by Jo Bartlett
The chapel was packed, there were a couple of rows of family and old friends at the front, but everywhere else there were recognisable faces, mostly from TV or the football pitch. There was enough surgically enhanced cleavage on display to rival the life’s work of even the most prolific plastic surgeon.
Taking their seats towards the back of the chapel, Ashleigh suddenly caught a glimpse of Tom. Unlike the flamboyant apparel of Zac and Stevie, his grey suit screamed class. She could admit to herself now that she’d been attracted to him from the second they’d met and all the waiting and near misses had only served to intensify those feelings.
‘Bloody hell honey, you’re crushing me.’ Stevie yanked his hand away from hers. She hadn’t even realised she was holding it.
‘Sorry, I was a bit distracted.’ She met his gaze, silently willing him not to say anything in front of Zac, who was to discretion what Charlie Sheen was to sobriety.
‘Can’t say I blame you.’ Thank God, Stevie was whispering. ‘Tom really does look great today and if I knew I’d be getting a shag from him later I wouldn’t be able to control myself either.’ He winked at her and then grimaced as she squeezed his hand again with all her strength. ‘I’m glad you’re finally over that prick, Liam. Let’s face it, he wasn’t even in the same league as Tom. And I would offer to keep my fingers crossed that there are no other similarities, but since you appear to have crushed all the bones in my hand you’ll have to take your chances!’
Carly’s fiancé, Duane Johnson, was already at the front of the Chapel with his best man, Michael Cox, at his side. Susie-Anne was a couple of rows back, decked in a weird feather clad ensemble that made her look like a plus-size ostrich. She was stroking her non-existent baby bump and announcing to anyone who was interested, and most of those who weren’t, that she was having to drink a bottle of Gaviscon a day to ward off crippling indigestion and had an uncontrollable craving for Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
‘Poor Tom.’ Ashleigh wished she was sitting closer to him, so that she could see if he was okay. Ever the professional, you would never know from the way he was acting that there had ever been anything between him and Susie-Anne. It must have been hard to hear though. He was supposed to be the one rushing out for Krispy Kremes as a small price to pay for impending fatherhood. She wondered if Michael dragged his gaze away from the mirror for long enough to tend to Susie-Anne’s needs. He hadn’t stopped looking at himself in every reflective surface, including the mirrored handbag of the bride’s mother, since he’d got to the front of the chapel. Susie-Anne, who didn’t have an ounce of shame in her body, was either unconcerned or unaware of any discomfort that Tom might be feeling as she regaled tales of her pregnancy within his earshot.
‘Yeah, poor Tom.’ Zac’s tone was heavy with irony. ‘He looks devastated with those women on either side of him desperately trying to brush up against him.’
Tom was sitting next to two of Carly’s modelling friends and they were giggling over-enthusiastically and touching his arm at every available opportunity.
A frisson of nerves gripped Ashleigh’s stomach. Maybe she’d got the messages all wrong. Then he turned and a smile lit up his face as he spotted her.
‘Shit.’ The word was barely audible, but Stevie heard her curse.
‘What’s up?’ Thankfully Zac was busy gossiping with a group of fashion journalists sitting behind them.
‘I’ve just realised I’m in way over my head.’ She’d felt something and it wasn’t good, but Stevie was looking blank and she knew she’d have to explain it to him. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been such an idiot.’
‘What’s up, forgotten your condoms?’ He was trying to lighten the mood, but this wasn’t the time. ‘Honey, I’m sorry, what is it?’
‘I’ve convinced myself there’s absolutely no possibility that I stand the risk of falling even a little bit in love with him. But what if there is, when he’s made it clear that’s the last thing he wants?’ Ashleigh furrowed her brow. ‘Or maybe it’s just the wedding atmosphere getting the better of me.’ She attempted to smile, but it went a bit wobbly.
‘Shit’s right. I knew you had it bad honey, but I think you’re over reacting.’ Stevie squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it, you’ve not slept with him yet. It might well all be over after that.’ A slow grin spread across his face and the corners of her mouth started to twitch too. ‘After all, you must remember…’
‘Gary!’ They both spoke at once and said the name so loudly that people in the row in front turned to look at them.
She felt instantly better. Gary had been a lecturer at their art school. Forbidden fruit, both she and Stevie had experienced crushes on him at various points during their studies. Finally, after years of her day dreaming about it in boring lectures, Gary had made a move on Ashleigh at the graduation ball. By that time, she’d built up the fantasy so much in her mind that she was expecting fireworks, a symphony and to run off into the sunset hand in hand the morning after. She hadn’t expected beery breathed kisses and a tongue that probed her throat so deeply she was left wondering if he’d performed a tonsillectomy with it. Against her better judgement, she’d gone ahead and slept with him. Three minutes of missionary position action and a scary sex face on his part and it was all over. Stevie was right, she’d spent so long being afraid of getting hurt, of letting herself have feelings, that she was blowing what was really just physical attraction out of all proportion.
‘I love you.’ She snuggled into the crook of his arm. Whatever happened they’d have each other.
‘I love you too.’ Stevie kissed the top of her head.
‘What about me?’ Zac had finished gossiping with the row behind and evidently wasn’t enjoying feeling like the third wheel.
‘Sorry love, you’re not really my type!’ Stevie puckered his lips all the same and blew him a kiss. Zac’s response wasn’t quite so polite, but it was lost as the first strains of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March heralded Carly’s arrival, along with an entourage of eleven bridesmaids.
Carly sobbed throughout the wedding ceremony and by the time she’d swept away most of her make-up on a sea of tears, she looked even more beautiful than she had before.
Chapter Fifteen
There was no way that any photographs could be taken in the grounds of the castle. As well as the helicopters circling overhead, there were paparazzi and members of the public poking telescopic lenses through hedgerows. Instead the guests were bundled along a man-made corridor of white sheeting, into the main castle. The reception hall was dominated by a huge Christmas tree, decked out with baubles and lights matching Carly’s wedding theme and had a bride instead of an angel as its topper.
‘God, I needed that.’ Stevie had grabbed two champagne cocktails from a passing waitress, given one to Ashleigh and drained his in seconds. ‘Another one?’
‘No, I’m trying to keep a clear head.’ She took a sip, longing to drain the glass, but somehow knowing that it wouldn’t turn out well if she got drunk before she saw Tom.
Groups of guests were called up in turn to take part in the photo shoot, whilst the rest of the wedding party got stuck into the champagne and canapés. The focus was on the celebrity guests of course; it was their faces that would sell copies of Glitz, when teasers of the wedding photos were printed on its front cover. Ashleigh had already seen Tom disappear to be included in some of the main shots. He’d probably be in demand for ages, so there was plenty of time for her nerves to continue twisting her insides. Zac had been called to be photographed too, much to her relief. Although she really liked him, Zac and Stevie were no better than a couple of bickering kids and it was very difficult to take when you were as on edge as she was.
‘Having a good time?’ Tom was suddenly at her side. She could sense the eyes of people all around, staring at them. They all wanted to speak to him, to get his attention; but he seemed oblivious to them.
‘Yes. Better now.’ So much for being subtle. It was no use pretending; there was no comparing Tom to Gary, the artless art lecturer.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’ His eyes searched her face, as if daring her to come up with some reason why she couldn’t.
‘Won’t people notice or need you?’
‘I couldn’t care less about people noticing and I think I deserve half an hour off?’ Tom grinned and instantly lost the no-nonsense look that he wore so well. It was sexy and confident but Ashleigh preferred his softer side. The one she’d first seen in her kitchen that night back in Sandgate, when they’d shared their first kiss.
****
Outside, the castle’s famous rose garden was a shadow of its summer self. However, the wedding organisers had strung masses of tiny lights everywhere and they twisted like tiny glowing rosebuds between the barren thorn bushes that wouldn’t bloom again for months.
‘I’ve been looking forward to today, but not because of the wedding.’ Tom took her hand in his and the simple gesture sent adrenaline rushing through her veins.
‘Me too.’ She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t trust herself not to leap on him in front of the entire wedding party.
He led her towards a small wooden gazebo, the sides of which were covered in heavy-duty trellis and which offered some protection from any unwanted attention. If it had been summer, honeysuckle would have been draped in fragrant swathes from the trellis and would have completely hidden them from any prying eyes.
‘I can never understand why people want to get married in the depths of winter.’ Her teeth were chattering, but she wasn’t entirely sure that it was down to the cold.
‘Please tell me you’re not one of those people who’ve had their wedding day planned out since you were eight years old? Time of year, venue, colour of bridesmaid dresses, everything.’ The corners of Tom’s mouth twitched and a familiar rush of blood flooded Ashleigh’s cheeks.
‘I didn’t mean that, I’m not some desperate wannabe bride.’ She was stuttering and growing redder by the second, wishing for the millionth time that her emotions weren’t so readily on display.
‘I’m shocked!’ Tom’s eyebrows shot up with a look of mock horror. ‘You look great when you blush by the way.’
‘I doubt that.’ She struggled to regain her composure and leant with her back against the side of the gazebo, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. ‘So what are we doing out here? I didn’t have you down as a frustrated gardener.’
‘There’s only been one frustration of late.’ He crossed the gazebo in two strides and placed his palms on the columns, either side of where she stood. Somehow her hands found their way into his hair and her body was pressing against his as if her life depended upon it. The kiss was even better than before. ‘I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I saw you today.’ When he finally pulled away from her, they were both breathless. Any thoughts of the cold had long since disappeared and the only thing Ashleigh was aware of was the sensation of her mouth tingling and the desire to finish what they’d started. The anticipation was starting to drive her mad.
‘I hope it didn’t disappoint.’ She shot him a flirtatious look, confident that she’d been able to feel his interest when their bodies were pressed together.
‘It’ll do.’ He ran his fingers gently down the side of her face and neck. ‘I wish we could just slip away now.’
‘It might be a bit obvious.’ Ashleigh’s tone was reasonable, although part of her was terrified that, if they didn’t seize the moment, it would be lost and she couldn’t take that again.
‘I don’t want to rush it.’ Tom’s fingers continued their journey down her arm, until they were entwined with hers. A horrible thought crossed her mind. What if she turned out to be the female equivalent of Gary and Tom thought she was useless in bed? Oh God, she had to work with him after all this…
‘I think we should go back to the wedding.’ Suddenly the desire to rip off her clothes and leap on Tom had subsided. ‘Before anyone misses us, well more accurately you.’
‘Promise me that we’ll carry on where we started off then?’ He seemed to sense the change in her mood. ‘I’m not going back in until you do.’
‘Okay. Maybe we can meet up tonight?’ Her mind was already turning over a hundred excuses for ducking out of the wedding and out of their plans.
‘No maybes.’ He kept his fingers curled around hers as they headed back to the manor. The last of the photos would be coming to an end and the guests beginning to slip into their seats for the wedding breakfast. As they got closer to the manor they passed a garden store, where the team of gardeners no doubt stopped for tea breaks and listened to whatever sporting event was being broadcast that day. There were no grounds staff about, though, so the strange groaning noise coming from the shed was unexpected.
‘Should we take a look?’ As Ashleigh spoke, Tom’s mouth started twitching again. ‘It sounds like someone’s in pain.’
‘I don’t think it’s pain.’ He was laughing now, but she still wasn’t sure why. ‘But if you’re worried, we can check.’ She shook her head as the groaning reached a crescendo. All at one, it was obvious exactly what kind of groaning it was. Yanking Tom by the arm, she pulled him behind a holly bush and crouched down slightly as the door of the garden store opened. The first to emerge was one of the bridesmaids, hastily smoothing down her coral pink dress and brushing leaves and bits of dried grass off around the knee area. Ashleigh held her breath; it wouldn’t have surprised her if Zac had appeared next. After all, he was well overdue to hook up with fiancée number eight. The breath left her body in a rush as it became clear just who the bridesmaid had been giving so much pleasure to. It was future father of the year, Michael Cox, looking even more smug than usual, hastily zipping up his fly as he slipped out of the shed un-noticed – or so he thought.
‘Oh God.’ Ashleigh shivered, suddenly aware of the cold again.
‘He apparently thinks so. Well, God’s gift to women anyway.’ Tom’s tone was light, but there was no way of knowing what he was really thinking.
‘Poor Susie-Anne.’ Even though she’d treated Tom appallingly, Ashleigh wouldn’t wish that on anyone. There was something incredibly tacky about the kind of man who shagged around and made a fool out of his pregnant girlfriend. Especially the type of man who did it at a wedding, in a garden shed.
‘She knows.’ Tom sounded as though the whole situation were entirely normal.
‘About Michael and that girl?’ Nothing should have surprised Ashleigh, after all she’d been working with celebrities for years and they had a whole different code of ethics from most people. Yet she was shocked and a little bit sickened by it.
‘I don’t know if she knows about that particular girl. I have a feeling that Michael didn’t even know about her before today and probably doesn’t know her name even now.’ Tom still had hold of her hand and they were almost back at the main part of the manor house. ‘But she rang me in tears a week or so ago, to say that she’d found pictures on his mobile phone and some video of… well I expect you can guess the rest.’
‘But they’re still together.’ Ashleigh had never been able to understand how some women could share the men they professed to love. She tried not to think about how casual she and Tom were planning to keep things.
‘She was upset.’ Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘But she likes the lifestyle. She said that it happens, he’s ten times more famous than he was a year ago and he gets offers all the time – sometimes he just can’t turn them down. Michael told her it didn’t mean anything and so she’s just going to turn a blind eye to it. She was more worried it might get out to the press and ruin this image she’s trying to create of a perfect little family in waiting.’
‘What about you? Are you okay?’ Did it hurt him more than he let on that Susie-Anne had left him for a piece of work like Michael Cox?
‘I c
ouldn’t give a toss what Michael Cox does.’ He pulled her into his arms, even though they were now in full view of the house. ‘Or what Susie-Anne chooses to put up with. I can’t even judge him.’
‘Well I can, he’s a total bastard.’ She bristled. ‘Please don’t tell me you think it’s okay too, just because he’s a footballer and these things are the norm?’
‘Whoa, calm down.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips, but she pulled away. ‘All I meant was that I can’t judge him for cheating on Susie-Anne. Not when I’ve wanted you since the day you walked into my office and tried to make me drape myself across the window seat with Susie-Anne on my knee. When I was engaged to her and thought she was having my baby, I still wanted to know what it was like to sleep with you.’ He gave her a rueful grin and suddenly looked like a naughty school boy. ‘So there you are, that makes me just as much of a bastard as Michael Cox.’
‘I don’t think you would have done it though, even if you thought about it.’ It was absurd to be pleased that Tom could compare himself to Michael Cox, but the fact he’d wanted her from the start was more important than any comparison he might make.
‘It doesn’t matter now.’ He kissed her again, but they couldn’t put off going back to the throng of wedding guests for much longer. ‘I just want you to promise me that nothing will stop us today, not even Zac setting himself alight.’
‘Stop us doing what?’ She was teasing him, but already dizzy at the prospect.
‘The pillow fight you promised me. What else were you expecting?’ He dropped her an entirely casual wink and started walking towards the house.
‘I take it all back.’ Feigning indignation, but with a smile like a lottery winner, she called after him. ‘You are a bastard after all!’
