Bridegrooms Required: One Bridegroom Required / One Wedding Required / One Husband Required. Sharon Kendrick. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Sharon Kendrick
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474032728
Скачать книгу
across the room to where Luke was still sitting, chatting to Michelle, only they had now been joined by Michelle’s two friends.

      For two brides-to-be, they were certainly paying a lot of interest to whatever Luke was saying, were Holly’s rather caustic thoughts. But she ignored the nagging feeling of jealousy and went round, topping everyone’s glasses up, until the shop was buzzing with chatter.

      People began to filter away just before three, when some of the light had already begun to fade from the sky.

      Michelle stood up to go, swayed on her high heels and giggled as she put her hand onto Luke’s shoulder to steady herself.

      ‘Whoops! Too much wine on an empty stomach. I need sustenance! How about you, Luke? A big, strong man like you could probably do with a plate of food, right?’

      He shrugged and gave a regretful smile. ‘Perhaps some other time. I promised Holly I’d help her tidy away,’ he demurred smoothly, meeting a pair of pleased but bewildered emerald eyes over Michelle’s head.

      Michelle shot Holly another envious look. ‘A boss who tidies up? Where have I been going wrong for all these years?’ She smiled. ‘Well, you know where I am, Luke. If you’re ever in Winchester and you fancy some company.’

      ‘I’ll be sure to bear that in mind.’ He smiled again.

      Holly stood at the door, saying goodbye to those who were leaving, though part of her was distracted, wondering whether women came on to Luke like that on a regular basis. He must have an address book like an encyclopedia, she found herself thinking wistfully. No wonder he never talked about women—he’d probably lost count!

      ‘Bye, darling!’ trilled Michelle, giving Holly the benefit of a rather glassy smile.

      ‘They loved your flowers,’ Holly told her softly.

      ‘I loved your boss,’ retorted Michelle. ‘Is he free, do you know?’

      Holly resisted the urge to tell her no—that if Luke Goodwin was lined up for anyone, then it was her. But that would be the act of a child, not a woman. She nodded, and copper ringlets dangled around her face like burnished corkscrews as she quickly turned her head to check that he wasn’t listening. ‘Well, he hasn’t talked about a particular woman since I’ve been here—and he’s definitely not married—so I think it’s fairly safe to say he isn’t in love.’

      ‘So he’s all mine?’ Michelle queried, with a delighted grin.

      ‘Well...’ Holly smiled as Michelle planted a wine-laden kiss of farewell on her cheek. ‘That’s rather up to him, isn’t it?’

      ‘Mmm,’ said Michelle. ‘I’m metaphorically licking my lips at the thought of it!’

      Everyone bar Luke had left by four, by which time the faint silver blink of stars had begun to pepper the indigo sky.

      Holly looked around. What had happened to her beautiful shop? On every available surface were empty and half-empty wine glasses, bowls containing the remaining crumbs of crisps and peanuts, and lying on the wooden floor were two fading white roses which someone had obviously plucked out of one of Michelle’s flower arrangements.

      ‘Why the sour face?’ came a deep voice from behind her. ‘I thought it went very well.’

      ‘It did. It went brilliantly.’ She drew a breath, then flapped her hands around. ‘It’s just that it all looks such a mess!’

      He threw her a disbelieving look. ‘Can this be the same woman who, days ago, was about to inhabit a building which resembled a corporation tip?’

      ‘Yes, I was. But that’s the whole point,’ she argued firmly. ‘Once a place looks beautiful, you want to try like mad to keep it that way.’

      He walked towards the kitchen at the back.

      ‘Where are you going?’ asked Holly curiously.

      ‘To find a tray for the empty glasses. Come on—I’ll help you clear up.’

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      LUKE washed all the glasses and dishes while Holly rearranged flowers, shoes and dresses, and by six the shop was looking pristine once more.

      ‘Now watch this,’ said Holly, switching off the main light and pointing to her window display. She had dressed the window to dazzle both during the day and by night, and the effect was exactly what she had been aiming for.

      A single spotlight illuminated the prize-winning gown, turning the heavy satin into a buttery gold, while the moonlight added a contrasting silvery sheen all of its own.

      For a moment he was silent. ‘It’s absolutely spectacular,’ he told her quietly, and Holly’s heart leapt with pleasure as she heard his unequivocal praise. ‘Quite stunning.’

      ‘Would you...?’ Her words disappeared into the air; she was terrified he would misinterpret them.

      In the shadowy half-light his gaze was quizzical. ‘Would I what?’

      The words spilled out like grain from a sack. ‘Would you like to come upstairs and see what they’ve done to the flat?’

      He didn’t hesitate, even though the voice of his conscience, the voice of his sanity, told him that he should have done. ‘Love to,’ he answered.

      ‘After all—you were the one who paid for its decoration!’ She wondered why she was tripping over herself to justify the invitation, which was pretty ridiculous when you thought about it. After all, she had shared his house without incident—she was hardly inviting him upstairs in order to start leaping on him!

      Luke saw that she was trembling, and frowned. ‘Have you had anything to drink?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, not even a sip. I wanted to keep a clear head, and I was so busy filling up everybody else’s glasses that I wouldn’t have had time to drink my own with any degree of enjoyment!’

      ‘Then how about we open some champagne? To celebrate properly?’

      ‘That would be lovely—but there isn’t any, I’m afraid. My budget didn’t run to champagne, but perhaps the offlicence might be open?’

      Luke laughed, went into the kitchen, and returned—carrying a frosted, foil-topped bottle. ‘No, but this very soon will be!’ He saw her look of bafflement. ‘I brought it with me when I arrived,’ he told her softly. ‘Didn’t you notice? No. Come to think of it, you were too excited to notice anything—’

      Not quite true, thought Holly guiltily. She had noticed how wonderful he looked.

      ‘So why don’t you take me upstairs now?’

      Holly was glad of the half-light, grateful that it would provide some camouflage for the mass of confusions which must have flitted across her face. When he said things like that, he could sound very provocative... She grabbed two glasses and a spare bag of peanuts.

      ‘Come—this way,’ she said unsteadily, and the blood pounded like thunder to all her pulse-points.

      Upstairs, too, Luke had given her the complete freedom to decorate the flat in the colours of her choice. The leaks were no more, and there was fresh plaster on the ceilings. Luke followed her from room to room and Holly noticed how clean everything smelt—of fresh paint and new wood.

      The sitting room was painted a sunny yellow, graduating into deep tangerine in the kitchen. By contrast, the bedroom was blue, although Holly didn’t linger there and she noticed that Luke stuck his head round the door only briefly. The tiny bathroom was made to look double its size by the judicious use of mirrors on every wall and Holly was particularly proud of it.

      Luke made all the right murmuring sounds of approval, then opened the champagne, and they drank it in the sitting room, in front of the coal-effect