A Convenient Groom. Darcy Maguire
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Stuart grunted and steered her to the entrance to the dining room.
The maître d’ seated them near the back of the crowded restaurant. The table was small, draped with a pearl-white lace tablecloth with shining cutlery laid out, and a vase of roses nestled in the middle.
Stuart dropped into his seat, running his eyes over her body as she sank into her own seat. ‘I have something important to ask you.’
Riana’s breath caught in her throat. Already? She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.
She could see it now. A beautiful apartment on the north side with views to the harbour, a man by her side sharing her life, a fluffy little dog and maybe, and in time, a child or three.
‘Yes?’ she whispered, leaning forward. Was he going to go down on one knee like in the movies? Was he packing a ring in his pocket? Did he have champagne organised as soon as she’d said yes?
He leant his elbows on to the table. ‘I want you to go away with me.’
Riana looked into his face. ‘Away?’ Maybe he was taking the long way round to his proposal of undying love and intense need for her to be his for ever. Was it the honeymoon he was referring to?
‘To Switzerland.’ He lifted his hand for the waiter. ‘My family has a chalet there and it’s my turn to take advantage of it.’
Riana took a sip of water. ‘How romantic,’ she said with extreme calm, holding in her eagerness for the real question.
Did she have to wait long?
Switzerland had those beautiful mountains, with the snow-covered peaks, with the blue-blue skies overhead and a sprawling chalet just for the two of them…It would be a beautifully romantic place to have Stuart propose to her.
Stuart pulled out his cigarettes and tapped the box on the table as though he was itching to light up. ‘Of course, we won’t be alone exactly.’
Riana’s body became heavy. ‘Exactly?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow at the man opposite her.
He waved a hand in the air dismissively. ‘Well, there are a few friends I’ve asked to come to the chalet as well.’
Her body chilled. ‘You’ve already asked them?’
Stuart waved a hand dismissively. ‘Of course. I could hardly keep it to myself.’
But she was only just finding out? She swallowed hard. ‘Sounds crowded.’
He shook his head and grinned at her. ‘Not at all. We’ll have a great time with my mates. And when I get tired of them—’
Riana stared at him, her mouth dry.
‘You’ll be there.’ He took a gulp of the drink the waiter had put down in front of him. ‘But I couldn’t imagine being there without you. You’re such fun to be with.’
‘Fun?’ she said dully. Was that all she was to him or was he just teasing her?
‘Of course. You’re a real blast to be with, Riana. Never a dull moment.’ He leant closer, taking her hands in his. ‘You’re my little party animal…What’s the matter?’
Riana looked at Stuart, her mind struggling to make sense of his words, while she tried not to. ‘I thought…I thought we were moving to the next level…you know?’
She lifted her chin and glared at the man opposite her. This couldn’t be happening to her.
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d misheard, been mistaken. Stuart Brooks wasn’t the sort of man who would toy with a woman. He had breeding, class and manners.
She shifted in her seat, determined. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, least of all Switzerland, until she knew exactly where he figured this relationship was heading.
He furrowed his brow. ‘Next level?’
‘Yes,’ she said softly, trying to smile at his act of naïvety. ‘I thought you were going to propose to me tonight.’
Stuart closed his mouth tightly, making rumbling noises as though he was going to explode. ‘Come on, you’re kidding, right?’ He laughed loudly.
‘I thought you loved me?’
Stuart took a gulp of his drink. ‘Do you love me?’
Riana placed her hand over her heart. ‘I thought we had a future together.’
‘Riana. Of course we do. A future of fun, sport, holidays…’
She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
Stuart sculled the contents of his glass. ‘You’re not exactly marriage material, are you?’
‘Not marriage material!’ She held her hands tightly on her lap, willing her legs to work, to get up, to get away, but she could barely breathe, let alone walk.
She was numb.
He wasn’t serious about her. Not serious at all, and she’d just made a giant fool of herself, blurting out what she felt, yet again, to a man out to break her heart if she let him.
She stared at the man opposite her, watching his lips move, trying to take in his long-winded explanation over the rush of blood to her face and the heavy weight in her chest.
She choked back the burning sensation in her throat. She wasn’t going to be Mrs Brooks. She wasn’t going to be Mrs Anybody.
She wasn’t ever going to find someone to love her, and the fact tore through her heart, ripping all her dreams to shreds.
CHAPTER THREE
JOE rearranged the tripod for the tenth time, standing back to assess the angles.
Thank goodness Tara Andrews had been around to let him in an hour ago. It had been late but she’d understood his need to get the equipment set up right for tomorrow. So much so that she’d left him to it, with exact instructions on how to lock up when he left.
Tara looked a lot like her sister, but had shorter hair, a far more cool and calm demeanour and a few years more experience in the world.
Joe rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the tension. He wasn’t sure what it was about today that sat uneasily in his chest. The lighting had been good. The models fantastic. The gowns awesome. Riana sure had a flair for the exquisite in her designs.
He looked through the lens. What was it that was off? Wrong? Off kilter? He couldn’t put his finger on it…
He shook his head. Whatever it was he’d have to sort it out tonight for the re-shoot tomorrow. It was an absolute pain but he wanted to get it perfect for Riana.
‘Marry me?’
Joe spun around at the woman’s voice.
Riana stood in the doorway in a tight red dress that caressed her curves, accentuating how womanly she was. Her shoulder-length hair spilled around her shoulders like ebony waves, her lips pouty, her eyes wide and on him.
She leant heavily on the door-frame as though her legs weren’t strong enough to hold her, a bottle dangling from one hand.
He frowned as the label became clear. Vodka. Half gone. What was going on? ‘What—?’
She staggered forward. ‘I said…Will you marry me?’ she slurred.
He shook his head. He couldn’t be hearing right. Or he was hallucinating. What was she doing here at this hour? Drunk? And proposing? He shook his head, trying to work her out. ‘What—?’
She lifted the bottle and pointed it at him. ‘Have you got a hearing problem?’
Joe slipped his hands into his pockets, eyeing her warily. This didn’t feel like her at all. ‘No,’ he said