Nick Coburn wore a dark suit that silhouetted his shoulders as nicely as the tuxedo had. His white shirt and deep green tie were neat, pressed and tidy. Did he have someone ironing his shirts for him? She stiffened. Or was he just sending them out? ‘What are you doing here?’
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I told you, I’m the best man.’
She took a deep breath. Where was her professionalism? Where was her detachment, and all that cool, calm sense that she’d employed in her life so well over the last few years?
‘What can I help you with?’ she asked as calmly as she could, avoiding looking at the man directly, trying to slow the thunderous pounding of her heart and the flood of heat to her face.
‘I’d like to discuss my speech at the reception. I need some advice.’ He strode across her small office and dropped into the white fabric sofa in the corner as though he was perfectly at ease.
She lifted her chin. ‘Oh, of course.’ Professional she could handle. She just couldn’t afford to go anywhere near personal, or go into details of what exactly had happened four years ago.
‘Shoot.’
He scrutinized her, his gaze intense, as though he was looking into her very soul…
A shiver raced down Skye’s back, sending ripples of awareness across her skin and into her body. She crossed her arms over her chest and concentrated on breathing and not on the barrage of questions tossing around in her head.
Nick arranged several of the red heart-shaped cushions around him and then gazed directly at her. ‘I’m not sure whether I should go with a joke to start my speech with, or not?’
The tension in her eased a little. Work mode, she could do. ‘There is a popular misconception that the best man has to be witty, funny and entertaining.’ Skye strode behind her wide white marble-topped desk, sitting down in her red chair, pretending this was just any other man in her office. ‘Be funny if funny works for you. But it’s more important to be genuine.’
‘So your advice is—?’
She arranged some papers in front of her, concentrating on what she usually said to the best man and not on the rush of blood in her ears. ‘Keep it simple, genuine and brief.’
‘Okay.’ Nick clapped his hands together and rubbed the palms against each other, not taking his eyes off her. ‘Understood.’
Skye stood up, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. ‘Is that all?’
Nick didn’t move. He looked at her, the intensity in his deep blue eyes disconcerting. ‘Don’t you want to hear it?’
‘What?’ She bit her bottom lip. Why he’d come? Why he’d shown up in her life now after all these years or what he’d heard somewhere, what he suspected? Her heart pounded against her ribs. Or what he wanted now?
‘My speech.’ He leant his elbows on his knees, his blue eyes gleaming. ‘Do you want to hear it?’
Her knees gave out beneath her and she sagged back into her chair. ‘Sure.’ She waved him on. ‘Sure, go ahead. I’m all ears.’
He rubbed his hands together. ‘Terrific, but it’s not quite ready at the moment so I’ll be back when the first draft is done.’
‘Great.’ She sighed. She should have seen that one coming. ‘Not a problem.’
He leant forward, his eyes probing hers. ‘Are you sure? You seem a bit tense.’
Skye lifted her chin. ‘I assure you, Mr Coburn, that no matter what went on with us in the past I am a professional. I’ll do my job where the Harrison-Brown wedding is concerned. No problem at all.’
He shot her a curt nod. ‘You don’t have a problem with me being the best man?’
‘Of course not.’ She was obviously transparent. She pulled back her shoulders and met his deep blue eyes. ‘It was four long years ago, Mr Coburn. It has no relevance here today.’
A muscle quivered in his jaw. ‘I’m interested in finding out how your life has gone during those long years, Skye.’
Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business.’
‘I’d like to make it my business. We were friends once,’ he said, his voice low and smooth. ‘Don’t you owe me at least a cup of hot chocolate?’
Her chest tightened. He’d remembered her favourite drink! She shook her head vehemently. ‘I don’t think so. Besides, we didn’t part on the best of terms.’ She’d made sure of that. She couldn’t have him looking her up a few months down the track. She’d had to make it final.
‘Really? I hardly recall.’ He stood up and smoothed down his trousers. ‘But it’s just a cuppa. Unless your husband wouldn’t like it?’
‘I’m not married,’ she blurted, heat rushing to her cheeks.
A smile teased the corners of his mouth. ‘So, there’s no argument then. Say, twelve o’clock at that café down on the corner.’ He cocked a thumb in the general direction.
Skye opened her mouth but no words would come. He was as arrogant and as confident as she’d suspected from his reported exploits. Which only made him more dangerous than ever.
She wanted to slap herself in the head. She should have left that question about a husband unanswered. It would have been better for her if he thought she was committed to someone. She would have been safe. ‘I—’
He shut the door firmly behind him.
She closed her mouth and stared at the door. Nick Coburn wanted to meet her later, wanted to talk, wanted to catch up on old times, and catch up on what she’d been doing these few years?
She covered her mouth, stifling the urge to scream. If only he knew!
What on earth was she going to do?
Nick Coburn tapped the melamine table-top with his pen, staring through the café’s front window for the hundredth time. He glanced at his watch—it was past twelve-thirty.
Maybe he should have waited for an answer from the woman, but dammit, she sent his mind and his body into a spin just being near her.
She should come. If only driven by curiosity.
Skye had always been punctual, considerate and giving, except for having a damned affair under his nose. He ran a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t have thought she’d be the sort of woman to juggle two men, play the field to that extent. It had baffled him for years. His sweet, innocent girlfriend had turned out to be a stranger.
Another lesson notched up. And she was a hard lesson.
He stared at the papers in front of him blankly. It would probably be best if he kept his current modus operandi and stayed the hell away from her. Dating models was great for his image, his ego and his exposure to the general public. Just not so good for his sanity or his wallet. Luckily he kept each affair brief. He glanced at the door to the café. But it was time for a change.
His mobile shrilled. He grabbed it and stabbed the button, his body already warming at the thought of her. Was she running late, stuck in traffic somewhere or going to offer an apology? ‘Coburn.’
‘Nick, how’d you go with your fitting?’ Sandra’s voice was sweet and lilting.
He looked at the ceiling. Sandra was tall, blonde and wily. Almost model material. He’d met her several times at Paul’s place and then at the engagement party. She probably would have made for a nice distraction but now, after seeing Skye again, feeling what she stirred deep inside him, he had bigger challenges at hand. Like getting her out of his system once and for all.
‘Mine went fabulously. That designer that Camelot has