Return Engagement

CHAPTER TWO

‘SOME people have all the luck,’ Janie sighed at Cyn’s side as they made the drive back to the office a short time later.

‘Hmm?’ Cyn answered distractedly, still too shaken to even try to guess to what Janie was alluding; she had just spent almost an hour going through what arrangements the ‘happy couple’ would like for their August wedding, with Wolf being as objectionable as he could be without making it look like yet another personal attack on her. Or perhaps he was always like that nowadays? She hadn’t thought of that.

‘Rebecca Thornton,’ Janie enlightened her with another sigh. ‘It doesn’t seem fair that she has a gorgeous father like that and a sexy fiancé most women would kill for!’

Cyn couldn’t help her half-smile. ‘I don’t think having a good-looking father counts,’ she said ruefully.

‘Perhaps not,’ the other girl conceded with a dismissive shrug. ‘But Wolf Thornton is something else!’

Oh, he was ‘something else’ all right, Cyn acknowledged inwardly; although exactly what he was, she wasn’t about to regale Janie with!

‘I wonder where the gardener fits into all this?’ Janie added thoughtfully.

Cyn sobered; she had been wondering the same thing. They certainly hadn’t imagined the intensity of the encounter between Rebecca and the young gardener, on Rebecca’s part at least; they hadn’t actually seen the young man emerge from the gazebo, Gerald’s arrival in the small sitting-room distracting their attention from the garden at that moment. But it was safe to assume, from the little they had seen, that the gardener did ‘fit in’ somewhere!

If it had been anyone else but Wolf who was the bridegroom in this job, Cyn probably wouldn’t have given it another thought; after all, it was none of her business whom the bride chose to meet, in the open or otherwise. All that concerned her was that the bride turned up on the wedding-day, and that all the arrangements ran as smoothly as they were supposed to. But the bridegroom was Wolf—

God, she could still hardly believe that! Rebecca was twenty at a guess—younger, not older, if anything, and Wolf was already thirty-five, a mature, experienced thirty-five at that; why on earth was he marrying a girl almost young enough to be his daughter? More to the point, why was Rebecca marrying him, when at the same time she was having assignations with young gardeners at her father’s home! Cyn didn’t doubt that Wolf would be furiously angry if he should ever find out about that. Not that she, for one, intended telling him, but perhaps Rebecca should...?

She had watched the engaged couple when she didn’t think she was being observed herself; they seemed to get on well enough, although hardly in a lover-like way, Wolf treating Rebecca with the same indulgence her father did, Rebecca slightly in awe of him as she deferred to him over every decision. Even over where she should buy her wedding-dress! Cyn certainly wouldn’t have consulted him—

What was she thinking of? This was Rebecca’s marriage to Wolf, a relationship she could already see was in serious trouble. Although perhaps not. How did she know what arrangement Rebecca and Wolf had for after their wedding? Wolf was a stranger to her now, bearing little resemblance to the man she had known—thought she had known?—seven years ago, so perhaps he and Rebecca were going to have the sort of relationship where they both had other friends, lovers, as well as each other.

It was somehow a depressing thought to have about a marriage that hadn’t even begun yet.

Whatever, the last hour had been one of the most traumatic of Cyn’s life. She had been constantly on edge in case Wolf should finally say something that would reveal to the Harcourts that the two of them had met before, which would be very embarrassing when they had behaved like strangers from the outset. Embarrassing for Wolf too, but, as she knew from experience, he didn’t give a damn what people thought of him, and it would be a way of scoring off her.

And the longer the meeting carried on, without him saying something, the more tense and agitated Cyn had become. Especially as Wolf had seemed to become more and more relaxed as he obviously—to her—enjoyed her growing discomfort, that golden-brown gaze never far from her flushed face. Damn him!

And as she and Janie had taken their leave, she had known from Wolf’s expression that this wasn’t the last she was going to see of him for another seven years, that, whatever the outcome of this wedding, he would make sure of that!

‘Perhaps he doesn’t fit in at all.’ Janie gave a dismissive shrug at Cyn’s lack of a verbal response. ‘After all, what woman in her right mind would even look at another man when she was going to marry someone like Wolf Thornton?’

Cyn gave a pained wince; what woman, indeed! How naïve poor Janie still was at eighteen; she hadn’t yet realised that there was much more to choosing a life’s partner than the way he looked. But the important question was, had Rebecca Harcourt realised it, now that it was almost too late and she was due to marry in a few months’ time? Almost...? It was too late, with Wolf as the bridegroom!

She determinedly put the Harcourt-Thornton wedding from her mind once they got back to the office; she had a business to run, and she wouldn’t be able to do that effectively if she allowed herself to think of Wolf. She had spent seven years not thinking about him, and, while it hadn’t always been easy, she had somehow managed to get on with her life. He had no right disrupting things for her in this way when she was on the brink of finally making a breakthrough with her business. The unfortunate factor was that Wolf’s wedding to Rebecca Harcourt was going to be instrumental in helping her achieve that breakthrough!

She picked the receiver up automatically when the telephone rang a short time after their return, although she immediately tensed when the caller identified herself as Rebecca Harcourt.

‘What can I do for you, Miss Harcourt?’ she enquired with polite distance. She usually made a point of getting on friendly terms with all the brides she dealt with. She had found from experience that it made things better all round if the two of them could talk easily together, but that wasn’t going to be easy for her with this girl, not when Wolf was the man Rebecca intended marrying!

‘Rebecca, please,’ the girl requested a little breathlessly. ‘And what you can do for me is—well—’

‘Yes?’ Cyn prompted when she realised Rebecca seemed to be having difficulty finishing what she wanted to say. ‘If it’s that you’ve decided you don’t want to use my agency after all, please don’t worry that I’ll be offended,’ she added lightly—in the circumstances, she would be relieved if this turned out to be the case! ‘I realise that perhaps your father put you in a position where—’

‘Oh, it isn’t that,’ Rebecca hastened to reassure her. ‘I’m sure that your help with things is going to be invaluable,’ she accepted distractedly. ‘I just—’ She broke off awkwardly.

‘Yes?’ Cyn urged again, more gently this time, sensing the girl’s strain. And what was the point of her being distant with Rebecca? It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she was marrying Wolf, of all people!

‘I— Could you—?’

Oh, dear! Cyn had a feeling that the meeting Rebecca had had with the gardener in the gazebo was going to be important after all!

‘Everything’s going too fast.’ Rebecca finally seemed to find the right words, sounding relieved as she did. ‘I’m sure I’m not the first bride you’ve found to have a touch of pre-wedding nerves,’ she attempted to dismiss lightly. ‘I just—well, I want you to slow down on the arrangements for a bit,’ she added brightly, obviously feeling more confident now. ‘There’s no rush, and—’

‘The wedding date is only four months away,’ Cyn reminded her quietly.

‘Well, yes. But— Well—’

‘How about if just the two of us got together for a chat?’ Cyn took pity on her. As Rebecca said, she was accustomed to dealing with last-minute jitters, but four months away could hardly be called ‘last-minute.’ Besides, she had a feeling this was so much more serious than that.

‘Oh, yes,’ Rebecca agreed gratefully. ‘That would be marvellous. I could—try to explain, then.’

Cyn doubted that very much. She had a feeling Rebecca was trying to deny the truth even to herself. ‘How about if I come back to the house tomorrow, and we can—?’

‘Oh, not here!’ Rebecca cut in sharply. ‘What I mean is,’ she forced her voice to sound lightly dismissive, ‘why don’t we have lunch together somewhere, at least make the meeting enjoyable?’

And as far away from her father and Wolf as possible, Cyn would hazard a guess. ‘That’s fine with me,’ she accepted. ‘How about—?’ She broke off abruptly as her office door swung open without warning, staring up at Wolf as he stood so arrogantly in the doorway. Her hand tightened instinctively round the telephone receiver, the colour draining from her cheeks even as she felt her mouth go dry.

Although why she was so disconcerted she didn’t know. She had known earlier that there was no way Wolf was meekly going to accept her reappearance into his life, after an absence of seven years, without making her well aware of his displeasure, for all that he had remained so outwardly calm while they were both still at the Harcourts’. Meekly? Wolf had never accepted anything meekly in his life!

No, what was making this second meeting with him in one day so awkward for Cyn was that, for all the other girl’s bravado as to her reason for calling, Cyn could almost guarantee that Wolf was the last person Rebecca would want to know about this telephone call. And as they were still connected, and Cyn had no way of letting the other girl know of her fiancé’s arrival without at the same time alerting Wolf to the identity of the person on the other end of the line, Cyn wasn’t quite sure what to do next!

She watched Wolf as he came fully into the office, closing the door firmly behind him, standing across the room to look at her with haughty disdain as he waited for her to end the call. As end it she surely must. And as quickly as possible.

‘Lunch sounds fine,’ she somehow managed to answer Rebecca, although she could hear the strain in her own voice as she tried to sound normal. ‘Perhaps you could name a restaurant that would be convenient for both of us?’ she added lightly, all the time watching Wolf as he moved about the office now, occasionally picking things up to examine them before discarding them again, as if he had had no real interest in them in the first place. As, indeed, he probably hadn’t. She had bridal books, printers’ books, schedules, all littered about the gaily decorated office, its pink and cream wallpaper and paint applied by Cyn herself; she hadn’t been able to afford to pay a professional after putting down her first years’ rent on the office itself! The disdainful twist of Wolf’s harshly etched lips seemed to say he was well aware of the amateurish attempt she had made at decorating. He turned back to her now, dark blond brows raised pointedly as she still remained on the telephone.

Cyn would gladly end the call, if Rebecca would just name a restaurant. The sooner she got this meeting with Wolf over and done with the better. And after it, her meeting with Rebecca would probably be superfluous anyway: Wolf hadn’t said so at the time, but Cyn was sure she was the last person he wanted involved in the organisation of his wedding to Rebecca.

Thank goodness Janie had gone out for a late lunch on their return, otherwise her assistant would have been agog with curiosity as to the reason for Wolf Thornton calling on Cyn here after they had so recently spoken at his fiancé’s house. Cyn certainly had no intention of explaining to the girl that there were certain things Wolf would like to say to her that he wouldn’t want anyone else to be witness to!

‘How about the Ritz?’ Rebecca finally suggested after what seemed to Cyn like an extraordinarily long time. It probably wasn’t, but with Wolf still prowling around the room, it certainly seemed that way!

And the Ritz was hardly ‘convenient to both of them,’ or indeed within Cyn’s budget, but as this was to be a business meeting it would have to go on expenses; she certainly couldn’t waste the time—or, indeed, give away Rebecca’s identity—by suggesting somewhere else.

‘Fine,’ she accepted tersely. ‘Twelve-thirty tomorrow,’ she ended the call, putting the receiver down abruptly before turning to look at Wolf where he had moved around behind her now, studying the wall-chart she had of future bookings for the services of Perfect Bliss. Several dinner parties were also booked down during the more barren weeks.

He turned to her abruptly now, his golden-brown gaze rapier-sharp as it raked over her contemptuously, making Cyn very aware of the slightly windswept appearance of her silver-blond hair as it fell in soft waves to her shoulders, the colour made to look even lighter against the dark violet of her blouse. Her lips, she knew, would be bare of lip-gloss too, as she had just drunk the mug of coffee she had made to tide herself over until she went out for her own lunch once Janie returned.

This wasn’t how she had wanted to see Wolf again, but then she hadn’t been expecting to see him again so soon. She should have remembered that Wolf always did the unexpected.

Her jaw rose defensively as she deliberately met the cold disdain of his gaze. ‘What are you doing here, Wolf?’ she challenged, her voice—thank goodness—not showing by so much as a quiver how much his presence here unnerved her. And unnerve her it did. The two of them were completely alone here, with not much chance of an early reprieve for Cyn.

His mouth twisted, accentuating those deep grooves in his cheeks. ‘You surely didn’t think our conversation was over?’ he drawled derisively, giving her a pitying look now for her naïveté.

She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Which conversation would that be, Wolf?’ She arched blond brows questioningly. ‘The one from this morning—or the one from seven years ago?’

If she had thought he looked harshly remote before then now he looked positively icy, his eyes hard gold orbs, his mouth a thin slash of anger, his jaw clenched at an aggressive angle.

‘The two are surely connected?’ he bit out through clenched teeth, as if it was taking every effort of will on his part to stop himself from physically hauling her out of the chair, lifting her completely off her feet, and shaking her until her teeth rattled.

Cyn forced herself to remain seated, when what she really wanted to do was jump out of the chair and run, just run and run, until she was sure this man couldn’t catch her. But as she knew from experience, if Wolf really wanted to catch up with someone then he would.

So instead of running she gave a dismissive movement of her head. ‘I don’t see how,’ she shrugged, her fingers white as she held tightly on to the pen she had been using to work with when Rebecca’s call came in.

Wolf’s eyes narrowed on the pale defiance of her face. ‘Was that Gerald on the phone just now, arranging to have lunch with you tomorrow?’

The change of subject was so totally unexpected that for a moment Cyn was taken aback at the sudden twist, then a resentful flush darkened her cheeks. ‘Whether it was or it wasn’t is none of your business, Wolf,’ she told him as she finally stood up—not that it gave her much of an advantage, as Wolf still overshadowed her by more than a foot. But at least she was mobile now if the need to run should become a necessity! ‘I can have lunch with whoever I damn well please,’ she added defiantly. She was sure it wouldn’t even occur to him that it was Rebecca Harcourt who had arranged to meet her for lunch tomorrow. And she had no intention of telling him that little fact either!

One of his hands moved so fast that Cyn was barely aware of the movement, although she couldn’t mistake his grasp on her wrist as his long fingers curled about her tender flesh like steel bands. Just as she couldn’t mistake the warm flush that suddenly emanated through her body at the touch of those long tapered fingers, which she knew could caress with such tenderness, move over the soft curves of her body with such—

No! She hadn’t thought about Wolf in that way for seven years, hadn’t allowed herself that luxury, and to do so now, when he was about to marry another woman, was sheer madness!

‘Let go of me, Wolf,’ she instructed tautly, unable to look into the dark tormented beauty of his face, staring down at the spot where his flesh touched hers, his hand so dark against her much paler skin.

Again long-denied memories came flooding back to pain her, and, with a strength she hadn’t known she was capable of, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp, the pain this caused her a physical one rather than an emotional one. And she could deal with the physical pain so much more easily than the emotional one this man had once inflicted on her; she knew that the bruises on her skin would fade, that the inner ones never would.

‘How is your family, Wolf?’ she asked with disdain, her expression one of challenge.

His eyes glazed over coldly. ‘Family?’ he repeated, dangerously soft. ‘There’s only my mother and Barbara now.’

Only his mother and Barbara? There didn’t need to be anyone else; the pair were formidable enough on their own!

Cyn gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. ‘And how are they?’

His mouth twisted. ‘Do you really care?’

No, she didn’t care in the least, but at least the mention of the two of them had diverted his attention away from the source of that telephone call he had just interrupted. ‘No,’ she answered truthfully, unflinching as the dangerous glitter deepened in his eyes, remembering all too well the dislike the other two women had for her, and the way, in the past, they had never lost an opportunity to show that dislike. She was sure they would be no more interested in her well-being now than she was in theirs! Although, to be fair, it had always been Claudia Thornton who had disapproved of her the most, being totally against her son’s relationship with Cyn. Barbara had represented a different sort of threat completely.... Did she still? If she did, then Cyn had more reason to pity Rebecca than she had originally thought.

‘I didn’t think so,’ Wolf rasped now, the suppressed anger in his body a tangible thing, his very stillness unsettling.

Cyn gave a weary sigh. ‘What do you want here, Wolf? Rehashing the past isn’t going to help anyone. It’s your future you should be concentrating on,’ she added with a frown, her thoughts once again on the strange behaviour of Rebecca Harcourt this morning, and the even more enigmatic telephone call she had received from the other girl a short time ago.

Wolf was watching her closely, that amber gaze narrowed coldly. ‘And just what do you mean by that?’ he finally prompted softly.

Cyn had no intention of betraying Rebecca, and shrugged dismissively. ‘Do you love Rebecca Harcourt?’

He drew in a harsh breath. ‘What the hell do my feelings for Rebecca have to do with you?’

A lot more than any friendship she might have with Gerald Harcourt had to do with him! Wolf seemed to think he could walk back into her life after seven years, albeit unknowingly, and demand all sorts of things from her, but she wasn’t to be allowed the same privilege where he was concerned!

‘Feelings, Wolf?’ she scoffed with derision. ‘I don’t believe you have any for Rebecca.’ She shook her head. ‘At least, not the sort of feelings you should have towards the woman you intend making your wife,’ she frowned.

Wolf moved now, crossing the room with soundless footsteps, to stand only inches in front of her, his very proximity intimidating—as it was meant to be. ‘And what would you know about that, Cyn?’ he scorned forcefully. ‘What the hell did you ever know—or care!—about the way I felt?’

That was unfair—totally unfair. For a few weeks, a few precious weeks that had affected the rest of Cyn’s life, she had thought she knew this man—and his emotions—very well. The fact that that belief had been proved incorrect couldn’t take that away from her. And she was sure—dammit, she knew—that Wolf wasn’t in love with Rebecca! So why was he marrying her? Why had he never married Barbara, as she had thought he eventually would?

Cyn looked up at Wolf now, a sheen of tears blurring her vision of him, blunting all the sharp edges and angles to his face, briefly giving him the appearance of the man she had known all those years ago, a man who, although confident of himself and his own abilities, certainly hadn’t been possessed of the hard arrogance this almost-stranger portrayed.

And then she blinked, erasing the tears—and that erroneous impression of Wolf being at all the approachable man she had once known. Before her stood a man whose face was lined with bitterness, a sharp dissatisfaction about the thin line of his once sensual mouth, his eyes no longer like liquid gold but hard and unyielding. Perhaps he had always been this way, and she had just been too infatuated to realise?