Blind Date Rivals
Sara pointed to his wrist. ‘I’m afraid designer watches like that were not so very common in the organised crime community.’
He looked casually down and snorted. ‘Serves me right for accepting gifts from every jewellery designer I promise to marry,’ he answered, grinning down at Helen, who raised her eyebrows in recognition.
‘Anyway—look at you! All dressed up for a Saturday night and looking very handsome.’
‘Helen dragged me here.’ Sara nodded. ‘Apparently this is the poor girl’s last chance to have some fun before she leaves the world of young, free and single.’
Caspar was already looking over Helen’s head towards the bar, and nodded to the wine waiter who was carrying trays of chilled champagne glasses with what looked like dry ice streaming out of them.
‘I consider it my solemn duty to help my future bride achieve all her goals. Be right back with the drinks, ladies. Prepare to try the famous Kaplinski movie night cocktails.’
And with that he swaggered off across the polished floorboards with his shoulder pads leading the way.
Sara sighed and sat back in her chair. ‘That man is almost good enough for you. Almost. And how is the birth day girl?’
Helen slapped her a little too vigorously on the back. ‘Fan. Tastic. I need to catch up with the catering manager, and find out where your date has got to, but I will be right back. Stay put.’
‘You are not going to leave me here on my own?’ Sara could not hide the desperation in her voice.
‘Of course not,’ Helen replied, giving her one of her looks. ‘Mingle, darling. Mingle. See you in five!’
Sara shook her head with a grin as Helen skipped her way through the crowd, then stopped to chat to a sword carrying pirate who had started a play fight with a young man waving a light sabre.
With a low chuckle, Sara lifted her evening bag higher onto her shoulder, sashayed out into the room and accepted a cool glass of champagne from a formally dressed waiter who winked at her as he presented his silver tray. She winked back. The young couple who ran the village post office were always grateful for extra work at the hotel and she could see his wife on the other side of the room reorganising the buffet display.
Fantastic! Now she had two more people to chat to.
She was just about to turn away when a slim man in a very stylish black suit, wearing white gloves and a flowing cape with huge red lapels, strolled into the room as though it was the deck of a luxurious yacht. He held his body in a stiff and mannered way—aloof and imposing. He was dark and so classically handsome that Sara could only gaze in awe. The gene fairy had certainly waved her magic wand over this boy.
All in all, he looked every inch the poster boy for the modern city executive he no doubt was. Polished and slick as steel. Confident in his abilities and accustomed to taking charge in any situation. A true captain of industry.
Sara gave a low sniff at the memory of all the boys she had dated over the years who had been clones of the man she was looking at. She had been there, done that and had been disappointed time and again when it turned out that they were far too interested in dating someone who they could introduce to their family as the only daughter of Lady Fenchurch rather than find out who she was as a person.
Being at the end of a long line of aristocratic landowners certainly had its disadvantages. Especially when she did not have any rights to a title of her own.
Then Caspar instantly greeted him warmly and pointed him over towards the bar, except that as he turned away she caught a fleeting look on Count Dracula’s face which she identified with only too well. It only lasted a fraction of a second but it spelt out that he felt lonely and foolish and out of place. Almost as though he had been dragged there and dressed up against his will.
Leo Grainger glanced around the room, then stared in horror as Caspar passed him a very odd-looking steaming drink. ‘You do know that you are the one and only person on this planet who could drag me to Helen’s birthday party dressed like this? I just thought you ought to know that. For the record.’
‘What are friends for?’ Caspar replied, waving his Kaplinski cocktail in the air. ‘Think nothing of it. And no, I had nothing whatsoever to do with Helen setting you up with her old school friend. Sorry, pal, but she who must be obeyed has decreed it so. Anyway, it is the least I could do after you offered us the free use of the hotel.’
Leo tipped his head and raised his glass towards Caspar’s. ‘It was my pleasure. There are some compensations for being related to the owner. I was happy to help. And Helen looks as lovely as ever.’
‘That she does,’ Caspar replied, slapping Leo on the back one handed and almost making him spill his drink. ‘Why don’t you make a start on the food? And while you’re checking out the buffet I’ll check on my future bride. The lovely Helen has some sort of surprise entertainment up her sleeve to finish off the evening and I want to be prepared. Back in a minute.’
And with that the gangster rolled across the room, swaggering his shoulders dramatically from side to side.
Leo blinked several times, shook his head, took one sip of the cocktail, almost choked and quickly picked up a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter with a smile and grateful thanks. If that was the effect a Kaplinski cocktail had on an otherwise fairly normal lawyer like Caspar, he would pass. For this job, he was prepared to remain sober and very alert. And risk the canapés.
Only as he peered across the room towards the buffet table he was struck by something rather remarkable. One of the elegant party guests was talking to the waitress who was juggling empty platters and plates. And not just idle chatting in a condescending way but really laughing and sharing a joke so that when she started jiggling along and shaking her slim and very attractive hips in time with the lively music playing in the background, his own feet starting tapping with them.
For the first time in days an ironic smile creased the corner of Leo’s mouth. He had so many vivid memories about the rude and arrogant guests and diners he had served during his days as a general waiter and dogsbody in his aunt’s hotel. They had been tough times when he had been glad of the work but it had been hard going and he had never truly got used to being ignored or verbally abused—it had been part of the training at the University of Life.
One thing he had learned was that a guest who actually took the time to connect with the serving staff and treat them as human beings was a rare creature. The crowds cleared a little and he could just make out that the tall brunette with the short hair was even lovelier than he had expected.
She was wearing a classic little black dress and black evening gloves. Pearls, of course. Elegant. Cool, but she still came over as somehow comfortable. That was it. She looked comfortable inside her own skin. She was not beautiful or sleek but somehow real with a natural prettiness and totally relaxed body language that she was not ashamed of.
The fact that her long slim legs tapered into lovely shapely ankles was an added bonus. This was no country bumpkin—this was an elegant and classy city girl who had been trapped here in the back of beyond like himself.
Perhaps he had found someone to talk to at this party after all.
CHAPTER TWO
SARA walked slowly along the buffet table, loading up her plate with bite-sized mouthfuls of the most delicious food. The hotel chef was amazing and, after three glasses of the Kaplinski cocktail whilst waiting for Helen, who was still mingling, she was in need of something more solid to add to her stomach. Her snatched lunchtime sandwich was a distant memory, and she wasn’t entirely sure she had finished that. Okay, she was having a slight problem using the serving tongs while wearing long evening gloves which were slightly too large for her, but hunger had won out in the end and her reward was a plate heaped up with goodies.
The gloves were going to have to come off during the actual eating process—but some things were worth the sacrifice. And at this rate it would not take long for her to scoff the lot.
She had just paused at the mini pizza platter when the strains of a familiar musical theme song belted out above the background chatter. Her hand trembled as a tsunami of emotion and sentimental angst swept over her. All it took were a few lines of lyrics and the sound of a studio orchestra … and she unravelled.
It had always been the same. Sounds and music were associated for ever in her mind with specific people and places and events, and there was nothing she could do about it—that was the way her mind worked. All she had to do was hear the opening bars of a tune and she was right back in that moment.
Pity that it had to be now.
It had been a long busy week and the last thing she wanted was to walk into a party with a soundtrack playing music from one of her grandmother’s favourite musicals. Just the memory of her grandmother holding her hand as they danced around this room, both singing at the top of their voices and having so much fun, was enough to get Sara feeling tearful.
She had so little left of her wonderful grandmother that even these memories seemed too precious to share in public.
No, she told herself sternly. She was not going to weep. This was Helen’s birthday party! And she still had her grand mother’s orchid houses—and they had meant more to her than anything else in this fine house. The fact that her grandmother had bequeathed them to her with the cottage was worth any amount of ridicule from her mother. She had trusted her to take care of them as their new custodian and that was precisely what she was doing.
So she had every reason to smile and pretend that every thing was fine and she was just dandy! After everything Helen had done for her, she was not going to let her down. No way. Not going to happen. And so far her blind date had not appeared so she had this time to herself.
She needed a drink to ease the burning pain in her throat. That was all.
Sara quickly loaded up her plate with savoury bites, then paused in front of a superb dessert trolley. And right on top was a black satin-lined tray of chocolates which had been shaped into small award statuettes. Except that the few remaining chocolates had been crushed by other guests in their rush to gobble them up and from where she was standing looked more like body halves, with a luscious creamy-white centre. Perfect.
She had just scooped up some chocolate legs onto a silver spoon when there was a clatter and a loud beeping noise and Helen’s distinctive voice called out from the centre of the room. Sara turned around just in time to see her friend stand on a chair holding a microphone in one hand and waving her basket in her other hand with such gusto that poor little stuffed Toto was joggling about and threatening to jump out at any minute.
‘Hello, everyone. Me here. Thanks for coming. Just to let you know that there are five more minutes before the karaoke starts, so finish off your drinks and food and get ready to sing your heart out. Yes. That’s right. Hollywood musicals. I just know it is going to be the best fun. Thanks.’
With that, Caspar strolled up and wrapped his arm around Helen’s waist to lift her off the chair and back to the table, both of them laughing and so very happy. And, despite the fact that she wished her friends every joy, Sara felt her heart break as she watched Helen and Caspar clinging together. Was she ever going to find someone she wanted to be with who could return her love without seeing her as little more than an aristocratic trophy girl?
Sara was so distracted that it took her a second to realise that the other partygoers were making a sudden rush towards her and what was left on the buffet table. Drat. She would have to work fast to stock up before the hordes descended. Good thing she was at the dessert end of the queue. And with that she turned back to the trolley.
Only her way was blocked by the man in the cape. And as she moved forward and he turned towards her, her hand banged into his arm and some of Sara’s chocolate legs went flying onto the floor, narrowly missing his suit.
‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ she said, suddenly aware that she had not even realised that he was standing there as she reached across. ‘How clumsy of me.’
Sara looked straight across into a pair of blue-grey eyes, the brightness backlit by the gentle light from a crystal chandelier over the buffet table. Their eyes locked for a moment, and something inside her flipped over. Several times.
This vampire was probably the best-looking man she had seen in a very long time. He had a long oval face with a strong chin and cheekbones which could have been carved by a Renaissance sculptor, backed up by light Mediterranean colouring.
The only things that stopped her from melting into a pool at his feet were the deep frown lines between his heavy dark brown eyebrows. Perhaps he was as worried about the karaoke as she was?
Sara blinked several times. On the other hand, perhaps mixing allergy tablets with strange cocktails was not such a good idea and she should skip that question? But there was definitely something in the way he looked at her which had her skin standing to attention and her entire body waving hello, handsome!
‘My fault entirely,’ he replied ‘Ah. Now it makes perfect sense. I came between a woman and her next chocolate fix. I now consider myself fortunate to have survived.’
He bent down and picked up what was left of the choco late leg, which was now covered with a thick layer of whatever was on the fine parquet flooring from the feet of the guests. Only he squeezed it a little too hard, and the chocolate burst to release a gooey white chocolatey sticky mess over his white vampire costume gloves.
Sara held out a couple of napkins at arm’s length. ‘Don’t get the chocolate on your gloves—you’ll never get the stain out!’
Leo nodded wisely, tried to wipe the fragments of melted dark chocolate from the white fabric, gave up, then picked up a fresh piece of broken chocolate from the tray with his fingertips and bit into it. ‘Might as well make the most of having messy fingers and be reckless. White fondant icing and bitter dark choc. Um … not too bad at all.’
Leo lifted the box from the display like a waiter and wafted them in front of Sara’s nose.
‘Miss Golightly, please allow me to replace your crushed confectionary in exchange for a nibble. And try saying that after one of Caspar’s cocktails without getting slapped.’
Sara laughed out loud, making him raise his head, and he gave her a warm smile, which was slightly set off by the chocolate on his teeth—but warm nevertheless, with a certain twinkle in his eye which was infectious enough to make it impossible for her to refuse.
‘Only if you can spare one, dear Count? How kind, thank you.’
Sara turned her head and nodded over her shoulder. ‘All ready for your party piece? I have to warn you, Helen is relentless. Nobody will escape.’
He looked from side to side and leant closer, giving her a free whiff of a stunning body wash. ‘Ze Prince of Darkness does not do diz party piece. No, no. It ees no elegant.’
‘Can’t sing for toffee?’ Sara asked in a light voice, eye brows raised.
His reply was a small shrug and a flip of one hand. ‘So many talents.’ Then he dropped his head and said through the corner of his mouth, ‘Every dog in the village would start howling at the moon if I started singing. Tone deaf. Tried before. Crashed and burned. Not going to embarrass myself again.’
Sara was about to reply when a large gentleman in a huge gorilla suit joggled her arm en route to the buffet table, almost causing her to lose her dinner plate, and she had to snatch it away from catastrophe.
‘I have a suggestion,’ Sara whispered in her very best conspiratorial voice.
She glanced from side to side around the room. The way onto the patio was blocked by the karaoke machine and Helen and her workmates, who were setting up some fiendish plan to persuade them all to sing. Drat! That was one exit down. Time to get creative.
‘What would you say if I told you that I knew a secret exit onto the garden and we could escape the karaoke machine and eat our dinner in peace?’
Dracula’s reply was to take a surprisingly firm hold around her waist, which made her gasp, and a firmer grip on his dinner plate before he whispered, ‘I would tell you that I will follow you to the ends of the earth, my precious beauty. But make it fast. Caspar is on the prowl, looking for victims. And he has found a plastic machine gun.’
‘Okay, now I am intrigued,’ her fellow escapee whispered as they casually strolled along the wide terrace which ran around the full length of the hotel.
The sound of clinking glasses, tunes from the classic musicals, really bad singing and lively chatter floated out into the summer evening through the open patio doors from the drawing room. Helen’s party was in full swing but they had escaped and enjoyed their dinner in luxurious calm—and without the hindrance of evening gloves.
‘How on earth did you know about that secret staircase leading down from the hall to the back door?’
Sara looked up at him and her lips curled into a smirk before she replied, ‘Oh, I know every hidden passage and room and secret stair in that hotel. But of course you wouldn’t know … I’m a local girl. In fact—’ and at this she paused ‘—you might say I am very local.’
Then she took pity on his confusion, smiled and leant forward before adding, as casually as she could, ‘I grew up in that house. Kingsmede Manor used to be my home.’
She stopped suddenly, dropped her shoulders back and pointed towards the upper floor of the building. ‘Do you see the arched window with the stained glass? The room just at the corner on the left-hand side with the tiny balcony? That was my bedroom. I could lie in bed at night and watch the stars and the trees through the big picture window. It was magical!’
‘Now I’m really confused,’ he replied. ‘Are you telling me that your family used to own this house?’
‘That’s right,’ she answered with a shrug. ‘I am officially the last in the line of a family of Victorian eccentrics who built this house many generations ago. My grandmother passed away three years ago and left the whole place to my mother.’
Sara tilted her head and was grateful for the darkness in their corner of the garden so that he could not see the glint in her eyes. Talking about those sad times still hurt. ‘Mum didn’t want to live here—there were huge debts to clear and I’m sure you can imagine how expensive this house would be to run as a holiday home.’ Sara waved one hand, then let it fall as she turned back to face him. ‘And now it is this lovely hotel.’
‘Wow,’ he replied, with a look of something close to awe in his face. ‘Are you serious? Did you really grow up in this amazing place?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she answered with a tiny shrug. ‘I was sent to boarding school at the age of eight but this was the place I came back to every school holiday. We didn’t have much money to spend on luxuries but it was paradise for a child.’
She stopped talking and stood still for a moment, her eyes scanning the whole front of the building. ‘I have wonderful memories of my life here.’ She turned back to him with a smile and raised her eyebrows to ask with a lift in her voice, ‘How about you? What is your old castle like back in Transylvania?’
‘Oh, the usual problems of living in a dungeon,’ he replied with a sniff. ‘You just cannot get the staff these days. Draughty. Cold. There is a lot to be said for central heating.’
‘Oh, I so agree,’ Sara said with a nod. ‘The modern vampire needs his central heating.’
‘Even so,’ Dracula said, leaning against a wrought-iron balustrade at the edge of the terrace and peering out across the grounds in front of the house, ‘I envy you growing up here.’
Sara moved closer so that she could stand next to him with her arms stretched out on the metal railing. The cherry trees in front of the house had been strung with white party lights so the front entrance looked like a picture from a children’s fairy tale. A pergola filled with climbing white roses and multicoloured clematis in pinks and purples had been built on the western side of the house to capture the last rays of the setting sun and as Sara and the vampire looked out onto the lawns a light breeze lifted the perfume and surrounded them with warmth and fragrance.
It was a magical evening and Sara felt her shoulders relax for the first time in many days. A new moon appeared in the night sky, which was clear and already twinkling with the first stars.
She was suddenly very glad that she had accepted Helen’s invitation to the party.
This was why she’d never found peace when she’d lived in London. It had never come close to this special place in her life.
She leant in contented silence and grasped the balustrade with both hands and inhaled the warm air and the warm atmosphere drifting out from the party, which was going on quite well without them. She was also aware of how very close she was standing next to this man she had only just met. Close enough that she could hear his breathing and the way his cloak rustled in the slight breeze, silk on silk.
This was new! It had been a long time since she had spent the evening alone with a handsome man. Especially one content to enjoy the view in silence. He seemed happy to allow her to do all the talking but she was relaxed enough in his presence to chatter on about nothing in particular.
Of course he knew very little about her and they could enjoy the type of conversation that could only happen between strangers, unfettered by past history.
Perhaps she should start talking about orchids and fertiliser and the poor man would run away for help? As it was, she knew Helen would soon send out a search party to track her down so that she could be introduced to her blind date whether she liked it or not.
A twinge of guilt made Sara wince. Caspar’s friend was probably inside, feeling most neglected and rejected. She should go in and face the music in more ways than one.
Soon.
She would go in soon.
She could stand here for another few minutes and enjoy herself before going back to the party and throwing herself into Helen’s celebrations. She was not going to spend her best friend’s party hiding in the garden feeling sorry for herself or mourning the life she had once known. Especially when she had such a good listener as a companion.
‘I don’t come here very often,’ she whispered, even though there was only the two of them on the terrace. ‘My cottage is just across the lane so I can see the house every day if I want. But this garden is for hotel guests now, not previous residents. This is a rare treat.’
‘That’s because you love this place so much and you miss it,’ he replied in a gentle voice and chuckled at her gasp of surprise. ‘Yes. It is fairly obvious. Especially …’
‘Especially?’ Sara asked in a shaky breath. She was not used to opening up to a complete stranger in this way and it startled her, and yet was strangely reassuring. Weird.
‘I was going to say, especially considering that your family sent you away to boarding school when you were only eight years old.’ He blew out hard and blinked. ‘Eight! That’s hard for me to get my head around. You must have been so miserable.’
Miserable? How did she even begin to explain to a stranger the misery of leaving her home in the middle of the most traumatic time of her life? Abandoned by her mother, who didn’t know what to do with her. Worse, by the father she adored, who thought he was doing the right thing by leaving them to start a new life in South America when the life of luxury he’d thought he had married into when he’d chosen a girl with an aristocratic title and a country estate had completely failed to materialise.