‘On time and comfortable. I can’t ask for more.’
‘It...it’s nice to see you again,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry Daisy can’t be here. She’ll be upset she missed you, her favourite male human, or...or she would be if she were human and she knew about it, but of course she’s not.’ Well, that was a great start, mumbling inanely about her dog.
‘I’m upset I missed her,’ he said gallantly. ‘Where is she today?’
‘I like this café but they don’t welcome dogs, so I left her at work.’ She waved her hand to indicate her shop front, diagonally across the road. ‘We’re over there.’
‘I walked past your building on my way here from the hotel. It’s very smart and with great street presence.’
‘Yes, we get passing trade as well as clients who know us by reputation,’ she said, knowing her voice sounded stilted. Where was that easy flow of conversation from their dinner last Saturday?
Trouble was, she couldn’t stop worrying about what might be going on there over the road and it was strangling her thoughts. She should be there, not having lunch with someone. But she was here, and she wanted to enjoy the rare treat of being with a man as attractive as Josh.
‘We should order,’ she said. ‘The food is excellent here.’
She handed Josh a menu. In doing so she knocked over the open bottle of sparkling mineral water Mara had brought to the table. Water spilled, fizzing, all over the table. She swore under her breath, the same word several times, as she tried to mop up the water with the paper napkins from the table. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry. First my dog muddies your trousers and now I’ve spilled water all over you.’ She was conscious of her voice rising. She took a deep breath to bring it back down.
‘No need to apologise. There’s no water on me.’
‘Really?’
He grabbed some napkins and mopped up the water that had formed a puddle on his side of the table. ‘There, all gone.’
‘I’m sorry, I really am,’ she said, feeling wretched.
‘You’ve already said sorry twice, no need for a third. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.’
‘So long as you’re not drenched.’
‘I’m perfectly dry,’ he said.
‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m absolutely sure.’ His smile was kind and reassuring. It made her want to sob. Pull yourself together, Eloise.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’ll order another bottle of water when we order our meal.’
‘Problem solved.’
She attempted a smile. ‘Shall I try again?’ Very carefully, she passed him the menu, which he took from her with exaggerated care and made her laugh.
‘What do you recommend?’ he asked.
‘Anything I’ve tried on the menu is very good. It’s simple café food but very well prepared. I... I’m not very hungry so I’ll order a quinoa and hummus salad.’
‘I’ll try the salmon,’ he said.
‘Good choice,’ she said.
He leaned towards her. ‘Before we order I want to make it clear lunch is my treat.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘No buts. I invited you, I pay.’
She knew she would sound ungracious if she argued. ‘Thank you.’
Mara came to take their orders, bringing with her a pile of new napkins. Josh asked her to bring more water, Eloise for her favourite white wine.
Josh waited for the waitress to be out of earshot. ‘Are you okay? You don’t seem yourself. Or at least not the you I know from our last two meetings.’
‘Absolutely fine,’ she said but to her horror her voice wobbled and she had to sniff back a sudden, threatening tear.
‘Are you sure? You seem a little stressed.’ His voice was calm and soothing.
‘Stressed? Yes. I am a little stressed.’ She paused. ‘Something horrible has happened and I wasn’t going to tell you and now I guess I should or you’ll wonder why I’m all over the place.’
‘I’m listening,’ he said.
Eloise realised what a relief it would be to share the awfulness of the threat she was under. Her staff were too invested in the business to give an impartial opinion, although she was pleased at how they had banded around her with wholehearted support. Josh was a tech mogul. Maybe he would have some advice on how to shut her problem down.
The wine had arrived. Josh poured two glasses. As he reached across the table to hand it to her she became intensely aware of the fresh male scent of him. Whatever aftershave or cologne he wore, it made her want to swoon. When she got to know him better—if that ever happened—she’d ask him what brand it was.
She took a good slug of wine and put her glass back on the table, leaned across to him and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve run foul of one of the local social media fashion influencers—an eastern suburbs woman who goes by the handle @lindytheblonde. She has more than two million followers and has threatened to ruin me. Soon, she told me, no bride will want to wear an Eloise Evans Atelier gown at her wedding.’
Josh frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’
‘It’s not good. I know this woman. I’ve dressed her as a bridesmaid three times. She wasn’t easy to deal with then. Now she’s finally a bride, she’s morphed into a fully-fledged Bridezilla.’ She was aware her voice rose on the last words and forced herself to lower it.
‘How did the threat come about?’
‘The first conflict came when I wouldn’t let her jump the waiting list. I got the “Do you know who I am?” thing then. I knew perfectly well who she was and, to be honest, wished she’d go somewhere else for her gown. After some huffing and puffing she had to wait for her name to come to the top like everyone else.’
‘Your waiting list is a clever strategy. I suspect it makes people value your product.’
She smiled a shaky smile. ‘It’s quite deliberate. Exclusivity is our selling point.’
‘And people are prepared to pay for it.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But not @lindytheblonde.’
Eloise looked around the café, just in case, but it was still early for lunch and the tables nearest to them were empty. Only a few people walked by on the street. She lowered her voice to practically a murmur. She and Josh had to have their heads almost touching for him to hear her.
‘She came for her first consultation yesterday afternoon. She wanted a very extravagant, very expensive gown and was furious I wouldn’t give it to her gratis in return for a social media tag. She expects everything for free and I don’t give freebies. They devalue my brand. I have a marketing strategy that includes paid advertising and placements. I’m grateful to bloggers and social media—brides sharing their wedding dresses on their pages helped grow my business immensely in the early days—but I keep advertising and editorial separate. I didn’t get the chance to tell her I would consider advertising in her space as she has such big numbers.’
‘She wasn’t happy?’
‘She was outraged. She flounced out of my workroom telling me in no uncertain terms where I could stick my wedding dresses.’
‘Not a nice lady.’
‘Indeed not.’
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, I would say.’
‘That’s what I thought. Until she started a smear campaign against me. It’s all over social media. She must have gone straight home and started posting—and you know how quickly gossip spreads on the internet.’
‘What dirt could she find to smear you with?’
‘Dirt? I hope I haven’t got any dirt to find. But she’s outing me as the wedding dress designer who never wants a wedding of her own. “Would you trust your dream dress with a woman who scorns your dreams? How can a designer who has sworn off marriage possibly understand the needs of a bride?” That kind of thing.’ She shuddered. ‘She’s given me some horrible hashtags.’
Josh’s eyebrows rose. ‘Is that
true? That you don’t ever want to get married?’
‘She’s twisted my words somewhat but it’s mostly true.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve made no secret of it. Now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut about my views.’
‘Why such a strong opinion?’
‘To close down well-meaning people, basically. I broke off a long-term relationship more than a year ago. I nearly got engaged, but realised in time that he was totally and utterly Mr Wrong for me. I do not want to rush into another serious relationship.’ She’d lost herself in trying to be what Craig had wanted her to be.
‘I get that,’ Josh said. She thought about the ‘most eligible bachelor’ lists he’d appeared on and thought he might have his own story to tell about relationships gone wrong.
‘But the thing with brides is that they’re in their own little bubble of couple love and they want you to be floating up there alongside them. Nearly every consultation, every fitting, sooner or later out it comes: “When will you be making your own dream dress, Eloise?” I found the easiest reply was to tell them I hadn’t found the right man yet. That soon proved to be totally the wrong reply.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it inspired them with zeal to find me the right man. Their lonely brother/cousin/friend/bitter divorced uncle or even gay guy friend they were convinced hadn’t met the right woman.’ She made pretend tearing-out-her-hair motions. ‘Aaargh! I didn’t want to meet them, and they most likely didn’t want to meet me. It became so much easier to say I didn’t ever want to get married. I didn’t think it would backfire on me like this.’
‘You really meant it? About not wanting to get married?’
‘Never say never. But it’s true for me right now. I can’t see a wedding on the horizon for me for a long time.’
‘I get that,’ he said.
‘Working in the wedding dress business, I deal with some deliriously happy couples. Their glow can’t help but wear off on you, like glitter. I sometimes envy them. But you can really get to see the underbelly of romance too. I’d never name names, but it’s got so I can predict which of my brides’ weddings won’t last a year. It’s made me realise too many people get married for the wrong reasons.’
He frowned. ‘What are the right reasons?’
‘Being darn sure you’re compatible for one thing. I value my independence and I don’t want to give over any part of my life for someone else to control. So yes, @lindytheblonde is partly right about me but she’s very wrong that I’m not the right person to help another woman’s wedding dreams come true. I think I’ve proved that and I can’t bear that her vindictiveness might affect my business.’
‘Has it affected your business?’
‘Sadly, yes. Three names came off the waiting list within minutes of her first posting. Heaven knows what carnage is to come.’
‘What do you intend to do? Take legal action?’
‘I can see Mara heading our way with food. How about we talk about my options over lunch?’ Eloise suggested. She felt so much better for having unburdened herself.
* * *
Today Eloise looked vintage sexy in a tight, red and white polka-dotted pencil skirt, a wide belt and a white knit top that looked fabulous with her wavy black hair and bold red lipstick. So very, very different from anything Tori would ever wear. The top was finished with a wide, loose bow that drew attention to the subtle cleavage on display. However, he doubted she wore it to purposely tease and entice. Those were the clothes she wore to work, she’d come straight from her premises across the road to this café. She was a fashion designer, she had a ‘look’ and it suited her natural sensuality superbly. Josh couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
He was more and more intrigued by Eloise. He didn’t think he’d ever met a beautiful young woman with an anti-marriage stance. Guys, yes. Including himself. He wasn’t a huge fan of weddings either.
There weren’t enough good marriages in his family to make him aspire to the matrimonial state. His brother was a bully and on to his second wife. His mother, so she’d explained to him, had been lonely and unhappy in her marriage to his ex-father, hence the affair with her tennis coach. And yet, when Josh was eighteen years old, graduated from high school and already earning his own living, she had informed him she was going back to the man who had kicked them out. More for the affluent lifestyle she’d been used to and had sorely missed than anything to do with love, she had admitted. She hated living in the North End.
But there was a proviso—Josh himself wasn’t to darken the door. His mother had to meet him off the premises. The unexpected betrayal had been a painful blow—he had still needed her. How could she accept separation from him in return for financial comfort?
Thankfully his aunt had stepped up to assure him he would always have a home in the North End. The security of Aunt Lil’s love had done much to soothe the sting of his mother’s betrayal. Now he was able to ensure his aunt was secure financially for the rest of her days.
Yet, to his mother’s credit, she had worked to keep up her relationship with him, just as she had with her older son when he’d been forbidden to her. In recent years, he had tentatively rebuilt his relationship with his mother. Not to what it had been when it had been him and her against his father and his world, but something both of them were moderately happy with. However, he had never trusted her enough to confide in her about his vendetta against his ex-father. She was too beholden to him to be trusted.
Control. Eloise was right in her thinking. In that marriage his mother had ceded all independence to her husband’s control. But surely men of his generation didn’t behave like that with their wives? Even with his insistence that all dating was casual, he’d been stung by women impressed by his wealth, who saw him as a potential meal ticket. But to him a relationship had to be one of equals—his mother had been trapped in an unhappy marriage, as she’d given up her career to support her husband’s and been financially unable to support her sons.
The waitress winked at him when she put his plate in front of him, not so Eloise could see. He couldn’t tell Eloise but during his first days in Sydney he had spent quite some time in this café, watching her atelier in the hope of seeing her going in or coming out. This waitress had asked him if he was waiting for his fiancée to have a fitting at the exclusive bridal store over the road. He’d made a noncommittal answer she had obviously misinterpreted. Did she think Eloise was his fiancée? From the knowing way she looked from him to Eloise he believed so—and that she approved of their ‘romance’. He swallowed a curse. How would he ever explain that to Eloise if the girl said anything about his prior visit to her café?
He was glad for the diversion of eating their meals. He didn’t want to talk about weddings or anything related to them. But suddenly he didn’t feel very hungry.
‘Are you going to finish your salmon?’ Eloise asked.
He noticed she’d barely touched her salad. ‘No. If you’d like—’
She smiled. ‘Not for me. But Daisy is very fond of salmon. If you don’t want it, I could take a doggy bag back to her.’
‘She’d be very welcome.’
‘My mother will be picking her up soon to take her home with her. I asked her to mind Daisy for me, as I’ve been invited to a big pull-out-all-the-stops wedding out in the country this weekend.’
‘It’s convenient your mother could look after her for you.’
‘Yes. Only it might be for nothing. I’m not sure I can bear to go to the wedding. Horrid @lindytheblonde is going to be there and I don’t think I can face her.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you.’ He corrected himself. ‘The you that I’ve got to know, that is. Wouldn’t she see it as a victory if you didn’t go?’
‘Probably. And Becca, the bride, might be disappointed if I cry off. We’ve become good friends. I dressed her for her first wedding and this is her second.’
‘Do you of
ten get repeat business?’
‘Quite often. In this case she’s got it right the second time. Husband number two, Simon, is a fabulous guy. I’d like to be there to celebrate with her. There’s also the fact that among all those guests might be potential clients. But I really don’t think I can face @lindytheblonde.’ Her voice hitched. ‘My presence will only point out the truth of what she’s saying about me because I don’t have a plus-one to take to the wedding.’
‘I can be your plus-one.’ The words slipped out as if of their own volition.
Her eyes widened. ‘You could? But you’re going back to Boston.’
‘I don’t have to. I’m my own boss.’
‘Really? You’d really do that for me?’
‘It would hardly be a hardship,’ he said drily.
‘It’s out near Bowral, south west of Sydney, very posh. The wedding is to be held in a grand country house owned by the groom’s family. I’ve been invited to stay the night. We made the bride’s gown and the attendants’. It will be a beautiful wedding. But it does mean a nearly two-hour drive out there and then back the next day. If you’re sure you can spare the time...?’
‘I can do that,’ he said. He didn’t like seeing her being ill-treated by the woman.
‘Thank you! I accept your offer.’ She clapped her hands together in delight, her cheeks flushed. She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Have you got a tux with you?’
‘No, I didn’t see the need.’
‘No matter. We can tailor one for you. We sometimes do that for special grooms. Actually, there are some brides who like a white tux as well. We have an excellent tailor on the staff. You’d just have to come in for a fitting. Now. After lunch. I’ll take your measurements myself. Then another fitting tomorrow.’
Josh gulped at the prospect of Eloise taking his inside leg measurement. ‘Great,’ he choked out. What the hell was he letting himself in for?
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WASN’T TIME to waste. As soon as they finished lunch, Eloise ushered Josh over the road and through the door to Eloise Evans Atelier. She gave him a quick tour around the ground-floor salon. As she did, she immediately felt her tension ratchet down a notch. Her business was everything to her. She would defend it in any legal way she could. Josh had offered her a lifeline as her plus-one for the weekend wedding. With him by her side, she could hold her head up high against any barbs from that malicious influencer.
From Bridal Designer to Bride Page 6
