‘ARE YOU SURE this is a good idea, Bel?’ Grace asked.
‘Going to Oxfordshire and pretending to be Hugh’s unsuitable girlfriend? Possibly not,’ Bella admitted. ‘I did tell him I thought it’d be a better idea to be straight with his family and get them to see his passion for his work. But he’s adamant that this is the best way to get them off his back—and I guess they’re his family, so he should know the best way to handle them.’
‘I don’t mean just that,’ Grace said gently. ‘I mean getting involved in your boss’s personal life.’
‘I’m not getting involved in his personal life,’ Bella insisted. ‘Apart from the fact that I’m officially off men for good, I’m just doing this as a favour.’
Grace winced. ‘To make up for me throwing up over him in the taxi?’
‘No,’ said Bella firmly. ‘No.’ Though he had hinted at it. Which had made it easier for Bella to say yes. Not that she wanted Grace to worry about it, so she kept that information to herself. ‘He just needs someone to help him make his family back off. And I kind of fit the bill.’
‘So you’re going to a posh afternoon tea party wearing a skin-tight leopard-print dress,’ Grace said.
‘Yup. And I’ve got tiny, tiny shorts and high-heeled mules for the country walk the next day. And, best of all, for the cocktail party... Meet my alternative to the little black dress.’ Bella produced the curtains she’d found in one of the charity shops, flapped one with a flourish and draped it over one shoulder. ‘Ta-da!’
Grace blinked. ‘You’re wearing a curtain to a cocktail party?’
‘Not quite—it’s going to be a proper dress. Only I’m making it from a curtain instead of from normal dress fabric. Em said she’d come round tomorrow, measure me, and we’ll cut it out and run it up together.’ Bella grinned. ‘This is where going to art school comes into its own. I know loads of people who can help. I just thought, what could be gaudier and more unsuitable for a black tie cocktail party than a mini-dress made out of a curtain?’
Grace eyed the orange flowers. ‘Um. Very nineteen-sixties.’
Bella’s grin broadened. ‘And it’s so The Sound of Music, don’t you think?’ She draped the curtain over the back of her sofa, pulled Grace to her feet, and danced her sister around the tiny living room, all the while singing, ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?’ but substituting her own name in the song.
‘You’re impossible,’ Grace said, but she was laughing.
‘I’m a genius. And I’ve just had another great idea. We can have takeaway pizza tonight and watch The Sound of Music together. I love that film so much. And we can sing “Do Re Mi” in harmony—I’ll even let you pick your part.’
Grace hugged her. ‘I know what you’re doing, Bel. You’re trying to distract me. But I’m OK. Really. The hard bit was last weekend and breaking up with Howard. The temp agency’s found me some work, I’ve got a couple of weeks to find a new flat before I have to move out of mine, and you’ve been the best sister and most brilliant support anyone could ask for. My new life starts now, and it’s going to be just fine.’
‘I still worry about you,’ Bella said. She didn’t quite dare ask if this was how Grace felt about her, most of the time. Grace had had to rescue her often enough from some scrape or other.
‘I’m fine,’ Grace reassured her again. ‘But, yes, we can order a pizza and watch a film tonight. That sounds good.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And if this engagement party goes horribly wrong next weekend, just ring me and I’ll drive straight down to get you, OK? It’s only an hour and a bit from London to Oxford.’
‘It won’t go wrong,’ Bella said. ‘I’m just playing a part. Even if I wasn’t officially off men, Hugh Moncrieff is the most unsuitable man in the world for me. He’s my boss, and dating him would make everything way too complicated.’
‘So why,’ Grace asked, ‘are my big sister antennae suddenly twitching like mad?’
‘Force of habit,’ Bella said with a smile. ‘But nothing’s going to go wrong.’
The following weekend, Bella’s confidence in that statement had evaporated.
Had she gone too far with her outfit?
What if Hugh’s family had a blazing row with him over her unsuitability and it ruined the engagement party? That really wouldn’t be fair on Hugh’s brother and his fiancée.
Maybe she ought to pack some suitable clothes as well, in case she needed to change at the last minute. Or borrow Grace’s car so she could make a quick getaway if she needed to, rather than letting Hugh drive her down to Oxfordshire. Or maybe she should just make sure her mobile phone was fully charged and she’d got the number of a reliable local taxi firm.
Plus she and Hugh hadn’t set any real ground rules. What did playing his unsuitable girlfriend actually mean? Holding hands, draping herself over him—or even kissing him?
The idea of kissing Hugh sent her into a flat spin.
He was her boss. She shouldn’t even flirt with him, let alone entertain ideas about kissing him. Even if he was the most attractive man she’d met in years. Kissing was totally off the agenda.
So why, why, why couldn’t she get the idea out of her head?
Her stomach was in knots by the time her doorbell rang, just after lunch.
When she answered the door, Hugh was standing there, wearing one of his business suits. He looked utterly gorgeous—and Bella felt completely out of place in her outrageous get-up. Particularly when his eyes widened in apparent shock as he took in what she was wearing: a tight leopard-skin mini-dress with a wide shiny belt cinched round her waist and spindly high heels, a chunky bead necklace, and she’d styled her hair so her normally sleek bob was in wild curls.
‘This is a bit too much, isn’t it?’ she asked, indicating her outfit.
‘It’s, um, interesting,’ he said. ‘Very eighties. Especially the hair.’
In other words, he hated it. She’d gone way over the top. There was cutesy retro, and there was a total mess. She’d clearly crossed the admittedly narrow line between the two. She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. Give me ten minutes and I’ll change.’
He caught her hand. ‘No, Bella, you’re perfect as you are.’
A shiver ran through her at the feel of his skin against hers. She had to remind herself sharply that she was doing this as a favour to him—acting the part of his unsuitable girlfriend—and that was all. Any attraction she felt towards him was totally inappropriate and needed to be squashed. Like yesterday.
‘Are you sure this isn’t too much?’ she asked, doubt still crawling through her. ‘Are you quite, quite sure it wouldn’t be better to switch to Plan B?’
‘Which is?’
‘Go to the party on your own and tell your family how much you love Insurgo, that you’re perfectly happy being single and that you don’t need a romantic partner to feel that your life’s complete.’
‘I could, but they wouldn’t listen, so it has to be Plan A,’ he said softly. ‘And I want you