‘Stop apologising.’ Edward’s hands were shoved into his pockets and the collar of his grey coat was up.

‘What?’

‘You had a rough day. You drank too much champagne. It happens.’

‘But I … I …’ Threw myself at you. Tried to kiss you.

Heat rushed up and burned Olivia’s cheeks. As if someone like Edward would ever kiss her. She snuck a quick look at him. Today he was even taller and more handsome. Even more unattainable.

Stupid, stupid, Olivia, she berated herself. Always wishing for things she couldn’t have. Always falling for the wrong men. Not that she was falling for Edward. She just wanted to feel his skin. That wasn’t falling for him.

That was just lust. Hot, dirty lust.

Dear Reader

This story has been kicking about in my head for a long time. In the beginning I didn’t know it was a story. It was just a scene of a girl traipsing along a lonely country road in the cold, towing a tower of luggage, while a car crept up behind her. I didn’t know who she was, and for a long time I wondered where she was going.

But one day I was writing another story and this particular girl popped up in it. Suddenly I realised who she was—and where she was heading on that lonely road. I opened a blank page and started writing furiously. It was as if she had finally found a way out of my head and couldn’t wait to get onto the page.

I hope you enjoy meeting Olivia—a vulnerable little peacock with a tough shell—and Edward—the man strong enough to see through to her beauty inside.

These two people wanted me to tell you their story. So here it is. I hope you enjoy navigating through the maze of their love as much as I did.

Love

Jennifer Rae x

Confessions of a Bad Bridesmaid

Jennifer Rae

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JENNIFER RAE, a journalist and freelance writer for some of Australia’s leading lifestyle magazines, had written plenty of short stories in her teenage years, but it wasn’t until she received a commission to interview a couple of romance-writers for a feature article that she was introduced to the romance genre.

Finally the characters who had been milling around Jennifer’s head since her long years on the farm made sense and she realised it was time to start expanding her short stories into a book.

So with little more than a guidebook borrowed from the local library and a you-can-do-this attitude, Jennifer sat down to release her characters and write her first romance novel. No one was more surprised than Jennifer when her novel was picked up by Harlequin just a few weeks after typing The End.

Jennifer has spent the last twenty years travelling and living in the US and the UK but now calls Australia home.

This is Jennifer Rae’s debut novel for MODERN TEMPTED™ and is available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Mick, who never gave up.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Excerpt

ONE

It wasn’t just cold. It was bones-aching, tits-freezing cold. The white furry coat Olivia had purchased before she’d left home looked fabulous, but it was doing nothing to keep out the December winds that whistled along the rough country road she was now trudging down.

‘Five-hundred-dollar boots,’ she muttered as her cheetah print luggage got stuck in yet another muddy hole in the road. ‘F...’ she began, but the honk of a car horn behind her stopped the expletive coming out from between her hot-pink lips.

The road had been deserted for the last hour. Not one car or person had come along as she’d waded through the slush and ice. But this car now stopped behind her and waited. She didn’t look back but moved to the side of the narrow road so it could pass. But the car didn’t move and a prickle of fear spread over her shoulders and into her stomach.

‘Wonderful. Now I’m to be murdered on the side of the road. What a fabulous start to my holiday,’ she muttered into the wind.

Hopefully the killer would change his mind. Still, searching for an escape route seemed a sensible idea, so she anxiously swivelled her eyes to the sides of the road. The car crept up behind her again. Blood rushed to her head and burned her temples. She didn’t know what she was going to do. One thing she did know, though, was that when she found Edward Winchester she would kick him in his forgetful shins; then slap his inconsiderate face.

If he’d picked her up from the airport four hours ago she’d not be here, on a deserted road, in a foreign country, freezing and wondering how long it would take the authorities to find her dead, frozen corpse in the English countryside.

The car bleated another loud honk, which made her feet slip on the icy road. What did this bloke want? For her to turn around, plonk herself in his car and ask which way she should turn her head for the knife to slit best?

The tyres of the car crunched as it crawled up behind her and the heat of the lights warmed the backs of her thighs. Blood pumped furiously through her veins and her chest heaved violently. She stopped and turned slowly, desperately trying to channel her fear into anger. She screwed up her face as fiercely as possible and balled her fists, determined she wasn’t going down without a fight.

The car stopped and a figure stepped out from the driver’s seat. The tall man was draped in a grey coat and on his head sat a newsboy cap. Wrapped around his neck was a red plaid scarf, tied jauntily in a knot. He looked elegant and wealthy, and his car was an expensive sports-model-type. But not all murderers drive pick-up trucks, she reminded herself as her nails dug into her palms.

‘Get in.’ His voice was loud over the sound of the wind and it was gruff—angry, even.

He sounded like a man who was used to being obeyed. Well, not this time. Olivia turned swiftly and started to walk again, as fast as she was able with her tower of bags and her stupid high-heeled boots making her ankles groan.

She heard the car door slam and the engine rev before it sidled up next to her. She kept her eyes defiantly on the road ahead. The car was keeping up with her, with the driver’s side window now next to her. It came down a crack. Her heart felt as if it was about to explode in her chest.

‘Olivia Matthews. Get in the car.’

She turned at the use of her name and peered at the window. It was covered with ice. It came down another two inches.

‘It’s cold and we’re late. Get in.’ The voice was deep and very English and she didn’t recognise it at all. Not that she knew anyone here besides Will and Fiona.

‘Who are you?’

‘The Easter Bunny. Who do you think I am? I’m Edward. Get in.’

Edward. Edward Winchester. Who was supposed to have picked her up from the airport. Who had made her take the tube, then a bus, and then walk for an hour along a muddy country road looking for a house she’d never seen before.

‘About time.’ She let go of her bag and lifted both her arms, letting them slap down on her thighs in exasperation and relief. The boot opened with a pop and she hurried round to the back of the car. Her tired arms heaved the suitcase and two overnight bags into the boot.

She moved round to the passenger side and put her hand on the slick silver handle, but right at that moment—to her horror—her five-hundred-dollar boots came out from underneath her and she landed with a thud right on her aching butt.

A smart bang followed by squelching footsteps meant Olivia was no longer alone. Trying to get a grip on the icy road, she put her hands down and pushed, but the pointed heels kept slipping.

‘Those are the most ridiculous shoes I’ve ever seen.’

A strong male hand reached under her upper arm and hauled her ungracefully and immediately to her feet. She felt unbalanced, but his arm held her steady and she leaned onto his tall, thick frame, grasping at the lapels of his grey overcoat to stay upright. His grip on her arm tightened and she felt his long fingers biting into her skin through her coat.

She tried to look up, but her precarious position meant all she could do was stare into his chest. ‘I didn’t dress for a hike in the country. I was expecting to be picked up from the airport.’

‘This is Britain...in December, those boots are inappropriate and ridiculous no matter what you’re doing.’

His hand was holding her steady but his other arm suddenly snaked around her waist and she found herself pushed hard up against his coat, her nose level with his neck. His breath warmed the skin on her forehead.

Looking up, she found herself staring into chocolaty dark eyes set perfectly each side of a long, straight nose and a set of high, angular cheekbones. He looked like Will, only...better. Heat flew to her cheeks and neck and to other more intimate places she refused to acknowledge. She would not be turned on by another inconsiderate bastard, no matter how big or how strong or how handsome...

His eyes gazed coolly at her from a height. She couldn’t move. His arm pulled her in tighter and she tried to hide the surprise on her face when she felt something long and hard press against her belly. So she wasn’t the only one turned on? A small smile tugged at her mouth and an uncontrollable urge to flirt bubbled inside her.

‘Perhaps I need a lesson in English dressing?’ She flashed a smile and looked up at him through lowered lashes.

But his angry gaze didn’t move. A muscle in his clean-shaven jaw twitched.

‘Perhaps what you need...’ his deep voice had lowered an octave and was now grumbling against her chest ‘...is a lesson in etiquette. If you’re going to change your flight you should let someone know.’

He let go of her waist and she slipped and slid, grabbing for the sturdiness of his lapels again. Looking up, she realised any seductiveness on her face had evaporated in the embarrassing awkwardness of the moment. A clump of long damp blonde hair was strewn across her eyes and her gloved fingers were slipping from his coat. She felt desperately needy, and her cheeks burned indignantly, so she let go of him and steeled her leg muscles to get a grip on the icy road and move towards the car door.

‘I can manage from here...thank you.’ Her tone was as icy as the road, and she managed to make her way to the door even though her legs splayed inelegantly with each measured step. Her stomach clenched as his gloved hands gently pushed her rear, guiding her into the seat.

He gave her one last push before his irritating head popped in next to her. ‘Would you like me to do up your seatbelt for you as well?’

She threw him her most haughty stare—the one reserved for her sister’s best friend and every slimeball who approached her in a bar.

He huffed out a chuckle, flashing white teeth and a set of deep dimples, before clicking the door shut and walking to the other side to regain his position in the driver’s seat.

* * *

‘We’re late.’

Edward realised he was being unforgivably rude, but he was in no mood to be picking up Will’s friends from the airport. Well, technically it was Fiona’s friend. Fiona—who was nothing to him. Yet they thought it perfectly acceptable to interrupt his day to make the two-hour round trip to the airport and on to his parents’ house. And then the girl wasn’t there. His normally calm demeanour was in danger of cracking.

‘If you had checked with Fiona you would have known about the new flight time.’

Her voice was cool and steady and somehow it irritated him even more. She could at least have the decency to sound shaken. Or guilty. How about guilty?

‘I do apologise. You’re right. I should have checked with Fiona. Would that have been before or after my two o’clock meeting with the Prime Minister?’

It had been the Minister for Trade, actually, but she was annoying him. He flicked her a glance. She seemed the sort not to give a toss about anyone else. Self-centred, vain, and with an over-inflated idea of her own attractiveness if her unsuccessful attempts at flirting were anything to go by.

Although, he grudgingly admitted she had a sort of innate sexiness he couldn’t put his finger on. She was wearing too much make-up, and her long, dead straight blonde hair, obscene fur jacket and tight leather pants were a little too Chelsea for his taste, but something about the curvy figure he’d held against his chest made his trousers feel a little tighter. And when she’d fallen she’d looked up at him, hair strewn across her face, her sexy light-coloured eyes looking at him so trustingly. Was it any wonder his groin had reacted so violently?

An unconscious smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Those perfect pouty pink lips had formed a little ‘o’ as he’d pushed her pert ass into the car and he’d felt an urge to pull her head around and kiss her. Her lips were all glossy and full and...

Great work, Winchester. All it takes is a hot body and a set of shiny lips and your mind is out of control and veering into the gutter. Nothing but a caveman.

Thankfully she appeared to have enough brains to remain silent. For exactly three minutes.

‘I would suggest before you saw the Prime Minister, in case he prattled on a bit. Then you would have known you had to get out earlier and could have hurried him up.’

‘Hurried him up?’

‘Yes. Hurried him up.’

‘The Prime Minister?’

‘Yes.’

‘Of Great Britain?’

‘Yes.’ She turned those big eyes his way finally. ‘He’s only a man.’

Only a man. That simple phrase summed up her stupidity. And he didn’t have the patience for stupid. He decided right then that, no matter how delectable her lips, she didn’t deserve another moment of his conversation and shut his mouth tight.

It took another three whole minutes for her to speak again.

‘Where are we going?’

‘I should have thought that was obvious.’

‘The bloke at the pub told me I was almost there.’

‘My parents’ house is twenty minutes away. You had a long way to go in those...boots.’

‘But I was going to Fiona’s—I need to get changed.’

‘We’re going to be late as it is. There’s no time for you to get changed. What you’re wearing is fine.’

Edward sneaked another look at her outfit. She would certainly stand out. His sister’s tedious friends would have their avaricious tongues hanging out, making complete nuisances of themselves over her. But she was stubbornly persisting.

‘I have been on a plane for twenty-four hours, a bus for an hour and I have trudged up a hill...in the snow. I want to get changed.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late.’

‘Fine. Stop the car.’

‘What?’

‘I said, stop the car. I’ll get changed in the back seat.’

‘You don’t need to change; you can freshen up when we get there.’

‘I don’t want to freshen up—I want to change. Stop the car.’

Seeing he was getting absolutely nowhere, he stopped protesting. But he let his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as she got out and shuffled to the rear of the car.

From the boot she pulled out all her bags and hauled them into his car, dragging them across his leather seats. He winced, but remained silent and started to drive again. He was determined not to be late. Or any later than he already was, so he suppressed a frustrated sigh.

‘Where is my dress? I can’t find it...’ She seemed to be muttering to herself, so Edward didn’t bother answering.

She zipped open one brightly coloured bag and began searching through seemingly endless articles of clothing. Edward concentrated on the road.

‘This weekend is nothing but a damn nuisance,’ he muttered.

Picking this girl up was a damn nuisance. But it had to be done. As attending this tedious event had to be done. His mother would need him and Will would need him and it would all fall apart if he wasn’t there. Fixing everything. Making sure everything ran smoothly. He squared his shoulders and sat up straighter. If he wasn’t there things would not go well, and he wasn’t prepared to let that happen.

‘Sounds like someone is not in the party mood.’

Party mood? No, he was not in the ‘party mood’. And now that babysitting an over-tanned party girl had been added to his ever-increasing list of things to take care of his mood was becoming increasingly blacker.

‘We are not here to “party” this weekend. It’s a wedding.’

Her head snapped up and he glanced at her again. Those light-coloured eyes had gone wide. Were they blue or grey? He couldn’t quite make them out.

‘I’m not sure what kind of weddings you’ve been to, Little Mr Sunshine, but the weddings I attend are always a great place to party.’

A tendon in his neck throbbed. You’re here to make sure everyone is all right, he reminded himself, gripping the steering wheel with even more force. You just have to get through the weekend. Although he was sure this woman and her ‘party mood’ were going to make it feel like months.

He glanced in the rear-vision mirror just as she held up something sparkling and purple and sure to be vulgar.

‘What is that?’ He couldn’t keep the distaste from his mouth. Why did women feel the need to cover themselves in sparkles? They looked much better in nothing more complicated than a simple dress. Granted, that body of hers wouldn’t look too bad in a tight dress, but sparkles were his pet peeve.

‘Don’t look,’ she said.

This, of course, meant that now all he wanted to do was look. But he kept his eyes on the road. He could control himself even if she was... Good Lord, was that a breast?

TWO

Not even sneaking a peek, thought Olivia as she slipped her tight trousers off and slid her thermal singlet up over her head. With a tug she pulled the dress down over her head. It, too, was tight but with an extra-hard tug it slipped over her.

She dared a glance in the rear-vision mirror, wondering if she’d caught his dark eyes flicking her way. But he was facing the front. Prude. He probably turned the lights out during sex. Which in her experience was almost as bad as a sleazy lout with wandering hands.

She’d known them all. The funny ones—egotistical—the stupid ones—selfish—the pretty ones—unfaithful—and the shy ones—bad in bed. Unfortunately none had lasted longer than three weeks. The brutal truth was that Olivia was convinced she was undateable. But that was all ending this weekend. False eyelashes, a week’s worth of tanning on Bondi and a bag full of sparkly short dresses meant this weekend she was going to make an impression.

Olivia pulled her make-up bag with her into the front seat and Edward made a disapproving harrumph. Like an old woman.

‘Haven’t you got enough of that on already?’ he enquired rudely. She noticed his fists were white on the steering wheel. Angry, impatient and disapproving. Usually she charmed people when she first met them. For the first five minutes. Then, of course, they quickly lost interest. But his disinterest had taken hold a lot more quickly than normal. She wasn’t sure why, but that idea made her stomach knot up tight. How ridiculous. As if a man like him would ever be interested in someone like her anyway.

‘It’s these finishing touches that take a girl from drab to dazzling. You’ll see.’

She felt his eyes on her and ignored them. He was probably thinking that no amount of make-up could do that, and he’d be right. The truth was she was the younger, less attractive sister and the least pretty of all her friends. She’d made peace with that fact years ago, but a layer of peroxide through her naturally mousy hair and plenty of make-up made her feel much better—and this weekend she wanted to feel good. But his disapproving glances were having the opposite effect.

‘What’s wrong? Do I have something in my teeth? Or is one of my nipples out?’ She lifted her hands to her dress and shifted the bodice, making sure the girls were where they should be. She might not have the face to compete with her friends, but she was happy with her body. Hours at the gym and pounding the pavement meant she was solid muscle. Her body she could control.

* * *

Edward’s throat went thick. She was using her hands to move her breasts and the mounds of them above the line of the dress rose and fell. It was very distracting. Didn’t she realise he was trying to drive? She swathed more lipstick over her already wet lips and sucked them in, spreading the gloss over them.

Olivia Matthews was the sort of woman he took pains to avoid. Vacuous women whose only purpose in life was to supply a young, attractive female body for B-list actors and middle-aged European billionaires to fondle at parties. All high heels and lip gloss. Those women were not his type. She was definitely not his type. Although they were terribly exciting to look at. She was terribly exciting to look at. And why shouldn’t he look? She was making such a show of it; it would be damned bad manners not to notice.

‘Your nipples are fine, as far as I can see.’

That earned him a wry side-glance. Unexpectedly, the sight of her big eyes—which he could now determine were ice-blue—swivelling his way made his gut clench a little tighter, which irritated him. The weekend was going to be bad enough without this little vixen distracting him. He turned to the road, concentrating on the ice and the precarious turns he knew were coming up.

She went back to the mirror, adding more make-up and swiping at non-existent pieces of fluff on her chin.

‘So, is this a party-party tonight, or just an awkward get-together with unattractive single cousins and judgemental aunts?’

Edward snorted. ‘My family’s reputation obviously precedes them.’

‘Does that mean they’ll all be as charming as you, then?’ She snapped the lid on her lipstick and looked at him.

Edward raised his eyebrows at her sarcastic tone but kept his eyes on the road. The woman seemed to say whatever came into that air-filled head of hers without worrying about consequences. Didn’t she know life was all about consequences?

‘My family will all be there for Will and his fiancée. I apologise if we hadn’t given much thought to your need for a wild weekend of sex, drugs and rock and roll.’ He wondered if he’d offended her. He hoped so—perhaps now she would behave herself.

‘What? No sex or drugs? This really will be a dull weekend.’

Her tone was crisp. Now she was really annoyed. Edward’s mouth twitched. He didn’t want it to. But her refusal to be intimidated amused him for some reason. Who was this girl?

A minute’s frosty silence followed her angry outburst. Edward bit his tongue. Tonight he’d have to keep an eye on his unstable mother as well as shepherding his pernicious sister away from the bride-to-be. That was going to be hard enough. His sister had taken a dislike to Fiona—labelling her coarse and insipid. And Australian. Which was reason enough to bring back transportation, according to his sister.

Three more days. Seventy-two more hours. Then he’d be back in London. Solid, uncomplicated, manageable.

‘Will there at least be wine?’

Her quiet question made him turn to face her. She seemed totally unable to be quiet.

‘Yes, Olivia. There will be wine. Loads of wine, if my father has anything to do with it.’

‘At least your father has his priorities straight,’ she said as she turned to look out of the window.

His mouth twitched again. She was inappropriate. And probably stupid. But she was amusing.

Another minute passed and she shifted in her seat. His eyes were drawn to her golden legs. They stretched out long and muscular and her thighs glowed against the light of the dash. He looked away quickly.

‘Anyway, I didn’t realise this weekend was all about you. I would have thought it was more important your friend was happy,’ he said.

He glanced at her as she turned to face him. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth was set in a thin, grim line. She hadn’t liked that comment.

‘Fiona told me you were nice, but then she never was a very good judge of character.’

Her blue eyes were like icicles. Edward tried to hold back a smirk. Her little words couldn’t even get close to scratching him. He said worse things to himself when he caught his finger in a drawer.

‘Well, you would know her better than me—you are her best friend after all.’

She huffed. Actually huffed. Like a six-year-old. He almost laughed as he turned into the sticky S-bend that meant he was close to his parents’ house.

‘If the rest of your family are like you I can see I’m in for a very long night.’

‘Oh, my family are not like me at all. They’re much more unpleasant.’ He could feel her staring at the side of his face. ‘And they’re not big on children, so I suggest you unfold your arms and stop pouting like that.’

She unfolded her arms and huffed again. He thought he’d made her stop talking, but if nothing else, she was determined.

‘You are awful.’

This time he really did smile. A nice wide grin that made his face muscles hurt. ‘You’re too kind.’

* * *

Olivia turned away. What an awful man! Fiona had said he was nice. She should have suspected something then. Fiona never said a bad word about anyone. Nice was code for awful, because that was the worst word Fiona could bring herself to say about anyone. And now she was in for an evening with a bunch of stuffy old people in the middle of the sleepy English countryside with Mr Nicely Awful.

She let out a breath. She’d been so looking forward to this trip. Fiona and Olivia had been best friends since they were twenty-one. They had bonded over a couple of horrible ex-boyfriends and been soul sisters ever since. They’d partied together, they’d cried together and when Fiona had announced she was leaving to move in with Will six months ago Olivia had felt as if someone had shot a cannonball right through her. Since then she’d been lost, directionless. She hadn’t realised how much she’d relied on her best friend until she wasn’t there any more.

‘You must be looking forward to seeing your friend again.’

His deep voice broke into her thoughts. Why did he keep talking to her? It was blatantly clear he didn’t like her. Was it his English politeness? Or did he like torturing her? She suspected it was a bit of both.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Fiona told me you were quite close.’

She noticed his hands had returned to their normal colour. He had long fingers and solid, thick wrists. A sprinkling of black hair peeped out from the cuff of his crisp white shirt. Olivia turned away quickly. Why the hell was she thinking about his wrist hair?

‘We were...we are. We’re more like sisters than friends.’

She had an actual sister. One she tried not to think about too often. Her sister had asked her to come out with her and her beautiful friends a few weeks ago, when Olivia had been feeling particularly lonely. But she’d refused. Because that would have been like knitting a jumper for a penguin. Just. Plain. Stupid.

‘Are you looking forward to seeing her again?’

Still talking to her! Olivia looked out of the window. He had a deep voice and it seemed to seep through her skin. It was grumbly and a little bit sexy, and she didn’t want to think about him like that.

‘I was. I mean—I am.’ She’d been looking forward to seeing Fiona again. And in equal parts dreading it, if she were honest. For some reason she felt a little awkward about seeing her best friend all loved up and happy and moving on—without her. But for this moron to imply she wasn’t happy for her friend and only thought of herself was horrible. And wrong. Of course this weekend was about Fiona.

‘I’m very happy for her. Really happy for her. Really very happy.’ And she was. But she couldn’t help but wonder if this weekend there might just be...perhaps...someone she could meet.

‘Have you convinced yourself yet?’

Olivia didn’t miss the slight chuckle in his voice. Her eyes slid back to the solid block of bloke next to her as he continued.

‘Or are you still suffering from a bad case of Bride Envy?’

She looked away and took a deep breath to alleviate the annoying tapping in her chest. The tapping that seemed plugged into her tear ducts. She felt it every time she thought of her prospects. She’d been trying hard to come to terms with them. She knew the deal. She was neither pretty enough nor interesting enough to hold a man’s attention for very long. But there had to be someone. Even Ellie—her chain-smoking, beanie-wearing landlady—had recently got engaged. She had to be more desirable than Ellie!

And besides, Olivia wasn’t after a husband. A boyfriend would be nice. But all she really hoped for this weekend was a nice British boy to flirt with. Perhaps they could even hold hands. She shuddered silently at the idea of physical contact. It had been so long. Over a year. She wondered suddenly if it were possible for down there to stop working. Like her DVD-player had when she hadn’t used it in six months. Encased in dust, the green light had refused to come on. She wondered if her green light would come on again. Ever...

‘I’m sorry. Fiona didn’t mention you had a Masters in Psychology. Because that must be the only reason you assume to know who I am and what I’m thinking.’

‘One would only need a Certificate in Teeth-Brushing to know you have a myriad of issues about this wedding that we can’t even begin to delve into during this short car-ride.’

Incensed, Olivia could barely speak—but she managed to blurt out, ‘At least I haven’t come down with a bad case of My-Life-Is-So-Miserable-I-Want-to-Ruin-It-For-Everyone-Else-itis.’

He laughed out loud then and she turned to the window. He was laughing at her. Making fun of her. Humiliation burned her blood.

He obviously didn’t like her at all. Not even a little bit. When she had attempted to flirt with him the bore had shot her down. He hadn’t even watched her when she’d got naked. No, this annoyingly handsome man had absolutely no interest in her. Which strangely sort of made her feel a little better.

She blinked and unfolded her arms. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about making a fool of herself in front of him. That thought was comforting. She unlaced her legs from the confusing contortions they were now in and let out a breath.

THREE

‘So what do you think of Will and Fi getting married after only eight months?’ she asked tentatively, waiting for his smart remark.

He looked at her for a second, suspicion obvious on his face. ‘Are you trying to get me to say something awful so you can report it back to the bride-to-be?’

‘No, I’m just asking your opinion on whether you think it’s true love.’

‘True love?’ He made a sound that sounded a lot like a snort. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s what Will is lucky enough to have found with Fi.’

‘I wouldn’t associate the word “lucky” with a man in love. “Dangerous” would be a better word.’

‘You think falling in love is dangerous?’

‘I think falling in love is a fallacy. And any man who thinks he’s in love is definitely in danger.’

Olivia opened her mouth to argue. But she didn’t. Dangerous. That was exactly what falling in love was like. Like surfing in a bikini. Sooner or later someone would see your boobs and you’d be left humiliated, embarrassed and wishing you hadn’t come. Olivia curled an arm instinctively across her chest. No one was going to see her boobs. This weekend was about fun. Cute boys and champagne. There would be no falling in love and no exposed anything.

‘What about you?’ the deep voice in the car murmured. ‘What do you think about their whirlwind romance?’

What did she think? The word devastated popped into her mind, but that wasn’t right. She wasn’t devastated. Her friend was happy. She was happy for her.

She turned to face him. His face in profile was striking. A strong forehead led down to a long, straight nose and his square jaw jutted roughly. He looked manly and rugged, even with that ridiculous knotted scarf around his neck. Olivia felt herself tingle all over, particularly in those regions where the green light had stopped flashing. No. Not this man.

‘I think it’s romantic,’ she said, with a defiant tilt to her chin.

He turned to look at her for just a second and the loveliness of his dark eyes hit her in the chest.

‘I knew it—what you lack in intelligence you obviously make up for in foolishness,’ he said with a mocking smirk.

Olivia turned her eyes away from the irritating man next to her and squared her shoulders. This was one man. There would be more. And probably more handsome men too—although she wasn’t too sure about that. He was pretty damn handsome. But she wasn’t attracted to him and his swoon-worthy eyes. It had just been too long.

She decided she’d refuse to talk to him any longer as her eyes adjusted to the quickly falling darkness outside and a few minutes later the car slowed to a stop. A set of black gates opened automatically in front of them. Large, black, intricately carved iron gates. Flash, she mused absently.

As he drove Olivia focussed on the sound of the gravel crunching underneath the tyres so she didn’t have to think about the silent figure beside her. The atmosphere in the car had turned awkward and Olivia shifted in her seat. A trickle of unease about the weekend ran down her spine.

She looked out of the window. A long line of bare trees either side of the driveway and a heavy layer of fog restricted her view. Edward’s silence continued, as did the strange feeling that this weekend might not go to plan. Olivia felt an urge to tell him to turn around, and she almost did, but then, as they turned the corner, Olivia’s breath caught.

The driveway led to a large circular courtyard and in the middle was an enormous statue of a winged man spurting water from his arrow. Behind him, rising up from the ground like something out of a Nancy Mitford novel, was an enormous stone structure. Dozens of dark windows lined the high stone walls and at either end was a peaked turret. And flying from the peak of each one were flags.

Flags. Like when the Queen was in residence. Actual flags, with something that looked like a lion with wings on them. This wasn’t a house—it was a castle! What was Will? A prince?

Olivia could feel her lips had shaped into an O but she couldn’t stop it. Out of the window she saw they’d passed a pristine lawn that appeared striped, and staring back at her was a peacock, its plumage spread wide in fascinating colours of teal and emerald.

‘Are you joking?’ she whispered to herself as perfectly trimmed topiary trees slowly passed by the car.

‘We never joke,’ came the quiet answer.

With a final crunch of tyres the car pulled up at the front of the house and immediately her car door was pulled open. When Olivia looked out she was faced with a grim-faced tall man dressed in black tie and tails. Complete with a top hat. He reached out a gloved hand to help her out of the car and Olivia finally broke out into uncontrollable giggles.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked him.

Edward had silently exited the car and appeared before her at the doorway of the car.

‘Deadly,’ he said, dismissing the Jeeves character with a nod and reaching out his own hand.

Olivia gripped it. She felt herself fall back and was grateful for the strength of his fingers as he pulled her up and out of the car. She clung to the warmth of his big palm as she stood and finally faced the monolith of a castle Fiona would soon call home.

‘Livvie!’

The next thing she felt was Fiona’s slender arms around her waist, and she smelled the familiar flowery scent of her best friend as she hugged her and—for just a second—made her world seem a little more normal again.

Olivia let go of the big male hand that was still holding her to hug Fiona, who was now clinging to her, her face burrowing into her shoulder. Olivia tried to pull away but Fiona held her tight for another few seconds before releasing her. Tears floated in her best friend’s eyes.

‘Oh, Livvie, I’m so glad you’re here.’

Fiona held her hands hard and Olivia’s nervousness disappeared. She was so glad to see her friend, and from the look on Fiona’s face she was more needed than she’d realised.

Squeezing Fiona’s hand, she smiled. ‘How are you, babe?’

Fiona’s big brown eyes blinked and her smile faltered. ‘I... I’m... It’s...’

Olivia knew that look. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A strange excitement gripped her chest. Had something happened between Fiona and Will? No. That would be bad, and Fiona didn’t deserve her to be thinking like that. She gripped her friend’s hand and turned to Edward. He might as well be of some use if he was just going to stand there like a giant wombat.

‘Can you bring my bags in, Eddie?’ she asked him, before putting her arm around Fiona’s shoulders and walking with her friend up the stone steps and through the stone archway that heralded their arrival into the castle.

* * *

Could he bring her bags in? What did she think he was? Her ladies’ maid? But the man his sister had hired to greet the cars had moved on and he was left out at the front alone.

Edward looked up at the cold stone wall. He hadn’t lived here in over twenty years but it still made him shiver. That last day was burned into his brain. That day was all he thought about when he thought of home. He’d been relieved when he’d returned to boarding school a month after it had happened—glad to get away. But today he had to be here. His mother needed him. She was taking it hard.

‘Another one gone,’ she’d told him on the phone the other day. His temple throbbed again.

With a heavy sigh he heaved the multitude of bags from his car. He grumbled under his breath as the first spots of rain started to fall. A particularly cold droplet hit the back of his neck and wormed its way down his back. He shivered and moved to shake the cold feeling off. The woman was only here for four days—why would she need so much luggage?

It took a few minutes, and his body had started to heat up, but he finally managed to hoist all the bags across and over himself before heaving them into the foyer of his boyhood home. He’d dropped them with a thud when his brother barrelled towards him.

‘Ed, old son. We weren’t sure if you’d make it. So sorry to pull you away from London, but some things are more important than work, aren’t they?’

Edward grunted and slashed a smile across his face. He wasn’t sure he agreed with his brother’s sentiments but he wanted things to go smoothly. For his little brother, for his mother and for everyone else. That was why he was here.

His brother shook his hand vigorously before slinging his arm around the timid little creature he was marrying in two days.

‘We’re so glad you’re here, Edward.’

Her little voice shook. Next to her was Olivia. Dressed in her eye-burning purple sparkles, showing an extreme amount of upper thigh and with eyes that flashed like flints of steel. Her fists were clenched and that glossy, pouty mouth was pursed. For some reason his body went tight and then hard. She had a particularly sexy way of crinkling her forehead when she was cross. And it irritated him that he’d noticed.

‘Your bags,’ he announced, dropping the multi-coloured luggage that remained wrapped around him to the floor.

She didn’t look at them, just kept those blue eyes set on him.

‘I’d like a word with you.’ Her voice held a warning.

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been ordered around like that by anyone in years. Even the Prime Minister asked him politely if he’d mind ever so much if they had a quiet chat.

He almost smiled at her audacity. She turned and walked through the door on the right that led into the drawing room and he watched her go, the ridiculous furry coat barely covering her thighs. Her calf muscles tensed as she clacked in her high heels across the two-hundred-year-old stone floors.

He turned to Will, who just shrugged.

‘We’d better get back to the party, mate. Don’t be long. Bunny’s here with the Blenheim Blowhards. I can’t survive them on my own.’

Edward grimaced. The Blenheim Blowhards were the gang of terrifyingly stupid friends his sister Bunny seemed to drag with her wherever she went. He wasn’t sure why. Bunny had brains—the fools she hung around with had nothing but mash between their ears. He avoided them whenever possible.

A nervous look came over Fiona’s face before Will pulled her away and into the room on the other side of the hall where the party was being held.

Edward contemplated which way to go. He didn’t like being ordered anywhere, and the brash woman in his father’s drawing room didn’t deserve his time. But she certainly sparked his interest. What did she want—and why would she want to talk to him privately?

Intrigued, he followed the mini-skirted Mistress of Intrigue through the door.

FOUR

Olivia threw off her coat and tried to form a coherent sentence in her mind as she waited for Edward. She tried to stay calm, but calm was not something she did well. Particularly not when her best friend had just burst into tears.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your exclusive company?’

Edward’s silky voice announced his arrival as he strode into the room. Olivia burned. Who the hell did these people think they were? Edward placed a hand on the floral sofa in front of him and challenged her with his eyes.

‘Believe me, it’s no pleasure. You need to tell your family to back the hell off.’

‘Excuse me?’

Edward raised an eyebrow. Just one. Olivia’s stomach jumped. Angrily she ignored it.

‘Your family are being mean to Fiona and you need to make them stop.’

An irritating smirk slashed across Edward’s square face. ‘They’re being “mean” to her? What is she—in nursery school? Fiona will need to learn to fight if she’s to survive in this family.’

Olivia felt her neck go hot. Being mean to someone for no reason was her pet hate. Actually, her absolute hate. She’d been the victim of mean girls for many years and it had almost broken her. It wasn’t going to happen to her best friend. Not now. Not ever.

‘I don’t know who you lot think you are, but if you and your toffy pals continue to be mean to my friend I will pack our things and leave.’

There. She’d said it. To his snobby face. Be mean to her friend and face the consequences.

* * *

Edward blinked. There was a fire blazing at the end of the room and fire in the eyes of the woman in front of him. He’d shed his coat and scarf but he felt uncomfortably warm.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Olivia paced slowly towards him. Her long, tanned, muscular legs were moving slowly and seductively, and he had to push down the spray of moisture that had just landed in his mouth and cling to the chaise longue in front of him. Her eyes were intent on him and her chin was down. She swayed and sashayed deliberately, without smiling, until she was right in front of him—her head reaching just underneath his chin.

‘I said we will leave.’

But Edward didn’t hear her. All he could concentrate on was her heavy eyelashes and those golden breasts that rose and fell so heavily. He hadn’t seen the full effect of that lurid purple dress before. Her tanned skin glowed against the bright colour in the soft light. She brought her hands up to her hips and he wanted to shift—to move and make himself a little more comfortable—but he didn’t. He just stared down at her, his hands lightly clasped behind his back.

‘You are not obliged to stay. If my family and I are so offensive to you I can call you a taxi. Or perhaps you’d prefer to walk.’

He let his gaze slide across her face and down her neck to take in the jut of her collarbones and that lovely chest of hers. Then he moved his eyes further south, roaming past the curve of her hip, her flat stomach, and down to those long, shapely legs. Strong legs that could wrap around a man’s neck. His eyes lingered on her painted toenails, peeping out from that pair of very high-heeled shoes, and then he drew his eyes back up to meet hers again.

The woman had a body on her. And a sharp tongue. He wasn’t used to that. The women he knew were usually softer, gentler. But there was nothing gentle about Olivia Matthews. She was hard. Fast. And made of ice. He was immediately intrigued.

‘Livvie, are you coming?’ The lilting voice of Fiona called from the doorway.

The femme fatale in front of him dropped her focus and turned to her friend.

‘Come on, Livvie. Will is dying to introduce you to everyone.’ Fiona sounded nervous.

Olivia—or Livvie as her silly friend insisted on calling her—looked back at him, her eyes hard. He smiled again, which seemed to irritate her more as she stepped closer. So close he could smell her. Cinnamon and something sweet. Peaches...

‘I haven’t finished with you.’

‘I shall be awaiting your return with shivering anticipation.’

She huffed again. A sound he found equal parts irritating and charming. Then she turned and left, her little friend pulling on her arm and whispering in her ear.

Edward let a laugh escape. If nothing else, she was fun. Even if she did make his shoulders pull a little tighter. He strode to the fireplace and let it warm him up. The woman was trying, but at least for once he was feeling something. His usual diet of blank nothingness was becoming a little tiresome. Perhaps this weekend wouldn’t be as bad as he’d initially thought. Perhaps it would allow him to feel a little before he headed back to the real world. Grey and dull and solid.

He held that thought up like a beacon, secretly hoping that the grey and dull didn’t take too long to return.

* * *

‘Well, this must be the best friend.’

Olivia had been whisked into a very warm room filled with bodies. A slew of faces and names had passed by her and she remembered none of them. Her blood was still burning from her encounter with the cold man in the other room. Those dark eyes of his had turned hard when she’d threatened him. She suspected he wasn’t used to being stood up to.

Olivia turned to the female voice talking to her and smiled.

‘That’s me.’ She held out her hand for the young woman in front of her to shake. ‘You must be Phoebe.’

Fiona had pointed out Will’s sister when they’d walked in. She wasn’t very tall, but Phoebe Winchester had a presence. Her hair was streaked with blonde, as if she’d just spent two weeks in the Spanish sunshine, and it was casually tied into a knot on top of her head. But somehow it seemed impossibly elegant at the same time. She had dark eyes, like Edward, and a pretty smile revealing a set of white teeth. She looked like a girl you’d want to be friends with.

‘I’ve heard so much about you—Olivia, isn’t it?’ Olivia smiled back but noticed the quick glance Phoebe made at her legs. Phoebe was dressed in a pair of white pants and a gorgeous silk embroidered top. Olivia felt underdressed and a little exposed beside her.

‘You can call her Bunny, Liv. All her friends call her Bunny.’ Will put his arm around Olivia and squeezed. Phoebe’s—or Bunny’s—smile faltered.

‘Yes. Do,’ she said, her eyes flickering over Olivia’s hair.

Olivia was starting to feel uncomfortable. Bunny made no more attempts at conversation, just said something to Will that Olivia didn’t catch and laughed loudly. Fiona had said Will’s family had been making her feel uncomfortable but she hadn’t mentioned Will’s sister. She’d said Will’s sister was the only one being nice.

‘You must be excited about the wedding,’ Olivia attempted.

Bunny’s dark eyes swivelled again to Olivia. ‘Of course. We all thought Will here was a confirmed batch. More girlfriends than a sheikh.’

Olivia’s shoulders stiffened. But then Bunny smiled and let out an easy laugh.

‘But he’s found a great girl in Fiona. I couldn’t be happier for him.’

Fiona was smiling at Bunny as if she were a block of chocolate come to life. Olivia hesitated. Bunny seemed fun, and she was very pretty and she laughed a lot, but the way she held on to Will possessively and the way she turned her back a little to leave Olivia and Fiona out of the conversation reminded her a little too much of her sister’s friends.

‘That’s a fabulous dress, Olivia.’ Her eyes met Olivia’s. ‘I didn’t know feathers were back in.’

A cold clamp stilled in Olivia’s chest. It wasn’t what Bunny had said. It was the way she’d said it.

‘I thought it was a bit of fun.’

Bunny smiled and then let out a muffled giggle. ‘Oh, it’s certainly that.’ She gripped Will’s arm and smiled manically at Olivia. ‘Perhaps we could find you a comfy tree to roost in tonight?’ The laugh that was on the tip of her lips came out as a snort.

‘Bunny, be nice.’

Will’s serious reprimand only made Olivia feel worse. She looked around. Everyone was dressed in pants. Or long skirts. No one else was wearing a feather and sparkle-encrusted mini-dress. No one except her. She felt as she had when she was thirteen and her sister’s friends had dressed her up for the school disco. They’d teased her hair high and streaked blue eye shadow all over her eyelids. They’d assured her it was the latest ‘look’. But it hadn’t been and she’d been the laughing-stock of the school for the next six months.

A waiter walked past, his tray laden with glasses of champagne. Olivia swiped one and drank it down in one gulp. Defending her best friend from mean girls she could do. But when it came to defending herself...? That was proving to be much harder.

Bunny was still looking at her, waiting for her to respond. A hot rash crept up her chest. It was as if her sister’s friends were in the room—pointing and laughing and making her feel inadequate.

So Olivia did what she always did when she felt inadequate. She made excuses. ‘I had to get changed in the car. It was the first dress I could find.’

‘Perhaps if you’d been on time you would have been able to find something more...appropriate.’ Bunny laughed again and Will shushed her, but she swatted at his arm.

‘It’s all right, Will. Olivia’s a big girl—she can take it.’ Bunny sipped her own champagne before winking at Fiona and calling out to someone over the din and disappearing in the crowd.

‘Liv, forget Bunny—’ Will placed his hand on Olivia’s arm but she shook it off.

‘It’s OK, Will. I’m fine. I know she was only joking.’

But the truth was Olivia felt as if she’d been slapped. First across one cheek—that pompous Edward Winchester had obviously tattled to his sister that she hadn’t been at the airport when he’d gone to pick her up—and then across the other when the mean girl had called her dress inappropriate.

She’d been worrying about what to wear to this weekend party for weeks. She’d wanted to look nice, make an impression. Stand out. She’d wanted to look her best but she’d obviously got it wrong and just looked stupid.

Through the crowd she spotted the tall frame of Edward, who happened to turn her way right at that moment. A half-smile touched his lips and he nodded. Shame, embarrassment and humiliation washed over her. He was laughing at her. With his sister and probably everyone else. This was not going to be the weekend she’d envisioned. This was going to be the worst weekend of her life.

A perfectly dressed waiter walked by and she plucked another tall glass of champagne from his tray. There was only one way to survive this weekend. And that was to drink copious amounts of ridiculously expensive French champagne.

FIVE

Olivia smiled again at one of the men in front of her. She had no idea what he was saying—or what his name was. There were two of them, and even though they were speaking English she couldn’t quite follow the conversation.

‘London is so not the thing at the mo. I mean, its totes obvs that Louise fancies me, but I just want to shop around, you know?’

‘Totes, man. Louise is just too blates anyway. You need to chuck her.’

‘Mmm. I’m thinking I might have to. What do you think, Livs?’

The blond man turned to her. For a second Olivia was dazzled by his bright white teeth.

‘I...’

‘That’s a hot dress you’re wearing, Livs.’

The dark-haired one had spoken. He was just about the prettiest man Olivia had ever seen. She’d spent a good five minutes just marvelling at the perfection of his skin.

‘Thanks...’

‘It’s not endangered, is it?’ The blond laughed at his own joke, then slung his arm around Olivia. ‘Only jokes, sweetheart. You’re the hottest girl in the room tonight. Here.’ He plucked a drink from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Drink up. You’re falling behind.’

Olivia took a long sip. She glanced sideways at the blond, whose name she still wasn’t sure of. Chester? Hester? His arm stayed where it was. Possessively pulling her to him. Olivia shuffled a little to the left.

There was no doubt Chester/Hester was a handsome man. And he laughed a lot. He was friendly, and he included her in the conversation, but there was something about him. Something alarmingly predatory that made her body chill a little when he got too close. But she was finally being included. No one else had talked to her. The party was swirling all around her. These two had found her some champagne and asked her about Australia.

Fiona and Will were off talking to another round-vowelled relative and Olivia had avoided too many uncomfortable interactions. Except for when she’d met Will’s mother, a woman who stood silently most of the time. Her large brown eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and bags, and the defeated stance of her shoulders made her difficult to talk to. She’d answered Olivia pleasantly enough, but her answers had all been one word only.

Will’s father, on the other hand, was loud—and for some reason unreasonably angry. Everything Olivia said had landed her in trouble.

‘You have a lovely home, Mr Winchester.’

‘Are you saying I couldn’t have bought this myself? Just because I inherited it doesn’t mean I’m a lazy loafer.’

‘Will is a charming young man. Fiona is very lucky to have him.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be charming? We brought him up right—he has no reason to be anything but charming. What are you implying?’

After a few more minutes of that Olivia had escaped. She’d fallen to the back of the room and sipped more champagne alone until these two well-dressed men had approached her. She’d known enough men to know what they needed. Laugh at their jokes and bat your eyelashes. No matter what language you spoke, that always worked.

She was busy laughing at something else she couldn’t understand when a chill came over the group. The pretty men in front of her stopped laughing and they looked over her head. She knew what it was before she even turned. She could feel him. Looming. Watching. Judging.

‘Hello, Eddie.’

‘It’s Edward. Hello, Olivia. Casper. Hugo.’

The air had changed. A defiant prickle spread across the group. As if Edward was the headmaster and had caught them smoking behind the bike sheds.

‘Come to spoil the party, have you, Eddie? Are we being too loud?’ Olivia asked, feeling a little bold from the four glasses of champagne she’d drunk.

Edward’s eyes narrowed and he brought his hands up to clasp them in front of him. ‘Not at all. I was coming to see if you were all right.’ His eyes slipped over the two men by her side. ‘I wasn’t aware you two were on the invitation list this weekend.’

Chester/Hester/Casper tightened his grip around Olivia’s shoulder, where his arm still lingered. She almost lost her balance.

‘Wouldn’t miss it. Will Winchester getting hitched? It’s the talk of London.’

Edward’s eyes turned glacial. ‘I would put money on the fact that it’s not.’

‘It totes is, Edward,’ pretty Hugo piped up. ‘Party of the decade, apparently.’

‘Are you all right, Olivia?’

Edward’s eyes swivelled to Olivia before glancing at the large arm that was hanging over her shoulder, uncomfortably close to her right breast. Olivia didn’t dare move in case the hand brushed her nipple. She had been having fun with these two, but something deep inside her knew she didn’t want either of them to touch her nipple. But Edward had that look on his face. That haughty look that reminded her of Bunny. So she grabbed the hanging hand and held on to it.

‘These handsome boys are making me feel right at home.’

The champagne and the jet lag had taken hold. The bubbles danced and her words came out slightly slurred. She lost her footing a little and leaned into Casper, expecting his frame to hold her, but she must have surprised him because he stumbled and so did Olivia. Great—now Edward would think she was drunk. And she wasn’t. Yet.

‘Perhaps you could do with some air?’

‘She doesn’t need air. She’s perfectly all right here.’ Casper’s voice was an arrogant sneer. ‘Haven’t you got a cause to campaign for? Or some middle class nobodies to wrangle votes from, Winchester?’

She heard him snigger and wanted to throw him off. His comments irritated her and his palm had become sweaty. She loosened her hold but his fingers gripped her harder.

‘Why don’t you run along and get us another drink, Winchester? There’s a good lad.’

More laughs.

Olivia didn’t know Edward very well, but even with her limited knowledge she knew that was not the right thing to say to him. She watched his face transform. His eyes met those of the buffoon still clinging to her. His jaw twitched and he pushed his shoulders back.

‘You two are here because Bunny insisted. But if you cause any trouble this weekend I’ll have both of you dipped in honey and stuffed in a beehive before dragging you back to London behind my father’s John Deere. Do you understand?’

Chester/Hester/Casper went stiff before he withdrew his hand.

‘Someone’s got their period...’ Casper’s voice didn’t sound as confident as before.

Edward took a menacing step forward, a vein now throbbing in his neck. ‘Get out of here. And I don’t want to see your ugly mugs for the rest of the weekend.’

* * *

Casper and Hugo threw Edward a dark look before turning and moving away.

‘What did you do that for?’ Olivia turned to Edward. His face had returned to the impassive mask he usually wore.

‘Seems they weren’t that interested in you after all. Didn’t put up much of a fight, did they?’

Olivia felt the bubbles fizz in her brain again. No, they hadn’t. One look at Edward’s angry face and they’d fled. But that was what men normally did, whether there was an Edward there or not. She turned to watch the crowd with a deep sigh. She had a habit of intriguing people for all of five minutes. Then—somehow—they always ran away. Even Fiona—her best friend in the whole world—had abandoned her when someone better came along.

She looked up at Edward but he was watching the crowd, his hands clasped behind his back. Looking like the pious goody-two-shoes he was.

‘Couldn’t wait to dob on me to your sister, could you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

His dark eyes swivelled her way and she met them.

‘She had a go at me for being late. Then she insulted my dress.’

He turned to survey the crowd. ‘Bunny has a habit of saying what pops into her head. You should try and ignore her.’

‘This family seems awfully good at that. Ignoring people. Before you came and broke up the party those two were the only ones being friendly to me.’

‘Those two were being friendly for one reason only.’ His voice lowered an octave and became hard.

‘I’m not stupid, Edward. I know exactly what type of men those two are. I’ve been rejected by enough men to know what they want. Or what they don’t want. But sometimes it’s better to have someone rather than no one.’

‘You’d rather be with those thickheads, who are plying you with alcohol in the hope you’ll fall over and flash your knickers at them, than be alone? You mustn’t think much of yourself.’

‘I’d rather laugh and talk to “those thickheads” than stand here being insulted by the biggest thickhead of all.’

‘Yet you remain.’

Olivia turned to the room full of people, not seeing any of them. Edward was annoying and frustrating and rude. But he didn’t want to get in her pants. So the only reason he was standing there talking to her was because he wanted to stand there and talk to her. Somehow that put her at ease. It felt strangely comfortable, being with someone she knew she had no chance with. She didn’t have to perform; she could just be...herself. The idea was freeing.

She breathed in deeply and let it out loudly.

‘I know what people think of me, Edward.’ She glanced at him, wondering what he thought of her for a second.

Edward just stood silently next to her. Solid and strong. Not touching her, not wanting anything from her.

‘I’m looking for a man.’ She felt Edward stiffen beside her but still he said nothing. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not my type. Too judgy, too cold, too...’

She looked up at him and he turned to face her. She took in his wide jaw and his very dark eyes. Like pools of dark chocolate. Deep and warm and luxuriously soft. A girl could get lost in those eyes and never find her way out. His jaw twitched as he looked down at her. His face looked as if it had been carved from stone, and he was so tall and broad and...

‘Too handsome.’

He coughed and looked away.

‘I prefer someone less...I don’t know...’ She tried to find the right word. ‘Intimidating.’

‘A weak man who’ll put up with your nonsense and bend over when you tell him to?’

‘No. A sweet, sensitive man who’ll love me unconditionally. A kind, gentle soul who needs me.’

‘A pushover.’

Olivia gave him the hardest look she could. ‘You are a cynical man, Edward Winchester. And you don’t have a romantic bone in that great big—’ surprisingly lean and muscular ‘—body of yours.’

A waiter walked past and she reached out to grab another glass of champagne, downing it in one long sip. All the time, Edward watched her.

‘Life is not a romance novel, Olivia. It’s about work and responsibility and doing what you’re supposed to.’

Olivia sighed again. She knew that. She knew it. But she wished life was like a romance novel. She wished there was someone—anyone—who would be willing to love her despite her faults. But she knew that was impossible.

They stood silently, largely ignored by the milling crowd.

‘I know,’ she said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you help me?’ Another waiter wandered past and Olivia grabbed another glass. ‘You seem the type to think things through. Weigh up the alternatives. Make sensible decisions. Maybe you can figure out why everyone always leaves me.’

SIX

Edward looked down at the big blue eyes that were blinking up at him. They were smothered in black eye shadow. She looked like a raccoon. Lost, tipsy and desperate. Three attributes that should make him want to run a mile. Earlier she’d been hard and challenging. Now she seemed needy. It was an intoxicating combination and it brought out something primitive in him. Some protective gene he was sure was purely practical and had nothing to do with the fact that he found her big blue eyes increasingly irresistible.

He had been drawn to her all night, his body on alert when she moved, when she laughed, and when her eyes turned to scan the room. And to be honest he wasn’t sure why. She was abrasive and unpredictable and silly, but there was a sweetness to her that, combined with her captivating sexiness, made her hard to ignore.

And now she wanted him to be honest. To find her flaws and tell them to her. Dangerous. He knew from experience that people didn’t really want to know. People liked being in their little cocoons.

‘Perhaps we should discuss this outside.’ She was swaying on her feet and his uncle-with-the-wandering-hands seemed to be looking their way and licking his lips. The thought of that dirty old man’s hands on her was making him sick.

This time she didn’t fight him. She let him lead her outside and he whisked the champagne glass out of her hands on the way out—swiftly relieving a passing waiter of a glass of water at the same time.

On the terrace, it was cold. The blackness amplified by the new moon that hung grey and high in the sky. Edward closed the doors behind them to block out the noise of voices. When he turned Olivia was leaning over the balcony, looking up to the sky. Her short dress had risen up so high he could see the curve of her buttocks. He quickly averted his eyes and shrugged off his jacket. She must be freezing.

‘The saucepan is upside down.’

Not for the first time Edward found himself intrigued by this woman. What was she talking about now? He moved closer and gently put his jacket around her shoulders, placing the glass of water on the edge of the brick terrace. He moved slowly and silently. He didn’t want to spook her.

Those two great pillocks who’d been plying her with booze had been all over her. When he’d seen them with Olivia he’d known what they were doing. And he’d also known Olivia was in no state to be left alone with them.

Olivia shifted and looked at him as he placed the jacket around her shoulders, but she didn’t throw it off.

‘Why is the saucepan upside down?’ With her strange words she pointed to the sky.

‘The saucepan?’

‘There. See the three stars in a row and the handle? It’s upside down.’

Edward tilted his head. It did look like a saucepan. But it wasn’t. It was the constellation Orion.

‘That’s Orion, the great warrior. The three stars make up his belt.’

‘The great warrior,’ she murmured. ‘Like you.’

Her words were a little slurred and her limbs were loose. Jet lag and champagne were a toxic combination. Prone to make you do and say things you shouldn’t. Which was why he always stopped at one drink.

‘I’m no warrior.’

‘Yes, you are. You saved me from those buffoons.’

‘I thought you were having fun.’ He moved closer. She looked cold. He wanted to warm her up.

Olivia turned to him as she laughed and he held his breath. She’d smiled before, but not like this. He found himself irresistibly smiling back at her. She moved a little closer to him but turned back to the sky. He watched her. Her long eyelashes blinked and a dimple sank into her cheek. She shifted so her chin was resting on her shoulder and turned to look at him. That smile again. He had to move. He’d hardened in an instant.

‘I was. I like to have fun.’

She blinked at him and he moved even closer, letting his shoulder rest against hers. Just in case she fell. He heard her suck in a breath, and she looked down at his shoulder before lifting those big eyes to him. Her lips parted and he almost forgot where he was and, for a moment, who he was.

Her hair was wild around her face and her eyes were glancing at his lips. His entire body went hard and he couldn’t move. He watched as she licked her full, bouncy lips. This woman was dangerous. One of those women who made you forget. But he couldn’t forget. He could never forget.

He had to say something.

‘“The stroke of midnight ceases,”’ he recited. ‘“And I lie down alone. The rainy Pleiades wester, And seek beyond the sea, The head that I shall dream of, That will not dream of me.”’

Edward felt Olivia’s eyes on him.

‘What was that? A poem? You recite poetry?’ She laughed at him and looked away. ‘For someone who is not a romantic that sounded suspiciously romantic, Eddie.’

‘That’s not romantic. It’s extremely unromantic. The man in that poem is dreaming of a woman who isn’t dreaming of him. That’s not romantic. It’s foolish.’

And you’re being foolish, he reminded himself as he dragged his eyes away from her plump lips. Kissing someone like Olivia would not help. Dragging a woman into his life was not something he could do. Especially not a fun-loving, free-spirited woman like Olivia. She’d hate it, and she’d resent him and they’d both end up unhappy. He moved away, put some distance between them so he could no longer feel the warmth of her skin or smell her cinnamon scent.

‘The man who wrote that is not foolish. He’s romantic. Wistful.’ Olivia sighed and looked back to the sky.

Edward noticed she’d pulled his jacket closer.

‘Probably not a man. Probably a woman. Dreaming of finding someone she can never hope to find.’

A rush of sympathy invaded his bones. She sounded so sad. So unlike the angry woman in the car or in the drawing room, threatening that she hadn’t ‘finished’ with him.

‘Then you fill your life with something else,’ he said softly.

He could feel her pain. Olivia sounded confused. He suspected she didn’t know what she wanted. She needed someone strong. Someone to take care of her. Edward’s shoulders stiffened. Definitely not him. He caused pain; he didn’t relieve it. That realisation poured a stream of cold water over him.

‘You should strive for something that will give you back exactly what you put into it.’

‘Like what?’

‘Work. Exercise.’

‘You exercise?’

‘I run. Every day.’

‘Me too.’

That magnetic smile lit her face again and it hit him in the chest. Then her face fell.

‘I hate it, though. It gives me too much time to think. And it hurts.’

‘So why do you do it?’

She faced him and ran her hand seductively from her breasts to her thigh. It sent a shiver straight through him and he stood to attention again. Her garish purple dress peeked through his jacket and the flashes of the skin on her chest and her legs were making him sweat, even as the night chill wound around him.

‘This body don’t come cheap. I’ll let you in on a secret, Eddie. I’m not a natural beauty. Any appeal I have comes from hard work and a daily pounding of the pavement.’

Edward thought that none of her appeal came from pounding the pavement. She had a killer body, that was true. But she also had a set of full, pouty lips, a beautiful smile and an innate consciousness of her own femininity. The woman was sexy. Damn sexy. And she knew it.

‘If that body is so hard to get why do you expose it in cheap stuff like that thing you call a dress? If that body were mine I’d have it covered from nose to ankle so no one could lay his perving eyes on you.’

Olivia blinked.

‘You would?’

He nodded and moved closer to her. As if she were a magnet and he couldn’t resist. Her small body was warm, and even though he wasn’t touching her he could feel the heat emanating from her.

‘If you were mine, Olivia, I’d barely let you out of the bedroom, where clothes don’t matter.’

The silence that lay between them wasn’t awkward. And it wasn’t silent. He could see her thinking. He was sure she could see him thinking. Wanting to do something he shouldn’t. Wishing it was he who’d had those glasses of champagne. Maybe then he wouldn’t think so much.

Olivia swayed and grabbed the wall for support, knocking the glass of water off in the process. It smashed noisily on the paving. He moved quickly to hold her around the waist. When she fell against him her breasts were soft against his chest. Then she moved even closer, snuggling in, making his chest expand and his arms hold her even tighter. Her blue eyes swivelled up to him and he saw the question in them. The air was thick and heavy and so was her need. He answered it automatically by pulling her in even closer.

‘You feel nice,’ she murmured as she snuggled in, and let out a little mew.

For some reason that turned him on even more. Her soft hair tickled his chin. He leaned down a little to bury his nose in it and breathe her in. But he wasn’t here for this. He hadn’t come here this weekend to fondle innocent women on the terrace.

‘Olivia, are you all right?’

‘I am now,’ she murmured, pulling herself closer.

Damn, that wasn’t what he’d wanted her to do. Holding her close to him felt good. Too good. And he didn’t deserve good. Not when his brother needed his support and his mother needed his explanations and his father needed help to calm down. Being out here with Olivia was a selfish indulgence. He tried to push her away but she held tight, and she was so close and so responsive she just snuggled back in. This was getting out of hand.

‘Olivia, you’re too...’

The word intoxicating embedded itself into his mind as her scent circled around his face. She was intoxicating. She lifted her head and her eyes darkened. He knew the look on her face. Pure desire. He was sure she could see the same look on his face.

‘Too what?’

She licked her bottom lip and his mind went blank. All thoughts of guilt disappeared and something more animal took over. Slowly, he brought his hand around to trace a finger along the edge of her chin. He wanted to touch her lips. Just once. Then he’d stop. All her lipstick had come off. Her lips were bare and delicious. He moved a single finger up to trace them and she stood still. Her breath warmed his finger. With his thumb, he swept a line past her open lips and she responded by poking her pink tongue out. It caught his thumb and he’d never felt anything more erotic.

‘Too much,’ he whispered as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth.

Every thought fled his mind except that of her scent and the feel of her body and the sight of those plump lips in between her teeth. His erection was now so hard it hurt. With his hand on the small of her back he pressed her to him, wanting her to feel how much he wanted her.

‘Too intoxicating,’ he said as he looked into her eyes, which were now bright blue and hooded.

He squeezed his finger and thumb under her chin and pushed it up a little. Closer to him. Olivia wasn’t looking for anything serious. She just wanted comfort. Comfort he could give. Comfort wouldn’t last past the weekend. He was able to do that.

Thankfully, she moved her chin up higher, until finally he felt the warmth of her breath on his lips.

Intoxicating.

Intoxicated.

The sharp tang of champagne on her breath hit his nose. He felt her sway slightly. Realisation made his eyes roll back. She was drunk and he was taking advantage of her. Quickly he used his hands to push her shoulders away.

SEVEN

‘Olivia, stop...’

Surprise filled her eyes. She frowned and watched his lips as he spoke.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this...’

‘Five minutes,’ she said suddenly, and loosened herself from his grip. ‘That’s my limit.’

Her voice was angry and rough. He’d hurt her. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t kiss her when she was drunk. Especially when he wasn’t. He had to be the responsible one.

Olivia moved quickly and headed for a lounger.

She plonked herself in it, then angrily stood up again and removed the jacket from her shoulders, tossing it to his feet.

‘Five minutes—that’s all it ever takes.’

‘Olivia...’ He picked his jacket up and moved closer to drape it over her. She ripped it off again. He was reminded of a petulant child.

‘Go away, Edward. You’ve made your point.’

‘My point?’

‘Yes.’ Her eyes turned angrily towards him and flickered with distaste. ‘I’m the girl who’s gagging for it. The one you pash and dash with. I know that already—I don’t need you to point it out.’

‘I wasn’t trying to make any point.’

He wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to do. He’d been caught up. In the stars, in her scent. Maybe he was more damn romantic than he’d thought. That idea sobered him up.

‘You want to know why people can’t stand to be with you for more than five minutes? You’re as inconsistent as an upstart peer trying to land a position in the Lords. A woman of so many faces I can’t keep up with them all.’

‘Then go away,’ she said quietly, mechanically. ‘Leave me alone.’

She sat up and shifted on the chair and her head moved to one side. His chest clenched for a second. She wasn’t crying, was she? He didn’t do tears.

Her breathing slowed and he moved closer. She snorted and shifted again, curling her legs up. She was asleep. Drunk and passed out.

Brilliant. Now what was he supposed to do? She’d freeze to death out here.

The noises from inside got closer and he heard a tap on the door. Someone was sure to come out and find her there. She’d never live it down. So he did the only thing he could do. He scooped her limp body into his arms and walked with her across the lawn to the other side of the house, where he could take her in unnoticed and with her dignity still intact.

* * *

Olivia was awake, but everything was so heavy. Her arms, her limbs. She tried to move but a groggy heaviness prevented any movement. Her shoulder was hitting against something hard. A rhythmic thump-thump that was giving her a headache. She tried to open her eyes and pull herself up but she kept being pulled back down into sleepiness. It wasn’t until she felt the softness of a mattress beneath her that she was able to open her eyes.

Standing above her, the veins in his neck throbbing, was Edward. Handsome, sexy, cranky Edward, with his hands on his hips. He looked beautiful and angry. Which made her laugh.

‘You think this is funny?’

His voice was so lovely. Deep and gravelly. She could feel it in her core. Right where she hadn’t been touched in so long. Soooo long.

‘I think you’re funny.’ She kicked her very high shoes off and her feet let out a sigh of relief.

He leaned down to reach behind her and she felt her body being tossed about until she was in between the sheets.

‘I’m glad you find me amusing.’

He was now so close to her she could smell him. She breathed in heavily. He smelled so good. Like soap and man. Soap and man—that was funny. She giggled again. Then she wriggled. Something didn’t feel right. The bed was soft, but something was cutting into her. She reached round and realised what it was. The zipper of this ridiculous, fabulous dress. She tugged and pulled, trying to get it off.

‘Here, let me.’

Edward’s big strong hands reached behind her and unzipped the dress. She breathed him in again. So lovely.

Awkwardly she lifted the tight dress up and over her head. Then she reached for her bra clasp and flung the constricting garment off. Edward said nothing, but reached down to the bottom of the bed and pulled up a plump, warm duvet. Olivia snuggled down, feeling warm and comfortable. Finally. Bubbles of champagne still danced around in her head.

‘Stay with me for a while.’

Edward hesitated before she felt the side of the bed sink. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but even as the champagne fogged her senses she knew she shouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t like that.

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