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Fiona should have put her right then and there, but she hesitated too long and the moment was lost.
‘So how did your wedding go yesterday, dear?’ Kathryn asked as she steered Fiona over towards the house. ‘You had lovely weather for it, considering it’s August.’
‘It...um...it went very well,’ Fiona replied truthfully, while she tried to work out how to tactfully escape this increasingly awkward situation.
‘I can imagine everything you do goes very well, my dear,’ Kathryn complimented her. ‘I’m already impressed with your punctuality and your appearance. A lot of people these days don’t seem to care how late they are for an appointment, or how they look when they get there. I’ve always felt that clothes reveal a lot about a man, and everything about a woman. You and I are going to get along very well, my dear. Very well indeed.’
Now that sounded more like the old Kathryn, Fiona thought.
To be strictly honest, however, she now shared some of those sentiments. She couldn’t abide people who were late for business appointments. Neither was she impressed with the slovenly dressed, or the grunge brigade. Fiona had found that people who didn’t care about their own appearance were usually not much good at their jobs.
You mean you judge a book by its cover these days, darling? an annoying inner voice pointed out drily.
The sound of a car speeding up the driveway interrupted her distracting train of thought.
‘That will be my son,’ Kathryn said, just as a black Jaguar with tinted windows roared into view. It braked hard inches before the gravel section, then passed sedately by them before purring to a cat-like halt on the other side of her Audi.
Panic had Fiona jamming her sunglasses back over her suddenly terrified eyes and praying Philip wouldn’t recognise her with them on.
‘I thought you said Phi...your son...couldn’t come today,’ she pronounced tautly.
Fortunately, Kathryn didn’t seem to notice her agitation. ‘He rang a while back on his mobile to say that Corinne—she’s his fiancée—had woken with a migraine this morning and begged off going on the harbour cruise luncheon they were supposed to attend. He didn’t fancy going alone so decided to pop home for lunch instead. He rang off before I could remind him you would be here as well.’
Fiona found herself staring over at the car. From the side, she couldn’t see the driver, because of the tinted windows. Several fraught seconds ticked away without Philip making an appearance, and she found herself waiting breathlessly for that moment when the driver’s door would open.
Fiona began to feel sick to her stomach. It had been a dreadful mistake coming here today, she was beginning to realise. A dreadful, dreadful mistake!
As though in slow motion, the door finally opened and his dark head came into view, followed by his shoulders—his very broad shoulders. Once fully upright, he turned to glance at them over the bonnet of the car.
Was she imagining it or was he staring at her? Surely not. She had to be imagining it. He couldn’t have recognised her, not with her sunglasses on!
She was being paranoid. Besides, he was wearing sunglasses too. Impossible to see where his eyes were being directed, or to determine their expression with those masking shades on.
Which was a reassuring factor from her own point of view, because the moment he strode round the front of his car and started towards them Fiona’s eyes began eating him up in exactly the same way they had the very first day he’d walked into Gino’s fish and chip shop ten years before.
Yet he was only wearing jeans and a grey sweater. Nothing fancy. Just casual clothes.
Philip the man, she was forced to accept, was even more impressive than Philip the youth, the promise of future perfection now fulfilled. His long, lanky frame was all filled out, his once boyishly handsome face fined down to a more mature and classical handsomeness, his thick unruly brown hair now elegantly tamed and groomed.
At twenty, Philip had been dishy.
At thirty, he was downright dangerous.
Kathryn disengaged her arm from Fiona’s as Philip approached, moving forward to give her son an astonishing hug. ‘It’s so nice to see you, son. I hope you didn’t drive too fast, now.’
‘I never drive too fast, Mother dearest. Can’t afford to get any blemishes on my record.’
‘My son’s a lawyer,’ his mother proudly explained, with a smiling glance over her shoulder at Fiona.
Philip’s gaze swung to Fiona as well, who felt as if there was a vice around her chest, squeezing tightly.
‘So, who have we here, Mother?’ he said quite nonchalantly. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
A little of the pressure eased, though a perverse dismay was added to the emotions besieging Fiona at that moment. So he hadn’t recognised her! She shouldn’t have been disappointed. But, stupidly, she was. He’d once claimed he would never forget her, that he would love her till the end of time.
‘The end of time’ apparently expired after ten years, came the pained thought. If truth be told, it had probably begun to run out the moment she’d exited his life.
Philip’s father had been so right about his son’s so-called love. It had had about as much substance as fairy-floss.
‘Your memory for some things is appalling these days, Philip,’ his mother said, blissfully unaware of the irony within those words. ‘Fiona is the wedding co-ordinator from Five-Star Weddings that I was telling you about on Friday. I’m sure I mentioned I was having lunch with her today. Fiona, this is Philip, the absent-minded groom. Philip, this is Fiona. Fiona Kirby, wasn’t it, dear?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘How do you do, Mrs Kirby?’ he greeted her.
‘Miss,’ she corrected sharply, and his eyebrows lifted above the sunglasses.
‘My mistake. Sorry. Ms Kirby.’
‘Oh, don’t call her that, Philip,’ his mother said with a soft laugh. ‘We’re already on a first-name basis, aren’t we, my dear? As I said to Fiona, we’ll be spending quite a deal of time together in the near future so we might as well be friends.’
Fiona wanted to scream and make a dash for the car. Friends? She was no more capable of being friends with Philip and his mother than she was of being friends with a pair of serial killers.
Yet for the moment she was trapped. Owen would kill her if she alienated such an influential family as the Forsythes, thereby damaging the reputation of Five-Star Weddings. And, frankly, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d been very foolish indeed to come here in person and risk all for the sake of her infernal pride.
‘You’ve already decided on Five-Star Weddings to do the wedding?’ Philip asked his mother, a frown bunching his forehead.
‘I certainly have. The moment I met Fiona I knew she was the right person to do the job.’
‘Did you indeed? How interesting. I, however, would like to see what she has in mind before any decisions are made and any contracts signed.’
‘Lawyers!’ Kathryn exclaimed, with a roll of her eyes and an apologetic glance towards Fiona. ‘They see trouble at every turn.’
‘Not at all,’ Philip countered smoothly. ‘I simply don’t believe in rushing into anything, especially when it comes to business dealings. The world is full of conartists and shysters. I know nothing of Five-Star Weddings other than what you told me over the phone. And absolutely nothing about Ms Kirby here, except what I can see for myself. As attractive as her outer package might be, in reality she might be anybody!’
Fiona stiffened, then saw red. Be damned with what Owen thought. Be damned with everything. She was not going to let Philip stand there and insult her.
Sweeping off her sunglasses, she glared up at him, her cold fury only increasing when he still didn’t recognise her.
‘Five-Star Weddings has an impeccable record and reputation, Mr Forsythe,’ she stated through clenched teeth. ’As do I. Might I remind you that your mother solicited this appointment, not the other way around? Nevertheless, I can show you many personal letters of recommendation, plus extensive portfolios of weddings I have arranged. Believe it or not, I am heavily booked at the moment, and only came here as a favour for my business partner, who agreed to this appointment without consulting me.
‘Under the circumstances, it would be better if you found someone else, Kathryn,’ she directed at Philip’s mother. ‘Lovely to have met you.’
Kathryn grabbed her arm before she could make good her escape. ‘Please, don’t go!’ she cried, before rounding on her son, her voice trembling and full of reproach. ‘What on earth’s got into you, Philip? I’ve never known you be so rude before!’
‘I wasn’t being rude. I was trying to be sensible. Anyway, given that Ms Kirby says she overbooked, it’s better you do hire someone else.’
‘But I don’t want someone else! I want Fiona. She’s the one who was recommended. On top of that, I like her. You’d do the job personally, wouldn’t you, dear, if I paid you double your usual fee?’
‘Well, I... I...’
‘Mother, for pity’s sake, you don—’
‘Philip!’ his mother interrupted sternly, the stubborn and autocratic Kathryn of ten years ago emerging for a few moments. ‘You and Corinne asked me to organise your wedding and I am only too happy to do so. But with your proposed wedding date only ten weeks off, and your bride-to-be overseas for most of that time, I will need help. I want Fiona to be that help. Please don’t be difficult about this.’
Philip stood there silently for several tense seconds, his shoulders squared, his mouth grim.
Fiona didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It really was a bizarre situation.
Suddenly, Philip swept off his sunglasses and stared deep into her eyes, his own no longer masked.
They had always been his most attractive feature, his eyes. A vivid blue and deeply set, with a dark rim around the iris which gave them an added intensity, both of colour and expression. The first time he’d looked at her all those years ago, across the shop counter, her knees had gone to jelly.
He stared at her now and she stared boldly back, her knees only marginally shaky.
His gaze raked her face, his expression puzzled and searching. For what? she thought angrily. Was he finally being bothered by a faint glimmer of familiarity? Was his subconscious teasing him with all those times he’d looked deeply into her eyes and told her she was the most incredible, adorable, irresistible girl in the world?
Quite abruptly, his eyes cooled to a bland, infuriatingly unreadable expression.
‘I apologise,’ he said, but insincerely, she believed. ‘I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on your reputation. I have to confess to a certain cynicism these days, especially in matters of business. I’m sure Five-Star Weddings is without peer in its field and I’m sure you’re one of its star co-ordinators.’
‘She certainly is,’ his mother joined in, looking both relieved and pleased. ‘You should have heard the photographer rave. He said Fiona was the very best in the business.’
‘I’m sure,’ Philip murmured. ‘Still, perhaps Fiona could humour me a little by coming inside and telling us some more about herself. But first, I’m dying for some decent coffee, Mother dearest. Do you think you could make me some? I know it’s Brenda’s day off, but you make much better coffee than she does anyway.’
‘Flatterer!’ Kathryn returned, but she was beaming.
‘What about you, Fiona?’ Philip said, with the sort of suave smoothness she both desired and despised in a man. ‘You look like a coffee girl to me.’
‘Coffee would be nice,’ she agreed, with a smooth smile of her own. She would have liked to tell him where to shove his coffee, but things had moved beyond her making any further fuss, or flouncing off in some dramatic exit. She had to see this unfortunate scenario through now, or Owen would kill her! But come tomorrow she was going to fall mysteriously ill and be unable to take on any new clients.
‘I’ll take Fiona through to the terrace,’ Philip informed his mother.
‘Oh, yes, do,’ she replied. ‘It’s lovely out there today. I won’t be long.’
Kathryn hurried off to do her son’s bidding. Another vast change in the woman’s character. She’d never been sweet and accommodating in the past. She’d expected everyone else to do her bidding.
‘This way,’ Philip murmured, taking Fiona’s elbow rather forcefully and steering her speedily inside, across the spacious marble foyer and down the wide cool hallway which bisected the bottom floor of the house.
Fiona barely had time to scoop in a couple of steadying breaths before she was ushered through a pair of white French doors onto an enormous sun-drenched terrace which stretched the length of the house.
It was an area she’d never been, or seen before. Probably new, she decided.
As Philip directed her towards the closest grouping of outdoor furniture Fiona replaced her sunglasses and glanced around, her wedding co-ordinator’s eye automatically taking over. Kathryn wouldn’t need to book a special place for the reception, she realised. This setting could look magnificent, with the right kind of marquee and the right lighting.
There wasn’t just the one terrace. There were two. The top one conveniently had shelter, with a pergolastyle roof which had slats one could open or shut. The next terrace, much longer and wider than the first, was tiled in terracotta and incorporated a large rectangular swimming pool, lined at each end by Corinthian columns of grey marble. It reminded Fiona of a photograph she’d once seen of a pool in ancient Rome. All that was missing was the nude statues.
At each end of the terraces lay an extensive garden, which was distinctly tropical, full of ferns and palms and rich green shrubs of all kinds. Oddly, it didn’t look out of place, exuding an exotic and sensual pull on the senses, making one long for the warm, balmy evenings of summer.
Fiona could easily envisage a near-naked Philip, stretched out along the edge of the pool, his eyes shut, one hand languidly trailing through the cool blue water. She could almost feel the coolness of that water on her heated skin as she imagined swimming towards him, stopping right next to him, then taking that wickedly idle hand and lifting it to her hot... wet...flesh.
Philip scraping out a chair for her on the flagstones snapped Fiona out of her erotic daydream with the abruptness of a drowning man gasping to the surface. Disorientated for a moment, she found herself staring down at the strong male hands gripping the back of the white wrought-iron chair and remembering how good he was with those hands, how well they had known her body and how completely they had been able to coerce her to his will.
Surely they couldn’t still do that, she thought, then panicked as her body experienced a deep and violent burst of desire.
Self-disgust followed, but a fraction too late in her opinion. Clenching her teeth, Fiona wrenched her eyes away from those offending hands and swiftly sat down. She didn’t watch Philip stride round to select the chair directly opposite, not looking back at him till he was seated.
‘Right,’ he said, his voice cut and dried as he slid his sunglasses back on. ‘Now, let’s stop all this pretence, Noni. What in hell are you up to?’
CHAPTER THREE
‘OH!’ FIONA gasped, sitting up straight. ‘You did recognise me.’
‘Keep it down, for pity’s sake,’ he hissed. ‘I don’t want my mother to hear any of this. And, yes, of course I recognised you. How could you possibly imagine I wouldn’t? I knew it was you the moment I drove up. You weren’t quite quick enough putting on those sunglasses. Still, I can understand why my mother didn’t twig. That’s some make-over, Noni. Most impressive. But back to the point. What are you up to? Why this sick little charade?’
Any momentary elation Fiona had felt at Philip’s having recognised her quickly faded at his sarcastic and accusing tone. She automatically moved back into survival mode.
‘I’m not up to anything,’ she defended coolly. ‘It’s exactly as I said earlier. My business partner made this appointment with your mother without my knowledge. I tried to get out of it. I explained to Owen that you and I had been married briefly years ago, and that I couldn’t possibly do your wedding, but he still insisted I show up today in person. He said the future of Five-Star Weddings was at stake. He wanted me to apologise and recommend him instead, but when Kathryn didn’t recognise me I hesitated too long, and then you showed up unexpectedly and...well...’ She shrugged.
‘Things got even more complicated,’ Philip finished drily.
‘Yes,’ Fiona agreed.
There was a short, sharp silence while he just stared at her.
‘You must have suspected my mother wouldn’t recognise you,’ he said curtly, ‘looking as you look today.’
‘It did briefly cross my mind.’
He laughed. ‘More than briefly, I’ll warrant. So...did you enjoy fooling her? Did you get a kick out of it?’
She contemplated lying, but couldn’t see any point. ‘I thought I would,’ she confessed ruefully.
He frowned. ‘But you didn’t?’
‘No,’ she confessed, still a little confused by her reaction to his mother. ‘No, I didn’t She’s not the same woman I remember, Philip. Somehow, I couldn’t find it in my heart to hold any more malice towards her.’
His frown deepened. ‘What do you mean...malice?’
‘Oh, Philip, don’t pretend you don’t know what she did all those years ago, how she made me feel.’
‘I know she made things difficult for you. But, believe me, she would have made things difficult for any girl I wanted to marry back then. The bottom line is it wasn’t my mother who ended our marriage, Noni. It was you.’
She opened her mouth to defend what she’d done, then stopped herself. Once again, she couldn’t see the point It was over. Philip was getting married again. No doubt to some rich, beautiful girl he loved to death and of whom his mother heartily approved.
As for herself. Well...she had her career.
‘I was very young,’ Fiona said flatly. ‘So were you. We were from two different worlds. Our marriage would never have worked. I did the right thing.’ She looked away from him then, afraid that she might do something appalling like burst into tears.
