowned at me and told me that if I went to work for him I’d have to do something about my image, and I said, “Like what?” So he told me to report to him first thing the following morning and all would be revealed.’ Amber took another mouthful of wine, really enjoying herself now. Thinking what uncomplicated fun it had been back then. ‘So I turned to him and asked, “Does this mean you’re offering me the job?” and he glared at me and said of course it did.’

‘So you jumped for joy?’

‘I did not I told him that I couldn’t accept a job unless there was accommodation involved, because my job at the hotel was a living-in job. And he said that shouldn’t be a problem—that he could find me accommodation.’

‘Meaning you could move in with him, I suppose, which was where love first blossomed?’

Amber shook her head. ‘Oh, no. He was offering me the grotty old flat above the agency—well, I say grotty. It wasn’t that bad, and Finn had it decorated for me.’ She remembered how he had insisted on choosing the colours and how it had rankled. Colours which would not have been her choice at all. But in the end it seemed that Finn had known best, because Amber had grown to love the decor he had picked out. As in so many other areas of her life, he had been her guide and her mentor. ‘So I moved in.’

The journalist licked his lips. ‘And he joined you?’

Amber shook her head and laughed. ‘Oh, no! I couldn’t have imagined Finn living there! He had a much grander apartment overlooking Hyde Park.’

The journalist looked around him. ‘That’s this apartment?’

Amber nodded. ‘Uh-huh—and eventually I moved in here. With him. But that’s how it all started.’

The journalist swallowed down another mouthful of wine. ‘So it was like—a red-hot romance straight away?’

‘Certainly not!’ Amber’s mouth pursed into a prim little line. ‘I worked for Finn for two years before he even laid a finger on me.’ Until she had grown to want him so much that she’d thought she would die with the wanting. And had convinced herself that a man like that wouldn’t look twice at a working-class girl from the council estate. But in that she had been completely wrong. A smile played around the lush curves of her mouth. ‘He played Pygmalion instead.’

‘And how did he do that?’ asked the journalist casually.

‘Oh, he sent me to a make-up artist and a hairdresser. Then I had my colours done by a colour therapist, and after that I saw a stylist and she advised me about what kind of clothes to wear.’

‘She advised you pretty well,’ murmured the journalist, running his eyes over the gold silk-knitted tunic dress she wore, which showed off the best pair of legs he had ever seen.

‘Well, Finn certainly thinks so,’ said Amber, an unmistakable note of reproof in her voice which told the journalist in no uncertain terms to back off.

‘Er, yes. Finn.’ Averting his eyes from the milky-white stockings which made her legs sheen so provocatively, the journalist took another sip of his champagne instead. ‘He’s doing pretty well for himself.’

Amber nodded. Sometimes she thought he was doing a little too well. The business was booming—and so successful that Finn rarely seemed to have time to draw breath just lately. Even acquiring a partner hadn’t helped, not really—even though Jackson Geering was a faultless choice. In fact, maybe Jackson was just too good.

He had been taken on by Finn to ease some of the workload at Allure—but such was Jackson’s talent for the business that he had succeeded in drumming up a whole load of new openings! He was currently in New York, looking into the possibility of opening a branch of Allure over there. Amber knew that Finn was excited by the prospect and she was worried. How far did a man have to drive himself before he could accept his own success?

But, while she might suggest that he was in danger of overdosing on stress, she couldn’t tell a man of nearly thirty-four how to live his life...

She sneaked a quick glance at her watch. It was getting on for five o’clock. And once Paul Millington had left she would be free to start cooking, which she loved so much that Finn often teased her about it. She liked to prepare robust food—full of vegetables and pulses. Hearty, healthy, economical meals, and, even though Finn told her time and time again that they were rich enough to eat caviare non-stop if they wanted to, some part of her loved concocting the simple meals which had been a part of both their childhoods.

The journalist saw her looking at her watch, recognising that she wanted to end the interview. Good. When the subject was impatient for him to leave, that was when they were often at their most indiscreet. And indiscretions made the best stories, no doubt about it...

‘So how did Finn propose?’

Amber laughed and shook her head, the thick hair swaying as fluidly as golden syrup. ‘Oh, no—I’m not falling for that one! He’d kill me if I told you!’

‘In bed, then?’ he quizzed mischievously.

Amber blushed like a thousand sunrises, and then could have kicked herself. ‘I’m not saying!’

Actually, they hadn’t been in bed at the time. They had been closeted in a sumptuous downstairs bathroom at a weekend house party which neither of them had really wanted to attend, hosted by the owner of one of the country’s best-selling glossy magazines.

Finn rarely did anything he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t like socialising much. For a start, he didn’t get the time. And when he did he liked to live a simple life, far away from the glamour of the industry in which he worked. But even Finn had been able to see the sense of attending such a party.

‘Shall we go?’ he had queried casually one morning as they had been driving in to work together.

‘Do we have to go?’ Amber had asked.

She still felt shy in the company of huge gatherings of strangers—probably because most people were captivated by Finn. He was the one they wanted to talk to, not her. For all her blue-eyed, golden-haired beauty, people still gravitated to the dark man with the streetwise eyes by her side. Sometimes, Amber felt like a dim satellite next to Finn’s bright, blazing planet.

Finn shook his head. ‘We don’t have to do anything, sweetheart—but it might be fun.’

‘Fun?’

‘Mmm. Show you the sort of life we could be living.’

As an exercise in comparison, it proved invaluable, showing Amber—if she had needed showing—that the glossy high life was not for her.

She was forced to put up with beautiful women flirting outrageously with Finn all evening, acting for all the world as though he had not brought a woman with him.

He saw her resigned expression across the table as she picked at her smoked salmon, and attracted her attention without too much trouble, leaning across the table to talk to her.

‘What’s up?’ he quizzed softly.

Amber shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘Something,’ he contradicted. ‘Is it the other women?’

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘It goes with the territory, Finn—you’re an extremely attractive man, and they just can’t seem to stop themselves!’

‘No,’ he agreed thoughtfully, his dark lashes framing the emerald brightness of his eyes. ‘But maybe you think I encourage them?’

‘No.’

‘Even subconsciously?’

She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to have legions of women fawning over you in order to boost your self-esteem—your ego is healthy enough without that!’ But maybe she ought to make more of an effort to enjoy herself in a similar way. ‘Go back to your fan club, Finn Fitzgerald,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m fine.’

She forced herself to chat to the man on her right—a wunderkind film director who, she soon discovered, had an irreverent sense of humour. Even though she was aware of the beauty busy pouting beside Finn, the wunderkind managed to keep her halfway entertained all the way through the impressive array of different courses. She was just unwrapping another chocolate mint when she glanced up to find Finn looking at her very intently.

She put the mint down, untasted, and leaned across the table towards him. ‘Is something wrong, Finn?’

‘Meet me downstairs,’ he urged her suddenly.

Amber blinked. ‘Why?’

He shook his head and his green eyes glittered. ‘No questions.’

‘Not even to ask where?’

He laughed. ‘Why don’t you hide in one of the shadowed recesses in the hallway,’ he suggested in a sexy murmur, ‘and let me come and find you?’

Her heart was beating very strongly with excitement as she rose to her feet, convinced that people must have guessed at their elaborate charade, but the wunderkind was now chatting to the woman on the other side of him, and no one else looked in her direction as she slipped away.

She went into one of the downstairs bathrooms, where she brushed her hair and washed her hands, and applied a faint lick of lipstick. She was just about to leave when Finn appeared in the doorway, a look of anticipation and excitement on his face as he came inside and silently closed and locked the door behind him.

‘Finn?’ Amber said breathlessly.

‘Shh!’ He took her into his arms and began to kiss her with a sweet determination which Amber knew could only mean one thing...

‘Finn!’ she protested breathily as he began to stroke her nipple absently with his thumb.

He eased her against the wall. ‘What?’ came the smoky reply.

‘You mustn’t.’

‘Why mustn’t I?’

‘Because...’ Amber’s head tipped back helplessly as he began to anoint her neck with kisses. ‘Because...’

‘Lost for words?’ he tormented sweetly, as his hand snaked possessively between her thighs, the silky fabric of her dress parting like magic for his fingers.

Lost, yes. Definitely. Lost in an inimitable sensual world of his making. She moulded her hands helplessly around his buttocks, feeling the hard ridge of his desire as he pressed willingly against her pelvis. ‘We... we... shouldn’t be doing this,’ she gulped, as she felt him ruck the silky fabric up her legs.

‘Why not?’

‘Because people are upstairs—’

‘So what?’

‘W-what...?’ Her voice trailed away with excitement as she heard the rasping of his zip. ‘What if they guess?’

‘Guess what?’

‘That you’re...you’re...’

‘I’m what?’ He stared straight into her face, seeing her eyes dilate with shock and excitement as he pushed the lace panel of her panties aside and slowly eased himself into her molten tightness.

‘Unscrupulous!’ she gasped, as he began to move against her.

‘And?’

‘Gorgeous,’ came her breathy admission, just as pleasure and excitement and guilt all combined to give her the most heart-stopping orgasm she could remember, and she knew from the sudden tension in his body that his was not far behind. She felt him shudder helplessly within the circle of her arms and she held him very tightly until the storm had subsided.

Afterwards they stood wrapped around each other, Amber’s skin all pink and glowing as she yawned lazily against his neck, and he tilted her head to face him.

‘I’ve been thinking—’ he began.

‘Oh, is that what you call it?’ she teased him, her voice all slurred and satiated.

‘About those women.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Oh, but it does, sweetheart. It does. And it bothers you, doesn’t it, Amber?’

She thought about it ‘Of course it bothers me,’ she admitted carefully. ‘I think it would bother most women—but I hope that I manage to conceal it well—’

‘Not from me, you don’t.’

‘Well, from everyone else, then. I mean—it isn’t as though I threw a tantrum at dinner and marched off to bed. I thought I hid my impatience fairly well.’

‘You did,’ he agreed softly, and kissed her tenderly on the tip of her nose. ‘I only picked it up because I know you so well and I can recognise all the tell-tale signs.’

‘And what are they?’

‘It was when you ate that fourth after-dinner mint that I knew you were feeling tense!’

Amber giggled.

He pushed a wayward strand of golden hair off her flushed cheek. ‘Although I noticed that you soon found yourself an interesting diversion,’ he told her carefully.

Amber’s heart hammered. ‘I take it you’re referring to the film director?’

‘You know I am.’

Surely that wasn’t jealousy colouring his voice? Finn? Jealous of her? It thrilled her almost as much as it shocked her. ‘And did you mind?’ Amber’s voice was equally careful.

‘I guess I did. Stupid, isn’t it?’

‘Not stupid.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘It’s natural to feel jealous—even when you know that your fears are groundless.’

‘I guess so.’ He planted a kiss on the silky curtain of her hair and Amber raised her head reluctantly.

‘Do we have to go back up there, Finn? From the predatory gleam in the eyes of some of those women, they’ll probably suggest throwing car keys into the middle of the room! Quite apart from the fact that I feel a little...’ she met his eyes, and blushed ‘...sticky.’

‘Me, too.’ He smiled back at her.

‘So do you suppose we could get away with sneaking off to our room and hope that no one will notice?’

He shook his head and Amber noticed that he looked oddly keyed up. ‘Not yet. I’ve got something I want to say to you first.’

She looked around the gleaming bathroom and wondered if a queue might be gathering outside, until she remembered that there were probably more bathrooms than guests in a house this size! Still, as an environment for talking, it did leave a little to be desired! ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘No, sweetheart. I’m afraid it can’t.’

Amber raised her eyebrows quizzically, as some gritty quality in his voice alerted her to the fact that this was not your average run-of-the-mill post-coital chat. ‘Sounds ominous.’

‘Does it? I hope not.’ He lifted a shiny strand of amber hair and twisted it around his finger. ‘These women that come on to me—they don’t exactly show you any respect, do they, sweetheart?’

She gave a hollow laugh. ‘Not exactly, no!’

‘And maybe that’s because they think that you’re just a girlfriend—’

‘Just?’ she interrupted indignantly. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Kind of impermanent, I suppose,’ he observed slowly.

‘But we’ve been living together for almost two years!’

‘But they’re not to know that, are they?’ he questioned patiently. ‘They probably don’t think we’ve made any kind of commitment to each other.’

‘Well, that’s true. We haven’t,’ she pointed out truthfully. ‘But lots of people don’t—not these days. And it’s not as though I mind,’ she added hastily.

‘I know you don’t—but suddenly I do mind. I mind very much. And I want to do something about it.’

‘You’re talking in riddles, Finn Fitzgerald,’ she chided gently. ‘And it isn’t at all like you.’

‘Well, I’m a bit of a novice at this kind of thing.’ He grinned.

Amber blinked. ‘And what kind of thing is that?’

His eyes darkened and, when he spoke, his voice sounded so husky that he didn’t sound like Finn at all. ‘Proposals of marriage—that kind of thing.’

‘Pro-proposals of marriage?’ she echoed incredulously.

‘Do you want to?’

‘What?’ She needed to hear him say it out loud, because half of her wondered whether she wasn’t just dreaming the whole thing up.

‘Marry me?’

Her heart stilled with disbelieving joy and she didn’t stop to question his intent for a second, because there was one thing she knew about Finn—and that was that he never said things he didn’t mean.

‘Oh, Finn,’ she whispered ecstatically. ‘My gorgeous, gorgeous Finn! How can you ask me a question like that? Of course I want to marry you!’

And it wasn’t until they had stopped kissing that he withdrew a small leather box from his pocket, and Amber’s eyes widened with amazement to see that it contained a diamond ring which fitted her finger perfectly when he slid it on.

‘Good heavens!’ she squealed, as it sparkled like a starburst. ‘It’s the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen!’

‘That should keep predatory women away in future,’ he growled. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Don’t ask such idiotic questions! Of course I like it—I love it! But it fits! And fits so well!’

‘So?’

‘So you mean you had this whole proposal thing planned?’

He gave her a slow smile. ‘Now who’s asking the idiotic questions? Of course I did! Or do you imagine I’d leave something as important as marriage just to whim?’

‘So you went out—and bought the ring?’

‘Well, I sure as hell didn’t steal it,’ he teased.

‘You guessed my size?’

He shook his head. ‘I borrowed that tiny moonstone thing you wear. I took it from the dressing table weeks ago.’

‘And I thought I’d lost it!’

And their eyes met in a long moment.

‘I love you,’ he said simply.

‘Snap,’ she told him shakily.

‘Amber? Amber?’

Lost in her reverie, Amber looked up to find the journalist staring at her.

His eyes were hard, but his words were casual—casual enough to lull her into a false sense of security. ‘So where exactly did he propose?’

His question seeped insidiously into the mists of her consciousness, and Amber heard herself saying automatically, ‘In the bathroom—of all places!’

‘The bathroom?’

‘Yes, but I don’t really want to answer any more questions, certainly not on that—would you mind?’

The journalist gave a contented smirk as he shook his head. He had a pretty good idea of what must have happened in the bathroom—she had one of those beautifully transparent faces that were a huge boon to his job! ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ He twirled his pencil in between his thumb and forefinger and drew in a deep breath as he psyched himself up to ask what he always termed his face-slapping question. Though, come to think of it, Amber O’Neil—despite her fiery golden hair—looked far too much of a lady ever to slap him round the face—no matter what the provocation!

‘You’re a good-looking woman, Amber—’

‘Why, thank you,’ she put in drily. ‘Very nice of you to say so!’

‘But you work in an industry peopled with beautiful women, some who—dare I say it?—are far more beautiful than you.’

Amber’s voice was wry. ‘Oh, you can say it, Mr Millington—’

‘Paul.’

‘Paul,’ Amber echoed obediently, and smiled. ‘Other people have said it before, time and again.’

‘So will you share with our readers the secret of your mystery weapon?’

‘The weapon with which I entrapped Finn, you mean?’

‘Exactly!’

His eyes glinted rather insultingly and Amber knew exactly what he was not-so-subtly implying. What did the man expect, for heaven’s sake? That she was going to suddenly announce that she was pure dynamite in bed? That, surely, was a testimony which only Finn could give...

‘I have no secret weapon,’ she told him quietly. ‘The very word suggests conflict, and—so far—there has been remarkably little of that in our relationship. Touch wood,’ she added superstitiously. ‘Whatever works between us I think is down to one thing, pure and simple. Love,’ she explained, in answer to his puzzled expression.

‘Oh.’ He looked positively crestfallen, and Amber almost felt sorry for him until she caught a glimpse of the time.

‘I really ought to wind this up now,’ she told him apologetically. ‘If there are no more questions...?’

He smiled. ‘Just one.’

Amber blinked at him, the curving sweep of her dark lashes beautifully framing the deep blue of her eyes. ‘Oh?’

‘It’s the obvious one, really—when’s the wedding going to be?’

If only she knew! ‘Well, Finn mentioned Valentine’s Day in passing, but I’m not sure whether we’ll get it organised for then. It’s only a couple of months away.’

The journalist’s eyes gleamed like twin beacons. ‘A Valentine’s Day wedding!’ he breathed. ‘It would make a wonderful piece. Front-page spread,’ he added, a sly light gleaming in his eyes. ‘I can promise you that!’

Amber rose to her feet. Not with Finn co-operating, she would wager!

She felt vaguely uneasy as she showed Paul Millington out, but reasoned that he couldn’t write anything too racy. Apart from those last few comments, she hadn’t said anything that people didn’t already know. And there wasn’t much of a story about someone having been proposed to in a bathroom, was there? Not much of a scoop there!

She was humming gently to herself as she began to chop onions in preparation for making Finn’s dinner.

CHAPTER TWO

FINN was delayed.

After the journalist had left, Amber kept glancing up at the clock as she chopped garlic and fresh coriander, wondering where her busy man had got to. He was often held up, but he usually let her know when he was going to be late.

Eventually he rang her on his mobile phone from the car, his voice faint and indistinct.

‘Amber?’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’ve been tied up with New York,’ he told her tiredly. ‘Karolina Lindberg has been throwing tantrums and they’ve—’ There was a loud crackling on the line and then a long squeak. Amber could hear the impatience in Finn’s voice as he said, ‘Listen, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, sweetheart, but I’m snarled up in traffic right now—’

‘Okay,’ murmured Amber, holding her hand up in the air, and watching while the hall light glittered and sparkled on the facets of her diamond ring. ‘Drive carefully.’

‘Don’t I always?’

‘No, you drive too fast!’

‘Nag, nag, nag!’ he laughed, and cut the connection.

She put the phone down, turned the chicken off and made herself a cup of tea, then settled down to read a magazine whilst trying not to look as though she was waiting—though of course she was waiting. Waiting for Finn, just as she always waited for Finn. But what choice did she have? He was a busy man, his business interests were diverse, and, although she worked for Allure as well, she couldn’t stay beside him all the time.

It was a side of herself that she had grown to dislike and fear—the side that didn’t feel complete unless Finn was somewhere around, as though a major part of her was missing. Though that much, she supposed, was true. Finn was a major part of her life.

It just went against everything she believed in—that a woman simply couldn’t function properly when she was on her own. That, although she was living, she simply didn’t feel alive unless the tall, ruffle-haired man with the hard, lean body and the bright green eyes was somewhere in the vicinity.

She must have dozed off, something she never normally did, and awoke with a muzzy head to find Finn standing over her, his face pale and unsmiling.

She sat up immediately. ‘Hello, darling,’ she mumbled, and blinked at him rapidly while her eyes tried to accustom themselves to the overhead light he must have snapped on.

‘Hard day?’ he murmured sardonically.

‘No.’ Amber found herself frowning defensively. ‘You knew I was taking the afternoon off—’

‘I wasn’t criticising you,’ he said tetchily. ‘Just that you couldn’t have picked a worse day for it if you’d tried. The office has been going crazy—and it’s never easy when Jackson is away.’

It wasn’t like Finn to be this grouchy, and it contrasted so markedly with the cute version of their romance which she had given to the journalist that Amber felt a bit of a fool. ‘Well, I wasn’t to know that, was I?’ she questioned sweetly. ‘Not when I booked it last month, after your accountant specifically told me to take some of the holiday which was owing to me.’

‘No, I guess not.’ He tipped his head back and wearily rubbed the back of his neck.