Mother Of The Bride

Helen knew, belatedly, that it should have occurred to her before that Emily might want Zack at her birthday party—her family birthday party.

Zack watched the emotions flickering across the paleness of her face with narrowed eyes. ‘Helen, I meet Emily for lunch at least every couple of weeks,’ he told her softly. ‘And she visits the house often, goes up to her bedroom, lies on the bed, listens to music—–'

‘Her bedroom is at my house!’ Helen burst out tautly, shaken by what he was telling her, each word like the prick of a knife against her skin. ‘And you knew damn well I wouldn't want you at this dinner tonight; you could have—–'

‘You wouldn't want?’ he echoed, dangerously soft, giving her a pitying glance. ‘I don't think Emily's eighteenth birthday celebrations should have anything to do with what you want! When we got married we didn't just marry each other; the children were involved too,’ he reminded her coldly. ‘And my relationship with Emily has survived the separation; I intend for it to remain that way,’ he informed her in a voice that brooked no argument.

Helen sensed his criticism of her own relationship with Greg. She had been very fond of her stepson, had deeply regretted not being able to maintain their friendship, at least. But at the time she had thought, whether rightly or wrongly, that a clean break was the best way.

She had had no idea that Emily had kept up such a close relationship with Zack, had always believed that she and Emily had a close mother-daughter relationship, that Emily could tell her anything. My God, she thought, no wonder Zack had been so scornful of that claim earlier today; he had known the truth.

It hurt, badly, that she had been so wrong about that. It hurt even more to acknowledge that she had created that particular situation herself, with her own reluctance to even have Zack's name mentioned in her presence. As Zack so rightly said, their children had been involved in their marriage too, and they had feelings that couldn't be turned on and off on command.

‘Oh, God,’ Helen groaned, burying her face in her hands. ‘What a mess!'

She had married Zack, she had truly believed at the time, for all the right reasons, and look what it had done to her beloved daughter. Not that Emily had actually been reduced to lying to her about the lunches and the visits to Zack's house; she had just omitted ever to mention them. And that had probably only been done so as not to hurt Helen.

‘Helen, I—–For God's sake!’ Zack swore as she flinched away from the touch of his hand on her shoulder. ‘You don't have to make your aversion to me quite so obvious, damn it,’ he rasped. ‘I was only trying to comfort you!'

She hadn't even been aware of his approach until she felt the warmth of his hand through the material of her blouse, and then she had reacted as if she had received an electric shock.

Now Zack was looking at her with that mixture of disgust and frustration that had been such a part of their marriage, his hands thrust out of harm's way into the pockets of his trousers, stretching the material tautly across his thighs.

‘I'm sorry,’ Helen said abruptly as she looked quickly away. ‘I—it's been a difficult day for me.'

He continued to look at her for several long, tension-filled minutes, and then he relaxed slightly, his mouth twisting derisively. ‘Not the least of it being my coming here.'

She began to breathe normally again as he moved away. ‘Not the least,’ she acknowledged tautly. ‘And as it seems we shall be seeing you this evening—–'

‘Greg, too,’ he put in softly, raising innocent brows as she gave him a quelling look.

‘Greg, too,’ she repeated in a carefully controlled voice, hoping Emily hadn't decided to invite other ‘guests’ she didn't know about; she was going to have to sit down and have a serious talk with her daughter, and about so much more than the repercussions of that ridiculous announcement in the newspaper this morning—although God knew that was serious enough! ‘As you will both be joining us for dinner this evening, that seems as good a time as any to discuss the engagement announcement,’ she dismissed, wanting to put an end to this conversation; usually so calm and in control, she always changed when Zack was around.

‘And how quickly you can get a retraction printed,’ Zack drily guessed what she hadn't yet had a chance to say.

Grey eyes met his coolly. ‘But of course.'

‘Of course,’ he echoed tautly, moving to the door. ‘We'll see you later, then,’ he taunted, pausing with his hand on the door-handle. ‘Oh, and, Helen—just be grateful that no one added to the confusion by announcing the daughter of Mrs H. Neilson was to marry the son of Mr Z. Neilson!’ And with that last mocking parting shot he left, the bell over the shop door ringing seconds later to show that he hadn't lingered outside.

Mrs Neilson; she had hardly been that long enough for the ink to dry on their marriage certificate! She had certainly had no difficulty reverting back to the name of Palmer after their separation.

There was the briefest of knocks before Sonia put her head round the side of the door. ‘Everything OK?’ she frowned.

Evidence of just how brief her marriage to Zack had been was that this woman, with whom Helen had worked for almost two years, had no idea of its existence! She and Zack had already been separated when she took Sonia on as her assistant, and there had been no reason since that time to mention that she had once been married—was still technically married—to their landlord.

But at least that last fact gave her an excuse to explain Zack's presence here at all. ‘Just checking up on his investment,’ Helen dismissed with a shrug.

Unfortunately that seemed to alarm Sonia rather than reassure her, probably because Zack hadn't deemed it necessary to pay them a visit in the previous two years!

‘Problems?’ She came into the office and closed the door behind her, inviting confidences if Helen wanted to give them. ‘There's nothing wrong with the lease, is there?'

Ironically it was this shop that had first caused her to be involved with Zack's family at all. ‘No,’ she answered ruefully. ‘I think we may as well close up for the day, don't you?’ she suggested brightly.

As this was the first time she had ever known Helen to suggest closing up early, Sonia looked even more concerned.

‘If anyone asks why—–’ Helen's mouth twisted wryly ‘—tell them it's my daughter's eighteenth birthday!'

Sonia's frown instantly cleared. ‘Oh, God, yes, I'd forgotten. You'll want time to get ready to go out tonight,’ she realised, hurrying off to begin the closing-up process for over the rest of the weekend.

Helen's smile faded, her depression returning with a vengeance once she was alone again. She had been looking forward to this evening for a long time, to quietly celebrating her daughter's coming-of-age, and now it had taken on an air of oppression which she found totally demoralising.

Another thing she found totally depressing was the thought of wearing her reliable black gown to go out in. It was over five years old, and while it had classical lines and was obviously of good quality she had worn it on several occasions in Zack's company in the past. And the last thing she wanted was to start the evening feeling at a disadvantage. Damn him!

It was only four-thirty now—good God, it had seemed a lot longer than twenty-five minutes when Zack was actually here!—so there was another hour before most of the dress shops in the area would close.

Stubbornness, at feeling forced into the position of needing to look her best tonight, and pride, because as she had no real choice about being in Zack's company she had to look her very best, for her own sake, both warred within her.

But not for long! Stubbornness had never got her very far where Zack was concerned, and her pride was one of the few things she had left.

‘I'll be back in time to lock up,’ she assured Sonia as she rushed through the shop on the way out to her car.

She was slightly above average height, slender, a standard size ten, so should have had no trouble finding something for a quiet family celebration.

And yet nothing she tried on in the first two shops looked right. As usual, she was convinced that when she saw the right dress she would know it was the one. Unfortunately, she never did, which was why she had held on to her reliable black for so long! And tonight, when she didn't have time to dither, was no exception; nothing transformed her into the regally confident beauty she would have liked to be.

It was ridiculous anyway, she scolded herself impatiently as she pulled a thin blue woollen dress over her head and smoothed its softness down over her hips. Who was she hoping to impress? Certainly not Zack; he had made his opinion of her more than obvious over the years. And she was tired, and hot, and totally fed up with the whole stupid—–

She knew without question that this dress was the one!

She had looked up uninterestedly to her reflection in the mirror on the changing-room wall, and was stunned by the transformation that the just-above-knee-length dress made. Oh, she didn't look regal, nor especially confident or beautiful; what she did look was—sexy!

On the hanger the thin cashmere dress had looked unimpressive, but Helen had been attracted to the royal blue colour, if nothing else, and the sales assistant, seeing at least a spark of interest, had encouraged her to try it on.

The short style showed off a long expanse of her slender, shapely legs, the soft wool moulding gently, if not exactly clinging, to the curves of her body. The sleeves reached down to her wrists, the neck softly encircled her throat, and yet there was an underlying sensuality about the way the dress moved with her, and it made her hair appear almost black, her eyes no longer grey but seeming to take on a reflective blue.

‘I'll take it,’ she decided before she had a chance to talk herself out of it.

The sales assistant looked relieved, and Helen couldn't exactly blame her; it was almost five-thirty on a Saturday night, after all.

She had bought the dress, even been persuaded into buying a pair of sheer Lycra tights to wear with it, and was driving back to lock up her own shop when reaction set in; she had never, ever bought anything that actually made her look sexy. Businesslike, smart, hopefully attractive, but never sexy.

Her shoulders slumped as she realised that it would have to be the reliable black after all; her father and Emily would wonder what on earth had come over her if she went out in the clinging blue dress. And God knew what Zack would make of it!

She ran a weary hand over her eyes; thank God that particular brainstorm had passed!

‘My God, Helen, I hardly recognised you; you look beautiful!'

She spun around self-consciously, the high colour that had been due to anger seconds ago, when she'd entered the restaurant, now changing to something quite different as she saw the look in Zack's eyes when he openly stared at her.

She was wearing the royal blue cashmere dress!

She hadn't intended to, had taken her old reliable black one from the wardrobe after showering and washing her hair, and taken it down to the kitchen to press when her father came into the room, already dressed and ready to go out in his best dark blue suit, iron-grey hair brushed severely back from his face.

Helen's conscience had pricked her into telling him that Zack and Greg would be at the dinner tonight. The last thing she needed was her father collapsing at the restaurant when the other two men arrived, and it was a possibility if he hadn't been warned.

His reaction to the news was to refuse to go to the dinner himself—‘if that man was going to be there'!

She should have expected it, of course. But even so, she had thought, for Emily's sake if nothing else, that her father would make the effort and go.

But no amount of cajoling on Helen's part could persuade him to change his mind. Reasoning either. Or sheer frustrated anger. Her father was adamant: if Zack was going to be there tonight, then he wasn't.

Helen didn't know which one to be angrier with, Zack for accepting the invitation and so creating the situation in the first place—he could have avoided going tonight without hurting Emily's feelings too much, if he had tried, and he had to know the dissension it would cause among the family!—or her father for adding to the problem by behaving so stubbornly.

In the end it didn't really matter which of them was to blame; she felt totally agitated, throwing aside the black dress when she realised how late it had become while she tried to persuade her father, defiantly putting on the blue cashmere. It was bad enough that she was going to have to make excuses for her father's absence that would satisfy Emily, but for her to be late on top of that would be unforgivable.

Sheer frustration with the whole situation had been enough to instil a certain amount of bravado into her actions; her hair was brushed back in a casually wind-swept style, her make-up was slightly heavier than usual, her lashes long and thick from the mascara she had liberally applied, her lids shaded with blue shadow, her lip-gloss a deeper red than she wore in the day, making her lips fuller.

As she faced Zack across the reception area of the restaurant she knew she looked gracefully tall and slender, the heels on her black shoes adding to her height, her dark colouring against the blue of the dress a startling contrast. It was obvious from the speculation in Zack's gaze as he slowly looked her up and down that he was very aware of the change in her appearance.

He looked as assuredly attractive as he usually did, in a dark suit and snowy white shirt, the latter making his skin look darkly tanned; he was standing across from her with an ease that was totally deceptive, Helen knew, leashed power in the wide shoulders and tapered thighs, exuding an air of masculinity that was completely unaffected.

Helen wondered how she had ever allowed herself to enter into the sort of marriage she had with this man. She must have been mad!

‘Not that you don't always look beautiful.’ His mouth twisted wryly as he realised what he had said to her in greeting.

‘Stop back-pedalling, Zack,’ she derided. ‘We both know how I usually look.’ And it was nothing like this!

As he moved to her side, the light overhead caught in the darkness of his hair, giving it an ebony sheen, dark hair that was still damp from having been recently washed. Helen knew that Zack would have showered before coming out tonight, had his second shave of the day. The fact that she knew his movements so intimately unsettled her even further.

‘Why do you always have to put yourself down in that way?’ he rasped now, standing so close that she could smell his aftershave, that elusively masculine smell that was so much a part of him. She could never recognise the smell of this aftershave on other men without thinking of Zack; it could be very disconcerting. ‘I've never denied you're a beautiful woman,’ he told her abruptly.

Helen had never been very impressed with the way she looked, had never actually had a lot of time, with a job to do and a small child to bring up, to take a lot of notice of it. And the truth of it was, the way she looked had made no difference in either of her marriages; they had both been disasters. Her first marriage had been entered into when she was too young to know what she was doing, and the second marriage—that was too complicated to even think about!

‘And you know about beautiful women, don't you, Zack?’ she derided drily.

His eyes narrowed coldly. ‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’ His voice was soft, dangerously so.

Braver people than her had been quelled beneath the power of that withering gaze, and in fact it took all of her will-power not to be counted among their number, but she couldn't allow herself to be cowed by this man. ‘You know very well—–'

‘We're a mere two minutes late and already they're at each other's throats,’ remarked a lightly mocking voice.

She and Zack had been so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them had been aware of Greg and Emily entering the restaurant together, looking at the two of them with the indulgent affection usually shown towards recalcitrant children!

Zack met his son's gaze challengingly, and if Helen had been going to make a reply it was never uttered as she watched in mute fascination while Emily turned laughingly to Greg, her hand resting briefly against his arm as she did so. Her left hand. And on the third finger of that hand winked a diamond and emerald ring.

An engagement ring …?

CHAPTER THREE

‘MUMMY, you look marvellous!’ Emily moved forward to hug her, long dark hair cascading wildly almost to her waist, briefly enveloping Helen in its perfumed silkiness. She moved back, green eyes admiring as she looked at Helen, still clasping her hands lightly in hers. ‘New dress?'

Helen had always marvelled at how she had managed to produce this gloriously beautiful creature, Emily being petite in the extreme, fresh and beautiful in a typically English rose type of way: clear creamy complexion that needed no make-up, green eyes glowing with health and vitality, her only artificial colouring the dark red lip-gloss. And somehow Emily could wear anything and still look wonderful—even the loose black lace dress she wore tonight, which didn't quite reach her ankles, and the flat black ballet-type slippers. On anyone else the outfit would have looked drab and shapeless; Emily just looked vivaciously lovely.

Helen was so proud of her ethereally beautiful daughter, had always found it difficult to be stern with her only offspring, but with that ring sparkling on Emily's finger she couldn't afford to be indulgent. ‘Yes, it's a new dress, Emily, as I'm sure you're very aware.’ She mocked her daughter's delaying tactic. ‘But I don't think—–'

‘You look gorgeous, Helen.’ Greg kissed her warmly on the cheek. ‘Doesn't she, Dad?’ He looked challengingly at his father.

Zack's mouth twisted wryly. ‘We've already discussed Helen's appearance before the two of you arrived,’ he dismissed. ‘Now I suggest we go and sit at our table; we're blocking up the entrance,’ he added pointedly as a group of people came in the door and tried to get past them.

‘Zack.’ Emily's face lit up with pleasure as she kissed him warmly on the cheek. ‘You look as handsome as ever,’ she teased.

‘Shift, young lady!’ He tapped her lightly on the bottom as the waiter came to show them to their table. ‘The charm isn't going to work tonight,’ he warned darkly, shooting his son a cautioning look too, nodding for the younger couple to precede them into the dining area, and taking a firm grip of Helen's arm so that they walked in side by side.

A united front. How was that for a first? Although that wasn't altogether fair to Zack; he had always listened to her point of view, even if he rarely agreed with it! And she wasn't completely sure how he felt about this latest development, although she knew he couldn't have missed that ring sparkling on Emily's finger.

She had to admit, when she looked at Emily and Greg as they walked ahead of them, they made an attractive couple, Emily so delicately beautiful, Greg looking like a blond god at her side. Greg had inherited his colouring from his mother, long hair gleaming golden on to his shoulders; he moved with the grace of a natural athlete, the baggy suit he wore not detracting from his animal grace.

Emily and Greg looked so right together. Strange, Helen had never noticed that before …

Zack's hand tightened on her arm, his fingers hurting her through the thin wool. ‘God, you're so transparent!’ he rasped disgustedly.

She looked up at him, still dazed by the direction her thoughts had taken.

‘I doubt you would be so disapproving if Greg weren't my son!’ he scorned, releasing her so abruptly that she momentarily lost her balance.

The accusation was so far removed from what she had actually been thinking that it took her several seconds to turn her attention to what he had said.

And in part he was wrong; she would have disapproved of Emily being engaged to anyone now, believed her daughter was far too young to be seriously involved with anyone just yet. The fact that the young man involved was Greg did make the situation more difficult. And as yet neither of them had offered any explanation for that ring on Emily's left hand.

Helen kept trying not to look at it as Emily sat down, but as if to mock and taunt her the candle in the centre of the table seemed to make every facet gleam brighter than ever!

Helen's eyes flashed as she turned to Zack before sitting down. ‘But he is your son,’ she bit out so softly that only he could hear.

He returned her gaze coldly. ‘And how you hate the very thought of it,’ he muttered his distaste for her prejudice before sitting in the chair next to hers.

Of course she hated the thought of it; he couldn't seriously expect her to be thrilled at the prospect of possibly being forced to accept his continued presence in their lives—as Emily's father-in-law this time! Good God, there was another possibility she hadn't even thought of; if—and it was still a big if as far as she was concerned, despite the existence of that ring on Emily's finger!—Emily and Greg really were engaged, and eventually married and had children, she and Zack would be their respective grandparents!

She had believed, hoped, that once her divorce from Zack became final she could forget the marriage had ever taken place at all. This unforeseen situation could make that impossible!

The sooner she established exactly what was going on between Emily and Greg, the better!

‘Helen believes,’ Zack drawled before she could speak, his gaze raking over her derisively before he turned his attention to the young couple, ‘that the announcement in The Times this morning was a practical joke.'

Greg's hand moved to clasp Emily's in a protective gesture as it rested on top of the white cotton tablecloth. ‘And you?’ he challenged almost defiantly.

‘I think—–’ Zack looked perfectly relaxed as he leaned back in his chair, but that very stillness could hide a dozen emotions, all of them ominous, as Helen very well knew ‘—that you owe us some sort of explanation. Don't you?’ He arched one dark brow.

‘Not now, Zack,’ Emily protested.

‘Now,’ he insisted firmly.

‘But it's my birthday,’ she pouted prettily. ‘And I—Mummy, where's Gramps?’ she frowned suddenly. ‘I thought when we arrived that he must be in the loo, but—he isn't here, is he?’ she realised flatly.

Helen knew that Zack was looking at her, could feel the hard query of his gaze, and she determinedly did not look at him. He knew of the dislike her father had for him, of how stubborn the older man could be, although she had never been able to fault Zack's behaviour towards her father; he had always treated him with respect, no matter what the provocation might have been to do otherwise!

Emily was still looking at her frowningly. ‘Don't tell me,’ she sighed. ‘He wasn't feeling well!'

‘Emily!’ She reproved the sarcastic edge to her daughter's voice. ‘You know your grandfather doesn't enjoy good health.'

‘On the contrary,’ Zack put in softly, ‘he enjoys ill-health.'

‘You have no right—–’ Helen broke off abruptly as the waiter came to take their order, the delay while they ordered giving her time to get herself back under control. Emily's disappointment was understandable, but Zack's derision was unforgivable.

‘Gramps didn't come,’ Emily repeated dully, once the waiter had departed, turning away to talk softly to Greg, but not before Helen had seen the sheen of tears in her eyes.

Helen knew her father was in the wrong for behaving so stubbornly and ruining Emily's birthday, but she also found Zack's attitude extremely annoying. She was so agitated that as she took out her napkin to place it over her knee it dropped to the floor.