Dream Wedding

by Helen Brooks

  'Shall we?' As he gestured towards a vacant table the suspicion became a certainty.

  'We go to the far end and order first,' she said quietly as she indicated the long counter behind which several young, uniformed staff were desperately trying to keep up with demand. 'Then wait for the food and take it to a vacant table.'

  'Right.' He looked down at her, the silver-grey eyes intent as they swept across her upturned face, his hard-boned features vitally handsome in the harsh lights overhead. 'Then lead on Macduff; I'm all yours.'

  She was unprepared for the fierce stab of pain that hit her in her heart region at his casual words, and it could have been a nasty moment, but even as he spoke he had ushered her forward in front of him so her face was hidden from view. Sexual interest, animal chemistry, she told herself violently as they waited down the narrow aisle. It means nothing, nothing in the wider scope of things, don't forget it.

  And by the look of things she wasn't the only one affected either.

  'Yes?' The attractive redhead behind the counter ignored several people in front of them and spoke directly to Reece over Miriam's head. 'What can I get for you?' she asked cheekily, with the sort of wide-eyed smile that was an anomaly in the frantic tempo of the place.

  'The lady's calling the tune.' She just knew that Reece was smiling at the girl from the note in his voice and would have loved to kick him hard. 'This is her treat.' he added smoothly.

  'Lucky you.' As the girl grinned at her Miriam made an effort and smiled back. 'Now, what do you want?'

  A few minutes later they were seated at a table with a mountain of food between them. 'Are you really going to eat all that?' Miriam asked in amazement as Reece bit into the first of the quarter-pounders he had ordered complete with French fries and all the trimmings.

  'It's very good.' His grin made her breath catch in her throat and set the warning bell jangling madly. 'I get the distinct feeling I've been missing out all these years.'

  'You haven't been here before?' she asked carefully, relaxing as one black eyebrow raised sardonically at her tact.

  'That wasn't too hard to work out, was it?' He shrugged slowly. 'Barbara and I were brought up with enormous wealth, Miriam, but the normal things…' He shook his head quietly. 'I guess they just didn't happen for us. We had an excellent education—I'm not complaining—and I think my first meal out was at the Ritz when I was still in a high chair.'

  He smiled, his eyes distant, and she forced herself to show none of the sympathy his words had aroused, knowing that it would be offensive to him. 'From when I was knee-high we were indoctrinated to take care of ourselves, show no emotion and conduct ourselves in a manner befitting the Vance name. Appearances were everything to my parents, and to the set in which they moved.'

  'And you?' She looked at him hard as he bit into the beefburger. 'Where did that leave you?'

  'Realistic,' he said coldly. 'The world is motivated by power and influence, Miriam, and don't let anyone persuade you otherwise. Poets and philosophers may expound on the goodly virtues but they don't stand the test in the market-place where it's still dog eat dog.'

  'But—' She stopped abruptly at the flinty hardness in his face. 'You don't mean that,' she said weakly. 'Surely you aren't saying that honesty and integrity are wrong?'

  'No, I'm not saying they are wrong,' he responded quietly, his voice cool and contained. 'Personally I live by my own moral code, which includes honesty and integrity, but I am saying that I walk this road with my eyes wide open. I can be as ruthless as the next man, more so if necessary, and especially when I am crossed. I don't expect any favours from anyone and I don't ask for any. In the final analysis everyone is looking out for themselves first, second and third. I have no illusions.'

  'I don't believe that.' She stared at him indignantly, quite forgetting to eat herself as he finished his first beefburger and began on the second with every appearance of enjoyment. 'About everyone looking out for themselves first. Where does love feature in this world of yours if that's the case?'

  'Love?' He leant back in his chair as he eyed her mockingly, his eyes cool slits of silver in an otherwise expressionless face. 'Love is the original four-letter word that has been so misused through the ages that I'm amazed it isn't regarded as obscene. Even the dictionary definition is ambiguous, covering more doubtful emotions than you've had hot dinners in the last month.' He raised his eyebrows sardonically. 'Warm affection is one, and benevolence, charity, to admire passionately, sexual passion…' He paused and nodded slowly. 'Now that last one is perhaps the nearest to anything honest, although another definition, a score of nothing, has merit.'

  'That means in tennis,' she said hotly as his cynicism hit a raw nerve. 'And love isn't sexual passion—well, not altogether,' she corrected herself quickly. 'It's lots of things for different kinds of love; surely you can accept that? The love a man and woman feel is different to the one of a mother for her baby—'

  'In my case it was extremely different,' he said drily as he gestured for her to eat. 'Barbara and I saw our parents for ten minutes in the evening, if we were lucky, from the day we were born until we left for boarding-school at the age of seven. The rest of the time we were in the care of people who were paid to look after us. Some did their job well and others weren't so conscientious, but nevertheless it was still just a job.'

  'I'm sorry, Miriam, but I don't believe in this rose-coloured fantasy called love, not in any form. I simply don't believe it exists beyond the desire to believe in the concept by weak-willed individuals who don't have what it takes to get through by themselves.'

  'That's awful.' She stared at him aghast, her eyes huge in her distress as she forgot all about herself in the aftermath of what he had revealed. 'I love lots of people, and not just because I need them to get by,' she added quickly.

  'Who?' He leant forward suddenly, his eyes narrowing. 'Who exactly do you love, Miriam?'

  'Who?' She bit into her quarter-pounder and chewed stolidly for a minute before swallowing, to give herself time to think. These revelations had hit her far harder than she would have liked; in fact the place where her stomach should have been was a churning mass of jelly. But only because she felt sorry for him, she told herself quickly as she swallowed the food past the huge lump in her throat and took a quick gulp of cola. That was all. 'Well, there's my mother for a start, and Mitch, and my grandparents who live in Scotland—'

  'They are all people you have been programmed to consider you love since you were a child,' he interrupted coldly. 'As I'm a child of my heritage, so are you.'

  'And friends.' She eyed him firmly, a small shred of anger beginning to burn deep inside at his apparent scepticism. 'I've several dear friends, one or two that I've known since childhood, who I love, although I suppose I've never put it into words before.'

  'And boyfriends?' He leant back again and took a long swallow of his drink. 'Have you loved a boy before?'

  'I'm not sure how you mean that.' She glared at him as the anger began to flare more strongly. 'And you needn't put that scornful emphasis on the word 'love' either. I now what I feel, Reece, and neither you nor all the powers in the universe could make me say any different. There are people that I care about more than myself; I love them, and that's that.'

  She eyed him defiantly as her cheeks glowed scarlet. 'I don't care whether you say love exists or not—I know it does; I've felt it and it's got nothing to do with how much money someone's got or how influential they are either. I think your outlook on life stinks,' she finished tightly as she rammed what was left of the unfortunate bun into her mouth and chewed ferociously.

  'Everyone to their own, Miriam.' He was as cool and remote as ever, his face unreadable, and for a moment the urge to hit him was as strong as the urge to reach across and kiss him, and the latter frightened her far more than the former.

  Somehow the revelations about his boyhood had pierced something deep inside and it was hurting still more with every second that ticked by. It was ridiculou
s, crazy, but she had never felt the urge to comfort someone as strongly as she was feeling it now, and the urge was very physical and definitely quite carnal, she reflected painfully.

  She wished that they hadn't taken the job, wished that she hadn't come here with him tonight; in fact she wished that she'd never laid eyes on Reece Vance. No, she didn't. She glanced at him as the last of his meal disappeared and then looked down at her cold French fries. No, she didn't, and that in itself was the craziest thing of all.

  'I've upset you.' She kept her eyes on the table and then jumped violently as his hand closed over hers. 'I've upset you, haven't I?' he asked softly, in a voice that would have melted solid stone:

  'Don't be silly.' She dodged the question as she carefully extracted her hand from under his. 'You're entitled to your opinion, after all.'

  'Even if it stinks?' he asked wryly.

  'Even then.' It cost her more than he would ever know to raise her head and smile, but she did just that even as her heart began to pound frantically at the rueful, tender expression on his face. He looked almost as though he cared that he'd hurt her, she thought agonisingly, watching the silver eyes darken as they wandered over her half-open mouth, but of course he didn't. Reece Vance wouldn't countenance such an emotion.

  'Honesty has its price.' He shrugged as he withdrew his hand and finished the last of his drink. 'I could have given you a line but that wouldn't have been fair, and most women—'

  He stopped abruptly and she tensed inside, sensing that she wouldn't like what he was about to say but unable to leave it alone anyway. 'Most women?' she asked softly.

  'Most women are quite happy to take the good times along with all the material benefits of a relationship and leave it at that,' he said quietly.

  'I think you've been mixing with the wrong women.' His eyes shot to her face as she spoke but she stared back at him bravely as she forced herself to say what she thought. 'In fact I'd hardly call such people women at all. All the ones I know value friendship and a degree of commitment in a relationship far more than what they can get out of it materially. Not all of them ate seeking the love a lifetime, no. I can think of one or two of my friends who have been with their partners for some time because they simply enjoy their company and respect the people they are, but love often starts like that anyway. It isn't always an instant blinding light, whatever the poets might say.'

  'And you're an authority on the subject?' he asked coolly, but with a cutting edge to his voice that told her the indulgence he had displayed so far had vanished.

  'I don't have to be to give my point of view,' she answered crisply.

  'True…' He gave her a long, sardonic glance and then changed the subject abruptly as he gestured at his empty tray. 'I really enjoyed that,' he said politely, but with a shred of surprise in his deep voice that told her the comment was genuine. 'It's probably murder on the digestive system but I can see why the kids go for it now.'

  He glanced around the room full of a wide assortment of the human race, including truck drivers, families out for an evening snack, young couples and a host of giggling schoolgirls in one corner who were clearly having a birthday treat. 'And the oldies too.'

  'How the other half live?' she suggested drily, and as his gaze snapped back to her she saw the silver eyes were narrowed and watchful. 'Perhaps they don't have such a bad life anyway, even if they aren't setting the world ablaze.' It was probably below the belt, she admitted, even as the words left her lips, but his comments on other women had hit a nerve that wouldn't be calmed.

  'I never thought they did.' There was no laughter or amusement in his voice now, nor the overt, laconic mockery with which she had expected him to meet her taunt, but as his eyes met hers for the briefest of moments she saw a passionate, hungry desire in the silver-grey depths that robbed her of speech and froze her thought processes.

  It was instantly veiled as he moved his head to glance casually round the room again, but the brief baring of his soul had shocked her beyond measure. These had been untold hurt in that one piercing glance—hurt and pain and a craving for something that was voracious in its intensity. His lost childhood, perhaps?

  She sat still and stunned in her seat as she slowly forced her hand to reach out and raise a stone-cold French fry to her mouth in some semblance of normality.

  Or was it something in the present that made him look like that? One thing was for sure—what he said and what he felt were two totally different things with this man. The hard outer shell that he had built round himself was inches thick and it would take some sort of miracle to pierce such armour. Or some woman. Sharon's image floated in her mind's eye in all its exquisite beauty and she felt a cold shiver flicker down her spine. And the beautiful blonde was certainly some woman…

  'Did you have a nice time on Saturday?' The second the words had left her lips she would have given the world to take them back, but all she could do was present a smilingly bland face to him as his gaze returned to her.

  'Saturday?' His brow wrinkled for a moment and then cleared. 'Oh, Saturday. Well, the meal was excellent— but then the Berkely-Smiths have a reputation for their lavish hospitality which is second to none and must be maintained at all times.' The cynicism was hard and raw. 'It was more of a business evening anyway; Charles and I had several important matters to discuss.'

  'Oh, I see.' She knew that she ought to leave it right there, but she also knew that she wasn't going to. 'I thought it was a dinner party?'

  'It was,' he said briefly.

  'I suppose Sharon's parents like having you around,' she continued carefully. 'You being an old friend of the family and so on.' Mention her. Say something, she screamed at him silently. The very fact that he had avoided saying Sharon's name spoke volumes—didn't it?

  'Not particularly.' The silver gaze fixed on her face and she forced her eyes to show no reaction. 'I get on quite well with Charles, but Margaret is too like my mother for there to be any rapport between us, and she is astute enough to know I don't like her.'

  'You don't like her?' she echoed faintly, 'But you just said she was like your mother—'

  'My mother was a cold, predatory, rapacious woman completely devoid of normal human warmth,' Reece said coolly with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. 'Rather as you view me, I suspect,' he added, in a voice that was deceptively casual. 'For some reason I have never been able to fathom, my father adored her, and her slightest wish was his command. She was exceptionally beautiful but he came into contact with many beautiful women. However…' he shrugged slowly '…obviously my mother had something the others hadn't.'

  'But she was your mother,' Miriam protested faintly. 'You must have felt something for her—'

  'You were brought up in a happy, normal home,' Reece said quietly. 'You wouldn't understand.' It hurt—it hurt so much that her skin prickled with cold and her throat felt as rough as sandpaper. What could she say? How could she begin to get through to him when he had just told her that she didn't have a clue what he was talking about?

  As the chatter and laughter ebbed and flowed around them she stared at him, searching her mind for a comment that wouldn't seem inane as her heart thudded painfully. She knew somehow that he hadn't talked to anyone like this for a long time; it was there in the hard, straight line of his mouth and the visible withdrawal in his body and face as he glanced round the crowded restaurant. But they were worlds apart. In every way. The knowledge caused her chest to tighten and burn and she felt a physical pain that caught the breath in her throat. She had to say something. She just had to say something; she'd probably never get the chance to reach out to him again.

  'Anyway, all that was a long time ago and, like the line from the film, 'I don't give a damn'.' He smiled as his gaze returned to her troubled face, his eyes glittering with a savage self-mockery that belied his words.

  'I'm in control of my own life now and I live exactly the way I want to,' he said flatly. 'No false emotion, no promises that are impossible to keep and no ties.'


  'And Barbara was the same until now,' she whispered, with a sudden stage of understanding. That was why fee couldn't believe his sister's love for her fiancé was genuine. They were twins, each with a twin's capacity for understanding the other's mind, and after the childhood they had had Reece couldn't visualise Barbara taking such a step of faith with another human being. Because he couldn't. Her heart stopped and then thudded on.

  'Dead right.' He had heard her whisper and his voice was scathing. 'I don't know what she's playing at but she'd make the worst mother in tine world; we've both got some of our mother's blood running through our veins, after all.'

  'She loves him, Reece,' Miriam said bleakly. 'She told me so and I believe her.'

  'She's a Vance,' Reece said bitterly as his eyes turned into pinpoints of steel. 'She's incapable of love.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  They drove back to the house in virtual silence under a cold, dear sky in which each tiny star was picked out in glittering detail, and Miriam couldn't remember when she had felt more miserable in the whole of her life.

  But why? she asked herself angrily a hundred times during the short journey. Reece Vance is nothing to you; his views on women and love axe sad but you hardly know the man, for crying out loud. It doesn't matter.

  But it did, and by the time they reached the long, curving drive leading up to the house her nerves were as taut as piano-wire. She should have said something— anything—instead of sitting there staring at him like a small, dumb sheep, she told herself tightly as he brought the car to a halt just past the house. But she'd blown it; she'd absolutely blown it.

  'Miriam.' As he cut the ignition and the powerful engine fell silent Reece turned to her in the soft darkness, one arm sliding round the back of her seat. 'I shouldn't have said all that about Barbara back there. Believe what you want to if it makes you happy; you might be right after all.' There was no chance in the world that he believed that, she thought bleakly as she looked into the hard male face watching her so intently. 'I hardly know Craig—'