by Fiona Harper
Giving him a nervous smile, she closed the gap between them and took his hand. It was warm and large against her own, and where his other palm rested on the small of her back her skin tingled a little.
It was only as they started moving that she realised her mistake.
He was close. Only inches away, his breath warm against her neck. The last time they’d been this close was New Year’s Eve. The rush of memories that brought back wasn’t helping her recall this little crush she had was a one-sided affair. Not when she remembered the way he’d pulled her to him, held her firmly as his lips had explored hers. She turned her face away, looking over his shoulder, but then she could feel his breath on her neck.
Alex had nowhere near the ballroom prowess that his predecessor had shown, which meant they moved more slowly, and instead of the exhilaration of spinning round the floor, it just made her more aware of how near he was. She frowned and hoped he thought that she was concentrating on the steps, but really she was putting all her effort into not shaking.
She found, however, that she couldn’t keep staring past him. As much as she tried not to, as much as she told herself it was a stupid thing to do, she lifted her head.
He was looking at her, as if he’d been waiting for her, and there was no hint of his habitual smile in his eyes. She couldn’t look away. And somehow they got even closer, even though she couldn’t tell which one of them had swayed towards the other. Alex’s gaze dropped lower, down to her nose, then lower still…
Revelation hit her like a lightning bolt. She felt it all the way down to her toes, where the blood fizzed and danced.
This attraction, this crush, this whatever it was…? It wasn’t the tiniest bit one-sided. Alex was feeling it just as powerfully as she was.
They broke apart at the same moment, just seconds before the closing bars of the song. Alex headed one way and she the other. After a couple of steps, she realised she should probably go and rescue the backup camera and veered off in another direction. At least fetching it gave her a legitimate excuse to put the width of the Grand Hall between them.
‘Right, ladies and gentlemen…’ the bandleader’s voice boomed. ‘The bride and groom will be off on their honeymoon shortly, so I’d like all the single ladies to gather at this end of the room so the bride can throw her bouquet.’
The band burst into a few jokey bars of the Beyoncé song, then segued into something in a slower tempo. Alex, still looking mutinously serious, signalled to her to hurry up. She grabbed the camera and made her way round the edge of the room as fast as she could.
‘She’s ready to go, and we’re only going to have one chance to get this bunch of flowers sailing through the air,’ he said, opening up the camera and pulling a memory card out. ‘File this one away with the others and then follow me.’
Nicole reached out to take the card from him. She never knew afterwards if it was the adrenalin of the situation or the fact she was still feeling a little wobbly after that ‘moment’ they’d had on the dance floor, but her fingers refused to work properly. Somehow, she only got a half grip on the little blue square of plastic, and as she turned it in her fingers, trying to get a firmer grip on it, it jiggled itself free and fell towards the table.
Unfortunately, it didn’t land on the tablecloth, but in a glass of abandoned champagne, where it hit the surface of the bubbling liquid with the tiniest of splashes, then sank gracefully to the bottom.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They both stared at the memory card. It had been buoyed up on the tiny bubbles and now floated on the surface of the champagne. Alex told his hands to work, his fingers to grab the card out of the fizzing liquid in the flute, but it took much too long for the signal to travel down his arm from his brain.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…’ Nicole was muttering over and over.
He ignored her. He didn’t want to talk to her right now. He didn’t even want to look at her. That was what had caused this whole thing in the first place. He fished the card out of the champagne and gave it a good shake. It was dripping.
Thankfully, he changed his memory cards frequently. That way he didn’t lose a whole day’s shots if something went wrong. But he hadn’t been managing the cards today; Nicole had.
‘When did we last change cards?’ he barked at her.
She stopped apologising and stared back at him blankly. ‘Erm…’
‘When? Think!’
‘It was…’ She searched the room endlessly, as if one of the sets of antlers on the walls would provide her with an answer. Then a light appeared in her eyes. ‘It was just after they cut the cake…before the first dance.’ And then the joy slid off her face, as she realised what that meant. ‘Oh, Alex…’ She looked at him, those huge eyes pleading. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘We haven’t got time for that now,’ he snapped, glancing to where Lynette was already positioned with her bouquet. ‘Just pass me a fresh one and try to dry it off the best you can.’ And then he marched off, leaving her standing there, and got on with doing his job.
He didn’t dare look over his shoulder for the next five minutes as he immortalised the bouquet toss and resulting rugby scrum. He was too angry.
He shouldn’t have danced with her. He’d known he should have made an excuse and laughed it off, saying they were here to work, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Scratch that. Thinking hadn’t been part of the process, had it? That decision had been made much further south.
He took one last shot of the girl who’d caught the bouquet, ran a hand through his hair and swore softly under his breath.
He’d almost kissed her.
Those big brown eyes of Nicole’s had been pleading with him then too. But it hadn’t been for forgiveness; it had been for something entirely more dangerous, despite all her protestations about wanting to keep this thing strictly professional.
But he didn’t have time to think about that now. Aside from the bride and groom’s first dance on that memory card—which he might not be able to do anything to recreate—there were countless photos of the wedding guests. At least he could try to make those up once he’d photographed Lynette and Charles’s departure.
He needed a different lens for that, but he didn’t ask Nicole for it. Instead he went and got it himself, ignoring her hovering there by the bag, and strode outside into the chilly November night air. The sky was clear, showing off a billion twinkling stars, and frost was already settling on the grass. He didn’t care. Maybe a little sub-zero air was just what he needed as he made the short hop from the Great Hall to where Charles’s sports car was parked.
He jostled his way through the well-wishers to get a few candid shots of the bride and groom as they hugged people farewell and tried to dodge the ton of confetti being lobbed their way. Bird-friendly, no doubt. He just hoped the sparrows and robins round here were hungry.
For some reason thinking of sparrows reminded him of Saffron.
Most people would think of her as something exotic, a bird of paradise or even a glittering, elusive hummingbird, but he knew the truth. She was a lot more vulnerable than she looked. Especially at the moment.
He couldn’t do this to her. Not now.
She’d had a rough time recently. It had started with a particularly cutting newspaper article and then plenty of other publications had joined the Saffron-bashing. That was what they liked to do, wasn’t it? Build someone up, put them on a pedestal so they could knock them down again? They called her flaky, flighty, a waste of space. Not able to commit to anything for more than three seconds, and cited her failed forays into TV presenting, DJ’ing and an overpriced sunglasses range as evidence. ‘Calling her two-dimensional would be a stretch,’ some bright spark had written.
And normally Saffron would have shrugged it off as she always did, saying people were jealous of her success, if not for that chat she’d had with her father recently.
She’d always been a daddy’s girl, even after her parents’ acrimonious split w
hen she was small, but her father had remarried three years ago and now Saffron had a step-sister. Michelle was a clever woman who’d finished university and gone on to become a barrister. She and Saffron’s father had formed quite a bond, sharing a love of books, fine wines and travel, something that had drifted by Saffron until Michelle had got married.
He’d gone to the wedding as her guest a month or two ago. He’d seen his girlfriend sit frozen, her smile carved onto her face, while her father had got up and sung the praises of her new sister, had gone on and on about her accomplishments, about what a fine woman she was.
Maybe he’d intended it to be a dig at Saffron—whom he adored, but nagged constantly about doing something productive with her life—maybe he hadn’t, but the damage had been done anyway. After that Saffron had started reading all those newspaper articles more carefully, no longer laughing over them but picking through them, frowning.
Maybe that was why she’d been acting so oddly recently, sneaking around, making phone calls she wouldn’t let him hear and disappearing off for appointments she was very vague about. If anyone else had started behaving that way he’d have been suspicious, but not with Saffron. She just wasn’t like that. What he’d said to Nicole was true—she was a great girl.
Oh, hell. And that just brought him right back to the root of the problem.
He let his arm fall by his side, camera in hand, as the tail lights of Charles’s car glowed further up the drive. Thankfully, he’d done so many weddings now, he could take shots on automatic. He hardly remembered what he’d been focusing on, but he knew his mind had been functioning properly as his fingers had adjusted buttons and settings.
He was seriously attracted to Nicole. And, if anything, the fact that he couldn’t—well, shouldn’t—have her was making it worse.
He rubbed his hand over his face as he headed back inside.
Aside from Saffron, this was still a really bad idea. Nicole might be attracted to him too, but she kept blowing hot and cold, saying one thing with her mouth and another with those expressive eyes. Even if she did like him, she didn’t want to like him. And he really, really should not want to like her.
He’d ignored those kind of warning signs and mixed messages before and had regretted it. He should have paid attention to those little signals Vanessa had given out that he hadn’t wanted to see. He’d have saved himself a whole lot of heartache and humiliation that way.
Oh, Vanessa had liked him. She’d been attracted to him. She might even have loved him for a short while, but it hadn’t been the kind of love days like today were supposed to be based on, days where you said promises you didn’t ever intend to break. And he’d been fully prepared to do that. Unfortunately, his new bride had got a bit tangled up with the ‘for richer and poorer’ bit.
He hadn’t been her goal, just a means to an end, namely his family name and money. Like his parents, she’d thought he’d get tired of messing around with his camera and would toe the line eventually. Which just went to show she hadn’t known him at all.
But he hadn’t wanted to give up a job he loved to go and manage the family estate. He couldn’t think of anything more boring. Besides, his younger brother Seb was chomping at the bit to fill his shoes. His father would just have to get over the fact that his firstborn didn’t want to be a country gentleman, organising shoots and Christmas balls and moaning about the endless hordes of visitors that he had to let tramp through his home to pay the bills.
But Vanessa had wanted all of that, had constantly encouraged him to take that route, until he’d got tired of her not supporting his career choice. Discussions had turned into rows and then she’d finally realised she was never going to get him to put down his camera and she’d left.
He knew it was his fault. He knew he should have been less trusting. But up until that point he hadn’t had a reason to think like that. He was a pretty easy-going guy, tended to accept people as they came. Tom had warned him that just because he was so straightforward, he shouldn’t expect other people to be the same.
He’d known there were women like that out there, women who used men to get what they wanted, whether that was money or prestige or to further their careers. He just hadn’t considered that sweet, adoring Vanessa could have been one of them. She’d had him fooled completely.
So, while some guys liked a little mystery in their women, he could definitely live without it. Even if there was something utterly enticing about the not knowing, something about the hidden things beneath the surface that could suck a man in. So, while women like that reminded him of the landscapes he liked to photograph—complex, ever-changing, one moment one thing and the next moment something totally different—he avoided them at all costs now. It wasn’t worth the risk.
Better to stick to girls like Saffron, who wore their hearts on their sleeves and made life easy for a guy. He saved the adrenalin and excitement for his photography now.
Anyway, he had more important things to think about at the moment. He steeled himself as he entered the Grand Hall again. After the shock of the icy air outside it now seemed heavy and warm in there. He found Nicole near their table, the bags all packed neatly with lenses and all but one tripod folded up. She looked at him but said nothing.
He’d been a bit hard on her, hadn’t he? And, really, he’d been cross with himself more than he’d been cross with her. He’d been all fingers and thumbs when he’d passed the memory card to her. It really wasn’t all her fault.
He didn’t quite manage one of his trademark easy smiles, but he did manage to rid his voice of that gruff quality. ‘Listen…Don’t freak out about the memory card. I don’t know if it’s salvageable, but if it isn’t, you were taking shots at the same time. We might have something.’
Nicole nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. To be honest, neither was he, but he hated getting worked up about stuff. These days he avoided it as best he could, let stuff slide off as if it didn’t matter, even if it did. That was the only way to get through life without driving yourself crazy. Vanessa had taught him that at least.
‘I was going to clock off once the bride and groom had left, but we’ve got some catching up to do.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’ve got another hour or so. I reckon we replace what we’ve lost in that time.’
She just nodded and looked at him, her mouth a thin line of determination. ‘Whatever you think best.’
And then they set off to work, taking pictures of the guests as the party continued, getting some of the groups of friends to pose again for certain shots. No one seemed to mind or care. But the champers had been flowing pretty well for hours now, which all served his purpose. Finally, when the bandleader called the last song and the last of the guests began to gather their belongings together, he started to pack his gear away.
He didn’t talk to Nicole, didn’t try to get to know her any further. He was still as much in the dark about her as he’d been at the beginning of the day, but that didn’t matter any more. New Year’s Eve had come and gone. They’d had their chance and missed it, and he probably should be glad about that, because he was with Saffron now. Nice, easy Saffron, who wasn’t at all demanding.
Well, okay, she was a lot demanding, but only in the little things—like being particular about clothes and restaurants or asking him to fetch her things she couldn’t be bothered to get herself. He didn’t care about those things in the slightest, because she never asked him for more than he was prepared to give.
‘I don’t know about you,’ he said to Nicole as he slung a bag over his shoulder, ‘but I’m beat. I say it’s time we hit the motorway.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nicole tramped to the car behind Alex, her arms feeling longer than anyone’s had a right to feel, with all the kit she was carrying. She didn’t put anything down, though. Didn’t reposition anything. She deserved this.
She’d promised herself this morning she’d be cool and calm, the consummate professional? Ha! She’d failed on every single count. And pr
obably on a few more she didn’t know about.
This wasn’t even her real job and he was probably going to fire her. And she didn’t even have the comfort that she often had in the past that people had judged her unfairly or had underestimated her. This time she deserved everything that was coming.
And so what if he was attracted to her? It didn’t change anything. He was still with someone else. And when they’d had that…thing…there out on the dance floor, he’d backed away pretty fast. There was no doubt he was Saffron’s.
That was hardly surprising, given that instead of being the sophisticated, polished woman she knew she could be, she’d reverted to her sixteen-year-old self—gawky, shy, a little clumsy. No guy had picked that Nicole above one of ‘those girls’. No guy ever would.
She let out a low growl as she hefted a tripod into the back of Alex’s car. Why was she thinking like this? She shouldn’t want him to want her. Not if she didn’t want her whole life to fall spectacularly apart at the seams. But somehow she couldn’t stop herself.
The gear was all in the boot now, and Nicole slunk round to the passenger door of the Jeep and slid into the seat. Once there she waited, staring straight ahead into the almost complete darkness of the country night. The journey home was going to be even more uncomfortable than the journey out, and that was saying something.
She heard the car door slam beside her, felt the dip in the Jeep’s suspension as he dropped into his seat. He put the key in the ignition and they drove away in silence. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she said nothing, and Alex seemed to be concentrating hard on the unlit country roads.
They spent the whole journey that way, the silence a spell neither of them was willing to break, but as they neared North London, she realised she couldn’t just jump out of the car and run away. She was going to have to say something.
As they stopped outside her flat, she pulled in a large breath. There was no way to gloss over this. She might as well just give it to him straight. ‘I know that nothing I can say will make up for the mistake I made tonight,’ she said softly. ‘But I want you to know that I really am very, very sorry.’
