A Convenient Groom

Dear Reader,

I went to a friend’s wedding recently and was touched deeply by the ceremony, by the exchange of vows, by the circle of warmth encapsulating the bride and groom.

I felt how being near those totally and utterly in love has a lasting impact on all who share that moment.

I wanted to write about the women behind the scenes, the ones who make those special days happen, the ones who play fairy godmother, helping to create a memory built on love that extends beyond the span of days, months and years. The ones who, no matter how expert they are at helping others, can’t quite sort out their own lives.

I hope you enjoy reading their stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Best Wishes,

Darcy Maguire wanted to grow up to be a fairy, but her wings never grew, her magic never worked and her life was no fairy tale. But one thing she knew for certain was that she was going to find her soul mate and live happily ever after. Darcy found her dark and handsome hero on a blind date, married him a year later and found that love truly is the soul of creativity. With four children too young to play matchmaker for (yet!) Darcy satisfies the romantic in her by finding true love for her fictional characters. It was this passion for romance, and her ability to sit still every day, that led to the publication of her first novel, Her Marriage Secret. Darcy lives in Melbourne, Australia, and loves to read widely, sew and sneak off to the movies without the kids.

Books by Darcy Maguire

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3745—HER MARRIAGE SECRET

3754—ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

3801—A PROFESSIONAL ENGAGEMENT*

3805—THE BEST MAN’S BABY*

A Convenient Groom

Darcy Maguire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

‘HEY, I lost my phone number…can I have yours?’

The nasal whine to the man’s voice didn’t give Riana Andrews any encouragement; neither did the pick-up line.

She shook her head vehemently and stared into her cocktail without even looking at the man. She wasn’t at this club to get a guy—she already had someone in her life. So Stuart may have said he was too busy to see her this week—she lifted her chin—she was busy too.

She looked at her watch. Where was Maggie? She was meant to be here by now…

Maggie was her best friend-cum-co-worker. She’d persuaded Riana to come to the trendy club to convince a top photographer to rearrange his schedule so he could shoot her gowns. It was cutting it close for time but she needed the work done before her debut into the big world of fashion next week. Everyone would want photos of her designs—she hoped.

She was fine with waiting at the bar, except for the guys with the corny pick-up lines that seemed to be rife tonight. Riana had heard about all the lines in existence and then some in the last half-hour.

She picked up her drink and swung around on the bar stool. She had to admit the club was up-market. The Spot stood on prime real estate in the centre of Sydney, drawing in its clientele from all the young up-and-comings that lived, partied and socialised in the inner city.

The Spot was tall, wide and solid stone, an old building with classic architecture of times gone by, and someone had had the brilliant idea of turning it into a trendy little club.

The music pumped out of speakers set well back in the room, wound up to a level that required a person to come within inches of another’s ear to hear. If only the patrons weren’t so big on sleazy pick-up lines…

A young man in a black jacket stopped beside Riana’s stool and leant close. ‘Do you believe in love at first sight? Or do I have to walk past you again?’

Riana opened her mouth, and closed it. He was just a boy, and the optimistic glint in his eyes struck her deep in the chest.

She tucked her dark hair behind her ears, stalling, trying to think of some easy let down. ‘I do believe in love at first sight—’ she paused, considering her words ‘—and I’m sure I’ll know him when I see him…’

The boy raised his eyebrows. ‘He’s not me?’

Riana patted the young man on the shoulder lightly and offered him a conciliatory smile. ‘I’m afraid not. Sorry.’

She sighed as the young man weaved his way through the crowd. She wasn’t that much older than he was but she knew what she wanted. Tall, blond and hunky Stuart Brooks, of the Double Bay Brooks—a man that she knew right down to his slicked-back hair and suede jackets was the one for her.

Riana placed her empty glass on the bar.

‘If I told you that you have a beautiful body would you hold it against me?’ a deep, velvet-soft voice asked close to her.

Riana swallowed hard, a ripple of excitement coursing traitorously through her at the sensuality in his tone.

She shook herself. This was such a bad idea. She should put a sign up on herself saying ‘taken’. She glanced at her left hand—it wouldn’t be long now.

She turned, her breath catching in her throat. He was close, he was tall, and oh-so-cute.

His features were strong, almost chiselled. His hair short and chestnut brown, his eyes hazel with golden flecks, his jaw shadowed and his mouth all promises.

Her body warmed.

He leant closer. ‘I’m waiting for your witty comeback.’ And he smiled.

She lifted a finger, willing her brain to work, her senses spinning out of control at the sheer radiance of his smile, of the fire in his eyes, and of the mesmerising effect staring at his lips had on her.

He leant forward again, his spicy cologne invading her senses. ‘You could just tell me to nick off, like the rest of them.’ He threw a thumb in the direction of the crowd behind them.

Riana turned, surveying a bunch of guys gathered at a table in the far corner. Recognition slowly dawned. They were the one-line pick-up men that had propositioned her, one after another after another.

She expelled a breath, her mind clearing and her blood heating. ‘What is it? Some game you guys are playing?’

Mr Golden Eyes shook his head, leaning close again to talk. ‘No, it was Phil’s last day with us at work—he had a better offer—and one of the boys gave him this book about dating.’

She frowned. ‘And those terrible pick-up lines are in the book?’ She had to laugh. ‘And someone paid good money for it?’

He rubbed his neck. ‘I have to be honest with you. The book says not to use them but we figured some of them didn’t sound half bad. Besides, there are some real classics there.’

‘Righty-o.’ Riana frowned. ‘How much have you guys been drinking?’

‘Touché.’ He smiled again, his golden eyes glinting. ‘Okay, they may not be the best of lines but worth a try before we for ever scratch them from our repertoire.’

Riana leant in again to make herself heard over the music, and she couldn’t help but breathe in his rich, spicy cologne. She wasn’t sure whether to damn the music for being so loud, or to thank it. ‘I can’t imagine you using them.’

‘Thanks.’ His breath was warm on her neck. ‘But you’d be surprised at how blank a mind can go when faced with a beautiful woman.’

She leant back. Was he saying she was beautiful?

Mr Golden Eyes leant an elbow on the bar and moved closer. ‘So how am I doing?’ he said close to her cheek.

How could he not think he was doing fine? He appeared to be everything a woman would want. Tall, dark, handsome, funny and intelligent. There had to be a catch somewhere…there always was.

‘Talk fast,’ she said to his neck, managing to keep a straight face. Let him sweat. Let him work to convince her why he was going to be different from all the rest.

‘No more corny pick-up lines, I take it?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll give you ten seconds. Nine…eight…seven.’

‘You’re the most beautiful woman here.’

Riana glanced at him, something strange fluttering in the pit of her belly. ‘Flattering, but not good enough. Three…two…one.’

He widened his eyes, his eyebrows tilting to give him the most devastating puppy-eyed look she’d seen in her life. ‘I just need to be loved, like everyone else does.’

Riana sucked in her breath and gave him a second look, past the handsome face, deep into his golden eyes where she saw an honesty that scared her.

He meant it.

That was what it was all about—looking for someone to share your life with, putting up with loud music, clubs and pubs, parties and people of all shapes and sizes to find the one meant for you.

She nodded, her pulse quickening. This guy was a crush waiting to happen on a girl’s heart.

‘That works,’ she offered, trying to sound as calm and cool as she wanted to look. She could barely comprehend what she was doing. What about Stuart?

‘Good, I’ll tell the lads.’ And his mouth curved into a smile.

Her stomach curled. What? Couldn’t she at least have the satisfaction of telling him she was taken? That it was her that didn’t want him? ‘You don’t want my number?’ she blurted.

‘No.’

‘Oh? Not that I’d give it to you—’ She raised her chin. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him? Stringing girls along until they were all flustered…

He nodded. ‘Sure.’

His disbelief was in his tone, as if no woman could refuse him! Riana crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure in torturing women?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice even. ‘Chat them up and then leave them high and dry?’

He shook his head. ‘Not usually, but in this case…I figured I’d even the score for the lads.’

She turned towards the men in the corner. She had been a bit short with some of them, a bit hard on others. She bit her bottom lip. He may have a point.

‘Well done,’ she said finally. ‘But if you look at it from my point of view for a moment you may see that you lot owe me for putting up with being harassed.’

He leant closer, giving her another look, running his eyes down her body to her black leather boots, up her black trousers over her small metallic blue top to her lips and to her eyes.

Riana’s body tingled as though he’d run his large hands over her, turning every nerve on as he went. She shifted on her stool.

‘You’re right,’ he murmured. ‘Let me buy you a drink for being such a good sport.’ He gestured to the barman.

She smiled, satisfaction flowing through her at his concession.

‘But you know, if a pretty woman like yourself doesn’t want to get harassed by men you shouldn’t sit at the bar alone.’

She lifted her chin, sobering. ‘I’m waiting for a friend.’

‘Male?’

She looked him in the eyes. Very presumptuous of him to ask, seeing as he didn’t want her number. ‘No. I’m waiting for my female colleague so I can meet a work contact.’

He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. ‘Mixing pleasure with business?’

She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

Mr Golden Eyes leant on the bar and surveyed the room. ‘Me too. I have to meet some stuck-up designer who will probably waltz in wearing something screaming how good she thinks she is.’

Her breath caught in her throat.

He looked over her head. ‘Who has the audacity to consider that I would turn my schedule upside down and inside out—’

She opened her mouth, a thousand retorts on the tip of her tongue. She took a long, slow breath. ‘Really, a designer?’ Riana asked slowly, leaning forward, her pulse quickening. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be a gifted but extremely arrogant photographer?’

His eyes widened a little. ‘You?’

She held out her hand. ‘Riana Andrews—stuck-up designer.’ She waved a hand down her blue top and black trousers, trimmed with a silver belt, and large silver hoops at her ears.

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Joe Henderson, foolish ass with foot in mouth disease.’ He stared her right in the eyes, taking her hand firmly in his large warm one.

Sensation sizzled up her arm and ricocheted around her chest. Riana glanced around for Maggie, still a no-show. ‘I can’t say I’m thrilled to meet you like this,’ she stated dryly.

‘Likewise.’ Joe let go of her hand and slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘You wouldn’t hold this against me, would you?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘What? Your arrogant assumption or my beautiful body?’

He ran a hand through his hair and gave her a shrug, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile. ‘Sorry about that.’

She tipped her head a little, eyeing him carefully. ‘How sorry? Sorry enough to turn your schedule upside down to make amends for your big fat—’

‘Possibly.’ Joe nodded, rubbing his jaw. ‘I hear you’re quite a talent and are making a substantial mark on the world of wedding fashion.’

She stood up. ‘I’m flattered at your late attempt at sweet-talk, but I assure you the only way you can make up for your terrible behaviour is to do my fashion shoot,’ she said evenly, refusing to be intimidated by his sheer height, breadth and presence.

Joe stiffened.

Riana licked her lips. ‘I know it’s short notice and all, but you did agree to this meeting on the off-chance that you could accommodate me.’

Joe nodded slowly, running his hand over his rough jaw, eyeing her. ‘I could probably manage it, seeing as you didn’t come waltzing in here in one of your designer outfits.’

‘That’s big of you.’ She looked across to the door. ‘But did you consider for a moment that the last place I’d be flaunting my designs would be in a club like this?’ She glared at the man. ‘Seeing as they’re bridal gowns and all.’

He shrugged, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. ‘No one would have harassed you if you were wearing a wedding gown.’

She stared at him, her heart thundering in her chest. This guy was different.

‘True.’ She nodded, fighting a smile of her own. ‘But then, you wouldn’t have come up to me and I wouldn’t now be waltzing out of here knowing how good I am.’

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her. ‘So I wasn’t wrong? You are stuck-up and all?’

‘I wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery for you.’ Riana smoothed down her outfit and stepped away from the bar. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

She forced her legs into action, determined to get away from the guy. She’d wait for Maggie outside in the fresh air and tell her of her success in securing Joe Henderson and his services.

She bit down on the end of her thumbnail. She wasn’t so sure it was a good thing, though. That Joe wasn’t crush material—he was a crash waiting to happen!

CHAPTER TWO

‘SORRY I’m late.’ Riana rushed into the fashion end of the bridal boutique that her family owned and ran. Nothing had gone right this morning. The power had gone out some time in the night so her alarm hadn’t gone off, the hot water service had broken and she’d missed her train.

‘Late?’ Joe glared at her from a director’s chair set up in the middle of the room, as though he was lord and master. ‘You call this late? I call this a total disaster.’

‘What?’ Riana glanced around her. The room was filled with people, lights and camera equipment. A few of the men that milled around looked a lot like the guys who had accosted her with the bad pick-up lines that night at the club.

She crossed her arms over her chest. The room was usually where the friends and family of the bridal party could audience a private showing, with the bride-to-be having her very own fashion parade. She’d decorated the place so it felt intimate and cosy. Today, it was wild.

‘I said I was going to be here at eight a.m. sharp.’ Joe narrowed his eyes, scrutinising her as though she had where she’d been written all over her. ‘After all the trouble you went to to get me here I expected you to at least show some interest and have everyone ready to go.’

‘Of course.’ She sidled towards the heavy red curtains at the back of the room. ‘And they will be.’

Joe’s features darkened. ‘It’s after nine.’

She straightened tall. No way was she going to make excuses. She was his boss today and nothing he said could change that.

Sure, he’d caught her off-guard that time at the club, but not today. She’d keep distant, professional and absolutely cool when it came to Joe Henderson and his golden-flecked eyes and nicely built body.

She pulled her shoulders back. The lights were on, and there was no alcohol involved…There was no reason for her body to react to the guy at all.

Joe slipped off his seat and reduced the distance between them as though he were a charging bull. ‘I need to talk to you.’

He stopped an arm’s length away.

Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Why?’ She wet her lips and swallowed hard, trying to dispel the strange sensation in her belly.

He was cuter in the light than he’d been in the dimly lit club. Sure, his jaw was as shadowed as though he’d forsaken shaving in favour of the rugged look. And his blue jeans did hug his hips and long legs, driving home to every traitorous nerve in her body the perfection of his. And his chest—spread wide before her beneath a too-tight black T-shirt—screamed bad boy.

‘How’s it going?’ Riana said calmly, meeting his brilliant eyes. ‘I don’t mean with the shoot—obviously, because you’ve just told me and I’m late. And not personally, because frankly I don’t care what you’re feeling personally.’ She bit her tongue. She was babbling!

‘Thanks.’ Joe pursed his lips as though reconsidering something. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am about that other night,’ he stated dryly. ‘It’s been on my mind. I need to say that in no way did I want to hurt you by misleading you into thinking that I wanted a date with you.’

‘Yes, you did.’ She glared up at him. ‘Evening the score I think you called it.’

Joe shrugged. ‘You were hard on some of the lads.’

She stared up into his golden eyes, determined to get over whatever it was that being near him was doing to her body. ‘It was no picnic for me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Riana stiffened. He sounded pretty sincere.

‘Don’t think for a moment that I wanted to go out with you.’ She forced a laugh. ‘I already have a wonderful man in my life.’

He crossed his arms over his wide chest. ‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Serious?’

What did he think? That she was devastated because he hadn’t taken her number and needed his pity because she was oh-so-desperate? ‘I have a date with him tonight actually.’ She lifted her chin. ‘It’s at the romantic D’Amore and everyone knows that’s where certain special announcements are made.’

He frowned. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Typical. Only an absolute romantic-heathen wouldn’t be aware that everyone who was anyone in Sydney got proposed to at the cosy little French restaurant. ‘Stuart is going to propose to me tonight.’

‘Oh.’ He stiffened, his mouth thinning. ‘And are you thinking of accepting?’

She smiled. ‘Hell, yes. My two older sisters are happily married, you know.’

He tilted his head sideways, frowning. ‘And that means…?’

Riana stared at the man. For someone purported to be savvy in business and getting quite a name in the industry for his expertise with the camera, he was absolutely hopeless. ‘That it’s my turn,’ she said with emphasis.

‘O-kay.’ He rubbed his bristled jaw. ‘I thought marriage was about love.’

Riana pressed her lips together tightly, holding the flood of retorts on the tip of her tongue. She let out her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Just because you haven’t got someone special in your life who loves you doesn’t mean you can go and—’

He shrugged and turned away from her. ‘Maybe you could get back there organised so I can stop sitting around and I can start doing my job.’ And he strode away from her.

Riana gritted her teeth. As if she cared that she’d blurted out her most personal thoughts to a complete stranger and he’d walked away on her. Fine. Absolutely fine. He was the one who had stopped to chat in the first place…It wasn’t as if it mattered who knew that Stuart was going to propose to her tonight. Tomorrow it would be in all the papers.

Riana slipped out the back, her chest tight. Maggie had assured her she wasn’t needed at the six a.m. start the models would make to get organised with their make-up and hair, and she’d set out all the gowns days ago.

What had gone wrong?

The back room was in bedlam. Tall, lanky models stalked around, robes on, make-up and hair done to perfection.

Riana couldn’t see there’d be a problem. The place was intact. The models all present and apparently accounted for. The gowns all hanging where she’d left them. ‘Maggie?’

Maggie stuck her head out from one of the sewing rooms they were using as a changing-room. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. No one can agree who gets to wear what.’

‘That’s it? That’s what all the fuss is about? For this I’m being harassed by Joe Henderson and his inflated self-importance?’

Maggie shrugged sheepishly. ‘He’s the best in the business.’

‘Which is why I’m going to put a great big smile on my face and not wrap my hands around his neck.’ Riana grabbed the first lanky model and a gown off the rack. ‘This, for you. Quickly.’

The woman dropped her robe and stepped into the gown. Riana adjusted the fit of the bodice, turned her around and laced up the back of the gown.

‘Maggie, hand me the tiara with the medium veil.’

Riana took the tiara from Maggie and stood on tiptoe. She secured the tiara and veil to the woman’s hair and gave her a gentle shove in the back. ‘Right. Go.’

‘He’s a genius, that Joe, you know,’ Maggie said, snaring another model by the arm and shoving her towards Riana. ‘Have you seen his work?’

‘Yes.’ Riana took another gown off the rack. ‘But the man’s a monster. An arrogant self-absorbed, self-inflated—’

The model dropped her robe. ‘Joe does demand a lot from everyone around him,’ she said softly. ‘But he’s great, once you’ve got to know him.’

‘That’s good to know.’ Riana zipped up the back of the dress and added a long veil, rolling her eyes at Maggie. The man probably knew every model on the continent, intimately.

‘No truly, he helped out one of the young models who had got into drugs,’ she said reverently. ‘He’s so nice. Always there for us all, you know.’