Her Moment in the Spotlight. Nina Harrington
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Mimi to Poppy. ‘Now, if you need a photographer, that I can help you with.’
Her brother!
Mimi’s body locked into a ‘half in the corridor, half in the room’ position. She simply could not move. It was as though her feet were bolted to the carpet tiles. Just as firmly her eyes found something deeply fascinating in the cardboard tray she was still holding so tightly that it had started to develop a definite wobble. She dared not turn around or move one step forward.
It was his voice, of course, deep, husky and sensual—and just about as far away from the voices that she heard in her ordinary life. All she could do was stay rooted to the spot, feeling slightly stunned as the whirlwind of masculine energy twirled around her.
Oblivious to her predicament, Poppy reached forward with one arm and hugged Hal with a beaming grin. ‘I might take you up on that. There is still a lot to do behind the scenes, and we have a list of events over the next few weeks where I am desperate for a photographer I can rely on. But this week I need help with the show. What can we do to convince you to get involved?’
‘Would iced coffee help?’ Mimi finally managed to squeak out as she inched forward a little closer to the desk, terrified that she was going to spill coffee over her precious plans or Hal Langdon’s knees.
Only then did Poppy give a dramatic sigh. ‘Oh, fantastic! And now I am being horribly rude. Hal, this is the fashion designer who is working with us for Tom’s charity fundraiser next week. Mimi, meet my brother, Hal, the other half of Langdon Events.’
She cursed her vivid imagination. Mimi’s attention was riveted by the sounds created by leather sliding against leather, the crunch of his boot and the scrape of the crutch on the carpet as he pulled his leg back, slid his left arm into the crutch and heaved himself to his feet. All set against the gentle whirring from the desk fan, which was totally failing to cool her hot neck. Her hair felt clammy and damp against her neckline. Not her best look when she was trying to impress her events manager—or that manager’s brother.
‘Oh, please don’t get up,’ Mimi said, and stepped forward just as Hal bent and stretched out his right hand towards her.
Only the gap between them was too close, and as she half-turned to shake hands she could not avoid colliding with the solid mass of his muscular frame and the crutch.
Her cardboard tray tilted as it was crushed between them, and it was only at the very last minute that Mimi’s brain kicked into action and her arm whipped out sideways to prevent an explosion of iced coffee.
Her plan almost succeeded.
The tray stayed intact, but in the sudden movement a trickle of coffee escaped over the top of the ill-fitting plastic lid of one of the cups, dribbled down over the tray and onto her foot, soaking through her thin stocking and into her favourite black shoes.
As Mimi gasped in horror, it took a few seconds for her to realise that Hal had taken hold of her arm and was physically holding her steady. As she looked up from her damp shoe into his handsome face, he frowned and said in a low voice, ‘I am so sorry. That was very clumsy of me. Are you okay?’
Standing only inches away from his body, she was very much aware of the remarkable, overwhelming masculinity of this man. If she inhaled deeply their bodies would be pressed together chest to chest. He smelt of dust, man sweat and something fragrance manufacturers had been trying to capture and bottle for decades without success: masculine energy and drive, with a shot of pure attraction and goodness knew how many pheromones.
It was a heady combination that many women would save up to be able to afford—and she was one of them. This magical aroma, combined with the sensation of the rough skin of his fingertips on the back of her arm, sent a shiver of totally shocking but delightful anticipation and sensory pleasure through her body and robbed her of speech.
‘Fine. Not a problem,’ she eventually managed to say. ‘No damage done.’ And she braved a small smile before slipping out away from his grasp and lowering her tray to the safety of Poppy’s desk.
Poppy looked across to Mimi with a shake of the head. ‘Ignore my brother, Mr Famous Mountaineer, outdoor man. It’s the bungee jumping, you know. High Altitudes. Affects the brain.’
‘I like to think of myself as the overseas section of the company.’ Hal smiled at Mimi with a gentle nod, his eyes locked onto her face. It was not a casual glance but a stare so deliberate and focused she felt uncomfortable under the hard, bright heat of it. His heavy, dark eyebrows were squeezed together as though he had recognised her from somewhere and was trying to place her.
One thing was certain—if she had met Hal Langdon before, she would certainly have remembered.
‘Pleased to meet you, Miss …?’
Swallowing down a nervous lump the size of Scotland, Mimi managed to croak out, ‘Ryan. Mimi Ryan,’ only a second before Hal turned back to Poppy, who was sighing in exasperation as he spoke.
‘You should be,’ Poppy sniffed. ‘Mimi has had to drop everything to pull together her first collection in time for the show next weekend.
It’s going to be a huge success, and bring in tons of cash for Tom’s charity, but we are not there yet. Still loads to do. So be nice to poor Mimi.’
Hal stood in silence for a few seconds before sitting down with legs outstretched on the corner of the desk. His bottom covered Mimi’s poster and her floor plan, ruining any chance she might have of grabbing them and making a run for it.
‘Here’s a suggestion.’ His fingers seemed to tighten around the grip inside his crutch. ‘Seeing as I am well and truly grounded at the moment, why don’t I make myself useful on some of the other projects we have going? That way you can focus on the fundraiser while I …’
But before he could finish his sentence, Hal’s voice was drowned out by the loud ringing of the desk telephone and then Poppy’s mobile phone only seconds later.
Poppy took one glance at the caller identity, sucked in air between her teeth, mouthed the word ‘Sorry,’ then picked up the phone.
‘Hello, Maddy. How are you and …? Oh. Well, I’m very sorry to hear that. Did you talk to …? And then what did she say? Now, Maddy, I need you need to calm down just for a second. Take a deep breath, that’s it. Inhale slowly. Well done. Now, start at the beginning—why exactly do you want me to cancel your wedding?’
Seconds stretched to minutes as Poppy scribbled down notes and made sympathetic noises down the phone until her eyes closed and she splayed out her fingers across her forehead.
‘It’s all going to be fine. I can catch a flight to Florence tonight and we can have a breakfast meeting in the morning and sort the whole thing out. Yes, I know the hotel. See you tomorrow, Maddy. I know, I know. Bye for now.’
In the stunned silence that followed, Mimi looked from Poppy, who had her head in her hands, to Hal, who pushed himself up off the desk so that he was facing Poppy.
‘Did I just hear you say that you were going to Italy?’ he asked, his voice low, deep and resonant. ‘Please tell me that I am mistaken.’
‘There’s no point scowling at me like that!’ And then her shoulders sagged. ‘Do you remember that French redhead I worked with in Marrakech? The one you said had even less dress-sense than my other model pals?’
‘Was that the one who pushed me into the pool when I said that she looked skinny in a sarong?’
Poppy nodded. ‘That’s the one. Well, she is supposed to be getting married to a very charming and very wealthy Italian aristocrat in Florence in three weeks and Langdon Events is planning their wedding.’
Hal raised his eyebrows. ‘Poppy the wedding planner? How sweet.’
She inhaled deeply. ‘Do not mock. Some of us like weddings, and the income pays for this office. The problem is that I thought there would be plenty of time to produce the charity show then move on to the wedding, but