Ursula thought that her sister might faint away, she looked so pale. She shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t. I know it looks like it, but it isn’t. It’s a copy of Mother’s dress,’ she explained quickly. ‘Not the real thing—but as close as you can get.’
Finn frowned with concern as he took Amber’s hand. ‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’
She gripped his hand tightly, needing the warmth and the reassurance and wishing that she could freeze-frame the comfort and the closeness that his touch inspired at that moment. ‘Y-yes, I’m okay,’ she said shakily.
‘Then would someone mind telling me what is going on?’ asked Finn. ‘What’s the significance behind this particular wedding dress?’
Ursula nodded and sought to condense the story into its most tellable form, since Amber had obviously said nothing to him about the dress. ‘Years and years ago, our mother worked as a cleaner in a big department store in Knightsbridge—did you know that?’
He nodded. ‘Vaguely. I think Amber mentioned it when we first met.’
‘Well, in the store there was a beautiful designer-made wedding dress and Mum absolutely fell in love with it. She used to go and look at it whenever she got a spare moment. And she couldn’t believe it when no one wanted it and it was drastically reduced in the sales. So she queued up all night and bought it herself.’
‘But why?’ queried Finn. ‘Wasn’t she married at the time?’
‘She was. She did it because she was a complete romantic,’ said Amber softly. ‘Despite her circumstances.’
‘Go on,’ said Finn, his interest alight.
Ursula took up the story again. ‘It was to be our wedding dress—mine and Amber’s—to wear when we got married; that’s why she bought it. We used to touch it through the plastic covering and imagine ourselves wearing it...’ Her voice faltered. ‘Then our father died and we had no money, and so Mother had to sell the dress, even though it broke her heart to do so.’
‘And where is it now?’
‘No one knows. A man called Luke Goodwin is trying to find it—but that’s another story. But the daughter of the original designer has made a dress that’s very similar—and that’s this one.’ She jabbed at the photo with one well-upholstered finger. ‘She’s just opened a wedding dress shop out near Winchester, and she’s raffling this dress—the copy—as a prize And I’ve entered your name in the competition, Amber!’
Amber was trying to take it all in, but her most overriding thought was that it seemed somehow inappropriate to be talking about weddings when she and Finn had been arguing so much lately. Instead she tugged down the gleaming sapphire silk of the dress she was wearing and bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t think I stand much chance of winning it, do you?’
Ursula put down her empty glass, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘No, you don’t—but that doesn’t matter !’
Amber blinked. ‘I’m not sure I follow what you’re saying.’
‘The girl who designed this dress—her name is Holly Lovelace and you’d really like her—she designs wedding dresses for a living. And if you don’t win this one, then she says that she’ll make a copy of it for you. Made to measure—it’ll be perfect—and just like Mother’s! It would take a keen eye to be able to tell the difference between the two gowns. The only snag is you can’t have it till March. The bridal magazine sponsoring the competition are doing a big feature on it then, and they don’t want it to be worn before.’ Ursula swallowed down her emotion. ‘Just think, Amber—delay the wedding for a month and Mother’s dream could come true in spite of everything! You could end up wearing a dress exactly like the one she had always wanted you to wear!’
Amber was silent for a moment. The sight of the wedding dress had brought memories of her childhood back in sharp focus. She remembered the dark and poky flat—the stifling claustrophobia of the winter months as the rain had trickled in relentless grey sheets down the panes of glass, the condensation turning the room into a greenhouse.
Then, the beautiful and costly wedding dress had represented another world. A world where clothes were carefully made and bought for reasons other than being cheap and warm. A world where civilised meals were eaten off fine china instead of chipped and mismatched seconds. A world where brides drifted down aisles clothed in the finest silks and satins instead of sheepishly sneaking into the nearest register office, with their Sunday best concealing the early stages of pregnancy.
But then, as now, the dress had seemed curiously out of place. Amber did not want to discuss the possibility of a wedding—on Valentine’s Day or any other time. It seemed that she was jumping the gun by miles, and she certainly did not want Finn to feel he was being pushed into anything he didn’t want to do.
‘What do you think?’ Ursula’s voice seemed to come from a long way away.
Amber looked up blankly, meeting Finn’s keen green gaze which cut through her emotional armour like a sword. She wanted the wedding dress to mean something right then—hell, it did mean something, because it reminded her of her mother. But the story had been tainted by the disquieting inner knowledge that all was not right between her and Finn.
Did he sense something of her disillusion? Was that why his thumb began to almost absently stroke the back of her hand in a way she was sure was designed to be comforting, but—because it was Finn—made her feel almost bereft with longing? So that she would have thrown herself into his arms and begged him to kiss her and make everything all right with that kiss, as he had always managed to do in the past.
But she could not do that. And not just because she had an audience in Ursula, either. Amber realised that to keep losing herself in some kind of sensual thrall to Finn was a bit like burying her head in the sand. Sex was supposed to add something to a relationship—not just blot out the bits you found too uncomfortable to confront.
Watching closely for his reaction, Amber kept her gaze firmly fixed on Finn’s face. ‘Do you like the wedding dress, Finn?’
‘I’m sure that you’d look absolutely beautiful in it, Amber.’
Her gaze didn’t waver, but she thought that, as answers went, his was smooth and bland. And utterly noncommittal.
‘So shall I leave you Holly’s phone number?’ asked Ursula eagerly.
‘Yes, do. Thanks,’ said Amber as Ursula handed her an ivory card embossed with gold and bearing the message: ‘Lovelace Brides: wedding gowns to fall in love with!’, followed by a Hampshire telephone number.
‘And you will contact her, won’t you, Amber?’ asked Ursula.
Amber attempted to use a noncommittal smile very similar to the one Finn had just flashed at her. It was easy if you tried hard enough. ‘We’ll see,’ she prevaricated. She put her empty glass down on the table. ‘Gosh! All that champagne has made me feel quite light-headed! I need some food to act as blotting paper! What time are we due at the Prodigy party, Finn?’
He looked at his wristwatch and frowned, but then he had been frowning for the best part of a minute anyway, thought Amber.
‘About half an hour ago,’ he said shortly. ‘Come on, ladies—it’s time to go!’
Prodigy might have been expected to have taken over a suite at the Granchester Hotel—a venue which was inevitably used for hyped-up events which were brash and loud and ‘happening’. Events where money was no object other than to be poured down people’s throats in the form of the finest bubbly, and where newspaper and magazine photographers had been given prime spots from which to capture the best pictures of the rich and famous for the next morning’s papers.
However, on this occasion they had elected to use the private function room of one of the capital’s newest and trendiest restaurants—Caveat Emptor! The private room could only accommodate one hundred guests, and consequently the tickets were like gold-dust.
Without the two security guards to clear their path outside, it would have been like fighting their way to the front of the crowd at a football match.
As soon as he had seen them safely into the sanctum of
the restaurant, Finn disappeared to find the head of Prodigy. ‘I’d better just okay it with him about having brought Ursula,’ he murmured, and swiftly dropped a kiss on the top of Amber’s gleaming head. ‘And then I’ll check out that Karolina is behaving herself. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ nodded Amber.
The two sisters went off in search of the powder room, and Amber was just leaning towards the mirror to touch up her lipstick when she caught Ursula’s reflection staring at her curiously in the mirror.
‘Everything is okay, isn’t it, Amber?’
Amber kept her face poker-straight as she blotted off the excess lipstick with a tissue. ‘In what way?’
Ursula shifted uncomfortably, her face growing pink. ‘I don’t know...you seem...different, somehow. Sort of preoccupied. And tense, too. So does Finn. Is there something going on that I should know about?’
Amber shook her head, the fall of syrup-gold hair swaying like heavy silk around her neck. ‘Nothing’s going on. I’m tired, but Finn is even more tired. He’s been working too hard in the run-up to Christmas, and Jackson’s away. Plus he’s mad with me for doing the interview. That’s all.’
‘Okay.’ Ursula hesitated. ‘If something was wrong—you would tell me, wouldn’t you?’
Amber laughed. ‘Of course I would! Who else would I tell? I’m closer to you than to anyone!’
Gratified, Ursula smiled into the mirror at her sister and wondered whether to put any lipstick on, but decided against it. After all, no one would be looking at her tonight! Not with Amber standing beside her.
‘Come on.’ Amber took Ursula’s arm and squeezed it affectionately. ‘He’ll be even madder if we keep him waiting!’
They walked into the sumptuous Silver Room, where they caught a glimpse of Karolina Lindberg, surrounded by a sea of photographers. Amber looked around for Finn. He was taller than most of the men there, and she spotted his dark head as soon as he entered the room. So did some of the other women, judging by the speed at which several heads swivelled round. His eyes searched them out and he came over to where they stood.
‘They’ve certainly gone to town on the decor,’ he observed drily. ‘What do you think?’
‘Eye-catching,’ murmured Amber, as a silver-clad waitress wiggled by, and he smiled.
Ursula was busy looking around her, taking in the silver satin tablecloths which gleamed like starlight. The candles were silver and so were the goblets, and silver stars were pinned onto swathes of black netting which were draped artistically from the ceiling. ‘I’m terribly impressed!’
Finn narrowed his eyes. ‘But you work in advertising, too, Ursula—you must come to functions like this all the time.’
‘No.’ Ursula shook her head. ‘I tend not to.’ She had made that a ground rule right from the word go—to attend as few functions as she could. It made it easier to handle her feelings for her boss that way. Functions meant free-flowing wine and the relaxations of barriers erected at work, and when they involved a man you were trying desperately hard not to love they were best avoided. She tried to catch a better look at Karolina through the mêlée of photographers who surrounded her. ‘Your model is popular,’ she observed drily. ‘They’re like bees round a honey-pot!’
Karolina was clearly enjoying herself hugely, draped all over a white satin sofa—all six feet of her. She was wearing a pure white satin dress, with a garland of wild white roses crowning the moon-white tumble of her hair.
Ursula’s mouth fell open as they moved closer. ‘Heck—but she’s absolutely exquisite!’ she breathed.
‘Isn’t she?’ agreed Finn, an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.
‘And where did you find her?’
‘Oh, Finn spotted her,’ said Amber with a slow smile of recollection. ‘Standing at Waterloo station wearing a pair of tatty old jeans and a windcheater. Her hair was crammed underneath a woolly hat and she didn’t have a scrap of make-up on her face.’
‘She must have looked very different,’ Ursula observed.
Finn nodded. ‘Uh-huh—but her bone structure was faultless and I knew she would photograph well. She had that indefinable something and I just knew she would go straight to the top.’
‘So what do you do in that kind of situation?’ asked Ursula curiously. ‘Just go up to her and say, “I think you’d make a wonderful model—here’s my card!”?’
‘Something like that,’ said Amber. ‘In this business you’re always on scout duty—looking for new talent. I am. Everyone at Allure is. That’s the way this business works.’
‘But don’t you get funny looks when you approach total strangers at railway stations?’ asked Ursula. ‘Particularly if they’re that young?’
‘Finn never gets funny looks,’ said Amber truthfully.
‘Just hungry looks!’
‘I don’t do very much scouting these days,’ said Finn.
‘I tend to be more tied up in the office—and the day I saw Karolina, Amber was with me, which was nice.’
‘So how do they know that you’re not some evil abductor?’
‘Does Finn look like your average abductor?’ giggled Amber. ‘They’d take one look at him and say, “Yes, please!’”
Finn smiled. ‘If they’re with a parent, or a friend—then so much the better,’ he said. ‘There’s safety in numbers. Karolina happened to have her mother with her. But they can check out the business card before they contact me—just to reassure themselves that we’re completely legit. And it isn’t only girls we’re after—we approach boys, too.’
Ursula watched in fascination as Karolina tossed her head back in a gesture designed to show off every inch of her firm and delectable body. ‘How old is she?’
‘She’s sixteen.’
‘So young,’ observed Ursula.
‘Yes,’ Finn agreed softly. ‘Some people say it’s too young.’
Amber glanced up at him, at the way his profile had suddenly hardened. There had been no criticism in her sister’s remark, and yet Amber still found herself springing to defend Finn’s last statement.
‘It does seem very young, doesn’t it? But she still gets plenty of time for homework, and she’s always chaperoned to make sure that unreasonable requests aren’t made of her.’
At that moment Karolina spotted them, or, to be more precise, she spotted Finn. Waving her hand nonchalantly to disperse the clustering photographers, she rose fluidly to her feet and tottered towards them, on heels which were much too high. Though Amber noticed that Finn still towered over the young model.
‘Finn!’ Karolina exclaimed, with an instinctive and very sexy little curving smile which added about a decade to her real age. ‘Finn Fitzgerald! My very own boss! Boss being the operative word!’ She pouted. ‘Because he always tells me what to do!’
He smiled back. ‘Hello, Karolina. Is your mother here?’
Karolina pouted again. ‘Why do you always ask me about my mother, for heaven’s sake? We aren’t joined at the hip, you know!’
‘Because your mother is meant to be here chaperoning you,’ he explained patiently.
‘Oh, phooey to that! She’s chatting up a man from one of the cable channels!’ And Karolina grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Finn smoothly removed the glass from her hand and handed it to Amber. ‘We’ll take that,’ he said. ‘I can arrange for you to have a soft drink, if you like.’
‘What—a bottle of milk?’ snapped Karolina. ‘Keep it! I wonder, when are you going to learn that I’m not a child any more, Finn?’ And she marched off as well as her spindly high heels would allow.
‘When you stop behaving like one, I guess,’ murmured Finn, as the three of them watched her sway her way to the other side of the room.
‘Oh, dear,’ commented Amber. ‘Pep talk coming up, I fear.’
‘Do they often come over like prima donnas?’ asked Ursula, with interest.
Amber’s attention was all on Finn, but his green eyes were busy following the p
rogress of his newest and hottest model. ‘Sometimes. Not often,’ she answered, wondering why her heart remained so heavy. ‘It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid—though by no means the biggest one.’
Ursula, busy watching the proceedings with amusement, failed to notice the tortured note in her sister’s voice. ‘And what’s the biggest one?’
‘Oh, they fall in love with Finn,’ answered Amber tonelessly. ‘Only half the time he doesn’t even see the danger. Or maybe he does,’ she added suddenly, not caring what Ursula thought, not caring what anyone thought—not even Finn. Because right then her world seemed like a house of cards which was in danger of subsiding. ‘Maybe he does,’ she repeated quietly. ‘And just pretends not to.’
But Finn wasn’t even listening.
CHAPTER FIVE
AMBER woke up abruptly and lay very still, her body clock and the suffocating darkness telling her that it was extremely early in the morning, but that something else seemed very different too.
And then she remembered that it was Christmas morning. No wonder it felt so out of the ordinary!
Her mouth curved into a smile as she slowly turned her head to see whether Finn was still sleeping, and then the smile faded when she saw that his space in the bed was completely empty. Not just empty but unruffled, the sheets as smooth as a newly made hospital bed—as though he hadn’t slept in it at all.
She glanced down at the clock which was gleaming red on the radio-alarm. Half-past four. She lay there for a moment and listened for the sound of him moving around, but, though she strained her ears, she could hear nothing. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness, then glanced around the room to see if there were any unaccustomed shapes lurking in any of the corners—shapes which resembled presents! But there was nothing. Which meant that he was probably wrapping last-minute gifts!
She stretched luxuriously beneath the cosy warmth of the duvet. So did she try to go straight back to sleep? Or go searching for Finn?
The deep jade folds of her clingy satin nightdress moulded themselves to her thighs as she stretched and climbed out of bed. Usually she started the night off wearing a nightdress, and then woke up in the morning completely naked—Finn having peeled the garment off some time during the night, before starting to make love to her.
One Wedding Required! Page 7
