‘As a matter of fact I do,’ Leo said. ‘I have a new place opening next month. But it’s not in Sydney. It’s an hour and a half’s drive south. Actually, it’s called South.’
He was a bit ashamed of himself for sounding so smug about it—what was he? Fifteen years old?—but his smugness went sailing right by Sunshine, who simply clapped her hands, delighted.
Which made him feel like a complete churl.
Sunshine Smart was not good for his mental health.
‘Oh, I’ve read about it!’ she exclaimed. ‘Perched on the edge of the escarpment, sweeping views of the ocean. Right?’
‘Yep.’
Another enthusiastic hand-clap. ‘Perfectamundo. When can we go and see it?’
Perfectamundo? Good Lord! ‘Not necessary,’ he said repressively. ‘I’ve personally handpicked the staff for South, and they know what they’re doing. We can just give them instructions and leave them to it. But I can send you photos of the space.’
Sunshine was staring at him as though he’d taken leave of his senses. ‘Of course it’s necessary. Your staff may be excellent, but Jon is trusting me to make sure everything is perfect. I know exactly what he likes, you see, and I can’t let him down.’
Leo sighed inwardly.
‘We have to think about how the tables are going to be arranged,’ she went on. ‘The best place for speeches, where we’ll do welcoming cocktails—I mean, is there an outdoor area for that?’ Her hands came up, clasped her head at the temples as if she were about to have a meltdown. ‘A thousand things.’
Leo felt a throb at the base of his skull. ‘Let me think about it,’ he said, just to staunch the flow of words. He wasn’t really going to think about taking her to see the damned restaurant.
‘Thank you, Leo!’ She was back to twinkling, clearly nowhere near a meltdown.
Two months! Two months of this manipulative, mendacious wretch.
‘So!’ she said. ‘Let’s talk invitations. I have three designs to show you—and I won’t tell you which is my favourite because I don’t want to influence your opinion.’
‘You won’t.’
‘Well, I wonder if, subliminally, knowing what I like best might sway you.’ Little knowing smile. ‘Maybe to deliberately pick something that is not my favourite! And that would never do.’
He caught his half-laugh before it could surface. Laughing would only encourage her.
‘And since we haven’t discounted the email, I’ve got something to show you too,’ he put in smoothly, because he’d be damned if his version was going to be dead in the water without a demo at least. ‘It’s something we did for the Q Brasserie launch.’
Half an hour later Leo was amazed to find that he’d agreed to a printed Art Deco-style invitation in blue and teal, with yellow, brown, and grey accents.
But he’d had a win too! Sunshine was so impressed with his electronic idea she’d insisted they send something like it as a save-the-date notice, linking to some artsy teaser footage of South’s surroundings.
‘But we’ll keep the venue secret,’ she added conspiratorially, ‘because it will be fun to have everyone guessing, and they’ll be so excited to find out it’s South when the printed invitations arrive.’
He hoped—he really hoped—he hadn’t just been soothed.
Sunshine took on the responsibility for getting the invitations printed and addressed, with names handwritten by a calligrapher she’d dated in the past. She would show Leo—who actually didn’t give a damn—the final design before it went to print, along with handwriting samples. Leo was in charge of getting the save-the-date done for Sunshine’s approval—and she most certainly did give a damn.
He was on the verge of disappearing to the kitchen when Sunshine circled back to South and her need to see it.
‘It’s not going to happen,’ Leo said. ‘You can’t go on site without me. And the only time I have free is...is...daytime Monday.’ Ha! ‘Shop hours for you, right?’
Sunshine pulled out a clunky-looking diary.
He did a double-take. ‘You’re on Facebook but you use a paper diary?’
‘My mother made it for me so I have to—and, anyway, I like it,’ she said. ‘Hemp and handmade paper. Jon and Caleb have them too. Play your cards right and you’ll get one next year. And, yes! I can do Monday. Yay!’
Again with the yay. And the twinkle.
And that throb at the base of his skull.
Sunshine put her diary away. ‘My hours are super-flexible. I mostly work from home, and usually at night, when I seem to be more creative—not during the day, and never in the shop unless I’m doing a particular display. Because I have a superb manager who would not take kindly to my interfering.’
‘I like the sound of your manager.’
‘Oh, I can introduce— Ah, I see, sarcasm.’ She regarded him with a hint of amused exasperation. ‘You know, I’m not generally regarded as an interfering person.’
He couldn’t keep the snort in.
‘Sarcasm and a snort! Better not debate that, then. So! Shall I drive us down?’
‘I’m going to take my bike.’
Her face went blank. ‘Bike?’
‘As in motor,’ he clarified.
‘You have a car as well, though?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Because we could get so much done if we drove down the coast together.’
‘Except that I don’t have a car.’
‘But I have a car. You can come with me.’
‘Sunshine, I’d better put this out there right now: you are not going to control me. I don’t have a car. I have a bike. I am going to ride down the coast, because that is what I want to do. Why don’t you just ride down with me?’
Mental slap of his own head! Why the hell had he suggested that? Sunshine Smart plastered against his back for an hour and a half? No, thank you!
Although at least she wouldn’t be able to talk to him.
Still, she would annoy him just by being there. In her skintight pants...full breasts pressed into his back...breathing against the back of his neck...arms around him...hands sliding up under his leather jacket...
What? No. No! Why the hell would her hands need to be sliding up there?
‘Thanks, but, no,’ she said—and it took Leo a moment to realise she was talking about riding on the bike as opposed to sliding her hands under his jacket. Thanks, but, no. Sharp and cool—and not open for discussion, apparently.
And it...stung! Dammit.
‘Why not?’ he asked.
‘Because I don’t like motorbikes.’
Don’t like motorbikes! Well, good. Fine. Who cared if Sunshine Smart didn’t like motorbikes? Every other woman he dated couldn’t wait to hop on the back of his Ducati!
Not that he was dating Sunshine Smart. Argh. Horrible, horrible thought.
Just let it go. Let it go, Leo.
‘Why? Because you can’t wear ten-inch heels on one?’ That was letting it go, was it?
‘I don’t wear ten-inch heels anywhere—I’m not a stilt-walker. It’s not about shoes. Or clothes. Or even what those helmets do to your hair.’ She tossed said hair. ‘It’s just...’ She shrugged one shoulder, looking suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Just an antiquated little notion I have about staying alive.’
‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘You drive, I’ll ride, and we’ll meet there.’
And then she sort of slumped...without actually slumping. He
had an absurd desire to reach over and touch her damned hair, and tell her...what? Tell her what?
That he would drive down the coast with her? Hell, no! Not happening. And he was not touching her hair. He didn’t touch anyone’s hair. Ever.
Leo all but leapt to his feet. ‘I’d better get into the kitchen.’
‘Right now? But—’ Sunshine checked her watch. ‘Oh. That took longer than I thought.’
She gave her head a tiny shake. Shaking off the non-slumping slump, he guessed, because the perk zoomed back, full-strength.
‘I have other samples in my bag—you know, pictures of floral arrangements and cakes. And I was going to talk to you about shoes. I’m arranging some custom-made shoes for you for the big day.’
‘Flowers can’t be that urgent. I have a superb baker on staff, so don’t get carried away on the cake. And I don’t need shoes.’
‘The shoes are a gift. From me. I’m doing them for Caleb and Jon too. And I promise it will not be an identical shoe gig—nothing like those ancient wedding parties with six groomsmen all wearing pale blue tuxes with dark blue lapel trim!’ Dramatic shudder. ‘Oh, please say yes, Leo.’
Leo looked down at his feet, at his well-worn brown leather shoes. Scuffed, but as comfortable as wearing a tub of softened butter. And he had other shoes. Good shoes. Italian shoes. He didn’t need more. He didn’t want her goddamned shoes.
But her hypnotically beautiful mismatched eyes were wide and pleading as he looked back up, and he found himself saying instead, ‘I’ll think about it.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. There’s a ton of stuff still to talk about, but I understand you’re on a tight leash tonight, so you get going. And before we meet on Monday I’ll do some legwork on the flowers front. And music... No, I won’t do any legwork on that, because I know you used to go out with that gorgeous singer Natalie Clarke, and she would be perfect. I hope—’ She stopped, bit her lip. ‘Oh, dear, enough about the music. I’m sensing a teensy bit of animosity—that little tic next to your mouth gives it away, you know. But we still have clothes to talk about. Yours and mine, since we’re the closest thing they’ll have to an official wedding party. We don’t want to look too matchy-matchy, but there’s so much we can do to look part of the overall theme.’
Leo stared. He was doing a lot of that. ‘You mean there’s a theme?’
‘I’m not talking about those horrifying Elvis or Medieval or Viking themes. Or Halloween—it’s been done! I’ve seen pictures—with pumpkins! I mean just a touch of complementary colour, a certain style...things like that.’
‘You’re scaring me.’
‘I promise you’ll love—’
‘Really scaring me. Later, okay? Much later.’
Sunshine wrinkled up her nose—and Leo had now twigged that this meant she was about to put a new argument, so he held up a ‘stop’ hand.
‘I’ll see you Monday, Sunshine. And in the meantime try and remember that the marriage will have already happened. This is just a celebratory dinner.’
‘But—’
‘Monday.’
She made a muted explosive sound, redolent of frustration. ‘All right! Monday! But I’m staying here for dinner—not running away like a good little girl.’ She tossed her hair again. Flick. Over her shoulder. ‘I have a date.’
Leo kind of liked that huffy hair-flick—it made him feel as if she were the one off kilter for a change.
‘Then I’ll send over a Campari for you while you wait.’ Calm. Reasonable. Charming, even.
‘Lovely, thank you,’ she responded. Calm, reasonable, charming.
‘I won’t be able to come out and speak to Gary tonight, though.’
‘That’s okay—Gary’s not coming.’
Frown. ‘But I thought you said...?’
‘Oh, I see.’ Little laugh. Annoying little laugh. ‘No, tonight I’m having dinner with Ben.’
‘Another investment banker?’
‘No. Ben’s an embalmer.’
Leo did the stare thing again. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘No.’ Puzzled. Actually, seriously puzzled. ‘Why would that be a joke?’
‘An embalmer? How did you even get to meet an embalmer? Are you making shoes for corpses?’
‘Not that I wouldn’t make shoes for corpses, but no.’ Pause. He saw the tiny swallow. ‘It—it was a subject I needed to—to research. Two years ago. For my...sister.’
‘I didn’t know you had a sister.’ He thought back...something about her eyes? In the womb... Triplets...?
Twins!
Oh. Embalmer. Sister. Her twin sister was dead. And he was such a freaking idiot!
Because—oh, God. no—the face-morph. It was happening again. Emptiness. Ashy skin. Trembling lips. What the hell was that?
‘Sunshine...?’
No response.
‘Sunshine!’
Alarmed.
She shook her head and the look was gone. But her eyes were filling and she was blinking, blinking, blinking, trying to stop the tears falling.
Crap! He reached over to the next table, snagged a napkin, held it out to her with a gruff, ‘Here.’
She took the napkin but just stared at it. Another blink.
He watched, holding his breath... Just one tear, one drop, and he would have to...to... No, he couldn’t...could he? Hovering, hovering... His heart was starting to pound...
And then she took a long, slow breath and the tears receded.
Leo took his own long, slow breath, feeling as though disaster had just been averted, and slid into the chair beside her.
‘Sorry,’ Sunshine said. ‘My sister died two years ago. The anniversary is coming up so I’m feeling kind of...emotional about it. I should be over it by now, but every now and then...’ That tiny head-shake, then she looked at Leo and smiled. ‘Anyway, let’s get back to—’
‘What was her name? Your sister?’ Leo asked, because he was not getting back to anything quite that easily.
Sunshine paused, but only for a few seconds—and her smile didn’t waver at all. ‘Are you ready for this, Leo? It’s not for the fainthearted.’
Leo didn’t know if he was ready, not ready, or why he had to be ready.
In fact he didn’t know squat.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t let her change the subject as she’d clearly wanted to do. Why her unwavering smile was bothering him. Why he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she let those jammed-up tears fall.
He didn’t know a damned thing—least of all why he should be interested in Sunshine Smart’s dead sister.
But he said, ‘Worse than Sunshine?’
‘Ouch! But, yes—at least Moonbeam thought so.’
‘Moonbeam?’ He winced. ‘Seriously? I mean...seriously?’
Little gurgle of laughter. ‘Yep.’
‘Good God. Moonbeam. And Sunshine.’
She was playing with the hem on the napkin he’d given her, picking at it with her fingernails.
‘So what happened?’ Leo asked.
She looked down at the napkin. Pick, pick. ‘Hippie parents.’
‘No, I mean what hap—?’
‘Oh, dear, I’ve snagged the hem,’ Sunshine said, and put the napkin on the table. ‘Sorry, Leo.’
‘I don’t care about the napkin, Sunshine.’
‘Actually, table napkins have an interesting history. Did you know that they started o
ut as lumps of dough, rolled and kneaded at the table? Which led, in turn, to using sliced bread to wipe your hands.’
What the hell? ‘Er—no, I didn’t know that.’ Thrown. Completely thrown.
Extra-bright smile. ‘But you were asking about Moonbeam. Actually, it’s because of her that I’m sitting here with you. She and Jonathan dated as teenagers.’
He was staring again—couldn’t help it. ‘No way!’
‘Yes way! But Moon realised pretty quickly that she’d need to swap an X for a Y chromosome if their relationship was going to get to the next level, even though Jon adored her. So—long story short—she encouraged Jon to leap out of the closet, with me hooked in for moral support, and the three of us became super-close—like a ménage à trois minus the sex. And voilà—here I am, planning Jon’s wedding to your brother.’ Her brilliant smile slipped. ‘One of the reasons I miss Jon so much is because he’s a link to my sister.’
Jon dating a girl. Ménage à trois minus the sex. Bread as table napkins? Leo didn’t know what to say.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I don’t have to explain that to you. I know you miss your brother too.’
‘It can’t compare.’
‘Yeah, I guess...I guess you can jump on a plane if you need to see Caleb.’
‘That’s more likely to happen in reverse.’
‘You mean him jumping on a plane? Oh, no, I see—him needing to see you.’ She looked him over. ‘I get that. You’re the dominant one, you’re the one doling out the goods, and you don’t need to see anyone.’
The perceptiveness startled him.
‘So no emotional combustions! It’s a good way to be,’ she went on. ‘In fact my approach to relationships is based on achieving a similar core of aloofness, of control. Of mastery over my emotions.’
He was a little awed. ‘Your approach to relationships?’
‘Yes. Separating sex from love, for example—you know, like that ménage à trois with me, Jon, and Moon. You have to agree that it makes life easier.’
‘Easier, maybe. Not better.’
Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle Page 42
