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‘Yes, well, they weren’t dates in the way you think of them. He hasn’t just invited me out for an impressive dinner as a preamble to taking me to bed. You can actually get to know someone really well in half a dozen dates if you approach them in a more...serious way.’
The thinly veiled dig didn’t escape him and indignation sharpened his voice.
‘OK, then, if he’s so bloody marvellous, and you’re so bloody smitten, why the hell isn’t he on his way to look at your brother’s wacky paintings and meet the parents? Couldn’t you have dumped me on the phone and saved me a load of time and hassle?’
He pulled the car to a standstill outside the gallery steps and turned off the engine.
‘I’m not dumping you! How many times? It’s a fake relationship!’
A uniformed attendant opened Emma’s car door and she got out. Dan threw his keys to the parking valet and joined her on the steps.
‘So you keep saying,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘I could have spent this evening working.’
‘Like you don’t spend enough of your life doing that.’ She led the way through the high arched doorway into the gallery. ‘You can easily afford an evening. Alistair’s out of the country until next week, and I need this opportunity to draw a thick, black and irreversible line under the two of us for my parents’ eyes and undo the tissue of fibs I’ve told them.’
They walked slowly down the red-carpeted hallway, his hand pressed softly at the small of her back—the perfect escort as always.
‘I really don’t see why I need to be there for you to do that,’ he said, smiling politely at other guests as they passed, maintaining the perfect impression. ‘Especially since it’s only a fake relationship.’
Even as he piled heavy sarcasm on the word fake he wondered why the hell he was turning this into such a big deal. Why should he care? It had simply been a handy arrangement, nothing more.
‘Because the problem with it being a fake relationship is that it was a pretty damn perfect one,’ she snapped. ‘And so now I need a fake break-up.’
* * *
She outlined her suggestion as they walked down the hall and it sounded so insane that his mind had trouble processing it.
‘You can’t possibly be serious. You want to fake an argument in front of your family so you can make some kind of a righteous point by dumping me?’
‘Exactly! Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll choose a moment, start picking on you, and then you just play along.’
‘Why can’t you just tell them we broke up? That things didn’t work out?’ He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. ‘Why do I need to be here at all?’
‘Because I’ve spent the last year building you up as Mr Perfect, bigging you up at every opportunity. You’ve no idea what it was like before we started helping each other out. The constant questions about why I was still single, the hassle about my body clock careering towards a standstill, the negativity about my career. Introducing you as my boyfriend stopped all that like magic. They think you’re the son-in-law of their dreams—a rich businessman who adores me, good-looking, charming, not remotely fazed by my mother. They’ll never just take my word for it that we broke up amicably. I’d spend the rest of my days being questioned about what I did to drive you away. You’d be forever name-dropped as the one that got away. No man I bring home would ever live up to your perfect memory.’
‘You don’t think you’re going a bit overboard?’
‘Are you really asking me that? You’ve met my mother. You know what she’s like.’
He had to concede that Emma’s mother was without a doubt the most interfering person he’d ever come across, with an opinion about everything that was never wrong. Her relationship with Emma seemed to bring out the critic in both of them. Mutual exasperated affection was probably the nearest he could get to describing it.
‘This way your fabulous reputation will be ruined, by the time Alistair and I finish our trip to the States you’ll be a distant memory, and they’ll be ready to accept him as my new man.’ She shrugged. ‘Once I’ve...you know...briefed him on what they can be like.’
Trip to the States? His hands felt clammy. He stopped outside the main gallery and pulled her to one side before they could get swept into the room by the crowd.
‘You’re going on holiday?’
She looked at him impatiently.
‘In a few weeks’ time, yes. I’m going to meet some of his friends and family. And then after that I’m going to travel with him in Europe while he covers an international cycling race for American TV. I’m taking a sabbatical from work. I might not even come back.’
‘What?’ His mind reeled. ‘You’re giving up your life as you know it on the strength of a few dates? Are you mad?’
‘That’s exactly it! When do I ever do anything impetuous? It isn’t as if sensible planning has worked out so well for me, is it? I work all hours and I have no social life to speak of beyond filling in for you. What exactly have I got to lose?’
‘What about your family?’
‘I’m hardly going to be missed, am I? My parents are so busy following Adam’s ascent to celebrity status with his art that they’re not going to start showing an interest in my life.’
She leaned in towards him and lowered her voice, treating him to the dizzying scent of her vanilla perfume.
‘One of his pictures went for five figures last month, you know. Some anonymous buyer, apparently. But two words about my work and they start to glaze over.’
She leaned back again and took a small mirror from her clutch bag.
‘And you’ll be fine, of course,’ she went on, opening the mirror and checking her face in it, oblivious to his floundering brain. ‘You must have a whole little black book of girls who’d fall over themselves to step into my shoes. You’re hardly going to be stuck for a date.’
True enough. He might, however, be stuck for a date who made the right kind of impression. Wasn’t that how this whole agreement of theirs had started? He didn’t go in for dating with a serious slant—not any more. Not since Maggie and...
He clenched his fists. Even after all these years thoughts of her and their failed plans occasionally filtered into his mind, despite the effort he put into forgetting them. There was no place for those memories in his life. These days for him it was all about keeping full control. Easy fun, then moving on. Unfortunately the girls who fitted that kind of mould didn’t have the right fit in work circles. Emma had filled that void neatly, meaning he could bed whoever the hell he liked because he had her for the serious stuff—the stuff where impressions counted.
It occurred to him for the first time that she wouldn’t just be across London if he needed her. He felt oddly unsettled as she tugged at his arm and walked towards the main door.
‘You’ve had some mad ideas in your time, but this...’ he said.
* * *
As they entered the main gallery Emma paused to take in the enormity of what her brother had achieved. The vast room had a spectacular landing running above it, from which the buzzing exhibition could be viewed. It had been divided into groupings by display screens, on which Adam’s paintings—some of them taller than her—were picked out in pools of perfect clear lighting. A crowd of murmuring spectators surrounded the nearest one, which depicted an enormous eyeball with tiny cavorting people in the centre of it. His work might not be her cup of tea, but it certainly commanded attention and evoked strong opinions. Just the way he always had done.
She took two crystal flutes of champagne from the silver tray of a pretty blonde attendant, who looked straight through her to smile warmly at Dan. For heaven’s sake, was no woman immune? Emma handed him one of the flutes and he immediately raised it to the blonde girl.
‘Thanks very much...’ He leaned in close so he could read the name tag conveniently pinned next to a cleavage Emma could only ever dream of owning. ‘Hannah...’
He returned the girl’s smile. Emma dragged him away. Why was she even surprised? Didn’t she know him well enough by now? No woman was safe.
Correction: no curvy blonde arm candy was safe.
‘For Pete’s sake, pay attention,’ she said in a stage whisper. ‘You’re meant to be here with me, not eyeing up the staff.’
She linked her arm through his so she could propel him through the crowd to find her parents. It wasn’t difficult. Her mother had for some insane reason chosen to wear a wide flowing scarf wrapped around her head and tied to one side. Emma headed through the crowd, aiming for it—aqua silk with a feather pin stuck in it on one side. As her parents fell into possible earshot she pasted on a smile and talked through her beaming teeth.
‘They’ll never just take my word for it that we’ve just gone our separate ways. Not without a massive inquest. And I can’t be doing with that. Trust me, it’ll work better this way. It’s cleaner. Just go with everything I say.’
She speeded up the end of the sentence as her mother approached.
‘And you don’t need to worry,’ she added from the corner of her mouth. ‘I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning.’
‘You’ll what? What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
He turned his face towards her, a puzzled frown lightly creasing his forehead, and his eyes followed her hand as she raised her flute of champagne, ready to tip the contents over his head. She saw his blue eyes widen in sudden understanding and realised far too late that she’d totally underestimated his reflexes.
Dan’s hand shot out instantly to divert hers, knocking it to one side in a single lightning movement. And instead of providing the explosive beginning to her staged we’re finished argument, the glass jerked sharply sideways and emptied itself in a huge splash down the front of her mother’s aquamarine jumpsuit. She stared in horror as champagne soaked into the fabric, lending it a translucent quality that revealed an undergarment not unlike a parachute harness.
She’d inadvertently turned her mother into Miss Wet T-Shirt, London. And if she’d been a disappointing daughter before, this bumped things up to a whole new level.
TWO
‘Aaaaargh!’
The ensuing squawk from Emma’s mother easily outdid the gallery’s classy background music, and Dan was dimly aware of the room falling silent around them as people turned from the paintings to watch.
‘An accident—it was an accident...’ Emma gabbled, fumbling with a pack of tissues from her tiny clutch bag and making a futile attempt at mopping up the mess.
As her father shook a handkerchief from his pocket and joined in, her mother slapped his hand away in exasperation.
‘It’ll take more than a few tissues,’ she snarled furiously at him, and then turned on Emma. ‘Do you know how much this outfit cost? How am I meant to stand next to your brother in the publicity photos now? I’ve never known anyone so clumsy.’
Emma’s face was the colour of beetroot, but any sympathy Dan might have felt was rather undermined by the revelation that she’d intended, without so much as a word of warning, to make a fool of him in front of the cream of London’s social scene. That was her plan? That? Dumping him publicly by humiliating him? If he hadn’t caught on in time it would have been him standing there dripping Veuve Clicquot while she no doubt laid into him with a ludicrous fake argument.
No one dumped him. Ever.
‘An accident?’ he said pointedly.
She glanced towards him, her red face one enormous fluster. He raised furious eyebrows and mouthed the word dry-cleaning at her. She widened her eyes back at him in an apologetic please-stick-to-the-plan gesture.
Emma’s brother, Adam, pushed his way through the crowd, turning perfectly coiffed heads as he went, dandyish as ever in a plum velvet jacket with a frothy lace shirt underneath. There was concern in his eyes behind his statement glasses.
‘What’s going on, people?’ he said, staring in surprise at his mother as she shrugged her way into her husband’s jacket and fastened the buttons grimly to hide the stain.
‘Your sister has just flung champagne all over me,’ she snapped dramatically, then raised both hands as Adam opened his mouth to speak. ‘No, no, don’t you go worrying about it, I’m not going anywhere. I wouldn’t hear of it. This is your night. I’m not going to let the fact that my outfit is decimated ruin that. I’ll soldier on, just like I always do.’
‘I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning,’ Emma said desperately.
Dan’s anger slipped a notch as he picked up on her discomfort. Only a notch, mind you. OK, so maybe he wouldn’t have it out with her in public, but he would most certainly be dealing with her later.
Emma closed her eyes briefly. When did it end? Would everything she ever did in life, good or bad, be somehow referenced by Adam’s success? Then again, since her mother was already furious with her, she might as well press ahead with the planned mock break-up. Maybe then at least the evening wouldn’t be a total write-off.
She drew Dan aside by the elbow as Adam drifted away again, back to his adoring public.
‘We can still do it,’ she said. ‘We can still stage the break-up.’
He stared at her incredulously.
‘Are you having some kind of a laugh?’ he snapped. ‘When you said you needed a fake break-up I wasn’t expecting it to involve my public humiliation. You were going to lob that drink over me, for heaven’s sake, and now you think I’ll just agree to a rerun?’
She opened her mouth to respond and he cut her off.
‘There are people I know in here,’ he said in a furious stage whisper, nodding around them at the crowd. ‘What kind of impression do you think that would have given them?’
‘I didn’t expect things to get so out of hand,’ she said. ‘I just thought we’d have a quick mock row in front of my parents and that would be it.’
‘You didn’t even warn me!’
‘I didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. I wanted to make it look, you know, authentic.’
He stared at her in disbelief.
There was the squeal of whiny microphone feedback and Adam appeared on the landing above the gallery. Emma looked up towards her brother, picked out in a pool of light in front of a billboard with his own name on it in six-foot-tall violet letters. She felt overshadowed, as always, by his brilliance. Just as she had done at school. But now it was on a much more glamorous level. No wonder her legal career seemed drab in comparison. No wonder her parents were expecting her to give it all up at any moment to get married and give them grandchildren. Adam was far too good for such normal, boring life plans.
His voice began to boom over the audio system, thanking everyone for coming and crediting a list of people she’d never heard of with his success.
‘I can’t believe you’d make a scene like that without considering what effect it might have on me,’ Dan said, anger still lacing his voice.
The blonde champagne waitress chose that moment to walk past them. Emma watched as Dan’s gaze flickered away from her to follow the woman’s progress and the grovelling apology she’d been about to give screeched to a halt on the tip of her tongue. Just who the hell did he think he was, moaning about being dumped, when his relationship principles were pretty much in the gutter? OK, so they might not have actually been a couple, but she’d seen the trail of broken hearts he left in his wake. He had no relationship scruples whatsoever. One girl followed another. And as soon as he’d got what he wanted he lost interest and dumped them. As far as she knew he’d never suffered a moment’s comeback as a result.
Maybe this new improved Emma, with her stupid unrequited girlie crush on Dan well and truly in the past, had a duty to press that point on behalf of womankind.
‘Oh, get over yourself,’ she said, before she could change her mind. ‘I’d say a public dumping was probably long overdue. It’s just that none of your conquests have had the nous or the self-respect to do it before. There’s probably a harem of curvy blonde waitresses and models who’ve thought about lobbing a drink over you when you’ve chucked them just because you’re bored. And I didn’t actually spill a drop on you, so let’s just move on, shall we?’
Adam smiled and laughed his way back through the crowd towards them, and she seized the opportunity as he neared her proudly beaming parents.
‘Same plan as before, minus the champagne. I’ll start picking on you and...’
The words trailed away in her mouth as Adam clamped one arm around Dan’s shoulders and one around her own.
‘Got some news for you all—gather round, gather round,’ he said.
As her parents moved in closer, questioning expressions on their faces, he raised both hands in a gesture of triumph above his head.
‘Be happy for me, people!’
He performed a jokey pirouette and finished with a manic grin and jazz hands.
‘Ernie and I are getting married!’
Beaming at them, he slid his velvet-sleeved arm around his boyfriend and pulled him into a hot kiss.
Her mother’s gasp of shock was audible above the cheers. And any plans Emma might have had of staging a limelight-stealing break-up went straight back to the drawing board.
* * *
Emma watched the buzzing crowd of people now surrounding Adam and Ernie, showering them with congratulations, vaguely relieved that she hadn’t managed to dispense with Dan after all. From the tense look on her parents’ faces, as they stood well away from the throng, dealing with the fallout from Adam’s announcement wasn’t going to be easy. And despite the fact that it was a setback in her plans to introduce Alistair, there was no doubt that her mother was much easier to handle when she had Dan in her corner.
Dealing with her parents without him was something she hadn’t had to do in so long that she hadn’t realised how she’d come to rely on his calming presence. They might have only been helping each other out, but Dan had had her back where her family were concerned. And he’d never been remotely fazed by her overbearing mother and downtrodden father.
She wondered for the first time with a spike of doubt whether Alistair would be as supportive as that. Or would he let her family cloud his judgement of her? What was that saying? Look at the mother if you want to see your future wife. If that theory held up she might as well join a nunnery. Alistair would be out of her life before she could blink.
She couldn’t let herself think like that.
