The Best Man for the Job Read online

  She pushed open the door of the bar and cringed as the memory of the scene that had taken place in Zoe’s parents’ spare room flashed into her head.

  It hadn’t been her finest moment, she had to admit. In fact it had been one of her lowest, but she hadn’t known what else to do. She’d had to get him out of that room before she’d run out of clothes to fold and pack and no longer had anything to distract her from the knowledge that they were in far too close proximity to a bed and she wanted him badly, despite being well aware that he was the last person she should want.

  What had happened in the kitchen garden was meant to have been a blip. The release of fifteen years’ worth of build-up, and closure. But as she’d stood in that driveway waving Dan and Zoe off, a sudden wave of longing for what they had had rushed over her and had thrown her even more off balance.

  Totally bewildered by what was going on inside her head, she’d just wanted to escape. So she’d headed into the house, fleeing the romance and sentimentality of the afternoon, the happy, mildly boozed-up guests, the sinking sun, the sky streaked with red and the lengthening shadows, ready to pack up and leave and figure things out in the cool peace of her flat.

  Marcus had followed her, of course he had. Naturally enough, given that she hadn’t given him cause to think otherwise, he’d assumed that she was intending to leave with him. And for a split second she’d been so very tempted to do just that. Logically she knew that he’d never be the man for her, but that hadn’t stopped her for one crazy moment desperately wanting him to be. And it had scared the living daylights out of her, which was why she’d pushed him away.

  Not that she generally thought about it much. She’d analysed it to death on the train home, staring blankly out of the window as the countryside rushed by, her laptop remaining closed on the table in front of her. Once she’d got home, satisfied she’d done the right thing by putting a stop to anything more, she’d cast it from her mind.

  But as she was about to have a quick drink with Lily—who hadn’t taken no for an answer—Marcus and what they’d got up to the afternoon of the wedding had snuck into her head quite a bit today. And every time she did find herself losing herself in the memory she went all soft and warm inside. It was infuriating, not least because she had plenty of other more important things to think about and really didn’t need the distraction.

  Spying Lily sitting at a table in the corner of the busy City wine bar and fiddling with her phone, Celia weaved through the tightly packed clientele and wondered if it was overly hot in here or if it was just her.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, eventually making it over, then shrugging out of her jacket, draping it over the back of the chair and sitting down.

  ‘Hello,’ said Lily, putting her phone on the table and glancing up with a broad beam. That faded as swiftly as her eyes widened. ‘God, you look dreadful.’

  Celia bristled even though Lily was right. She was looking awful at the moment, which was why she tried to avoid the mirror as much as she could because she knew her skin was pasty, her eyes were puffy and her body several pounds lighter than it should be, and who needed visual proof of that? ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Well, sorry, but you do.’ Lily filled a glass with wine and pushed it towards her. ‘Here. You look like you could do with this.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said again.

  ‘So what is it?’

  Celia shrugged and took a sip. ‘Just work,’ she said, her stomach shrivelling a little at the acidity. ‘Things are pretty hectic at the moment,’ she added, although in reality ‘pretty hectic’ didn’t come close to describing her workload at the moment.

  Lily frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she said, pasting a smile to her face and making an effort to relax. ‘It’s just a phase. This stage is always like this. And it’s not like I’m the only one putting in the hours. We all are.’

  Lily sat back and twiddled the stem of her glass between her fingers as she looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Don’t you ever worry about burning out?’

  ‘All the time,’ she said with a smile that was wry because in reality there was no way in hell she was burning out. She couldn’t afford the time.

  Still, she could definitely do with maybe a bit more sleep because she was exhausted, these headaches were a pain, and the heart palpitations that had started last week were beginning to get a bit more frequent and a bit longer in duration.

  If she was being honest she hadn’t been feeling all that great for a while. Maybe she’d make an appointment with her GP, although she knew he’d simply tell her that it was stress and she should ease up on work. As if it were that simple.

  Or maybe tonight she’d try and get home early, although given it was already nine and the bottle of wine on the table was full that seemed unlikely. In fact, seeing as she was going to be here for a while she might as well head back to the office once she was done here, do a bit more work and then spend the night there.

  But it was fine. She’d survive. She always had in the past. Anyway, the deal was nearly done and then she’d catch up. On sleep. With friends. On everything else that had been put on hold.

  ‘So what’s news?’ she said, taking another sip of wine and assuring herself that she and her manic schedule could easily stick it out for another week or so.

  ‘Nothing in particular. Busy at work.’

  ‘Missing Zoe?’ she asked, thinking that as Zoe was responsible for half of the sisters’ business her absence must be making things tough.

  ‘Heaps. But it’s fine. I’m managing. Are you missing Dan?’

  ‘A bit.’

  Her brother had never been away for two months before and she regularly found herself picking up the phone to call him, putting it down a second later and feeling rather empty and alone. It didn’t help that her parents had been in regular touch to have a moan about each other. Usually she shared the brunt of their non-relationship with Dan, and the fact that she couldn’t only added to her current stress levels.

  ‘Kit and I have set a date for the wedding,’ said Lily, dragging her out of one pity party and tossing her into another.

  A wedding, Celia thought, her heart squeezing for a moment. Another one... Then she pulled herself together and remembered that once the deal was through, rectifying her love life was something else she was going to tackle. The minute she had the time she’d embark on a dating mission to end all dating missions. And because this was Lily and she was aware of the ups and downs of her and Kit’s relationship, she was genuinely pleased they’d set a date. ‘When?’

  ‘December.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How are things going with you two?’

  ‘Remarkably well,’ said Lily, looking a bit surprised at the thought. ‘But let’s not forget that there’s every possibility I’ll muck it up.’

  Celia smiled. ‘I’d be surprised if Kit let you.’

  ‘He keeps telling me he won’t.’

  ‘There you go, then.’

  ‘And speaking of gorgeous men,’ Lily continued. ‘I ran into Marcus last week.’

  At the casual mention of his name Celia felt her heart lurch and her hand shake, and she put her glass on the table. ‘Really?’ she said, her throat dry and scratchy as she thought that, damn, stress had a lot to answer for.

  Lily nodded. ‘At a party.’

  ‘Where else?’

  ‘Want to know how he is?’

  A surge of curiosity rose up inside her but she stamped it down hard because she couldn’t care less. ‘Why would I want to know how he is?’

  ‘Well, you know, after what happened at Dan and Zoe’s wedding.’

  Celia felt her entire body flush and this time she knew it had nothing to do with an overheated bar. ‘Nothing happened.’
/>   ‘Not what it looked like when I interrupted you.’

  ‘We’d been chatting, that’s all.’

  ‘So you said. And I believe you as much now as I did then.’ Lily drained her glass. ‘You know, I don’t blame you in the slightest. Marcus is seriously hot.’

  So was she. Boiling. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be getting married in December?’ she said a bit tetchily.

  Lily grinned. ‘Doesn’t stop me from appreciating a fine specimen of manhood when I see one.’

  Marcus wasn’t a fine specimen of manhood. Yes, he was gorgeous, and he’d helped her out when she’d asked for it, but he was still as promiscuous as he’d ever been.

  On the extremely rare occasion he’d crossed her mind in the week that followed the wedding when, despite her best efforts, the freshness of it all had meant that it refused to scuttle to the back of her mind where she wanted it, she’d found herself wondering if she hadn’t made a mistake in pushing him away. Something about the look in his eye when she’d finally plucked up the guts to look at him back there in that bedroom made her wonder if maybe he’d been disappointed that she hadn’t wanted to stay. If maybe he’d hoped for something more. If maybe she’d misjudged him yet again.

  But she hadn’t and he clearly hadn’t wanted anything more because, why, only last week he’d been snapped outside some theatre or other with not just one, but two blondes hanging off his arms. The week before that he’d escorted a ravishing brunette to some charity gala in aid of cancer research. And the week before that he’d been on a beach in the Mediterranean cavorting in the waves with a bevy of Sardinian beauties.

  Not that she’d been checking up on him or anything, but what was he doing about those projects he’d told her about while all this partying was going on? No mention of them in any of the papers.

  ‘Well, whatever,’ she said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘I have no idea where Marcus is or what he’s doing and I really don’t care.’

  ‘OK, you win,’ said Lily with a smile and a dismissive wave of her hand that had she been firing on all cylinders Celia would have found suspicious. ‘Want to come for supper next Saturday?’

  As she wasn’t firing on all cylinders Celia relaxed and thought that yes, she did. Very much. And not just because she was thankful for the change of subject. The deadline for the deal was next Friday so Saturday would be her first day off in weeks. She had no plans other than to sleep, so supper at Lily’s after a twenty-four-hour nap sounded like a fine way to celebrate. There’d be good food, plenty of fabulous wine and possibly even a gorgeous single man or two for her to set her sights on.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ she said, with genuine gratitude. ‘Thank you.’

  Lily beamed and refilled their glasses. ‘Great. Now let me tell you all about my wedding plans so far.’

  * * *

  What the hell he was doing standing on Kit and Lily’s doorstep and ringing the bell Marcus had no idea.

  By now he ought to have picked Melissa up and taken her to the opening night of an exhibition one of his artist friends was putting on. He ought to be sipping champagne, discussing perspective and admiring his date. Yet he’d ditched both Mel and the exhibition in order to be here.

  Why he’d changed the habit of a lifetime and wilfully cancelled one plan for another he didn’t want to consider too closely. He had the horrible suspicion that if he did he’d find it had quite a lot to do with Lily’s mention in passing that Celia was also on the guest list, and frankly that didn’t make any sense at all because Celia had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him any more and he’d taken that on board. He was totally fine with it. Hadn’t thought about it for a second more, once he’d got back to London that Sunday morning.

  It wasn’t as if he’d been sitting at home burning with disappointment that she’d rebuffed him again, moping around like a wet weekend and feeling sorry for himself. He’d had a great time in the past month. He’d hit the social scene with a fervour bordering on vengeance. He’d dated a string of intelligent, entertaining, beautiful women, although irritatingly enough none of them had made him want to go further than a friendly goodnight kiss, let alone scratch beneath the surface. He’d taken a week’s holiday just because he hadn’t had one in years and now he could. And in amongst the fun he’d slowly been making plans about what he wanted to do next work-wise.

  All in all he’d barely had a moment to himself, and he’d congratulated himself on not having thought about Celia once.

  Yet when Lily had rung him up a week or so ago inviting him to dinner and mentioning Celia was coming, for some unfathomable reason his pulse had started thumping in a way it hadn’t since that afternoon in the walled garden and he’d found himself mentally ditching his plans and saying yes, even though he didn’t know either Lily or Kit all that well.

  So there was little point in pretending that Celia didn’t have anything to do with the reason he was here and even less point in continuing to tell himself that because he thought about her at night instead of during the day it didn’t count.

  In all honesty it was unsettling just how much she did invade his thoughts during the hours of darkness. The minute he crashed into bed she was right there with him, messing with his sleep by filling his dreams and doing the kinds of things to him that had him frequently jerking awake, hot and hard and shuddering with desire.

  Which meant he probably shouldn’t be here, he thought, a film of sweat breaking out all over his body, because what was he expecting? That she’d be as happy to see him as he suspected he would be to see her? What was he? A masochist?

  Celia wouldn’t be pleased to see him any more now than she’d been to have him following her into Zoe’s parents’ house that sunny Saturday afternoon. No doubt she’d be making her displeasure known the instant he walked in and be reverting to acerbity at the earliest available opportunity.

  Frankly he didn’t think he had the stomach for it any more, not now he knew how it could be between them.

  But it was too late to back out now because even as his head churned with the desire to leave he heard the sounds of a catch being turned. The door swung open and there was Lily smiling broadly and waving him in, and he had no option but to grit his teeth and brace himself to get through the next couple of hours the best he could.

  ‘Marcus,’ she said warmly, ‘I’m so glad you could make it. Come in.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He stepped over the threshold and handed over the bottle and the box, and smiled as she let out a little whoop. ‘Champagne and truffles,’ she said, grinning even more widely. ‘A perfect combination. Thank you. Come and meet everyone.’

  He followed her down the hall, listening for one voice, one laugh, every cell of his body on high alert. More tense than he’d been at any point over the past month, he walked into the sitting room, the smile on his face still firmly in place. He shook hands with Kit and accepted a gin and tonic. Then he nodded and chatted as he was introduced to their friends, all the while scouring the room for Celia.

  Who wasn’t there.

  Late? he wondered, or—

  ‘She couldn’t make it,’ murmured Lily, who’d clearly been watching him scan the guests.

  ‘Who couldn’t?’ he said, annoyed at both wanting to see her and at being so transparent.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Celia.’

  ‘Shame,’ he said coolly, and knocked back a slug of his drink.

  ‘Yes. A headache apparently.’

  Perhaps brought on by the discovery that he’d also been invited? He didn’t know whether to be thrilled, cheated or devastated that she wasn’t going to be there. ‘So nothing serious, then.’

  ‘Only for my table plan,’ said Lily with a grin, before sobering. ‘Actually, she didn’t sound too good at all.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘In
fact, she sounded dreadful.’

  Marcus kept his face expressionless, and ignored the stab of concern that struck him squarely in the gut. Celia would be fine. A headache was nothing to someone like her. She had the constitution of an ox, a backbone of steel and ice running through her veins. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said evenly.

  ‘I saw her ten days ago, you know.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘She wasn’t looking well then.’

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ he asked, purely for the sake of conversation and not out of any interest whatsoever.

  ‘I’m not sure. It sounds like she’s working hard.’

  ‘She does that.’

  ‘Too hard maybe.’

  ‘She does that too.’ Especially on Sundays.

  ‘Maybe you should go and check on her.’

  He went still, his hand tightening around his glass. ‘Why would I want to go and check on her?’ he said, the need to do just that now suddenly—and perversely—thundering through him.

  ‘You’re itching to,’ said Lily, and he stamped it down because he wasn’t interested in how she was, and in any case he was pretty sure that the last thing she’d want was him pitching up on her doorstep, even if she hadn’t been unwell.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he said coolly. ‘How hard Celia works is entirely up to her. I couldn’t care less how she is or what she’s up to.’

  Lily looked at him shrewdly. ‘Funny, she said that about you too.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Strikes me that there’s a lot of protesting going on here.’ She pretended to consider for a moment then said, ‘Maybe a bit too much.’

  Just about resisting the temptation to grind his teeth, Marcus had had enough of beating around this particular bush. If it went on any longer she’d crush him to dust. ‘If you have a point, Lily,’ he said tightly, ‘would you mind getting to it?’

  ‘My point is that you get to each other.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘You should do something about it.’

  He’d tried. He’d failed. He wouldn’t be going there again. Or even thinking about it. ‘She knows where I am.’