A Convenient Groom

Riana stared at the tall, lithe blonde. She didn’t want to hear how nice the guy was. She didn’t care. She had Stuart, and Stuart was head over heels about her.

‘He cares, that’s all I’m saying, I guess.’ The woman rotated slowly as Riana adjusted the fall of the skirts. ‘Joe got her into rehab. And back with her family. They’d had a falling out over her modelling instead of going to university.’

‘Thanks for sharing.’ Riana managed a smile and pushed the model towards the front curtain. She didn’t want to think about the guy a second more than necessary, especially how exactly all the models knew him so well. ‘Next.’

‘He is sort of cute in a rugged sort of way.’ Maggie handed her a long, flowing veil.

She cringed. ‘I’ve got Stuart.’ And the last thing she needed was a crush on Joe, no matter what he made her body feel.

Maggie took a gown from the rack. ‘Have you seen Stuart?’

Riana helped the next model into the gown, biting her lip. ‘No, but he’s so busy at work at the moment.’

Maggie zipped the gown up and fluffed up the flowing satin. ‘Bummer.’

‘Yes, I know. Just when I’m thinking that it’s time we get more serious and spend more time together…But his work is very important.’ Riana fixed the veil in place.

Maggie put her hands on her hips. ‘He’s an economist.’

Riana shrugged. ‘Yes. Well, he takes the economy very seriously.’

‘U-huh.’

Riana turned her attention to adjusting the fit of the strapless bodice of the satin gown. She knew Maggie’s view of Stuart intimately. So, she didn’t like him that much. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be the one marrying him. Riana was. Mrs Riana Brooks had such a nice ring to it.

And she was sick of being alone, sick of the dating games, the bad kissers, the sleazy hands, the selfish needs of men out there, and of frozen dinners for one.

She was getting married. This year. She was sure of it. And Stuart Brooks was the man.

The D’Amore was all they said it was. From the time her oldest sister had announced her engagement, Riana had dreamt of this night.

Everyone knew the French restaurant was a place to take a girl to let her know how serious the relationship was. Her older sister, Tara, used it all the time for her proposal clients.

Riana shivered with anticipation and unabashed excitement. Stuart was seriously into her.

Would he push for a spring wedding? Would they honeymoon in Europe? Move in together in his apartment in the city or buy a house in the northern suburbs?

It was about time a guy fell totally in love with her. Wanted her to marry him. Live happily ever after.

Classical music drifted through the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she sauntered into the bar, walking slowly, conscious of the impression Stuart would have of her when he saw her.

The kick-ass red dress she’d made for herself after her older sister’s wedding clung to her curves, accentuating her shape, leaving no doubt that she was serious in her hunt for the perfect partner. The thin straps and plunging neckline gave the message of her simple elegance, and the thin necklace with a small golden heart spoke a thousand words as to what she wanted from him.

Stuart was at the bar, his hand gripped tightly around a double Scotch…or was it a triple?

‘Honey?’ She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned over and kissed him. His breath was heavy with alcohol. How many drinks had he had?

‘Riana, darling.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’re late.’

‘I’m always late.’ She smiled.

He waved a finger at her, frowning. ‘You know that I don’t like it when I’m kept waiting.’ He took her arm, his sober expression giving nothing away. ‘Shall we eat then?’

She nodded. He didn’t appear to be in the best of moods, but that could just be an act so she’d be more surprised when he popped the question. ‘I hear the food here is wonderful,’ she offered hopefully.

Stuart grunted and steered her to the entrance to the dining room.

The maître d’ seated them near the back of the crowded restaurant. The table was small, draped with a pearl-white lace tablecloth with shining cutlery laid out, and a vase of roses nestled in the middle.

Stuart dropped into his seat, running his eyes over her body as she sank into her own seat. ‘I have something important to ask you.’

Riana’s breath caught in her throat. Already? She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could see it now. A beautiful apartment on the north side with views to the harbour, a man by her side sharing her life, a fluffy little dog and maybe, and in time, a child or three.

‘Yes?’ she whispered, leaning forward. Was he going to go down on one knee like in the movies? Was he packing a ring in his pocket? Did he have champagne organised as soon as she’d said yes?

He leant his elbows on to the table. ‘I want you to go away with me.’

Riana looked into his face. ‘Away?’ Maybe he was taking the long way round to his proposal of undying love and intense need for her to be his for ever. Was it the honeymoon he was referring to?

‘To Switzerland.’ He lifted his hand for the waiter. ‘My family has a chalet there and it’s my turn to take advantage of it.’

Riana took a sip of water. ‘How romantic,’ she said with extreme calm, holding in her eagerness for the real question.

Did she have to wait long?

Switzerland had those beautiful mountains, with the snow-covered peaks, with the blue-blue skies overhead and a sprawling chalet just for the two of them…It would be a beautifully romantic place to have Stuart propose to her.

Stuart pulled out his cigarettes and tapped the box on the table as though he was itching to light up. ‘Of course, we won’t be alone exactly.’

Riana’s body became heavy. ‘Exactly?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow at the man opposite her.

He waved a hand in the air dismissively. ‘Well, there are a few friends I’ve asked to come to the chalet as well.’

Her body chilled. ‘You’ve already asked them?’

Stuart waved a hand dismissively. ‘Of course. I could hardly keep it to myself.’

But she was only just finding out? She swallowed hard. ‘Sounds crowded.’

He shook his head and grinned at her. ‘Not at all. We’ll have a great time with my mates. And when I get tired of them—’

Riana stared at him, her mouth dry.

‘You’ll be there.’ He took a gulp of the drink the waiter had put down in front of him. ‘But I couldn’t imagine being there without you. You’re such fun to be with.’

‘Fun?’ she said dully. Was that all she was to him or was he just teasing her?

‘Of course. You’re a real blast to be with, Riana. Never a dull moment.’ He leant closer, taking her hands in his. ‘You’re my little party animal…What’s the matter?’

Riana looked at Stuart, her mind struggling to make sense of his words, while she tried not to. ‘I thought…I thought we were moving to the next level…you know?’

She lifted her chin and glared at the man opposite her. This couldn’t be happening to her.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d misheard, been mistaken. Stuart Brooks wasn’t the sort of man who would toy with a woman. He had breeding, class and manners.

She shifted in her seat, determined. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, least of all Switzerland, until she knew exactly where he figured this relationship was heading.

He furrowed his brow. ‘Next level?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly, trying to smile at his act of naïvety. ‘I thought you were going to propose to me tonight.’

Stuart closed his mouth tightly, making rumbling noises as though he was going to explode. ‘Come on, you’re kidding, right?’ He laughed loudly.

‘I thought you loved me?’

Stuart took a gulp of his drink. ‘Do you love me?’

Riana placed her hand over her heart. ‘I thought we had a future together.’

‘Riana. Of course we do. A future of fun, sport, holidays…’

She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

Stuart sculled the contents of his glass. ‘You’re not exactly marriage material, are you?’

‘Not marriage material!’ She held her hands tightly on her lap, willing her legs to work, to get up, to get away, but she could barely breathe, let alone walk.

She was numb.

He wasn’t serious about her. Not serious at all, and she’d just made a giant fool of herself, blurting out what she felt, yet again, to a man out to break her heart if she let him.

She stared at the man opposite her, watching his lips move, trying to take in his long-winded explanation over the rush of blood to her face and the heavy weight in her chest.

She choked back the burning sensation in her throat. She wasn’t going to be Mrs Brooks. She wasn’t going to be Mrs Anybody.

She wasn’t ever going to find someone to love her, and the fact tore through her heart, ripping all her dreams to shreds.

CHAPTER THREE

JOE rearranged the tripod for the tenth time, standing back to assess the angles.

Thank goodness Tara Andrews had been around to let him in an hour ago. It had been late but she’d understood his need to get the equipment set up right for tomorrow. So much so that she’d left him to it, with exact instructions on how to lock up when he left.

Tara looked a lot like her sister, but had shorter hair, a far more cool and calm demeanour and a few years more experience in the world.

Joe rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the tension. He wasn’t sure what it was about today that sat uneasily in his chest. The lighting had been good. The models fantastic. The gowns awesome. Riana sure had a flair for the exquisite in her designs.

He looked through the lens. What was it that was off? Wrong? Off kilter? He couldn’t put his finger on it…

He shook his head. Whatever it was he’d have to sort it out tonight for the re-shoot tomorrow. It was an absolute pain but he wanted to get it perfect for Riana.

‘Marry me?’

Joe spun around at the woman’s voice.

Riana stood in the doorway in a tight red dress that caressed her curves, accentuating how womanly she was. Her shoulder-length hair spilled around her shoulders like ebony waves, her lips pouty, her eyes wide and on him.

She leant heavily on the door-frame as though her legs weren’t strong enough to hold her, a bottle dangling from one hand.

He frowned as the label became clear. Vodka. Half gone. What was going on? ‘What—?’

She staggered forward. ‘I said…Will you marry me?’ she slurred.

He shook his head. He couldn’t be hearing right. Or he was hallucinating. What was she doing here at this hour? Drunk? And proposing? He shook his head, trying to work her out. ‘What—?’

She lifted the bottle and pointed it at him. ‘Have you got a hearing problem?’

Joe slipped his hands into his pockets, eyeing her warily. This didn’t feel like her at all. ‘No,’ he said carefully. ‘No hearing problem.’

‘Then?’ She opened her eyes wide and waved her free hand in a circle as though she was rolling the tape faster.

She wanted to marry him? His blood heated. Did she like him? Was frustration behind her behaviour towards him today? ‘Why on earth would you want to marry me?’

‘Apart from your charming smile and scintilating wit…’ She tried to smother a laugh, and failed. ‘Because—’ her voice broke ‘—because Stuart didn’t propose at all. He didn’t want me to marry him, he just wanted me to go to ski with him in the Alps…when he got bored with his friends.’

He cringed. The poor girl. She’d been so fired up earlier that the bloke was the one for her…

Riana shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘He must have seen the look on my face.’ She sighed heavily. ‘And asked me what was up, so I told him…that I thought he was going to propose to me.’

Joe ran a hand through his hair. Hell. Talk about putting herself on the line. ‘And?’

She took a gulp from the bottle, and gasped as the liquid slid down her throat, waving her free hand in front of her mouth as though the air would cool her mouth.

How was she drinking the stuff straight? If she was out to get herself blind drunk she certainly was on the way.

‘And apparently he’s so rich…his family has social standing…somewhere…and he made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t…marriage material.’

Jeez, the guy was a total jerk. Wasn’t it enough to break her heart? Did he have to drive what was left of her into the ground? ‘So…’ he offered cautiously.

She lifted her chin, took another swig from the bottle and swayed. ‘So, I’m not his girlfriend any more.’

He stiffened.

She staggered forward, leaning against a chair. ‘I’m the only one now who’s a hopeless loser…I can’t find anyone who wants to marry me.’

Joe ran a hand through his hair, his chest tight. This was the last place he’d expected to find he was needed. And she was the last person he expected to need him. ‘Riana—’

She staggered across the room. ‘I thought I’d be fending off the proposals by now.’ She waved her arm around wildly. ‘But…apparently…I’m all right for a bit of fun but not—’

Joe moved forward, his attention on all the cords, stands and equipment around the room. The last thing she needed was to be a damaged designer. ‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you.’

She brandished the bottle, staring at him, her dark eyes blazing. ‘Yeah, right. Nothing. Then why am I alone again? Have you any idea how many boyfriends I’ve had?’

He shook his head. He could imagine. She was beautiful. Not the cover model sort of beautiful, but the smooth-skinned, bright-eyed, sweet-faced sort of beautiful that made your loins ache and your blood heat.

She stabbed the bottle of spirit towards him. ‘I don’t know either. I’ve lost count. It’s so depressing, isn’t it?’

He shrugged casually, inching closer to her, around the spotlights. He needed to make her safe, before something else happened to her. ‘You weren’t dumped every time?’ he asked, more to make conversation than satisfy his curiosity. She couldn’t have been. Who in their right mind would want to dump her?

‘Course not,’ she slurred. ‘I dumped them before they could dump me.’ She glanced around her. ‘I can tell when they get that look in their eyes, when they’re lying to me,’ she whispered and lifted her chin defiantly. ‘And there’s no way I’d give them the satisfaction.’

She took another swallow from the bottle and swayed dangerously close to one of the tripods he’d set up earlier for his cameras.

Joe lunged forward and clasped her by the shoulders. She was softer than he’d imagined, her skin smooth and warm. Vulnerable.

Something primitive lurched inside him.

Joe shook off the sensation and propelled her over the cords to the carpeted steps of the platform, vividly aware of his hold on her.

He clenched his jaw tight and guided her down to a safe landing, trying not to think about how sweet she smelled, of strawberries and vodka. Of how warm the bare skin of her shoulders was, under his hands that itched to explore her. Or how beautiful her dusky eyes were, staring up at him with an open expectation that made his chest tight. What could he say? ‘Steady on there.’

He straightened her up on the step. Her clients would probably strut their outfits here for their family and friends. All happy and full of hope. Nothing like Riana was now.

He sat down beside her as casually as he could manage. He had to get that bottle off her before she did something stupid. ‘I could do with a drink myself,’ he suggested lightly.

‘Here.’ She thrust the bottle at him and smiled. ‘I like to share, and I’d make a good wife…I’m pretty sure.’

He took the bottle from her, ignoring the crazy lurch of excitement in the pit of his gut at her smile, at her warm body pressed beside his, of how close her full red lips were.

Joe took a swig, breathed through the liquid fire sliding down his throat and tucked the bottle behind his leg, out of view. ‘Why marry me?’

‘Why not?’ She shrugged. ‘I figure, what the hell…If I can’t be anyone else’s wife, I’ll be yours.’

Joe stared at her. Words escaped him. Not the sort of flattery he was after. ‘Right,’ he managed. ‘Okay.’

She leant towards him. ‘You really want to know why?’

‘Yes.’

‘Cause if you won’t have me,’ she whispered, staring up into his face, her eyes glistening. ‘No one will.’

His chest tightened. Hell. Was he that bad? How could she have got an impression like that about him? He shifted on the step, looking towards the door.

‘Yep.’ She nodded. ‘You’re rude, obnoxious and awfully scruffy…’ She ran a hand down his coarse whiskers, shaking her head.

His blood rushed hot through his body, her fingers leaving a trail of burning desire down his jaw. What was she doing to him?

‘I’m the bottom of the barrel?’ Joe asked slowly. Surely all those years in university and then working his way into a reasonable reputation for finely executed photographs had counted for something?

She nodded earnestly. ‘Yep. Bottom-bottom.’

Joe swallowed hard. ‘And why do you feel that you need a man in your life, a husband, to feel complete?’ he asked, cringing at his own idiocy. A bit of layman psychology wasn’t going to be enough for this situation, not in a long shot.

She waved her hands in the air, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Everyone knows that life isn’t the same if you don’t share it.’ She sagged against him as though the effort of talking had taken what was left of her energy, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘Where’s the fun in doing stuff, movies, meals, places, if you don’t share it?’

‘True.’ He had to agree on that one. Sure, he wasn’t going looking for someone to marry but when you found the right person to fit comfortably into your life and share it with…

Riana straightened. ‘So, will you share my life with me or will I have to go and find another bottle?’ She stared at her empty hands then looked around her. ‘Where’s my vodka?’

‘You don’t need more booze. It won’t solve anything.’

‘Huh. Says you.’ She dug around in the purse hanging off her shoulder as though she could find it in there.

Joe’s gut tightened. ‘You know the stuff can kill you?’

She shrugged, tipping her bag out, the contents spilling on to the floor. ‘What the hell, like it matters…’

Joe stared at the scattered contents of her bag. She had enough make-up to start a small shop, plus a small can of hairspray, a couple of brushes, a mobile phone, loose change and receipts.

His gaze stopped on her car keys, memories of his sister flooding his mind. A tough breakup, booze, tears and car keys…

Raw grief sliced through him.

Hell, there was no way he could sit by and let Riana do this to herself—he looked her in the eyes—not when he could do something about it.

‘Yes.’

She swayed towards him, her finely arched eyebrows lifting. ‘What?’

He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

Her brow creased. ‘Yes what?’

Joe cupped her face with his hands and stared into her beautiful dark eyes, praying that this would make all the difference to her. ‘Yes, I will marry you.’

She smiled, her full red lips curving into a smile, her eyes brightening. ‘You will?’

‘Sure.’ And as soon as she sobered up and came to her senses she’d dump him like she’d dumped every other man that came into her life. But at least she’d make it through the night without making a mistake that could cost her life.

She swung her arms around him and held him tightly. ‘I’m so happy.’

Desire rippled through him. She felt so good. He tried not to breathe in her scent, take in the feel of her body pressed against his, or think about the wild responses deep within him.

She was all woman. Her alluring softness pressed against him. The sweetness of strawberries surrounded him. The soft scent of her shampoo invaded his senses as she held him close to her.

‘I’m not a loser then, am I?’ she whispered into his ear, her breath caressing the nerves in his neck, making promises that Joe knew could never be.

He shook his head, sucking in deep, slow breaths, bringing his arms up. He hesitated. Hell. He closed his arms around her, holding her close.

He couldn’t have her think he didn’t care about her. She had to believe that the proposal was real for now. That he loved holding her, loved the feel of her, the smell of her, the sweetness of her voice, no matter how slurred.

She had to see how much life she had yet to live.

Riana pulled back, running her soft fingertips down his bristly cheek, biting her bottom lip. ‘Where’s my ring?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’ve got to give me a ring if we’re engaged.’ She smiled wildly at him.

Joe stared at her. Was she for real? She was amazing…unbelievable…drunk as hell…and such a romantic.

Hell. A ring. Where the hell was he going to get a ring from at this time of night?

He glanced at his fingers, all empty. Now would have been the perfect moment for that silver skull ring his mother had confiscated from him at sixteen.

Joe pulled the nearest camera bag over to him and flipped it open. Something he could use as a ring…? He undid one of the tripod legs and took the brass packer off the end. It looked about the right size.

He offered the small brass ring to her on his palm.

Riana pouted. ‘Do it properly.’ And she held out her hand as though she was in some old movie, awaiting a kiss from a handsome prince on her left hand. ‘And you have to kneel.’

Joe ran a hand through his hair. ‘Okay.’ He tucked the vodka bottle into the camera bag and shoved it to one side. He dropped to the floor in front of her.

He looked up into her face, saw the tears brimming in her eyes. His gut tightened.

He swallowed hard and slipped the ring slowly onto her finger, his mind a mass of crazy thoughts, his body a frenzy of tangled urges. None of which he had any intention of pursuing.

‘With this ring…’ she murmured, listing to one side, a soft smile on her face, her eyes closed.

‘That comes later,’ he said, shaking his head. And in this case, not at all. He was already seriously involved.

She fell sideways.

Joe caught her in his arms, holding her. What a night.

He lifted Riana into his arms, sending a prayer to the ceiling that the morning would bring her some sense as well as sobriety.

The last thing he needed was another fiancée.

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