Always the Bridesmaid
‘Not boring,’ Amy insisted. ‘Important. Especially to the brides-to-be out there with their mothers.’
Amy sat down next to the terrified woman on a pale pink sofa, and tried to ignore the fact that the icing blobs on the back of her trousers would probably ruin the pink silk.
‘You want to be a wedding planner, don’t you? Was that a nod? Right!’ She reached across and took shaking but beautifully manicured hands in her still-sticky, grubby paw. ‘This is your chance. You have the power to give those girls the weddings they have always dreamed of. You created the files. You did that. Not Clarissa. You. Now all you have to do is to convince your clients that it’s business as usual. The plans are in place and on track. What do you say?’
‘Well, I don’t know. I’ve only been working here two years. Until then Clarissa organised everything herself. I’ll need to go through each box…’ The panic came back into her eyes as she gasped. ‘The Shaw-Gerard wedding! You’re making the cake! That’s next weekend, and I haven’t even looked at the file. The box is still here. What if…?’ There was terror in the unspoken words as she reached for the box, only to find that Amy had got there first.
‘Don’t you worry about that. I’m going to take Lucy’s file home with me. I’ll go through the plan myself, check the details, and meet you back here during the week. Okay?’
‘Well, I don’t know. I mean, Clarissa is pretty strict about the files not leaving the office without the client’s permission.’ She paused, gulped, and looked into Amy’s face.
‘That’s not a problem. Mr Shaw here is the person who signed the contract—so he is the client, after all.’
Elspeth looked up at Jared, who was guarding the door, and gave a faint smile. ‘Well, that’s true. We have met before. How about four p.m. Thursday?’
Amy smiled back. ‘Done. And you can do this. Seriously. You can. You’re the new wedding planner. Ready to face the music? Head up, shoulders back. Show them who is in charge here.’
She leapt to her feet, helped pull the woman up from the sofa, and watched as she tugged at her pink pencil skirt. With one single nod, Amy took a firm grip on Lucy’s pink-flowered box file, clutched it to her chest, flung open the door with her other hand, and beamed a smile to the cluster of women who leapt to their feet and started crowding in at the door.
Jared seized the opportunity to take back control of the situation, and he rested his arm lightly on Amy’s back before calling back casually to the terrified-looking PA.
‘Thank you so much! We have every confidence in you. See you on Thursday!’
Amy was so startled that she looked up at him in awe. And in that moment her heart skipped a beat. No wonder Lucy boasted that her brother could charm the birds from the trees.
He was grinning the kind of grin toothpaste manufacturers would kill for, his white teeth contrasting with his blue eyes against a light natural tan. His mouth creased up at the corners, creating what could almost pass as dimples. If hard-nosed CEOs were allowed to have dimples. She could almost hear the women around her swoon as his gaze fell on the lucky girls at the front of the pack.
She didn’t blame them.
Jared Shaw truly was gorgeous.
And then he did it.
He casually turned his spotlight smile on her, bent his head a few inches, and kissed her. On the brow. Just a light pressure of hot lips on her skin, before he dropped his arm a few inches lower and stepped forward.
Her knees turned to jelly.
She was caught in his embrace with nowhere for her spare arm to go except around his middle, against the fine linen cloth that covered an impressively taut muscular lower back.
There was nothing for it but to breathe in the aroma that only a man who had been on a hot pavement followed by her hot kitchen at the end of a long day travelling could generate. It was sweet, spicy, and intoxicating.
For a second—just for one, precious moment—Amy luxuriated in the illusion that they were trying to create and made herself believe that Jared was her fiancé, and she was carrying his baby—that his relaxed lover’s kiss had been real and for her.
Dangerous. Way too dangerous.
She forced herself to glance up at that handsome strong face, and the icy-cold realisation that this was a man who could have any woman he wanted sent her tumbling back to earth from dreamland.
That dream was for other women. That chance had been snatched away from her. She was an idiot for daring to think otherwise. And an even bigger idiot for thinking back to that moment when they’d been getting into the car. The feeling of his warm shirt under the palms of her hands. The beating chest that lay beneath.
What was she doing?
This was Lucy’s big brother. In town for a few days for his sister’s wedding. That was all.
And with that positive thought Amy squeezed into his waist a little closer, wrapped her fingers firmly onto his belt, and flashed a smile up into his face.
Luckily he took it as part of her star performance, gave a quick nod and, smiling at the closest cluster of ladies, the unlikely pair slowly shuffled as convincingly as they could down the corridor, with the pretend baby bump leading the way.
Jared gave one quick glance back at the building, before launching himself into the Rolls-Royce through the door Frank was holding open. He sighed out loud in relief to have escaped unscathed, as he collapsed back in his seat.
‘That was horrendous. Why would someone actually want to be a wedding planner? I mean, why? What chance has that poor girl got with those women at her throat? What did you call them?’
‘Bridezillas. Elspeth is quite capable of handling the work—but she has my telephone number if she needs it. And I have Lucy’s box.’ Amy waved it triumphantly towards Frank, before pulling the squashed cushions out from beneath her top. ‘Sorry, Jarella. What’s next?’
It was Jared who answered.
‘Apart from ten hours’ sleep? Coffee, telephones, a photocopier and a computer. It appears that I have a wedding to organise.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘THAT’S ten strawberry tarts, twelve apple strudel, and six fresh cream chocolate éclairs. Well, that should keep you going, girls! Just pop back if you need more.’
Amy passed the emergency order to the two waitresses from the French pavement café down the road, and held open the shop door. Their jovial teenage chatter echoed around the warm room and blended with the traffic noise from the busy London street on the other side of the glass this lovely Saturday morning.
Both girls were dressed in the kind of pretty printed cotton dresses with thin spaghetti straps that she used to wear every summer in her old life. Sunlight flooded through the pristine glass windows and reflected back from the cream walls onto the warm terracotta floor tiles. It would be heaven to simply strip off her chef’s jacket and spend the rest of the day in a tiny top. Except, of course, she had thrown or given away all her tankinis and strappy dresses.
Anything that would have revealed the scarring which stretched down the centre of her chest.
The palm of her hand pressed down on the raised ridge of skin below her T-shirt and jacket. The plastic surgeon in Chicago had suggested that she should think of it as a medal.
A souvenir for a survivor.
And she was a survivor. At least he had got that bit right.
A familiar lump thickened in Amy’s throat as she looked back into the shop area, bustling with customers and bright chatter.
This was her home now, and her sanctuary. Her dream of making Edlers the place she had known as a girl had become a reality. This was where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Safe, secure, running her own business, with her friends in the community around her.
This was where she could offer a child a loving home—just as the Edler family had done for her when her own parents died.
And that was worth every scrap of energy in her body.
Trixi sidled up next to her and flung an arm around her shoulder.
‘Two more hot chefs at the back door, boss, panting for their orders. No sign of that blond bloke from yesterday yet. Is he likely to turn up today?’
‘Oh, yes. He’ll turn up. At least, I hope he will.’
The sound of trance dance music hit Jared like a wall as he stepped through the curtain into Amy’s kitchen. It was almost noon on a Saturday morning, the sun was shining, and the beat was making the walls and floor throb. Just like his head.
If only he hadn’t decided to lie down on the sofa after dinner he could have been working through the photocopy of the wedding plan back in his air-conditioned apartment at that very second.
In control and in his own space. Which was precisely how he liked it.
Instead of which he would have to go down on bended knee and beg this girl to take pity and let him off the hook. He knew his strengths. Coming up with a comprehensive schedule of works for a building project was one thing—planning a wedding was something else.
If you wanted a job done, you hired a professional.
Through his sunglasses he could make out that Amy was alone. She appeared to be jogging between two long tables covered with trays and boxes, furiously writing on printed sheets on a clipboard. Where were all the other chefs?
‘Morning,’ he offered with a smile. No response. ‘Good morning,’ he bellowed, standing only feet away from Amy. At that precise moment the teenage girl he remembered as Trixi appeared from a door at the other end of the room and turned the volume down on the stereo.
Amy’s head shot up, and she gave him the kind of smile that creased the corners of her mouth and made a direct hit in his solar plexus.
‘No need to shout. I’m right here. And good morning to you, Mr Shaw. I expected to see you at the crack of dawn.’
There was a certain gentle warmth in her voice, as though she might actually be pleased to see him again. Maybe the day was not completely lost after all.
‘Sorry about that. My body clock hasn’t re-set yet.’
‘You don’t need to apologise,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Yesterday was quite a day.’
The muscles of his face relaxed a little. This woman was a saint! The hard fluorescent lighting in the room focused the shadows of her high cheekbones and pale skin. In another time, on another day, Jared thought, it might have been fun to show this woman some sunshine. Perhaps a picnic, or a boat trip down the Thames?
With a bit of luck she might even remove some of those layers of clothing. His linen shirt was already starting to cling to his back, despite the heavy-duty air-conditioning unit clattering away very noisily in the corner. She had to be roasting under that high-neck T-shirt.
Amy waved her clipboard in his direction. ‘Saturday happens to be my busiest day, so there’s not a lot of time for chatter while I get the orders prepped. I appreciate the apology, but I know you only came here to collect the pink box.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it closed again as Amy tapped her pen several times against her chin before grinning at him.
‘I have decided that there could be one or two small details on the wedding plan which you could check for me. If you think you can manage it?’ she said.
Jared pursed his lips and sighed loudly. ‘You do know that I have zero experience in anything wedding-related, don’t you? I could even be a liability!’
‘No, you won’t. Just think of it as another project to plan. You’ll be fine!’
His grimace must have been the answer Amy needed, and she gestured towards the small circular table furthest from the ovens and the work area.
‘You’ll find what you need on the table over there. I’ve already cross-referenced the details on the master checklist to a printout of names and addresses. Not all of the suppliers are open on Saturdays, so I focused on the names I recognised, and I’ve written notes on everyone I could speak to in person at this time of the morning.’
‘And…?’ Jared tried to remember that he was supposed to be taking charge. So much for his cunning plan. Amy Edler was already way ahead of him!
She decided to put him out of his misery.
‘Relax, Jared. So far all the items I’ve checked are still on schedule. You can breathe again.’ She nodded her head towards the table and curled her lips. ‘There are two names we need to talk to as soon as possible. I started with the hotel, but they have a celebrity wedding this morning, so their events planner had already left for the church, to make sure everything went smoothly.’
She spotted the expression on Jared’s face and immediately tried to calm him. ‘Don’t panic. According to the manager, the Shaw-Gerard wedding is booked and confirmed for next Saturday. But I don’t have any details, so that needs to be checked out—I suggest Monday morning. Everyone is going to be run ragged today.’
He snorted. ‘You’ve got that right. Okay. You’re busy. I have the rest of the day. Why don’t you leave me to start work on the rest? I have my laptop, two phones, and transport if needed. What do you say?’ Jared looked up, half expecting an instant rebuff, but it never came.
‘I say fine. There’s a fax machine and a photocopier upstairs in my flat if it becomes too noisy. This place is going to get rather hectic in the next couple of hours!’
Jared blinked at Amy several times. He simply could not keep up!
‘When do the other bakers start work? Or have they already left for the day?’
The crease between Amy’s brows tightened. ‘Other bakers?’ And then the penny dropped. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. Sorry to disappoint you, but there is only one baker at Edlers, and you’re looking at her. Trixi and her pal handle the shop counter, but I’m on my own in the kitchen.’
She tilted her head to look at him, paused, and then nodded with a wide grin. ‘You thought there was a whole brigade of professional bakers working here, didn’t you?’
‘You…are the only baker?’ Jared waved in the direction of the curtain leading to the shop area, the astonishment in his voice only too apparent. ‘You made all that food yourself?’
Amy held up both her hands and wiggled their fingers up and down. ‘With my very own, very wrinkly hands.’
‘That’s impressive. And all the more reason why I should take on this extra work and leave you to do what you clearly do best. My admin team is used to event planning; they’d be happy to help.’
‘Maybe. But not if you have questions about details this late in the day. And I thought we discussed that last night? That, sir, was not the deal.’
He bit his lower lip. Busted.
She took pity on him and pointed towards the small table.
‘Sit. I drink coffee. Espresso. But there is tea and water if you want it. The bathroom is through there, and Trixi is going to be too busy to bother you. And there is always cake if you get the nibbles.’
‘Thanks; I’ll stick with the coffee. Anything else, boss?’
She made a face and tried not to smile, tapping her clipboard instead as a distraction. ‘The second person I couldn’t get hold of is the photographer, who is not answering the number Clarissa has. He’s probably out working on another wedding, but his office is supposed to be open on Saturdays. He’s on page two of the list.’
‘No problem. Leave it to me.’
‘Oh, actually, there is one more thing.’ Amy pressed her lips together, fighting back laughter, and pretended to study her list. ‘You can take your sunglasses off now.’
For the next hour or so Jared juggled two mobile phones, a landline, and a dodgy wireless connection on his laptop—all set against the background clatter and chatter of a room which at times was more like a railway station than a working kitchen.
Just as he checked off an item on what seemed like a never-ending list, the back door would open and a stream of youngsters wearing chefs’ overalls carrying the logos of famous restaurants from all over the city would saunter in, to collect trays of food for their dinner service.
What amazed him was that not only did Amy know each of them by their first name, but she also looked happy to stop what she was doing and go over their order and discuss the food. And laugh. Nattering in French, German, Italian or Spanish, as needed. A couple of times she even dived into the shop area to select another of the round chocolate cakes, or wrap another loaf to increase the order.
It seemed relentless.
And then there was the baking. Every time he looked up Amy was pulling tray after tray of sweet smelling food from the ovens.
If there was ever a one-woman show, he was watching it. And he had thought his office was busy.
It was almost a surprise when he looked up to find her wandering over to his table with a tray of coffee and some tiny pastries. Jared leapt to his feet and took the tray from her hands as she collapsed down into a hard chair and dropped her head back, eyes closed.
‘Is it always like this?’ he asked.
She flicked open her green eyes and looked at him across the table. ‘I’ve had to work harder than I have ever done in my life to build this business. There are some excellent bakers in this city who have been training for years. I have to offer something special. And I’ve only been open two years. That’s not a long time in this world.’ She laughed. ‘I carry the battle scars to show for it.’ Amy stretched out her arms so that Jared could see the burn marks from wrist to elbow.
He gasped. ‘That’s horrendous. From the ovens?’
‘Hot baking sheets. My uncle Walter calls them campaign medals. All part of the job. I knew what I was getting myself into before I started.’ Then she laughed again, and picked up a fragment of flaky pastry filled with cinnamon-scented cream, before passing the plate to Jared. ‘Besides, do you think all the top chefs have time to make their own strudel?’
‘What about all those round chocolate cakes that have been going out? Surely they can make those?’
She put down her coffee cup and glared at him. ‘Are you referring to my Sachertorte, Mr Shaw? That is a secret recipe handed down through generations of the Edler family. Direct from Vienna, you know.’ Her hands wrapped around the coffee cup she was focused on. ‘I should warn you. There is a definite risk involved in allowing that cake past your lips.’
‘A risk?’ He smiled back, suddenly losing all interest in the contents of Lucy’s pink box.
‘Oh, yes. I have several customers who claim that they are addicted to it. No other chocolate cake will do! I would hate to get you hooked on the best. How would you cope when you go back to New York?’
‘You don’t deliver?’
‘Only within a ten-mile radius of where you are sitting.’
‘Well, I can see that could be a problem. Although…’
She tilted her head towards him and smiled as her eyebrows lifted.
Jared stared her right back. ‘I take risks for a living, Miss Edler. Part of my job is looking for the next challenge.’ He paused, his eyes still locked on hers, before speaking in a low voice. ‘Bring it on.’
The crinkles at the corners of her eyes smiled back. And the background noise in the room around them was blocked out by the sound of his heartbeat. He felt as though the rest of the planet did not exist. That they were floating in space. Just the two of them. Separated from the world. Together. How had that happened?
Then a very real and loud human voice broke the glass wall.
‘Amy! Time to head upstairs. The gals are here. See ya later!’
She turned her head away from Jared to reply to Trixi with an, ‘Okay.’
The spell was broken.
‘Sorry, but my flat will be out of bounds for the next hour or so. Trixi is using my shower.’ Amy gathered up the coffee cups and poured a glass of cold water for them both, her eyes focused on anything apart from Jared. ‘Back to work. Would you mind talking me through the list while I make a few extra loaves? That would be great!’
Jared nodded in reply and instinctively moved his chair across, next to the table where Amy was working, suddenly keen to be close to this woman. He stretched out his long denim clad legs, and was about to ask her what table decorations were when something heavy and loud fell onto the floor above their head. Jared the builder wondered if the floorboards were original, and if they were likely to have Trixi falling through to join them at any minute.
A voice called out from the ether. ‘I’m okay.’
Jared looked up at Amy, who was shaking her head.
‘Now I am intrigued. Why is the lovely Trixi using your bathroom?’
Amy sighed and carried on working the ball of dough.
‘Trixi lives at home, and the shower in their flat hasn’t been working for weeks. Their landlord always finds some sort of excuse as to why it can’t be repaired.’
Jared nodded. ‘I know the type only too well. He’s stalling. It’s never going to happen.’
‘Correct.’ Amy nodded too. ‘The problem is Trixi’s mum is a single parent in a wheelchair, and it’s one of the few disabled access flats to be found. He knows that. So they have to either lump it or move out. And he knows they can’t afford to do that.’
Amy sighed out loud and started thumping the life out of the dough on her board, punching and teasing it.
‘Do you know that girl has to wash her mother’s back each day with only a flannel and a bowl of hot water? She needs a shower. The poor woman only has a bath once a week at the Saturday clinic. Trixi is worried sick. She can’t even plan to go to college. Not with that responsibility.’
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