Cinderella's Wedding Wish. Jessica Hart
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was extraordinarily lovely, with flawless features and amazing green eyes. Silver gilt hair tumbled artlessly to her shoulders, and a breathtakingly short skirt revealed incredible legs—quite as good as that waitress’s last night—which she crossed as she leant forward with a dazzling smile.
‘Hello!’ she said as if she knew him.
‘Hello.’ He smiled back at her, and held out his hand. Unlike Miranda Fairchild, she looked as if she would enjoy a ball. She might be just the assistant he needed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there before. I’m Rafe Knighton. Are you temping here, too?’
‘Just visiting, I’m afraid.’ Her eyes laughed up at him as she shook his hand. ‘I’m Octavia Fairchild.’
Fairchild? ‘You’re Miranda’s sister?’ Rafe asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. It was hard to imagine two women more different from each other, one all lush, blonde beauty and the other prim and prickly and if not exactly plain, certainly nowhere near as lovely as her sister. Still, that explained why there was something familiar about her.
Octavia’s green eyes flickered slightly. She wasn’t used to being described as Miranda’s sister. It was usually the other way round.
She kept her smile dazzling, though, and nodded. ‘I know I shouldn’t be here,’ she confided, with a devastating glance up under her lashes, ‘but I wanted to see how Miranda was getting on.’
‘And discovered that I’m very busy,’ Miranda finished crisply for her with a meaningful look that Octavia ignored entirely. ‘Octavia’s just leaving.’
‘Don’t let me chase you away,’ said Rafe instantly. ‘I just came to have a word with Simon.’
‘He’s in his office if you want to go in,’ said Miranda, wishing he and Octavia would both go away, but before he could move the inner door opened and Simon himself came out.
‘Miranda, could you—?’ he began, then stopped as he saw Rafe. ‘I didn’t know you were here, Rafe,’ he apologised. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
‘Not at all. I’ve just been meeting Miranda’s sister here,’ said Rafe easily, indicating Octavia.
To Miranda’s surprise, Simon’s expression was disapproving as it rested on her sister. He nodded a curt greeting and turned immediately back to Rafe. ‘Come in,’ he said, and gestured towards his office. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well!’ Octavia was distinctly put out. ‘He’s not very friendly, is he?’
‘Actually, he’s very nice,’ said Miranda.
‘You can keep him.’ Octavia tossed back her hair with a sniff. ‘I’d rather have Rafe any day. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’
‘And no one knows it more than him,’ Miranda pointed out.
‘I think he liked me, don’t you?’
Miranda didn’t bother to answer that. Of course Rafe had liked Octavia. Men—with the apparent exception of Simon—always did.
She turned back to her computer. ‘Octavia, I’ve got to get on.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ said Octavia, getting gracefully to her feet. ‘I don’t want to look too keen. But if Rafe asks for my phone number, be sure and give it to him.’
Waggling her fingers in farewell, she strolled off, leaving Miranda alone with the scent of her perfume drifting in the air.
With a sigh, Miranda went back to her email.
It was nearly half an hour before Rafe emerged from Simon’s office. Miranda was alert to the sound of the opening door, and this time she was braced against the good looks and the dark-eyed charm. Less easy to ignore was the way his presence sent a charge zapping and crackling through the air and interfering with her breathing no matter how desperately she kept her eyes firmly fixed on her computer screen and pretended to be absorbed.
‘Have you got a moment, Miranda?’ said Simon, and, because it was him, she looked up. ‘Rafe has a proposal for you.’
Miranda looked wary. ‘What sort of proposal?’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going down on one knee,’ said Rafe, with one of those smiles calculated to set a female pulse racing. Miranda kept hers below a gallop, but it was an effort. ‘This proposal’s to do with work, but I think it will be fun too.’
‘Fun?’
Just as he’d thought, she sounded as if she didn’t know what the word meant.
‘I want you to work with me on a special assignment,’ he told her. ‘Organising a ball, in fact.’
Most girls would have been thrilled at the idea. Rafe was pretty sure her beautiful sister would have been, but Miranda just looked at Simon.
He beamed back at her, oblivious to her dismay. ‘It’s a great opportunity,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fantastic at it. I’ve just been telling Rafe how impressed we’ve all been by you.’
‘But…won’t you need me here?’ she asked, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.
‘Ellen will be back on Monday,’ Simon pointed out. ‘We’ll miss you, of course, but it’s great to know that you’ll still be around for a while. We’ll clear it with your agency, of course, but I’m sure they’ll be delighted to let you stay when they hear what a prestigious assignment it is.’
Miranda was sure they would be too. Her heart sank, and she glanced at Rafe, who was watching her with evident amusement, as if he knew exactly how reluctant she was to take the job.
It wasn’t the job that made her uneasy, it was him. He was too disturbing, too overwhelming. It was impossible to concentrate when he was around, making the atmosphere zing just by standing there, letting the corner of his mouth curl in a way that made it hard to breathe properly. She would never get any work done.
And even if she did manage to deal with those distractions, she would never be able to keep Octavia away once she found out what she was doing. Miranda had no intention of encouraging Octavia’s dreams of becoming Mrs Knighton. There was no way coming up smack against a man as superficial and self-absorbed as herself would make her lovely sister happy. She needed to be cherished for her beauty and charm, not broken on the wheel of Rafe’s ‘fun’ lifestyle.
But what could she say? She could hardly say that she didn’t like him, or thought that the whole idea of a ball was typically frivolous and silly. A ball, in the twenty-first century! Honestly!
She lifted her chin. ‘How long would this assignment last?’
‘That depends on when the ball is,’ said Rafe cheerfully. ‘Your first task will be to set a date. But let’s say a couple of months.’
‘You’ll never find a venue in that time.’ Miranda seized on the excuse. ‘Anywhere big enough to a hold a ball will be booked up years in advance.’
‘I’ve got an idea about that,’ said Rafe, looking directly into her eyes. ‘But before we talk about details, I need to know if you’re available, and if you’re willing to do the job.’
All she had to do was say that she had other commitments. She didn’t have to do any job if she didn’t want to.
But she needed the money, and there was no guarantee the agency would be able to find her another placement next week. Especially if she had turned down a plum assignment for no reason other than feeling unsettled by her prospective boss.
Don’t be so silly, Miranda told herself sternly. The hard truth was that she needed the money, and two months of regular income would make a big difference. If she carried on working in the evenings as well, she could even start to save.
She thought about Whitestones and how much it was going