Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  ‘Giveaways?’ Her eyes went wide. ‘Oh, no. I completely forgot about giveaways. I meant to order some pens. I’ve been so focused on the outfits that it totally slipped my mind.’

  ‘You have business cards?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Grab them,’ he said, ‘and we’ll get a production line stuffing them at the show.’

  ‘Stuffing what?’ She looked at him blankly.

  ‘My genius girlfriend talked about wedding favours. I had some samples run up, with white organza bags and gold foil on the caramel hearts. The bag is just the right size to put your business card in as well—and don’t worry about the pens. Everyone will remember the chocolate.’

  ‘Sean, that’s above and beyond.’

  ‘No, it’s supporting you,’ he corrected, ‘and it also works as a test run for me, so we both win. Let’s get this show on the road.’

  At the wedding show, people were busy setting up exhibition stands and the place was bustling. Claire was busy measuring her new male models and doing alterations; then, when the female models arrived, she filled them in on the situation and got them to teach the men how to walk. Her stand was set up with showbooks of her designs, and her part-time shop assistant Iona was there to field enquiries and take contact details of people who were interested in having a consultation about a wedding dress. Will had brought the organza bags and chocolates with him, so Sean had a production line of people stuffing bags with the chocolates and Claire’s business card. He knew how much was riding on this.

  And it also worried him. Claire had already had to deal with extra problems that weren’t of her making today. If this didn’t go to plan, all her hard work would have been for nothing.

  What he wanted to do was to make sure that the people she wanted to see her collection actually saw it. She’d already mentioned the names of some of the fashion houses who were going to be there. A little networking might just give them the push they needed to make sure they saw Claire’s work.

  While Claire was making last-minute fixes to the dresses, Sean slipped away quietly to find the movers and shakers of her world. Claire had just about finished by the time he returned.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled at him. ‘You’re amazing and I love you. Now go strut your stuff.’

  The dresses all looked breathtaking. He knew how much work had gone into them, along with Claire’s heart and soul. Please let the reviewers be kind rather than snarky, he begged silently. Please let her get the kudos she deserved. Please let the fashion houses keep their word and come to see her. Please let them give her a chance.

  * * *

  Claire’s hands were shaking visibly. Ashleigh was sitting next to her; she took Claire’s hands and held them tightly. ‘Breathe. It’s going to be just fine.’

  ‘They all look amazing,’ Claire’s grandmother added.

  ‘You’re going to wow the lot of them,’ Aunt Lou said, reaching over to pat her shoulder.

  Only Jacob was silent, but Claire hadn’t really expected anything from her dad; she knew that fashion shows weren’t his thing. The fact that he’d actually turned up meant that he was on her side for once—didn’t it?

  But finally the catwalk segment of the show began. Her collection was on first. The models came down the catwalk, one group at a time: the bride, groom and bridesmaids. Autumn. Winter. Spring. Summer. Sean, looking incredibly gorgeous in morning dress and a top hat with his vintage-inspired bride beside him; her heart skipped a beat when he caught her eye and smiled at her. The contemporary civil wedding.

  And then finally, the whole collection of six stood on the stage in a tableau. Claire became aware of music, lights—and was that applause?

  ‘You did it, love,’ her grandmother said and hugged her. ‘Listen to everyone clapping. They think you’re as fantastic as we do.’

  ‘We did it.’ Claire was shaking with a mixture of relief and adrenaline. She swallowed hard. ‘I need to get back to my stand.’

  ‘Iona can cope for another five minutes,’ Aunt Lou said with a smile. ‘Just enjoy this bit.’

  A woman came over to join them. ‘Claire Stewart?’ she asked.

  Claire looked up. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Pia Verdi,’ the woman introduced herself, and handed over her business card.

  Claire’s eyes widened as she took in the name of one of the biggest wedding dress manufacturers in the country.

  ‘I like what I’ve just seen up there, and I’d like to talk to you about designing a collection for us,’ Pia said. ‘Obviously you won’t have your diary on you now, but call my PA on Monday morning and we’ll set up a meeting.’

  ‘Thank you—I’d really like that,’ Claire said.

  The one thing she’d been secretly hoping for—her chance in the big league. To design a collection that would be sold internationally and would have her name on it.

  She just about managed to keep it together until Sean—who’d clearly changed out of his wedding outfit at top speed—came out. He picked her up and spun her round, and she laughed.

  ‘We did it, Sean.’

  ‘Not me. You’re the one who designed those amazing outfits.’

  ‘But you supported me when I needed it. Thank you so, so much.’ She handed him the business card and grinned her head off. ‘Look who wants to talk to me next week!’

  ‘They’re offering you a job?’ he asked.

  ‘Better than that—they’re asking me to talk to them about designing a collection. So I’ll get my name out there, but I still get to do my brides and design one-offs as well. It’s the icing on the cake. Everything I wanted. I’m so happy.’

  ‘That’s brilliant news.’ He hugged her. ‘I’m so proud of you, Claire. You deserve this.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She beamed at him. ‘Though I’d better come down off cloud nine and get back to the stand. It’s not fair to leave Iona on her own.’

  ‘I’m so glad Pia Verdi came to see you,’ he said.

  She frowned as his words sank in. ‘Hang on. Are you telling me you know her?’

  ‘Um, not exactly.’

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. ‘Sean?’

  He blew out a breath. ‘I just networked a bit while you were sorting stuff out, that’s all.’

  Claire went cold. ‘You networked?’

  ‘I just told her that your collection was brilliant and she needed to see it.’

  Bile rose in Claire’s throat as she realised what had actually happened. So much for thinking that she’d got this on her own merit. That her designs had been good enough to attract the attention of one of the biggest fashion houses.

  Because Sean had intervened.

  Without him talking to her, Pia Verdi probably wouldn’t even have bothered coming to see Claire’s collection.

  And, although part of Claire knew that he’d done something really nice for her, part of her was horrified. Because what this really meant was that Sean was as overprotective as her father. Whatever Sean had said, he didn’t really believe in her: he didn’t think that she could make it on her own, and he thought she’d always need a bit of a helping hand. To be looked after.

  Stifled.

  So what she’d thought was her triumph had turned out to be nothing of the kind.

  ‘You spoke to Pia Verdi,’ she repeated. ‘You told her to come and see my collection.’

  He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Claire, it was just a little bit of networking, that’s all. You would’ve done the same for me.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t have thought that I needed to interfere. Because I know you can do things on your own. I know that you’ll succeed without having someone to push you and support you. And you...’ She blew out a breath. ‘You just have to be in control.
All the time. That’s not what I want.’

  ‘Claire, I—’

  ‘No,’ she cut in. ‘No. I think you’ve just clarified something for me. Something important. I can’t do this, Sean. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t consult me and who always plays things by the book—his book.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I know you meant well, but...this isn’t what I want.’ She took a deep breath. There was no going back now. ‘It’s over.’

  ‘Claire—’

  She took a backward step, avoiding his outstretched hand. ‘No. Goodbye, Sean.’

  She walked away with her head held high. And all the time she was thinking, just how could today have turned from so spectacularly wonderful to so spectacularly terrible? How could it all have gone so wrong?

  Even though her heart was breaking, she smiled and smiled at everyone who came to her exhibition stand. She talked about dresses and took notes. She refused help from everyone to pack things away at the end of the show and did it all herself; by then, her anger had burned out to leave nothing but sadness. Sean had taken her at her word and left, which was probably for the best; but her stupid heart still wished that he were there with her.

  Well, too late. It was over—and they were too different for it to have worked out long term. So this summer had just been a fling. One day she’d be able to look back on it and remember the good times, but all she could think of now was the bitterness of her disappointment and how she wished he’d been the man she thought he was.

  * * *

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Sean hated himself for the way the light had gone from Claire’s eyes. Because he’d been the one to cause it. He’d burst her bubble big-time—ruined the exuberance she’d felt at her well-deserved success. He’d meant well—he’d talked to Pia Verdi and the others with the best possible intentions—but now he could see that he’d done completely the wrong thing. He’d taken it all away from Claire, and he’d made her feel as if the bottom had dropped out of her world.

  It felt as if the bottom had fallen out of his world, too. He’d lost something so precious. He knew it was all his own fault; and he really wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to fix this.

  He definitely couldn’t fix it today; he knew he needed to give her time to cool down. But tomorrow he’d call her. Apologise. Really lay his heart on the line—and hope that she’d forgive him and give him a second chance.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT SHOULD HAVE been a night of celebration.

  Not wanting to jinx things before the wedding show, Claire hadn’t booked a table at a restaurant in advance; though she’d planned to take her family, Sean, Ashleigh and Luke out to dinner that evening, to thank them for all the support they’d given her in the run-up to the show.

  But now the food would just taste like ashes; and she didn’t want her misery to infect anyone else. So she smiled and smiled and lied her face off to her family and her best friend, pretending that her heart wasn’t breaking at all. ‘I’m fine. Anyway, I need to get the van back to the hire company, and start sorting out all these enquiries...’

  Finally she persuaded them all to stop worrying about her, and left in the van on her own. But, by the time she’d dropped all the outfits back at her shop, delivered the van back to the hirer and caught the tube back to her flat, she felt drained and empty. Dinner was a glass of milk—which was just about all she could face—and she lay alone in her bed, dry-eyed and too miserable to sleep and wishing that things were different.

  Had she been unfair to Sean?

  Or were her fears—that he’d be overprotective and stifling in the future, and they’d be utterly miserable together—justified?

  * * *

  Claire still hadn’t worked it out by the time she got up at six, the next morning. It was ridiculously early for a Sunday, but there was no point in just lying there and brooding. Though she felt like death warmed up after yet another night of not sleeping properly, and it took three cups of coffee with extra sugar before she could function enough to take a shower and wash her hair.

  Work seemed to be about the best answer. If she concentrated on sketching a new design, she wouldn’t have room in the front of her head to think about what had happened with Sean. And maybe the back of her head would come up with some answers.

  She hoped.

  She was sketching in her living room when her doorbell rang.

  Odd. She wasn’t expecting anyone to call. And she hadn’t replied to any of the messages on her phone yet, so as far as everyone else was concerned she was probably still asleep, exhausted after the wedding show.

  And who would ring her doorbell before half past eight on a Sunday morning, anyway?

  She walked downstairs and blinked in surprise when she opened the door.

  Sean was standing there—dressed in jeans and a white shirt rather than his normal formal attire—and he was carrying literally an armful of flowers. She could barely see him behind all the blooms and the foliage of delphiniums, stocks, gerberas and roses.

  She blinked at him. ‘Sean?’

  ‘Can I come in?’ he asked.

  ‘I...’ Help. What did she say now?

  ‘I’ll say what I’ve got to say on your doorstep, if I have to,’ he said. ‘But I’d rather talk to you in private.’

  She wasn’t too sure that she wanted an audience, either. ‘Come up,’ she said, and stood aside so he could go past and she could close the door behind them.

  ‘Firstly,’ he said, ‘I wanted to say sorry. And these are just...’ He stopped, glanced down at the flowers and then at her. ‘I’ve gone over the top, haven’t I?’

  ‘They’re gorgeous—though I’m not sure if I have enough vases, glasses and mugs to fit them all in,’ she said.

  ‘I just wanted to say sorry. And I kind of thought I needed to make a big gesture, because the words aren’t quite enough. And I know you love flowers. And...’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘You’re carrying an entire English cottage garden there.’ She was still hurt that he didn’t truly believe in her, but she could see how hard he was trying to start making things right. And as he stood there in the middle of all the flowers, looking completely like a fish out of water...how could she stay angry with him?

  ‘Let’s get these gorgeous flowers in water before they start wilting.’ She went into the kitchen and found every receptacle she had, and started filling them with water. ‘They’re lovely. Thank you. Where did you get them?’ she asked. ‘Covent Garden flower market isn’t open on Sundays.’

  ‘Columbia Road market,’ he said. ‘I looked up where I could get really good fresh flowers first thing on a Sunday morning.’

  She thought about it. ‘So you carried all these on the tube?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I had to get someone to help me at the ticket barrier.’

  He’d gone to a real effort for her. And he’d done something that would’ve made people stare at him—something she knew would’ve made him feel uncomfortable.

  So this apology was sincerely meant. But she still needed to hear the words.

  When they’d finished putting the flowers in water—including using the bowl of her kitchen sink—she said, ‘Do you want a coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks. I just need to talk to you,’ he said. He took a deep breath. ‘Claire, I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to help. But I realise now that I handled it totally the wrong way. I interfered instead of supporting you properly and asking you what you needed me to do. I made you feel as if you were hopeless and couldn’t do anything on your own—but, Claire, I do believe in you. I knew your designs would make any of the fashion houses sit up and take notice. But the wedding show was so busy, I didn’t want to take the risk that they wouldn’t get time to see your collection and you wouldn�
��t get your chance. That’s the only reason I went to talk to Pia Verdi.’

  His expression was serious and completely sincere. She knew he meant what he said.

  And she also knew that she owed him an apology, too. They were both in the wrong.

  ‘I overreacted a bit as well,’ she said. ‘I’d been working flat out for weeks and, after the way everything had gone wrong from the first...well, I think it just caught me at the wrong time. Now I’ve had time to think about it, I know your heart was in the right place. You meant well. But yesterday I felt that you were being overprotective and stifling, the way Dad is, because you don’t think I can do it on my own. You think that I need looking after all the time.’

  ‘Claire, I’m not your father. I know you can do it on your own,’ he said softly. ‘And, for the record, I don’t think you need looking after. Actually, I think it would drive you bananas.’

  ‘It would.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want an equal partnership with someone who’ll back me and who’ll let me back them.’

  ‘That’s what I want, too,’ Sean said.

  Hope bloomed in her heart. ‘Before yesterday—before things went wrong—that’s what I thought we had,’ she said.

  ‘We did,’ he said. ‘We do.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I’ve hurt you as much as you hurt me. I was angry and unfair and ungrateful, I pushed you away, and I’m sorry. And, if I try to think first instead of reacting first in future, do you think we could start again?’

  ‘So Ms Follow-Your-Heart turns into a rulebook devotee?’ Sean said. ‘No deal. Because I want a partner who thinks outside the box and stops me being regimented.’

  ‘You’re not regimented—well, not all the time,’ she amended.

  ‘Thank you. I think.’ He looked at her. ‘I can’t promise perfection and I can’t promise we won’t ever fight again, Claire.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t ever fight again,’ she pointed out.

  ‘True. I guess we just need to learn to compromise. Do things the middle way instead of both thinking that our way’s the only way.’ He opened his arms. ‘So. You and me. How about it?’