His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I don’t think so, Chloe. Thank you for the offer, but—’
‘Would you like to dance?’ she suggested lightly.
He wasn’t even sure he could still stand up, let alone dance! The champagne had been flowing freely at the reception since the wedding ceremony this afternoon at three o’clock, and Fergus had definitely had more than his own fair share of the bubbly liquid.
When the party had begun to break up about eleven o’clock he hadn’t felt he’d been ready to go home to his lonely house just then, instructing the taxi driver to bring him here instead. But at least he had had the sense to realise he had better stick to drinking champagne; otherwise he knew he would wake up in the morning wishing his head weren’t attached to his shoulders. He still might!
He gave a heavy sigh. ‘What I would like, Chloe, is for you—’
‘Could I have some mineral water, do you think?’
He looked across at her darkly, wondering if she was ever going to let him get in a full sentence!
She smiled at him, and Fergus found his expression softening slightly. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was in a foul mood. A mood that meant the last thing he wanted was to be so obviously approached by a woman he had never even seen before. Beauty notwithstanding!
‘It’s only a glass of water,’ Chloe teased softly.
How right she was; he wasn’t capable this evening of providing her—or any other woman, for that matter!—with anything else.
Okay, one glass of bubbly water, he promised himself, and then she would have to go.
He turned to signal the waiter behind the bar to provide him with mineral water and another glass, taking the bottle himself to pour some of the liquid for Chloe.
At least, that was what he intended doing, but at the last moment his hand seemed to have a will of its own, shifting slightly, some of the water spilling onto the table. Hell, just how much had he drunk today?
‘Whoops,’ Chloe sympathised gently, before placing a tissue over the spilt water. She raised her glass. ‘What shall we drink to?’ she encouraged brightly.
‘Absent friends?’ Fergus returned morosely before taking a huge swallow.
Not that he thought Logan would ever stop being his friend, as well as cousin. But he just knew things would never be the same between them now that Logan shared his life with his wife.
The same age, thirty-five, the three cousins had always been more like brothers, offering each other broad shoulders during times of trouble. It was going to take some time to adjust to the fact that Logan now had Darcy as his soul mate…
Chloe was eyeing him teasingly. ‘I was always told that champagne should be sipped slowly in order to be properly appreciated.’
Fergus nodded tersely. ‘Whoever told you that was correct.’ Especially where a vintage champagne like this one was concerned! ‘I did try to warn you I’m not very good company,’ he glowered.
‘So you did.’ She appeared completely unperturbed by his taciturn mood. ‘Is it anything you would like to talk about?’ she encouraged softly.
Not to a woman he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, either, thank you very much!
Chloe tilted her head thoughtfully to one side as she looked across at him, her hair taking on a blue-black sheen in the subdued lighting of the crowded nightclub. ‘You’re Fergus McCloud, aren’t you?’ she finally recognised appreciatively.
Fergus stiffened defensively. ‘Am I?’ he returned warily.
Was that the reason she had been so determined to speak to him? If it was, she was wasting her time; he wasn’t into literary groupies. Again, beauty notwithstanding!
‘Of course you are,’ she answered. ‘I’ve read several of your books, seen your photograph on the cover. You’re very good,’ she added warmly.
‘Thanks,’ he replied uninterestedly.
Chloe laughed. ‘But you aren’t impressed,’ she easily guessed.
‘Not really,’ he returned bluntly. ‘You see, I’ve read them too. They’re your standard thriller: a bit of mystery, a touch of violence, mixed together with a lot of sex!’
‘You’ve had six books published during the last six years, and each one has reached the number-one spot on the best-seller list,’ she corrected softly. ‘I would hardly call that “standard”.’
Now, in spite of himself, he was impressed! But the fact that she knew all that about him only convinced Fergus more that this woman Chloe was a literary groupie. Or worse!
He shrugged. ‘That just goes to show you that there’s no accounting for public taste.’
‘My, you are feeling sorry for yourself this evening, aren’t you?’ Chloe rejoined speculatively.
Yes, he was—so why didn’t she just leave him alone to wallow in it?
Getting to know this man had turned out to be much harder than she had imagined it would be, Chloe admitted inwardly.
For weeks she had been desperately searching for a way in which she might ‘accidentally’ meet Fergus McCloud, finally coming to realise that it was virtually impossible. The fact that he was so successful as a writer meant that he no longer practised as a lawyer, so he didn’t have an office to go to. His social life was sporadic, to say the least. The only thing she had been able to come up with, where she’d known he would definitely be in attendance, was his cousin Logan’s wedding today; after all, he was the best man! But as Chloe didn’t know either the bride or the groom, there was no way she could have gatecrashed!
Feeling thoroughly disheartened about the whole situation, she had accepted an invitation to spend the evening with a group of friends with whom she had been at university, going out to dinner before moving on to a nightclub. This nightclub. Chloe had hardly been able to believe her luck when, standing near the door with her group of friends and preparing to go on to somewhere else, she had actually seen Fergus McCloud coming in. Alone.
For a moment she had panicked, wondering what to do. Here had been her chance at last—and she hadn’t known what to do about it! But then she had forced herself to calm down, to think.
The answer had been obvious; she’d made her excuses to her friends, explained she had changed her mind about going on somewhere else, and was going to go home. But, instead, she had followed Fergus McCloud back inside the club, standing at a discreet distance away to watch him while she’d decided what to do next.
He’d appeared to be alone, but she hadn’t been sure whether or not someone, a woman, would eventually join him. After an hour, when he had drunk his way through one bottle of champagne, and ordered another one, she had decided that nobody would.
It was perfect, the ideal opportunity for her to at least have a chance to speak to him.
Except he had made it more than plain from the beginning that he didn’t want to talk to her.
Well, she wasn’t about to give up now!
‘How did your cousin’s wedding go today?’ she enquired conversationally, making no effort to drink the water he had poured for her; it had only been a way for her to delay having him ask her to leave.
Fergus frowned across at her, his good looks not in the least diminished by his scowling expression.
Chloe had known what he looked like, of course, but even so she hadn’t quite been prepared for the sheer physical force of the man. He was tall and powerfully built; there was no doubting he looked wonderful in his evening clothes. His dark hair was slightly overlong, his tanned face carved as if hewn