by Robyn Grady
With his gaze glued to hers, Roxy had to concentrate not to reach up and brush her lips against the sexy half-grin lifting one corner of his mouth. By the time he twined their arms more and hers rested against his lapel, her feet weren’t touching the ground.
Wondering if her smile reflected just how dreamy she felt, Roxy admitted, ‘This feels good.’
His lips twitched. ‘Very good.’ Indulging his natural skill, he danced her around in a tight circle. ‘We should do this more often.’
Then something infinitesimal changed in his expression. A slight darkening of his eyes, the faint tightening of his jaw. But then that sexy grin returned and he urged her flush against him while the music wrapped around them and a sea of stars shone down.
With her cheek resting contentedly against his lapel, she was on another plane when the song ended and applause went up. Remembering where she was, Roxy blinked open her eyes and glanced around. An ocean of faces was beaming at them while couples whispered among themselves, Roxy guessed, about how perfect a couple they made. And for a long giddy moment, she had the strangest feeling—a flash—as if this were a rehearsal to a bigger event.
Nate’s rumbling voice was at her ear. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘All those people looking on …’ She gathered herself and sent a thin smile. ‘For a moment I’d forgotten where we were.’
His frown eased before he brushed away a wave of hair floating against her cheek.
‘At least everyone got a good look at your evening dress. You’ll get enquiries.’
He was being genuine, but he was also digging for answers. He wanted to know if she intended to continue with the salon. But that would depend on what transpired tonight.
Five minutes later, a woman breezed up to them. Her dress was slimline, high-necked, covered in red sequins. Nate introduced them.
‘Janelle, this is Roxy Trammel. Roxy, one of my younger sisters.’
‘Roxy, I’m in love with that gown. Everyone’s talking about it.’ Janelle skated a look Nate’s way, then stage-whispered, ‘About the two of you too, actually.’
But Nate didn’t appear to be listening. He was checking his cell’s caller ID. He caught Roxy’s gaze. ‘Mind if I get this?’
She could tell by his expression it was important. ‘Not at all. Go ahead.’
While Nate strode off to find a quiet corner, Janelle spoke to Roxy.
‘A friend of mine expects to have the question popped any day now. Would you mind if I passed your name along?’
‘Under normal circumstances, I’d love you to. Unfortunately, my salon was burgled recently.’ Janelle gasped. ‘Much damage?’
‘Quite a bit.’
‘When do you think you’ll be up and running again?’
‘Can’t say for sure. I should know more soon.’
‘If there’s anything I can do to help …’ Her shoulders dropped. ‘But of course, Nate would’ve already offered.’
Yes, he had offered, Roxy thought. But when push came to shove, would he come through?
Nate’s other sisters gravitated over, one of them an effervescent brunette by the name of Naomi. They all five chatted as half a dozen songs played in and out. Each sister made her feel welcome and said she must come to another, less formal family get-together. Roxy longed to say she couldn’t wait—she could easily see herself being friends with these women, particularly Janelle, who reminded her of a possum with her large chocolate-brown eyes—but she couldn’t be presumptuous.
Only after she’d spotted Nate walking over did Roxy realize how much time had passed. The aroma of a delicious smorgasbord banquet being served inside the marquee teased her nostrils. It seemed dinner was served.
One sister—Ivy—announced they should find their respective partners and grab something to eat. The sisters snatched kisses and hugs from Nate as he moved closer. But on seeing his expression beneath the shadow and glow of party lights, Roxy felt a shiver pass through her. His smile was hollow. His gaze, preoccupied. When he finally joined her again, she felt unease ripple off him.
Rather than start a conversation, ask what she thought of his siblings, Nate swiped two drinks from a tray, passed one to her and skulled three parts of his down. His jaw was clenched, and a muscle beat rapidly and irregularly high in his cheek. What had happened? His face was so dark, she didn’t want to ask.
‘Guess the phone call wasn’t good news.’
He exhaled, then knocked back the remainder of his drink. ‘It’s Saturday morning in Texas and Mr Nichols is clearing his desk.’
That shiver passed through her again. ‘Clearing his desk?’
‘His advisors have looked over my proposal, the figures. They’re not convinced the investment’s viable.’
Roxy didn’t know what to say. He’d handled Greg pulling out, but now this? If she felt devastated by this news, how must he feel?
She touched his jacket sleeve. ‘Are you okay?’ He blinked, looked down and then directly at her. Earlier he’d looked invigorated. Now suddenly he looked ten years older. ‘We can leave, if you want.’
‘I’m fine.’ Then he raised his chin, rolled back his shoulders. ‘I can get another investor.’ His eyes narrowed on some imaginary distant spot. ‘It’s just a matter of pushing forward. Holding on.’
‘I wish I could help.’
That seemed to bring him back. His gaze snapped onto hers, then he smiled. ‘Like I want to help you with your situation.’ He angled more towards her. ‘You said we should talk later about your business, that dress. Guess it’s later.’
‘I don’t know this is the right time.’
‘Believe me. It’s the right time.’
She took in the determined slant of his brows, the glint in his eye and tried not to think about the knot twisting in her stomach.
‘There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it.’ She took his hand. ‘Nate, will you marry me?’
Nate heard the question. He let the words, the concept, sink in. For an instant he thought she was serious. That she was asking for his hand in marriage, and his heart skipped several beats before thumping back to life.
Then he remembered the dress. That contest that meant so much.
He eased out a breath and laid a palm on his heart. ‘This is so sudden.’
Her lovely mouth twitched with a smile.
‘That woman who came into the salon looking for a bargain, the one getting married on the thirty-first … I was on the verge of stripping the dress off that mannequin, wrapping it in tissue paper and exchanging it for nothing more than an invitation. After confronting the mess of that break and enter, not knowing whether I’d be able to stay open even another week, I felt I had no choice. At least this way, I had some kind of chance.’
‘A good chance,’ he reminded her, before taking her arm and leading her to a relatively quiet spot around the corner from the marquee and away from the constant thump of music. Climbing the step of an ornate white gazebo, laced with his mother’s favourite scarlet-blooming vine, he indicated she sit and finish her story.
‘You thought you had to take the risk,’ he said as he lowered beside her. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘After that woman tried the gown on and we both agreed how well it suited, she asked if I could do a quick set of alterations. She wanted the bodice cut lower and the skirt made detachable so the dress could turn into a mini for the party afterwards. I told her the truth. The gown was a finalist in an international contest. If it were to remain in the competition, the gown couldn’t be altered to that extent. She could have it free of charge, as long as she was married on the thirty-first and the gown was kept in its original state.’
From the far end of the estate, a stream of colourful lights whistled high into air. Next moment a blast of fireworks covered the previously dark sky. Another and another ignited, turning night into carnival day. Talking over the noise was impossible, so they sat tight and watched until the last celebratory star fell and dist
ant applause and cheers rose up.
Roxy said, ‘They’ll wonder where we got to.’
‘Don’t worry about the party. What happened next?’
‘The woman explained that her fiancé was in construction and he’d had this great idea. They should say their vows sitting in a bulldozer scoop and travel to the reception the same way.’
Nate’s chin tucked in. ‘Is that legal?’
‘I wasn’t thinking about the law. I was horrified for my dress. My jaw must have dropped so she hurried to explain that she’d insisted he have the scoop “cleaned good”, that her dress wouldn’t get caught on any spiky bits and that his pit bulls could forget about attending the after party. Apparently they go off on heavy metal music. Then she asked if she could light up in the shop. Of course she insisted she wasn’t going to smoke in her wedding dress. At least not until after the ceremony.’
When Roxy shut her eyes and withered in the seat, he wrapped one arm around her shoulder and tugged her close. ‘Not the sort of photos you want to remember that gown by.’ Or to appear in an international magazine.
‘I don’t care about someone’s personal habits or what kind of ceremony they chose. I’ve seen them all. But I couldn’t shake the image of my beautiful gown mutilated by home alterations, grubbied by residual soil fill, mauled by a pack of hyper dogs and littered with crusted burn holes. I thought I could, but I just couldn’t.’
Her shoulders felt cool so he tucked her in more against his chest until her cheek lay against his lapel and his fingers were stroking her perfumed nape. ‘Which leads us,’ he said, ‘to this.’
‘I reread the rules. I even spoke to an official. There’s nothing that says a designer can’t wear her own creation in a marriage ceremony as long as it happens by the thirty-first.’
Nate waited for the sweat to break on his brow, anxiety to wreath in his stomach. But he only felt a sense of relief. Both their professional enterprises had suffered a setback. Still he was far from finished, and it seemed Roxy wouldn’t give up without a fight either. She was his kind of woman.
‘Then it’s settled,’ he said as she straightened and his focus fell to her mouth, to the lips he’d missed so much. ‘We’ll be married.’
‘What will your parents say?’
‘Are you kidding? They’ll be ecstatic.’
‘Even when it’s a scam?’
Grinning, he angled his head closer to hers. ‘Scam is a harsh word.’
‘I didn’t want to say con.’
‘Let’s go with temporary merger.’ His lips brushed hers and a shower of pleasure that reminded him of the joy and colour of those fireworks shot through his veins. ‘Or, maybe, a short-term fusion.’
When his mouth lingered lightly on hers, he felt her dissolve against him. She sighed. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘I have one suggestion. We need a rehearsal.’
‘Of our vows?’
‘Of the kiss.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AFTER that dynamite kiss, which lasted way into dessert, he and Roxy straightened themselves up, said their goodbyes to the clan and drove to her place, where Nate was invited to stay for the night. He stripped her of her evening gown, got rid of his tux, and that was before they made it to the bedroom. They made love and their coming together this time was different, more honest—at least it was for him.
As dawn spread its fingers up and beyond the horizon he decided he should at last let her sleep. If they were getting married in a week, arrangements would need to be made. Heck, he’d have to see her practically every night.
So he kissed her a final time, a long slow caress neither wanted to end, then he slipped away and drove home with the warm light of the sun rising behind him.
He grabbed a few hours’ sleep, showered, then dabbled with the idea of speed-dialling her. Maybe she’d enjoy brunch somewhere nice by the water where they could discuss the arrangements for the coming event. He guessed she’d want to keep it low-key. Small.
As Nate poured a strong black coffee from the pot he scolded himself. Of course it should be discreet.
Still, his parents would be crushed if they weren’t invited. His sisters and their partners too. In their minds, this might be the only time they’d get to see him say the words I do. He’d need to explain how the situation had come about, that he liked Roxy a great deal. Hell, he respected her. But neither of them was desperate for that larger commitment. He’d need to explain that the wedding was purely to help Roxy and her chance with that contest.
And organizing this wedding—whatever a groom was supposed to do—meant he wouldn’t have so much time to dwell on Nichols and the fact he needed to find another investor if his plans for Sparks Steel were to go ahead. Lowering into a balcony chair, he sipped the tasty bitter brew—not nearly as good as Mrs Glenrowan’s billy tea—and thought he really ought to do some work.
Thirty minutes later, he was still gazing at water taxies whizzing across the blue expanse of the harbour and thinking about Roxy, when the intercom buzzed. An instant of curiosity turned into hope. Maybe she’d decided to come visit. Then again, he’d never given her his address.
He was surprised when Greg’s voice boomed through the speaker. ‘Can I come up?’
‘You and Marla haven’t had another barney?’
‘This visit’s business.’
As he thumbed the button to allow his friend into the building Nate couldn’t help but be optimistic. He’d always thought that once Greg’s personal life was in order, his friend’s professional happiness would follow. Greg had always felt under-appreciated in his father’s firm. Perhaps after further consideration, Greg had decided he wanted back in Sparks Steel after all. Hell, he was welcome any time! As his own father had always said, a heavy load was made so much lighter when two people shared the weight.
When he let his friend in, however, Greg looked as if he’d been trying to cope with way too much.
‘You look like crap.’
‘I received an email, Nate. From the patent office. It was stuck in my spam folder. They won’t patent our best design.’
Nate waited for the punchline. For Greg to crack up and say he was joking. That he had, in fact, received news that everything had gone through smoothly, as expected, as they’d envisioned it would. But Greg’s expression remained stern. And worse—filled with sympathy.
He handed over a printout of the email and Nate scanned the lines, his head growing lighter by the second.
Their steel roof, which incorporated its own unique approach to addressing insulation problems in Australia’s harsh climate, had been dismissed on grounds that a similar idea was already in the pipeline.
Son of a bitch.
He’d thought he’d be in his own business within three months, but this, along with Nichols’s pass …
‘I know you had your hopes pinned on this design,’ Greg was saying. ‘Mate, I’m sorry.’
Nate wanted to screw the paper up and throw the useless wad—as well as a pile of furniture—against the nearest wall. He felt as if a sledgehammer had belted him in the gut then the head. The cave had fallen in on him. Where to from here?
Greg was still talking.
‘I’m glad you have Roxy. Marla and I are so happy you two finally hit it off. When you have someone else to care about, the other stuff doesn’t seem half as important. And I want you to know that we’re always after great staff at PrimeSteel. If you want to make the move, consider it done. Just until you get this other thing off the ground, of course.’
Nate lifted burning eyes from the floor to meet Greg’s commiserating gaze. And for one crazy instant, he wondered if he ought to take up Greg’s offer. Maybe he’d be better off bowing to fate, marrying for real the woman who was so obviously right for him, and taking a secure position that would provide a pension and specified vacation time each year.
Greg’s arm was twitching by his side. He raised a hand to lie on Nate’s shoulder. Instead he rotated away. Greg knew him w
ell. He couldn’t abide an overload of pity.
‘If you want to go for a beer later,’ Greg said, ‘give me a call.’ He stepped out of the door. ‘It’ll all turn out in the end, Nate. The way it’s meant to. You taught me that.’
As the door clicked shut Nate understood Greg was trying to help. Give him a subtle pep talk about treading water until the lifeboat arrived. But the waves licking his chin were rising and a school of sharks had begun to circle. He hadn’t bothered looking into securing another investor. All he’d thought about today was Roxy and their sham wedding. With this latest setback how easy would it be to do as Greg suggested? Meld more with Roxy, opt for a less demanding career path, and surrender to the wider scheme of things. In other words, give up.
He’d rather slit his own throat.
Roxy received the call while flipping through an online catalogue for shoes.
The wedding planned for one week from today was only a means to an end—to see that her gown had its chance in that contest. Roxy was thinking ‘garden wedding’. No need to try to book a church, which would be impossible at this late date, in any case. There were a number of celebrants she could contact to see if they were free, didn’t matter what time of day. Six a.m. or ten at night, as long as the date requisite was met.
A bunch of wild flowers would make up her bouquet. She’d ask Marla to be her witness. She suspected Nate would ask Greg.
Appropriate lingerie wasn’t a problem. What she did need was shoes, something Cinderella would swoon over.
Sitting with her laptop on her living-room couch, she dragged her attention away from a pair of satin pump wedges, with sparkling beads running from the top of the back seam all the way down the heel, to examine the ID on her cell’s screen. Her tummy did a back-flip then she went warm all over. She’d hoped Nate would call today. Truth was after the glorious night they’d spent together, she missed him. Lots.
And as she thumbed the answer key a thought struck. They would need to get rings. Would he want matching gold bands? Of course there was no need for an engagement ring. Not unless he insisted.
‘Are you busy?’ he asked and her heart beat faster at the sound of his sexy deep voice.
