Appointment at the Altar

by Jessica Hart

  ‘What sort of situations?’ he asked, intrigued.

  Meredith would say that she fell in and out of love too easily, Lucy knew, and maybe in the past there had been one or two occasions when her infatuation had burned itself out pretty quickly…but of course all that had changed now that she had met Kevin.

  ‘Romantic situations occasionally,’ she admitted cagily, ‘but also with jobs. I don’t have the most impressive CV in the world.’

  ‘Is that a way of saying that you’ve started a lot of jobs and never stuck with any of them?’

  She eyed him with a touch of resentment. ‘Sometimes you sound annoyingly like Meredith,’ she informed him. ‘I prefer to think of it as having wide experience,’ she went on. I’ve been a waitress, a secretary, a cook…What else? Oh, yes, I’ve done a stint in PR for a charity, I worked in a call centre-that was awful-and a shop, which was quite fun. I was a tourist guide once and I even sold houses for a bit before I went to Australia, although I wasn’t very good at that.’

  ‘You’re obviously not lacking in ability,’ said Guy. ‘Have you ever thought about a real job?’

  ‘The depends on what you mean by a real job,’ said Lucy, slightly on the defensive as always when it came to her career, or lack of one.

  ‘A job that really stretches and stimulates you,’ he said. ‘A job that allows you to reach your full potential. That’s what I call a real job.’

  ‘What, like working in a family bank? How stretching can that be?’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’ Guy was unfazed by her sarcasm. ‘I spent most of my twenties messing around like you. It wasn’t easy to settle down and learn to take work seriously, but I’ve learnt a lot.’

  ‘We don’t all want to be tied down to nine to five. Some of us are free spirits,’ she said grandly. ‘I deliberately choose short-term jobs that mean I can go where I want, when I want. It’s called being independent.’

  ‘Or is it called always taking the easy option? After all, nobody expects a temp to tackle anything very difficult, do they?’

  Lucy’s blue eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Are you suggesting that I’m lazy?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No, and I resent the implication that I am! I worked really hard at Wirrindago.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he conceded. ‘But it wasn’t difficult. You didn’t try and do anything that you hadn’t done before. You’re a good cook, but turning out roast dinners and cakes isn’t exactly a challenge for you, is it? I doubt if you learnt anything more about yourself and what you’re capable of at Wirrindago,’ he said.

  Lucy hunched a shoulder. ‘Why would I need to learn about myself? I know who I am.’

  ‘Do you?’ Guy didn’t bother to hide his scepticism. ‘You were very quick to issue challenges at the rodeo, Cinders, but have you ever thought about challenging yourself?’

  ‘Oh, please!’ She rolled her eyes extravagantly. ‘You sound like Meredith!’

  He pointed his fork at her. ‘Or is the truth that you avoid challenging situations because you’re scared?’

  ‘What have I got to be scared about?’

  ‘You might be scared in case all this being a free spirit and choosing to be independent is really about running away from responsibility, about being afraid in case you can’t do anything more than mess around.’

  ‘That’s rubbish!’ said Lucy furiously. ‘I’m not scared of anything!’

  Guy studied her face for a moment, and then he put down his fork with a faint smile as he leant across the table towards her.

  ‘Prove it,’ he said.

  Prove it. Lucy stared back at him, hearing the echo of her own words at the rodeo. Prove it, she had said to him as they’d stood by that fence, surrounded by the heat and the noise and the smell of dust and horses, and he had.

  ‘I can’t just embark on a career just to prove to you that I’m not scared of responsibility,’ she said. ‘I’m going back to Australia as soon as I can, so the only job I can commit to is a temporary one. And I won’t need a fancy CV to get one either,’ she added, stung by his lack of belief in her. ‘I can get a job wherever and when ever I want,’ she declared and snapped her fingers between them. ‘Just like that!’

  ‘OK, then, let’s make it a different challenge.’ Guy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. ‘Let’s see, it’s Thursday today. If you put your mind to it, you could get yourself a job tomorrow and start work on Monday.

  ‘And I don’t mean asking any of your friends to find you something,’ he warned as Lucy opened her mouth. ‘You have to do it on your own, and try something you’ve never done before, in a reputable organisation. No wacky outfits or off-beat cafés. I want you to prove to me that you can get a job and take it seriously.’

  ‘Even if it’s just a temporary job?’

  ‘Yes. How long do you think you’ll be here-a month? That’s long enough to prove that you’re not afraid to push yourself a bit harder.’

  Lucy bit her lip. ‘You know, it would be a lot easier if you’d just take my word for it,’ she quoted, and Guy smiled, recognising his own words.

  ‘But then it wouldn’t be a challenge, would it, Cinders?’ The blue gaze held hers. ‘Well? Are you going to stick with what you know, or are you going to show me what you’re made of?’

  ‘I’ll do it if you promise never to call me Cinders again,’ she said grouchily.

  Guy clicked his tongue in mock gentle reproof. ‘I’m the one setting the terms of the challenge here. You’ve had your go, and I don’t remember me being given any option to negotiate!’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ Lucy lifted her chin. ‘I’ll take your challenge. I need to get myself a job anyway, to keep me going until I know what’s happening with Richard. I can do that by Monday.’ Draining her glass, she met his eyes squarely. ‘You’re on!’

  It had felt good to accept Guy’s challenge, but how exactly was she going to do it? Lucy wondered as they walked back to his apartment, having taken an extravagant farewell of Joe, the waiters and even the football fans who had come up after the match to enjoy a boisterous meal on the next table.

  In spite of her confidence, she knew that serious jobs, even temporary ones, weren’t that easy to come by when all you really had going for you was charm of manner. She would find something though, Lucy vowed. Guy clearly thought that she was feckless, silly, lazy and spoilt-which was pretty good coming from someone who had apparently walked into a job in the family firm and didn’t appear to take anything seriously! Not everyone was lucky enough to have a handy bank in the family when it came to getting a job.

  Well, she would show him. Lucy’s mouth set in a stubborn line. She would get herself a job at Dangerfield & Dunn itself. That ought to be a reputable enough organisation for him. The name of the family bank was emblazoned on message pads and stray pens and cards around Guy’s flat. It would be no problem to find their address on the Internet, and then all she would need to do was persuade someone there to give her a job.

  Starting Monday.

  Mentally, Lucy waved that aside as a minor detail to be dealt with at a later stage. Somehow she would get herself a job at Dangerfield & Dunn, she promised herself, and not only that, she would be the best employee they had ever had. Guy would be down on his knees begging her to stay before she left.

  They were walking along the old quays of London’s docks, lined now with aggressively modern apartment blocks. The Thames gleamed dully, and the ghosts of the great ships that had once been tied to the massive bollards that were all that survived of those times seemed to shimmer in the fuzzy yellow light that was the closest London ever got to darkness.

  Lucy shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her.

  ‘Cold?’

  ‘It’s not the outback, is it?’ she said by way of a reply. Pausing by one of the bollards, she looked out over the river. ‘At Wirrindago, the stars are incredible. So many of them, and so clear…’ She sighed a little, remembering. ‘You can’t see the stars at all here.’
>
  ‘It doesn’t mean they’re not there,’ said Guy. ‘But you’re right, a London night always seems a bit murky in comparison to Wirrindago. It’s a special place,’ he said, his voice warm with affection. ‘I do understand why you love it so much. I do, too.’

  ‘But you can go whenever you want,’ she pointed out. ‘Your mother’s Australian, so presumably you wouldn’t have any problem getting a visa,’ she added enviously. ‘You could live there if you wanted to.’

  ‘I could, but my life is here,’ he said. ‘My home, my work, friends, my mother…and, of course, my new girlfriend.’

  New girlfriend? Lucy was alarmed by the way her heart plummeted at the thought. ‘I didn’t know you had a new girlfriend,’ she said as casually as she could.

  ‘Oh, yes, she’s very pretty.’ His smile gleamed in the darkness. ‘A little contrary at times, but she’s got the bluest blue eyes full of sunshine, and her hair is beautiful.’

  Reaching out, he wound a stray tendril of Lucy’s hair around his finger, and she couldn’t prevent a treacherous shiver at the warm brush of his hand against her neck. ‘Some people might say it was blonde,’ he went on, his voice deep and rippling with laughter, ‘but it’s much more than that. It’s shot through with silver and spun gold, with amber and honey and sunlight, and it looks so silky that all you want to do is let it down and tangle your fingers in it.’

  Half mesmerised by his voice and his smile and his nearness, it took Lucy a moment to realise that she could step back quite easily. ‘I’m not your girlfriend,’ she said, appalled at how breathless she sounded.

  ‘Well, that’s not what you were telling Richard’s parents earlier this evening!’ Guy clutched at his heart, pretending that he was wounded, and Lucy sucked in her breath, torn between intense irritation and a rather alarming desire to laugh.

  ‘You know perfectly well that I didn’t mean you,’ she told him, turning to walk once more. ‘I told them my boyfriend was called Guy, but that’s all you’ve got in common. He’s nothing like you!’

  ‘That’s a shame.’ Guy fell into step beside her. ‘So what’s he like, then?’

  ‘My boyfriend, Guy? Well, let’s see.’ Lucy tilted her head and considered. Why should Guy have all the fun? ‘He’s utterly gorgeous, of course.’

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘He’s kind and sweet and chivalrous, and he absolutely adores me. He’s always bringing me little presents, and telling me how much he loves me.’

  ‘He sounds a bit sickly to me.’ Guy made a face.

  ‘He’s not sickly. He’s lovely,’ said Lucy firmly.

  ‘I suppose he’s a real man, too?’

  ‘Naturally. He’s steady and intelligent and very responsible. He never makes stupid jokes or gives people silly nicknames.’

  Guy sighed and took her hand to tuck it into the crook of his arm. ‘I don’t think he’s the man for you, Cinders.’

  ‘He’s perfect for me.’

  ‘Perfect is dull,’ he told her. ‘I think you need someone who’s a bit more fun. Someone who doesn’t always play by the rules.’

  ‘What rules?’

  ‘The rules that say you don’t kiss a girl when you know she’s in love with someone else,’ said Guy, stopping so that Lucy, her hand still in his arm, ended up stopping too and, before she had realised quite what was happening, he had pulled her round to face him.

  With his free hand, he reached up and pulled the clip from her hair so that it tumbled down to her shoulders. ‘The rules that say you should just take her home and say goodnight,’ he said softly. ‘The rules that say you shouldn’t keep her standing out in the cold and the dark so that you can do this…’

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Every sense in Lucy’s body seemed to be quivering, although whether with alarm or anticipation she couldn’t quite be sure. Certainly when Guy’s mouth came down on hers the earth seemed to tilt and her heart gave a great jolt that could only be shock, but instead of pulling away, as she knew that she could have done, some different message was parting her lips, was thrilling to the taste of his mouth and urging her to lean into the warmth and sureness of his touch.

  She could move away, Lucy knew. She could stop this, and really she ought to do it, she ought to do it now, in fact, but kissing him felt so right somehow. It was almost as if there were something inevitable about finding herself in his arms, something that left her in thrall to the feel of his lips, to the tantalising exploration of his tongue, to the shudder of desire that ran through her when he pulled her closer, one hand caressing her spine, the other possessively curved beneath her hair at the nape of her neck, his palm warm against the sensitive skin as the kiss deepened.

  Lucy was twenty-six and without any vanity had always known herself to be a pretty girl. She had been kissed lots of times before, but never-never-like this. Never before had she felt her bones dissolve beneath the upsurge of honeyed pleasure. Never had she felt this deep, dark, delicious thrum of possession and power. Her fingers might clutch his jacket, but she wasn’t a weak, helpless thing. She was an equal in passion, an equal in the kiss, an equal in the slow burn of need.

  The kissing was lovely, but it wasn’t enough. Inside her, the excitement was rapidly uncoiling, whipping round and round until Lucy had lost control and was so tangled in it that she didn’t know where she was or what she was doing. She just knew that she wanted more…

  And that was when Guy slowly, reluctantly, lifted his head. For a long moment, he just looked down into her face with a twisted smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I just couldn’t resist.’

  His words reached Lucy through such a fog of confusion and churning emotions that none of them made sense.

  ‘Wh-what was that for?’ she stammered.

  ‘What is any kiss for?’ said Guy lightly, and then frowned at the dazed expression in her eyes. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, touching her cheek lightly with his fingers.

  No, Lucy wanted to shout. I’m not all right! She was shaken and confused by the abrupt return to reality, shocked by the strength of her own reaction to his kiss and appalled by the impulse to throw herself back into his arms.

  Horrified by how easily she had succumbed to his kiss.

  She hadn’t even made a token protest, Lucy realised, burning with humiliation.

  ‘I’m fine.’ With an enormous effort, she pulled herself together. ‘Absolutely fine.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Guy in concern. ‘You look as if you’ve been knocked for six.’

  Lucy wasn’t up in cricketing metaphors, but she felt as if she had been knocked for a lot more than six. She wasn’t ready to admit to that, though, least of all to Guy.

  ‘I’ve been kissed before,’ she snapped, terrified in case he guessed how much that kiss had affected her.

  ‘I don’t doubt that for a minute,’ said Guy, and Lucy eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘It’s not a big deal,’ she insisted.

  ‘Good,’ he said, ‘because I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you just now.’

  Putting his hand under her elbow, he turned and started walking as if nothing whatsoever had happened. ‘Usually I do stick to the rules,’ he said wryly. ‘I blame that boyfriend you invented. He’s clearly the kind of man who takes liberties!’

  ‘I hope he’s not expecting to take any more tonight,’ said Lucy, who had recovered somewhat, although she was still a lot more shaken than she wanted to admit.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Guy. ‘Scout’s honour, in fact.’ Solemnly, he held up crossed fingers, only to spoil the effect by adding, ‘It was only a kiss, after all.’

  Right. Just a kiss.

  She had told Guy that it wasn’t a big deal and it wasn’t, Lucy told herself repeatedly that night. Jetlag was the only reason she couldn’t get to sleep. Obviously.

  Lucy sighed and turned over and thumped her pillow but she couldn’t get comfortable. She was buzzing with the memory of the way he h
ad kissed her, and just when she thought she had pushed it firmly into a box at the back of her mind marked No Big Deal, it would come bursting out again in heart-shaking detail.

  The touch of his lips, the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hard hands…Worse, her own eagerness, the shameful ease with which she had been seduced by sensation and abandoned herself to pleasure. How she had clutched at him, how her tongue had teased his, how she had returned kiss for kiss as if they were lovers.

  ‘Aaargh…’ Lucy groaned and buried her face in the pillow. How could she? She had had plenty of opportunity to push Guy scornfully away, so why hadn’t she done it? She didn’t even like him! Well, not much, anyway. She was in love with Kevin, who would never have kissed her like that-if only he had!-and you didn’t kiss other men when you felt like that, no matter how little a deal it was.

  Sighing, she threw herself over on to her back once more and stared resentfully at the ceiling. What a great evening! She had been accused of laziness and cowardice, and then humiliated with a stupid kiss. Well, she would show Guy that it took more than that to get her down! Tomorrow, she was going out to get herself a job, and they would see who was humiliated then.

  Lucy paused outside Dangerfield & Dunn and looked up at the striking soaring façade, the glass reflecting the blue of a spring sky. It was nothing like her idea of an investment bank. Instead it was all sleek design and cutting-edge technology and the unmistakable hush of serious money.

  She could hardly believe that she had blagged her way into a job in such a place, but even investment banks oozing wealth and power were not immune from day-to-day hassles. One of the receptionists, an actress who had suddenly been offered a part, had left without warning that Friday, and when Lucy had called in to see if she could wheedle her way into an interview with Human Resources the surviving receptionist had been struggling to deal with a queue of people wanting information while the phones buzzed frantically.

  Seeing that she was overwhelmed, Lucy had walked round and started answering the phone. It was a simple matter to explain that the receptionist was unavailable and to offer to take a message, and it was surprising how many people simply said that they would call back later.