Hugh finally managed to get away from the piano when the band turned up, all flustered and apologetic. He went to rescue Bella from his mother, only to find her right in the middle of a crowd. Everyone around her was laughing and joking, and he noticed that she had a pen and paper in her hand.

      She looked as if she belonged.

      Oh, no. That wasn’t supposed to happen. His bright idea was going completely pear-shaped. His family had obviously seen way beyond Bella’s surface unsuitability. And Bella herself had clearly forgotten that she was playing the part of Miss Ditzy and Unsuitable.

      Then again, hadn’t he also told her just to be herself? Which was exactly what she was doing. Bella, the graphic artist, the woman who’d fitted in to their team at the office as if she’d been there since day one.

      Right now, she lit up the room. Which scared him and drew him in equal measures. He wanted her—but he didn’t want to risk his whole life imploding again, the way it had after Jessie. He needed to be sensible about this. And right now the sensible thing to do would be to get her out of there before she said anything that made his family guess at the truth.

      And she was meant to be his girlfriend, so everyone would expect him to walk over and drape his arm round her shoulders. ‘Sorry to desert you like that, darling.’

      She looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes wide. ‘Hugh!’

      ‘But I’m here now. Shall we dance?’

      ‘I...’ She looked flustered. Which was pretty much how he felt, too, so close to her that he could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her body against his.

      ‘May I finish my sketch first?’ she asked.

      ‘Sure.’ He took a step back. Putting a bit of distance between them was probably a good idea, given that right now he wanted to pull her closer.

      Hugh had seen what she could produce at the Insurgo office, but he’d never actually watched her working before. And he was amazed by how deft her hands were. He also noticed how she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating, and it made him want to kiss her.

      Maybe dancing with her would be a bad idea after all. It would make her way, way too tempting.

      But then she finished a sketch of Lennie with his father—lightning fast and seriously good—and handed it over to Oliver with a smile.

      ‘Thank you, my dear. That’s marvellous.’ Oliver kissed her cheek. ‘And maybe I could ask you to sketch Libby with Sukie for me, later?’

      ‘Of course,’ Bella said, smiling back. ‘But I’ll require payment in advance, you know. You’ll have to dance with me first.’

      He positively beamed at her. ‘With absolute pleasure, my dear.’

      Amazing. Even wearing a dress made out of a curtain which matched the ones in the ballroom and which clashed badly with her bright red hair—two things that Hugh was sure should’ve annoyed Oliver Moncrieff immensely—Bella had still managed to charm his father. Just, Hugh thought, by being herself. She couldn’t help it. Bella was the kind of woman who brought out the best in people.

      He led her off to the other side of the dance floor. ‘I was going to apologise for throwing you to the wolves, but it looks to me as if you’ve managed to turn them all into little fluffy-wuffy lapdogs.’

      She laughed. ‘Hugh, don’t be so mean. Your family’s nice.’

      He scowled. ‘Maybe. When they’re not nagging me.’

      ‘Really, Hugh. They’re nice.’ She blew out a breath. ‘And I should be apologising to you. I’m afraid I kind of forgot to be unsuitable. I was telling your mum about the name-cards I did in the office last week, and I ended up drawing the dogs for her, and...’ She bit her lip, and Hugh had to suppress the urge to kiss the sting away. ‘It snowballed a little bit. Sorry. I’ll remember to be dim and scatty and unsuitable for the rest of the weekend, I promise.’

      ‘Hmm,’ Hugh said. He didn’t think she’d be able to remember it for very long. Because he realised now that Bella wasn’t a natural deceiver. What you saw was what you got. There were no hidden agendas. ‘It’s as much my fault as it is yours. I shouldn’t have left you on your own.’

      ‘But you couldn’t have refused to help your brother.’ She paused and gave him a curious look. ‘I didn’t know you could play the piano.’

      ‘Lavinia taught me.’

      ‘Lavinia, as in your great-aunt I sat next to this afternoon?’

      He nodded. ‘Before arthritis wrecked her hands, she was an amazing pianist.’

      She frowned. ‘So your family does understand about music, then.’

      ‘Lavinia does,’ he admitted. ‘The rest don’t. They still think I should give it up and join the family business.’

      She looked thoughtful. ‘So you play and you sing—I’ve heard that for myself. I’m guessing that you probably write your own stuff, too.’

      He had. Once upon a time. Not any more.

      She wasn’t letting it go. She ignored his silence. ‘And you own a record company. Do you ever record anything of your own?’

      ‘No,’ he said, knowing that he sounded abrupt and rude, but not being able to help himself.

      But it didn’t seem to put Bella off. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘You’re good. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my boss. You, a piano and a love song—you’d have women swooning all round the globe. You’d make gazillions for the label.’

      Hugh had written songs for Jessie, and he’d thought about recording them as duets with her. Then Jessie had dropped her bombshell that she was moving to another record label instead of signing the new contract with Insurgo, and by the way she’d met someone else...who just so happened to be the head of her new label.

      And then Hugh had realised that maybe Jessie had never loved him at all. She’d just seen him as a stepping stone in her career, and it looked as if she was doing exactly the same with her new man. He’d been so shocked and hurt that he hadn’t written anything since, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched the piano; the joy he’d once found in playing felt tainted with memories of her betrayal. Tonight was the first time he’d sung with anyone since he’d broken up with Jessie. The first time he’d played in public again.

      And he didn’t want to analyse that too closely. Or why it had felt so natural to sing with Bella, after the initial shock.

      ‘I don’t want to be a performer,’ he said. ‘I prefer being a producer. Seeing the rough diamond of the songs and how I can make them shine. You know, like Lacey’s album—putting the cello in and a double bass made it just that bit more haunting and gave the sound some depth.’

      ‘Fair enough.’ She shrugged. ‘I think I understand where you’re coming from, because for me it’s the other way round. I absolutely love designing, but I wouldn’t want to own or run a gallery. The idea of having to organise a bunch of creative people...’ She groaned. ‘It’d be like herding cats. No, thanks.’

      He smiled. ‘It’s very satisfying when it goes right.’

      ‘Each