Always the Bridesmaid
Amy strolled around the table and polished a pristine fork on a clean corner of her apron before placing it next to the pastry on Jared’s plate.
‘Just because I chose to become a baker, it does not mean that I handed my brain in at the gate with my company credit card.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Relax, Jared. Lucy’s hired a professional wedding planner. All I have to do is keep in touch every week and follow up on any questions they have. So far everything has gone very well.’ Amy nodded towards his plate. ‘So, now that’s cleared up, why don’t you enjoy your strudel? You look as though you need it. Long day?’
He paused before replying. ‘Yes, actually it has been a long day. And I’m sure it’s delicious, but I don’t eat cake.’
Amy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Good. Because this is not cake. This is strudel. My strudel. Which I made. Today. In this kitchen. At some silly time of the morning.’
Amy gestured towards the oven and then sat down on the corner of the table, her arms folded.
‘You made this?’ There was genuine surprise in his voice.
‘Specialty of the house. And nobody leaves this kitchen without trying my strudel. Including you. Jared Shaw.’
Amy uncrossed her arms and leant forward so that her face was only inches from his. Lucy Shaw was one of the few people Amy had called to her hospital bed when she’d needed a friend. And she had no intention of letting Lucy down when it came to the simple matter of organising her wedding.
The last thing she needed was a macho brother turning up, questioning her abilities.
Even if that brother did smell of sharp citrus with a hint of leather, and looked as if he had stepped out of a photo shoot for a fashion magazine.
In another time and place she might even had said that he was gorgeous.
He was staring into her eyes now, the corners of his mouth turned up with a flicker of something which could have been amusement, but was more likely frustration that she had not agreed to hand over the wedding plan to his PA. Yet.
The next few days were going to be demanding in so many ways. Although she hated to admit it, if there was a problem so close to the wedding it might be helpful to have someone she could call on in an emergency. Just as long as they understood who was in charge, of course.
‘I might be able to use your help on a few things,’ she whispered, in her softest, most seductive tone. ‘And then again, I might not.’
Her eyes ratcheted down to the pastry, then slowly, slowly slid up the front of his pristine suit jacket and back to his face.
‘It all depends on what you do in the next five minutes. So what’s it going to be? Jared?’
The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened, and Amy inhaled a powerful aroma of spicy masculine sweat and body spray, which was sweet even against the perfume of the fruit and nuts of her food.
She couldn’t move. There was something electric in the few inches of air between them, as though powerful magnets were pulling them together.
So this was the famous Jared Shaw, CEO of Haywood and Shaw.
At this distance she could feel the frisson of energy and strength of the man whose property development signs were outside homes and office blocks in cities all over Britain and the East Coast of America.
And he knew it.
This was the kind of man who was accustomed to walking into a cocktail bar or a restaurant and having head waiters fawning over themselves to find him the best table.
Well, not this time, handsome!
She could stick this out longer than he could.
The bell saved him. Amy’s private cellphone rang a couple of times before she dragged her eyes away from his, glanced down at the caller ID, twisted her mouth with annoyance, and stood up quickly to take the call.
Within seconds she had turned back to face him, and he instantly recognised a certain look in her eyes which brought his back even straighter.
‘Yes. I can be there in twenty minutes. Thank you.’
Amy exhaled slowly, then marched to the back of the kitchen and shrugged off her long apron, revealing a short-sleeved navy blue T-shirt.
She was still drying her hands when Jared walked up.
‘Do you remember the wedding planner that Lucy hired? The one with all the celebrity clients?’ she asked.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the man standing ramrod-straight next to her, his back braced. He was looking horribly tall, as though he feared the worst and the wedding plan might be about to hit the fan.
It hit the fan.
‘Clarissa has cancelled all her appointments and eloped to Antigua. With the bridegroom who was supposed to be walking down the aisle tomorrow morning. I’m going to her office right now to pick up Lucy’s file. Want to come along?’
CHAPTER TWO
HE HAD known something like this would happen.
Worse. It was entirely his fault.
He had taken his eyes off the ball and allowed a wedding planner he had never met to run a project as important as his only sister’s wedding. So what if he was in the middle of one of the biggest deals of his life in New York? Family came first.
He had promised his mother before she moved to France that he would take care of his sister.
He had let her down.
Not going to happen. Not while there was still blood in his veins. He had a brilliant PA, and a team back in New York who could be on the next flight out if they had to.
The sound of a car horn snapped Jared out of his thoughts, and he ran the fingertips of both hands through his hair, before flicking open the buttons of his suit jacket.
Suddenly he felt hot, tired, and running on empty. He went to the door to get some air. Maybe he should have eaten some of the strudel? It wouldn’t have killed him. He might even have liked it. Lucy would have told him to be kinder to her friend who was offering him free food.
But there’s no such thing as a free lunch, Lucy Lou.
Even if Amy Edler was not the girl he had expected.
As he turned away from the London traffic whizzing by outside, Amy jogged past him out of the shop door; her arms full of Edlers cake boxes, and nudged him in the arm before speaking.
‘We’re going to need serious bribery to pull this one off—and I don’t mean a wad of twenties.’ She nodded down the busy street. ‘There’s a bus that stops across the road which will have us at the wedding planner’s office in fifteen minutes.’
‘The last time I was on a bus,’ Jared said, pulling out his cellphone, ‘I was still in school. That won’t be necessary.’
Amy looked up as a glossy silver-grey Rolls-Royce car glided to a smooth halt only three feet away from where they were standing. She leaned closer to him. ‘Drat. A customer. And we are totally out of Sachertorte. Wait a minute—I recognise that car from somewhere!’
Jared was holding one hand up and he gestured towards the car.
‘Relax. I was on my way home from the airport when I stopped by. Let me take those boxes for you, and let me introduce you to my driver, Frank…’
Jared watched in amazement as Amy literally threw the boxes at him and ran into the arms of his old friend to receive a warm bear hug. He could only stare, slack-jawed, as Amy stood on tiptoe and kissed Frank heartily on the cheek.
And damn if he didn’t feel a tug of jealousy.
Where had that come from? He didn’t do jealous. Especially not for a woman he had met only minutes earlier.
He faked calm indifference as he carefully balanced the cake boxes on one arm while he opened the boot, its shiny metal surface blocking his view of the intimate greeting.
‘Amy, love. So this is where you’ve been hiding. Well—Edlers?’ Frank shook his head and crossed his arms to scan the shopfront. ‘You actually did it! Lucy should have told me.’
‘You’re welcome here any time—you know that, Frankie. You can have anything you can dream of eating.’
Jared closed the boot, as Amy stepped back from Frank with a beaming grin on her face, transforming her from being pretty into the kind of woman worthy of more than a second look. Even a third.
Under the fluorescent kitchen lighting he had not missed the fact that Amy was the kind of girl who looked good without make-up, but in the fading sunlight her skin appeared pale and translucent in contrast to the bright sparkling green of those amazing eyes. But it was her smile, her bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked smile, that hit him hard in the bottom of his stomach.
This version of Amy Edler was a stunner.
Something twisted inside Jared’s gut and he swallowed hard. When was the last time any girl had looked at him like that with such warmth and affection? And meant it?
Come to think of it, when was the last time he had met a woman outside business? A woman like Amy Edler? Maybe if he had the time he could turn on the charm and persuade her to turn one of those smiles in his direction. Except he did not have the time. He had a week to plan his sister’s wedding before he turned his back on London for good, and nothing was going to get in his way.
‘I take it you two know each other, then?’ Jared managed to ask casually, as he strolled over to hold the rear passenger door open for Amy.
‘Who else would little Lucy call to collect her best friend from the airport? Rent-a-cab? Not likely, mate. Only the best for this lady.’ Then his expression changed, and Frank reached out and held Amy by both arms. ‘You look great, girl. Gorgeous as ever. How are you feeling?’
As Jared watched, the smile faltered on Amy’s lips, before she relaxed. ‘Fine—I’m fine. Never better.’ Her words were softer, lower, as though she was protecting Frank from some unpleasant truth.
Frank gave a sharp nod and turned back to Jared.
‘I know a great new Italian place, mate. How about we all catch up over dinner?’
Amy laughed out loud and spoke before Jared had a chance to answer.
‘Not a chance, Frankie. The wedding planner Lucy hired has done a runner. Eloped. Taken off with the fiancé of one of her clients.’ Amy lifted and then dropped both her arms. ‘I had the first call, but we need to get over there fast, before the other bridezillas find out.’
Frank hissed, and jumped back from the pavement towards the driver’s door. ‘Jump in. You too, boss. Fast as you like. I know the address, but we’re going to have to get a move on before the news breaks. I know a shortcut.’
Amy was halfway into the car when she suddenly jumped back onto the pavement, turning at the same time and colliding with Jared’s hard, muscular body.
Jared reacted instantly, grabbing her by the waist. His fingers expanded to take in her tiny waist and the curve of her ribcage. The woman hidden beneath the baggy navy working clothes was muscular and warm, and it made absolute sense for him to hold her tighter in his embrace, both of his arms encircling the slim body.
‘It’s okay. I’ve got you.’
Amy blinked and opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again as her eyes locked onto his.
The portion of Jared’s brain responsible for sensible thought and blood pressure forgot that he was standing on a public London street, with Friday night pedestrians only a few feet away, and his breathing changed to compensate for the thundering in his heart.
His body reacted to the warm tiny woman pressed against his chest, her hands flat against his business shirt. The smell of her body and her clothing—warm vanilla, sweet spices and bread—combined with the sound of her breathing loud in his ears, blocking out the thundering traffic and street noise.
Time expanded until his arms slowly slid away from her waist and he took one step back. He drew himself to his feet, holding her steady, and she released him and stepped to one side.
Amy lifted one leg, then the other, inspecting the fabric of her trousers.
‘Sorry about that. But I’ve got chocolate icing on my trousers. And this is a nice car…’
The two men stood and stared at her in silence for a second, before Frank dared to comment.
‘I’ve had a lot worse on that leather. Dig out the picnic blanket, mate, and then let’s get going.’
‘How well do you know this wedding planner?’ Jared asked as soon as they were moving and he had regained use of his lungs and his brain.
‘Clarissa?’ Amy answered. ‘I only met her the last time Lucy was in London. Her assistant Elspeth was in charge of making the actual arrangements. I know a few girls who have used Clarissa, and they all sing her praises. That’s why I’m not worried. It’s only seven days to the wedding, Jared. Everything will have been booked and confirmed weeks if not months ago.’
He conceded it was possible with a nod. ‘Maybe, but there is no harm in checking. Especially now. I don’t want to call Lucy until I know whether there is a problem.’
‘I agree with you on that.’ Amy swallowed and tried to appear casual by looking out of the window before going on. ‘So, what can I do to convince you that I don’t need your help and am perfectly capable of sorting out any last-minute problems on my own?’
Jared considered for a moment before replying. ‘I need to be sure that this Clarissa hasn’t missed anything in her rush to elope with some other girl’s boyfriend. For me, that means going through the master checklist for the project, right down to times and places.’
‘Ah. Is that all?’ Amy laughed, and stared into his face with her mouth half open. ‘I’m beginning to understand. You cannot stand the idea that any person besides yourself and your team is even remotely capable of running a project. Am I right?’
There was some suppressed sniggering from the front of the car, which at that moment turned sharply into a tight bend, sliding Jared along the slippery leather towards Amy, who was safe on her blanket.
His hand grabbed onto her leg to steady him, and was rewarded with a smudge of something sticky between its fingers.
And the sensation that his world had been rocked on its foundation.
He felt dizzy. Light headed. He should have eaten that strudel. That was it. Nothing to do with the slim muscular thigh he had just been touching. Must be jet lag.
‘Seatbelt?’ she murmured, shaking her head. ‘Seatbelt would be good.’
He clicked on the belt, pretending to look out of the window.
Unfortunately for him at that moment he saw the reflection of Amy in the glass.
She was digging inside the bag on her knee with one hand, while the other stripped back the bandanna covering her hair. In one smooth movement her head dropped back, her eyes closed, and her fingers combed through her head of boy-short glossy brown layers.
It was the most sensual thing he had seen in a long time, and the fact that it was natural and completely relaxed made it even more remarkable.
The dark brown hair contrasted with Amy’s smooth clear skin, shining in the June sunlight streaming through the car window. She had been at university at the same time as Lucy, he thought, so she had to be late twenties…
Her head flicked up as she laughed about something with Frank, as though they had been mates for years.
Why did he find that so annoying? Frank was free to act as a chauffeur as and when he liked when Jared wasn’t in town—which was the usual case. He couldn’t have spent any more than a week in London in the last six months. Why shouldn’t he drive Lucy and her friends? That was what he had asked him to do, wasn’t it? But why hadn’t Frank mentioned Amy before? And what was the great secret they’d been talking about when she’d hugged him like that?
A police siren sounded to their right, and Jared turned as Amy flicked out her tongue to tantalisingly lick off the smudge of icing at the corner of her mouth.
She noticed him looking her way. Or had she noticed the sudden increase in temperature in the gap between them? Frank should take a look at the air conditioning in this car…
Time for him to take charge.
‘So, how do I get to see this famous wedding plan?’
Amy sighed out loud. ‘That is not going to be easy!’ She turned in her seat before going on. ‘Each of Clarissa’s clients has their own personal file. Everything and anything linked to that particular wedding is inside that pink box. Rule one is that the box should never leave her office, on pain of death. I’m hoping sweet treats will persuade Elspeth to change her mind about that, while she copes with the fall-out from Clarissa’s sudden exit.’
Jared pushed his full lower lip forward and gently inclined his head.
‘Devious. I like it. And I thought the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach!’
‘Oh, it works for ladies too! I suspect we may not be the only ones burning a path to that office to salvage wedding plans. The brides will burn me at the stake for bringing carbs, but their mothers will love it.’
‘Clearly. I can see now where I’ve been going wrong all these years. I should have been buttering up my girlfriends with sugar and cakes.’
‘Definitely.’
Amy glanced out of the window as Frank slowed to a stop. Cars were double and triple-parked down the narrow street outside the wedding planner’s office. Some more abandoned than parked.
‘Here we are. And it looks like I’m going to need that cake. Best stay in the car, boys. This is a dangerous assignment, but someone has to do it. I’m going in.’
Jared stared across Amy to see what could be so dangerous.
They had pulled up outside a row of Victorian terraced houses, once the homes of the middle classes, now used as businesses and hotels all over the city.
This particular house was distinguished from its neighbours by a tasteless pink plaque with the word “Clarissa” in black and gold six-inch-high letters.
And by the cluster of women around the entrance.
Sleek, shiny women. Of all ages. Jostling to get into the house.
The kind of women who were accustomed to the January sales and came supplied with sharp elbows and stiletto heels. And his shin pads were back in New York. This was more than dangerous—this could be lethal!
Jared instinctively touched Amy on the arm as she removed her seatbelt.
‘No way are you giving those ladies extra sugar. You’d never make it back alive.’
Amy collapsed back into the luxurious seat and glared at the increasingly noisy crowd. Several more cars had pulled up behind them, ready to discharge extra troops.
‘You may have a point. Frank? Any ideas?’
‘Retreat to a safe point and come back Monday, when these girls have gone home to complain to their hairdressers?’
‘Not possible.’ Jared interrupted before Amy could reply. ‘Lucy is due to be married in seven days? Monday will not do. You two stay here. I’ll see how far I can get.’
This time it was Amy who grabbed Jared’s arm, as he tugged on the cuffs of his shirt.
‘Hold on, macho hero. Those girls would eat you alive. You do know that it’s always the bloke’s fault, don’t you? This bridegroom who stole Clarissa from them is clearly to blame for the whole thing. You’d have to be pregnant and barefoot to get to the front of that queue!’
Jared sat back and pursed his lips together for a few seconds as he looked at Amy, from her flat comfortable shoes to the top of her head, before nodding slowly.
‘Pregnant and barefoot. Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. It might just work…’
Amy caught the tone in Jared’s voice, and watched as he patted the picnic blanket she was sitting on before speaking.
‘I’m almost frightened to ask,’ she said, watching him closely.
‘Frank? Do you have any cushions in the back?’ Jared asked, totally ignoring her comment.
‘Of course, mate.’
‘Excellent. Miss Edler—I do realise that we have only just met, but we are about to become proud expectant parents. Won’t that be nice?’
She stared at him with wide-eyed horror as she realised what his idea was.
‘You wouldn’t?’
The man sitting next to her simply turned towards her and gave a wide smile, raising his eyebrows.
It was the first time he had smiled since they’d met—and, oh, yes, she could see why any girl in a fifty metre radius would instantly agree to anything he suggested.
Amy closed her eyes. She had promised Lucy she would do everything she could to help with the wedding while her mother recovered from the ’flu.
And of course there was that other reason it had to be a huge success…
This might be the first wedding cake Amy had ever made, but it was not going to be the last. Clarissa had already contacted her about other weddings later in the year, and she knew Lucy had been telling all her London friends. She already had orders for eight more chocolate special cakes—but only if this wedding was the success she desperately wanted for Lucy and Mike.
She needed that business.
She needed her friends to have a wonderful day.
She needed that wedding plan.
Which was why she suddenly heard herself asking, ‘How many cushions? One or two?’
Jared took his time climbing out of one side of the car and making his way around the rear to open the passenger door for Amy, so that she could start her award winning performance.
He made a show of making a slight bow, so she accepted his hand as if she was stepping out in evening dress onto the red carpet at a film premiere. Only on this occasion she was wearing navy check trousers splattered with icing, and a stained extra-large navy T-shirt stretched over two pillows and a picnic blanket. But she was still determined to give the role her all.
It wasn’t her fault that her performance required Jared to wrap one arm protectively around where her middle should be, which somehow distracted her so much that she was swept up the steps before she knew it. Thereby missing her own big entrance.
Jared helped Amy stagger through into a narrow corridor packed with anxious and crying women who had jumped to their feet as one, each female fighting to make her voice heard, competing in decibels and speed to get attention. Any attention.
The noise was deafening.
Amy squeezed Jared’s hand—a signal to reposition the pillow, which was starting to bulge over her trousers—before stretching up to whisper in his ear.
‘Let’s make a deal. If I can persuade Elspeth to give me the box, then I will allow you to help with the wedding. But only on one condition. You do the work yourself. Not your PA, not your events planner, not your brilliant admin team. You. Or is the great Jared Shaw scared of getting his hands dirty?’
She looked up at him with the sweetest, most adoring, open-mouthed smile, complete with fluttering eyelashes for the benefit of the onlookers.
‘Do we have a deal? Squeeze once for yes, and twice for no.’
Jared tightened his grip on Amy’s waist. The way back to the car was already blocked by a formidable-looking older woman and a younger weeping girl.
There was no backing out.
He squeezed. Once.
Still clutching Jared’s hand, Amy dragged him towards the flustered-looking receptionist’s desk. The pillows and picnic blanket had created a surprisingly effective eight-month baby bump.
‘Hi. I’ve heard about Clarissa’s unplanned holiday.’ Amy addressed the girl behind the desk, glancing around the room, taking in the tears and the emotional tension, until every other woman stopped talking.
‘My fiancé and I have our wedding next weekend.’ She looked at the stunned Jared and gave him her most adoring smile. ‘This is our last chance before little Jarella is born, so I hope you understand that I have an urgent appointment in—’ she glanced at her watch ‘—three minutes.’
Before the receptionist could answer, Amy leant backwards and shuffled up to the office door, drawing a red-faced Jared with her. She knocked once, did not wait for an answer, flung open the door, and then closed it behind them.
A slim, middle-aged woman in a tight pink bouclé suit was crouched down low, her elbows resting on a pink desk. Her head was in her hands, and the desk was covered with yellow sticky notes. A loose telephone lead trailed from her finger. Disconnected. There was a bottle of cream sherry and a small glass by her hand. And not much sherry left in the bottle.