‘Why?’
Amber shrugged. ‘Oh, it all looked so daunting—he looked so daunting. I felt like a fish out of water.’
‘So he took one look at you, and he said...?’
Amber took a mouthful of champagne. This part of her recollection still hurt, despite her ability now to see the humour in it. And the truth. ‘He put the phone down and looked at me for what seemed like an awfully long time, and said that if I started wearing high white stilettos, then I would probably make a reasonable amount of money—’
The journalist frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither did I, at first. It was his idea of a joke, you see. Implying that I looked like...like...’
‘Like?’
‘A streetwalker,’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘He said that?’
‘Implied that.’
‘So what did you say?’
‘I told him that his eyes looked like traffic lights—’
‘Traffic lights?’
Amber giggled. ‘Well, yes. His eyes are green, you see—very, very green—only this time they were red as well. He’d had a terrible bout of flu, apparently—first time he’d ever been sick in his adult life. Everyone there said what a terrible patient he had made.’
‘I can’t imagine anyone saying something negative about Finn Fitzgerald’s looks. That must have been a first. Did he mind?’
‘No. He laughed. Just threw back his head and laughed, and said, “Touché,” and everyone stopped what they were doing and just stared at me. At first I thought they were staring because I must have looked such a state. It wasn’t until much later that they told me they had been amazed to see Finn laughing so uninhibitedly. They nicknamed him “Grin” Fitzgerald for a while after that, until he put a stop to it.’
‘You mean he’s a sourpuss usually?’
‘I don’t know if I’d put it quite that way. I mean that not many people can make him laugh.’
‘But you can?’
Amber let her gaze fall demurely to her lap. ‘I hope so.’
‘So he signed you up and asked you out?’
Amber shook her head. ‘No. He told me that I wasn’t tall enough to be a model.’
The journalist let his eyes roam over her. She looked pretty damn good from where he was sitting. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Not really. I’m just over five seven, and most models top six foot these days.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told him he wasn’t polite enough to be my boss, anyway. And that made him laugh. Again.’
‘So you left?’
Amber shook her head. ‘I was about to. Then a phone rang and he started speaking into it, and another one rang and he started gesturing impatiently with his hand, so I picked it up and answered it. I took a message and wrote it down and then started walking out.’
‘So then what happened?’
‘He called me back and asked if I could type and I told him that I could, after a fashion. Then he asked if I could make coffee and I said yes, could he?’
‘And he laughed again, right?’
Amber smiled. ‘That’s right.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then he offered me a job.’
‘As?’
‘A general dogsbody, really—only he gave it a fancy name.’
‘And you told him what he could do with his job?’
‘I was very tempted,’ admitted Amber. And not just by the job, either. ‘But intrigued, at the same time. The atmosphere in this place was wild. And buzzy. I told him that I’d think about it and he said that he didn’t have time to discuss it then, but would I meet him later that evening?’
‘And he took you out for dinner, right?’
‘That’s right,’ smiled Amber. ‘But he brought two models along with him.’
‘So it wasn’t the romantic evening of a lifetime?’
‘Not at all. These two women spent their time being bitchy to one another and trying to compete for his attention.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I let them get on with it. Just sat there enjoying my supper.’
‘And he was surprised?’
‘Amazed. First of all he sent the two models home, then he looked at my empty plate and said he’d never seen a woman put away that much food before. And I told him that was because I didn’t get to eat in restaurants like that every day, and if he didn’t appreciate the yummy things on the menu then maybe his palate was jaded and perhaps he should try a diet of simple food for a while.’
‘And he laughed again, right?’
‘Yes, he did. And he asked me whether I could cook and I told him that, yes, of course I could cook—but was he looking for an assistant or a wife?’
‘Let me guess—he stared into your big blue eyes and said it was the latter and he’d been waiting all his life for a girl like you?’
‘He did not. He frowned at me and told me that if I went to work for him I’d have to do something about my image, and I said, “Like what?” So he told me to report to him first thing the following morning and all would be revealed.’ Amber took another mouthful of wine, really enjoying herself now. Thinking what uncomplicated fun it had been back then. ‘So I turned to him and asked, “Does this mean you’re offering me the job?” and he glared at me and said of course it did.’
‘So you jumped for joy?’
‘I did not I told him that I couldn’t accept a job unless there was accommodation involved, because my job at the hotel was a living-in job. And he said that shouldn’t be a problem—that he could find me accommodation.’
‘Meaning you could move in with him, I suppose, which was where love first blossomed?’
Amber shook her head. ‘Oh, no. He was offering me the grotty old flat above the agency—well, I say grotty. It wasn’t that bad, and Finn had it decorated for me.’ She remembered how he had insisted on choosing the colours and how it had rankled. Colours which would not have been her choice at all. But in the end it seemed that Finn had known best, because Amber had grown to love the decor he had picked out. As in so many other areas of her life, he had been her guide and her mentor. ‘So I moved in.’
The journalist licked his lips. ‘And he joined you?’
Amber shook her head and laughed. ‘Oh, no! I couldn’t have imagined Finn living there! He had a much grander apartment overlooking Hyde Park.’
The journalist looked around him. ‘That’s this apartment?’
Amber nodded. ‘Uh-huh—and eventually I moved in here. With him. But that’s how it all started.’
The journalist swallowed down another mouthful of wine. ‘So it was like—a red-hot romance straight away?’
‘Certainly not!’ Amber’s mouth pursed into a prim little line. ‘I worked for Finn for two years before he even laid a finger on me.’ Until she had grown to want him so much that she’d thought she would die with the wanting. And had convinced herself that a man like that wouldn’t look twice at a working-class girl from the council estate. But in that she had been completely wrong. A smile played around the lush curves of her mouth. ‘He played Pygmalion instead.’
‘And how did he do that?’ asked the journalist casually.
‘Oh, he sent me to a make-up artist and a hairdresser. Then I had my colours done by a colour therapist, and after that I saw a stylist and she advised me about what kind of clothes to wear.’
‘She advised you pretty well,’ murmured the journalist, running his eyes over the gold silk-knitted tunic dress she wore, which showed off the best pair of legs he had ever seen.
‘Well, Finn certainly thinks so,’ said Amber, an unmistakable note of reproof in her voice which told the journalist in no uncertain terms to back off.
‘Er, yes. Finn.’ Averting his eyes from the milky-white stockings which made her legs sheen so provocatively, the journalist took another sip of his champagne instead. ‘He’s doing pretty well for himself.’
Amber nodded. Some
times she thought he was doing a little too well. The business was booming—and so successful that Finn rarely seemed to have time to draw breath just lately. Even acquiring a partner hadn’t helped, not really—even though Jackson Geering was a faultless choice. In fact, maybe Jackson was just too good.
He had been taken on by Finn to ease some of the workload at Allure—but such was Jackson’s talent for the business that he had succeeded in drumming up a whole load of new openings! He was currently in New York, looking into the possibility of opening a branch of Allure over there. Amber knew that Finn was excited by the prospect and she was worried. How far did a man have to drive himself before he could accept his own success?
But, while she might suggest that he was in danger of overdosing on stress, she couldn’t tell a man of nearly thirty-four how to live his life...
She sneaked a quick glance at her watch. It was getting on for five o’clock. And once Paul Millington had left she would be free to start cooking, which she loved so much that Finn often teased her about it. She liked to prepare robust food—full of vegetables and pulses. Hearty, healthy, economical meals, and, even though Finn told her time and time again that they were rich enough to eat caviare non-stop if they wanted to, some part of her loved concocting the simple meals which had been a part of both their childhoods.
The journalist saw her looking at her watch, recognising that she wanted to end the interview. Good. When the subject was impatient for him to leave, that was when they were often at their most indiscreet. And indiscretions made the best stories, no doubt about it...
‘So how did Finn propose?’
Amber laughed and shook her head, the thick hair swaying as fluidly as golden syrup. ‘Oh, no—I’m not falling for that one! He’d kill me if I told you!’
‘In bed, then?’ he quizzed mischievously.
Amber blushed like a thousand sunrises, and then could have kicked herself. ‘I’m not saying!’
Actually, they hadn’t been in bed at the time. They had been closeted in a sumptuous downstairs bathroom at a weekend house party which neither of them had really wanted to attend, hosted by the owner of one of the country’s best-selling glossy magazines.
Finn rarely did anything he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t like socialising much. For a start, he didn’t get the time. And when he did he liked to live a simple life, far away from the glamour of the industry in which he worked. But even Finn had been able to see the sense of attending such a party.
‘Shall we go?’ he had queried casually one morning as they had been driving in to work together.
‘Do we have to go?’ Amber had asked.
She still felt shy in the company of huge gatherings of strangers—probably because most people were captivated by Finn. He was the one they wanted to talk to, not her. For all her blue-eyed, golden-haired beauty, people still gravitated to the dark man with the streetwise eyes by her side. Sometimes, Amber felt like a dim satellite next to Finn’s bright, blazing planet.
Finn shook his head. ‘We don’t have to do anything, sweetheart—but it might be fun.’
‘Fun?’
‘Mmm. Show you the sort of life we could be living.’
As an exercise in comparison, it proved invaluable, showing Amber—if she had needed showing—that the glossy high life was not for her.
She was forced to put up with beautiful women flirting outrageously with Finn all evening, acting for all the world as though he had not brought a woman with him.
He saw her resigned expression across the table as she picked at her smoked salmon, and attracted her attention without too much trouble, leaning across the table to talk to her.
‘What’s up?’ he quizzed softly.
Amber shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
‘Something,’ he contradicted. ‘Is it the other women?’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘It goes with the territory, Finn—you’re an extremely attractive man, and they just can’t seem to stop themselves!’
‘No,’ he agreed thoughtfully, his dark lashes framing the emerald brightness of his eyes. ‘But maybe you think I encourage them?’
‘No.’
‘Even subconsciously?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to have legions of women fawning over you in order to boost your self-esteem—your ego is healthy enough without that!’ But maybe she ought to make more of an effort to enjoy herself in a similar way. ‘Go back to your fan club, Finn Fitzgerald,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m fine.’
She forced herself to chat to the man on her right—a wunderkind film director who, she soon discovered, had an irreverent sense of humour. Even though she was aware of the beauty busy pouting beside Finn, the wunderkind managed to keep her halfway entertained all the way through the impressive array of different courses. She was just unwrapping another chocolate mint when she glanced up to find Finn looking at her very intently.
She put the mint down, untasted, and leaned across the table towards him. ‘Is something wrong, Finn?’
‘Meet me downstairs,’ he urged her suddenly.
Amber blinked. ‘Why?’
He shook his head and his green eyes glittered. ‘No questions.’
‘Not even to ask where?’
He laughed. ‘Why don’t you hide in one of the shadowed recesses in the hallway,’ he suggested in a sexy murmur, ‘and let me come and find you?’
Her heart was beating very strongly with excitement as she rose to her feet, convinced that people must have guessed at their elaborate charade, but the wunderkind was now chatting to the woman on the other side of him, and no one else looked in her direction as she slipped away.
She went into one of the downstairs bathrooms, where she brushed her hair and washed her hands, and applied a faint lick of lipstick. She was just about to leave when Finn appeared in the doorway, a look of anticipation and excitement on his face as he came inside and silently closed and locked the door behind him.
‘Finn?’ Amber said breathlessly.
‘Shh!’ He took her into his arms and began to kiss her with a sweet determination which Amber knew could only mean one thing...
‘Finn!’ she protested breathily as he began to stroke her nipple absently with his thumb.
He eased her against the wall. ‘What?’ came the smoky reply.
‘You mustn’t.’
‘Why mustn’t I?’
‘Because...’ Amber’s head tipped back helplessly as he began to anoint her neck with kisses. ‘Because...’
‘Lost for words?’ he tormented sweetly, as his hand snaked possessively between her thighs, the silky fabric of her dress parting like magic for his fingers.
Lost, yes. Definitely. Lost in an inimitable sensual world of his making. She moulded her hands helplessly around his buttocks, feeling the hard ridge of his desire as he pressed willingly against her pelvis. ‘We... we... shouldn’t be doing this,’ she gulped, as she felt him ruck the silky fabric up her legs.
‘Why not?’
‘Because people are upstairs—’
‘So what?’
‘W-what...?’ Her voice trailed away with excitement as she heard the rasping of his zip. ‘What if they guess?’
‘Guess what?’
‘That you’re...you’re...’
‘I’m what?’ He stared straight into her face, seeing her eyes dilate with shock and excitement as he pushed the lace panel of her panties aside and slowly eased himself into her molten tightness.
‘Unscrupulous!’ she gasped, as he began to move against her.
‘And?’
‘Gorgeous,’ came her breathy admission, just as pleasure and excitement and guilt all combined to give her the most heart-stopping orgasm she could remember, and she knew from the sudden tension in his body that his was not far behind. She felt him shudder helplessly within the circle of her arms and she held him very tightly until the storm had subsided.
Afterwards they stood wrapped around each other, Amber’s skin all pi
nk and glowing as she yawned lazily against his neck, and he tilted her head to face him.
‘I’ve been thinking—’ he began.
‘Oh, is that what you call it?’ she teased him, her voice all slurred and satiated.
‘About those women.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, but it does, sweetheart. It does. And it bothers you, doesn’t it, Amber?’
She thought about it ‘Of course it bothers me,’ she admitted carefully. ‘I think it would bother most women—but I hope that I manage to conceal it well—’
‘Not from me, you don’t.’
‘Well, from everyone else, then. I mean—it isn’t as though I threw a tantrum at dinner and marched off to bed. I thought I hid my impatience fairly well.’
‘You did,’ he agreed softly, and kissed her tenderly on the tip of her nose. ‘I only picked it up because I know you so well and I can recognise all the tell-tale signs.’
‘And what are they?’
‘It was when you ate that fourth after-dinner mint that I knew you were feeling tense!’
Amber giggled.
He pushed a wayward strand of golden hair off her flushed cheek. ‘Although I noticed that you soon found yourself an interesting diversion,’ he told her carefully.
Amber’s heart hammered. ‘I take it you’re referring to the film director?’
‘You know I am.’
Surely that wasn’t jealousy colouring his voice? Finn? Jealous of her? It thrilled her almost as much as it shocked her. ‘And did you mind?’ Amber’s voice was equally careful.
‘I guess I did. Stupid, isn’t it?’
‘Not stupid.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘It’s natural to feel jealous—even when you know that your fears are groundless.’
‘I guess so.’ He planted a kiss on the silky curtain of her hair and Amber raised her head reluctantly.
‘Do we have to go back up there, Finn? From the predatory gleam in the eyes of some of those women, they’ll probably suggest throwing car keys into the middle of the room! Quite apart from the fact that I feel a little...’ she met his eyes, and blushed ‘...sticky.’
‘Me, too.’ He smiled back at her.
‘So do you suppose we could get away with sneaking off to our room and hope that no one will notice?’
One Wedding Required! Page 2
