The Best Man's Baby

Skye lifted her chin. ‘I assure you, Mr Coburn, that no matter what went on with us in the past I am a professional. I’ll do my job where the Harrison-Brown wedding is concerned. No problem at all.’

He shot her a curt nod. ‘You don’t have a problem with me being the best man?’

‘Of course not.’ She was obviously transparent. She pulled back her shoulders and met his deep blue eyes. ‘It was four long years ago, Mr Coburn. It has no relevance here today.’

A muscle quivered in his jaw. ‘I’m interested in finding out how your life has gone during those long years, Skye.’

Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business.’

‘I’d like to make it my business. We were friends once,’ he said, his voice low and smooth. ‘Don’t you owe me at least a cup of hot chocolate?’

Her chest tightened. He’d remembered her favourite drink! She shook her head vehemently. ‘I don’t think so. Besides, we didn’t part on the best of terms.’ She’d made sure of that. She couldn’t have him looking her up a few months down the track. She’d had to make it final.

‘Really? I hardly recall.’ He stood up and smoothed down his trousers. ‘But it’s just a cuppa. Unless your husband wouldn’t like it?’

‘I’m not married,’ she blurted, heat rushing to her cheeks.

A smile teased the corners of his mouth. ‘So, there’s no argument then. Say, twelve o’clock at that café down on the corner.’ He cocked a thumb in the general direction.

Skye opened her mouth but no words would come. He was as arrogant and as confident as she’d suspected from his reported exploits. Which only made him more dangerous than ever.

She wanted to slap herself in the head. She should have left that question about a husband unanswered. It would have been better for her if he thought she was committed to someone. She would have been safe. ‘I—’

He shut the door firmly behind him.

She closed her mouth and stared at the door. Nick Coburn wanted to meet her later, wanted to talk, wanted to catch up on old times, and catch up on what she’d been doing these few years?

She covered her mouth, stifling the urge to scream. If only he knew!

What on earth was she going to do?

Nick Coburn tapped the melamine table-top with his pen, staring through the café’s front window for the hundredth time. He glanced at his watch—it was past twelve-thirty.

Maybe he should have waited for an answer from the woman, but dammit, she sent his mind and his body into a spin just being near her.

She should come. If only driven by curiosity.

Skye had always been punctual, considerate and giving, except for having a damned affair under his nose. He ran a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t have thought she’d be the sort of woman to juggle two men, play the field to that extent. It had baffled him for years. His sweet, innocent girlfriend had turned out to be a stranger.

Another lesson notched up. And she was a hard lesson.

He stared at the papers in front of him blankly. It would probably be best if he kept his current modus operandi and stayed the hell away from her. Dating models was great for his image, his ego and his exposure to the general public. Just not so good for his sanity or his wallet. Luckily he kept each affair brief. He glanced at the door to the café. But it was time for a change.

His mobile shrilled. He grabbed it and stabbed the button, his body already warming at the thought of her. Was she running late, stuck in traffic somewhere or going to offer an apology? ‘Coburn.’

‘Nick, how’d you go with your fitting?’ Sandra’s voice was sweet and lilting.

He looked at the ceiling. Sandra was tall, blonde and wily. Almost model material. He’d met her several times at Paul’s place and then at the engagement party. She probably would have made for a nice distraction but now, after seeing Skye again, feeling what she stirred deep inside him, he had bigger challenges at hand. Like getting her out of his system once and for all.

‘Mine went fabulously. That designer that Camelot has there is amazing. You should see our bridesmaid dresses. They’re unbelievable. No sleeves, no straps, just cupping my breasts and then sweeping down. All soft, pink and silky, caressing my skin like you wouldn’t believe.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes. And you should see what she’s done with the wedding gown. Goodness, that’s the only place to get your dress. It’s all white with off the shoulder straps that are extensions of the dress rather than just straps. And all studded with tiny pearls and the finest lace around the edges. Then there’s the veil…But silly me, rattling on like this.’ She paused for breath. ‘How did you go?’

‘Fine.’ He looked towards the door.

‘I bet you looked so amazing in your tux. I can’t wait for the wedding, can you?’

He didn’t want to hear about himself. He didn’t want to hear about her dress, or the wedding. He looked at the door, his body tense. He wanted to know about Skye. ‘What do you know about the planner and the business?’

‘Darling, I know heaps, of course. I wasn’t going to let Cynthia just take on any wedding planner. Camelot’s going to do Kasey Steel’s wedding, you know? It’s in early spring. It’s been splashed through all the papers.’

‘What about the planners?’

‘Well, they’re all sisters, three of them, and then there’s the mother. The oldest sister does a bit of wedding planning and proposal planning. What will they come up with next?’

‘I don’t know.’ He twisted his cup, watching the remains swirl around the bottom. ‘And—’

‘And then the youngest is the fashion designer. She does all the dresses and they are to die for.’

‘And—’

‘And the mother and the middle daughter are the main wedding planners. It’s so cute, isn’t it? Keeping it in the family.’

‘Very cute. What about details?’

She dragged in a deep breath. ‘Well, I know they shot out of mediocrity with the announcement of their doing the Steel wedding. Before that I don’t think they were as motivated or something. I don’t know. But I know the wedding planner daughter was not even there full-time.’

Nick straightened the depositions in front of him. ‘What else about the young wedding planner woman? Do you know anything else about her?’

‘Why do you ask?’ asked Sandra, her tone sharp and biting.

Nick clenched his hands. ‘No reason. Just that the mother has come down with the flu, apparently, and the young one is taking over Cynthia and Paul’s wedding.’

‘Really? Well, I hope she’s good,’ Sandra stated dryly. ‘And I hope she’s decided to take her job seriously and do it properly.’

‘Sure to.’ It was obvious Sandra’s knowledge didn’t go far. No surprises there. ‘Look, Sandra. I have to get going. Work and all.’

‘Of course. Sure.’ There was a long pause. ‘Well, bye then.’

Nick hung up and stared at the mobile. What else could Skye possibly have been doing if she wasn’t working at Camelot full-time? A course at university? Another job? Another man?

He gulped down the last of his coffee, almost cold, swallowing hard. He pushed the unpleasant thought from his mind. First things first.

He plunged the phone back into his jacket pocket and looked at his watch. Almost one. His lunch hour was up. He gathered the papers in front of him—he’d hardly looked at them. He had to get over Skye as quickly as humanly possible and get back to focusing on his work.

He stood abruptly, almost skittling his chair. Skye was surrounded by unanswered questions and he had every intention of getting all the answers, by whatever means possible.

Whether he liked the answers or not.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘SKYE, you have a phone call on line one from John, line two from the Macdonalds, and line three from the Donovans—a new query.’

Skye smoothed back the wisps of hair that had escaped her coiffure and sighed deeply. The phone had been ringing half the morning and most of the afternoon since she’d run into Nick. If she’d had to cope with bookings and follow-ups to caterers, florists, churches, reception centres and all the rest as well, she’d have gone mad.

‘Tell John I’ll call him back later.’ Skye was glad she was too busy for that call. She’d have to explain why she had left a message on his answering machine cancelling their date. ‘The way things are going, much later. Ask the Macdonalds if you can help them. Tell them I’ll ring them back otherwise. I’ll take the new query.’

‘Okay,’ Maggie chimed.

Skye punched the phone for line three. She looked at her watch again. Almost five. Only a few more minutes and things would slow down. She could finish the day’s work and run home.

She needed to take a hot shower, scream into her pillow and sort out what on earth she was going to do about Nick Coburn.

She answered the Donovans’ queries easily. She’d done this enough times to know all the answers to all the questions couples came up with when they wanted to hire a wedding planner. She wished her life were as easy.

‘Skye, I’m heading home. Anything else you need me to do for you before I go?’ Maggie swung her head around the door.

‘No, I’m fine. Just itching to get home.’

‘Yeah, it must be really weird for you to be here so late.’ Maggie hooked her bag over her shoulder, wiping her nose with a tissue. ‘You’re usually gone by two.’

‘Can’t be helped. With Mum sick—’ She looked at the work still in front of her, her stomach leaden. She hated being this late home.

‘We should send her flowers.’

Skye nodded. ‘She’d like that. Remind me tomorrow, can you?’

‘Sure. Night, Skye.’

‘Night, Maggie.’ She was a great asset and an enthusiastic young woman who was eager to help with all aspects of the business.

The work was tedious. She felt every minute passing like a deep thud in her chest. If only Tara could dig up another planner from somewhere to lighten the load, she could get back to the routine that worked best for her.

At six she couldn’t take it any more. She tidied her desk, grabbed her coat and purse and flicked off the light. The rest could wait until morning. She had responsibilities that were more important than work.

Skye moved through the darkened offices. The quietness of the place at night was almost surreal after the hectic bustle of the day.

She rarely got to hear the silence. Not for years. She had her hands totally and utterly full at home.

She poked her head around the door of Tara’s office and smiled. Empty. There were days when Maggie swore Tara spent the entire night working. These days, with the new guy in her life, her sister was lucky to get in to work on time.

She flicked off the last light and let herself out, locking the door securely behind her. She sighed. She hadn’t locked up in years either. So much had changed in her life…

‘You didn’t show up.’

Skye swung around, her heart leaping in her chest.

Nick stood behind her, looming like a brick wall, dark suit, dark coat and a very dark look.

‘I know,’ she managed breathlessly.

He came close, looking down into her face, his jaw set firm. ‘Would you like to give me an explanation?’

‘Would you mind if I caught my breath? You startled me.’ She touched her chest, trying to still the pounding of her heart. It was just the scare. Nothing else. ‘This isn’t the day and age to be jumping out at women late at night.’

‘You have nothing to be frightened of from me.’ His voice lowered dangerously.

She doubted that! She swung away from him and strode towards the car park, thankful that the street-lights were all intact. It was a good neighbourhood—she just didn’t like taking chances.

His footsteps were heavy behind her.

‘Really? Nothing to be frightened of from you?’ she tossed over her shoulder. ‘I can’t imagine that you’ve grown up that much.’

‘You’d be surprised.’

She darted him a quick glance. Surprised at how little he’d grown? Sure, he’d filled out some more and his face looked a little less fresh, but he was the same Nick Coburn she’d known. She was sure of it.

‘I’m fine to get to my car on my own,’ she snapped, lifting her chin and lengthening her stride.

He came up beside her. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I drove all the way out here to escort you to the car park. I’m here for answers.’

Skye faltered. Did he know? She shook her head, urging her legs to walk straight to her Mitsubishi sedan. She pressed the auto entry pad, watching the light inside go on, illuminating the back seat.

Damn. She froze, her cheeks heating and her pulse raging through her body. Damn, damn, damn.

Nick caught her arm and turned her to face him. ‘Skye?’

She looked up into his strong face, his jaw sporting a slight shadow, his hair mussed a little as though he’d been working on a difficult case.

‘Okay. Okay.’ Skye stared at his chest. ‘If you’d waited around for me to respond to your invitation in the first place you would have discovered that I’m flat out.’

‘You were working?’

‘Yes. Working. Flat out busy and couldn’t spare a minute—disasters…you know.’ Skye looked at the ground, where his shoes met the pavement, unable to look into his face on the off-chance that he’d see the lie in her eyes.

‘You could have called,’ he stated casually.

She looked up at him. ‘Where? I know nothing about you.’

Nick stood in front of her, boldly intimidating, the soft light from the street-lights casting shadows across his face. ‘You know I work at Stevens and King. You could have called there.’

She bit her lip. Caught out. Damn. She’d thought about it but figured he’d talk her around in circles until he eventually got his own way. ‘I didn’t think—’

‘Hmm. Yes.’ Nick’s voice was cutting. ‘I can see that as a bit of a trait of yours.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at him, eye to eye, a swell of indignation surging up her body. ‘What is?’

‘Not thinking of other people.’

Her blood heated. ‘You know nothing about me. My entire life is thinking of other people. Twenty-four seven.’ He had a nerve. She baby-sat people’s weddings, co-ordinating hundreds of people, a myriad of details, all for other people. And then there was home, where she barely got two minutes to herself…

‘Tell me about it,’ he said softly. ‘All about it. I want to know.’

She shook her head, clamping her mouth closed. She’d fallen into that one. He had a way of getting people to say things and there was no way she could afford to fall into that trap.

‘I’m interested,’ he said softly, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets.

Skye shook her head. ‘You’re just interested because I was the one person in your life who decided not to play your game.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘I said no.’

‘Other people have said no to me.’

‘And gone unscathed?’

He laughed. ‘Not exactly.’

A hot ache fired in the pit of her stomach at the deep rumble of his laugh. She lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘Leave me out of your games, Nick,’ she snapped, fighting her body’s traitorous response.

Anger. Her only strength was in anger. She couldn’t afford to weaken. She shrugged out of her suit jacket and opened the back door, tossing it across the back seat. She couldn’t afford for him to see what was in the back. She jerked backwards and slammed the door.

‘They aren’t games, Skye,’ he murmured, reducing the distance between them, looking down into her eyes, at her lips. ‘I’m all grown up now.’

She stepped back, swallowing the ache in her throat and resisting the urge to moisten her lips and look at his mouth. Memories coursed through her mind and body, of the magic his lips could evoke in her, of what they’d once shared, of how much she’d lost.

She pressed her legs against the cold steel of the car, grounding herself. ‘That only means you’re more dangerous than ever.’

‘Thank you.’ He looked down at her, his face half-shadowed. ‘But I promise I won’t bite. Come to dinner with me.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’ She looked at her watch and cringed. ‘I have to get home.’

‘Another man?’

She shook her head. The accusation, and his tone, took her back four years. He hadn’t taken her leaving him well—she’d had no choice but to agree to his assumption. Rejecting him totally and utterly on every level had been the only way to ensure that he wouldn’t come after her. ‘It’s none of your business.’

‘I’m trying to make it my business,’ he said softly, his voice deep and velvet-edged.

‘Please don’t.’

‘You’re telling me that you’re not married, not in a serious relationship, yet you’re refusing me?’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘On what grounds?’

‘Sanity.’

‘Ha!’

‘Go back to your tall, lanky models, Nick. Leave me out of it.’ Skye grabbed the door handle.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re intimidated by what you’ve read in the papers?’

She paused. Darn. She hadn’t meant for him to know how closely she’d been following his life. ‘I’m hardly a model, Nick, and you have to admit they have been your standard fare of late.’

‘Agreed, but that’s not because of their looks,’ Nick said carefully, running his gaze over her as though he was cataloguing just how different she was from his blonde bombshells. Maybe that was the point.

She stared down at the door handle. ‘But they make good trophies hanging off your arm.’ She nearly had enough clippings of him with one pretty woman or another to fill her shoebox—almost as though he was trying to outdo himself, or set a record.

He stiffened. ‘Well, yes, they do, but it’s more that there’s a mutual understanding that the relationships are superficial.’

She let go of the door handle and turned and faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Do you tell them that?’

He shrugged. ‘Not in so many words.’

‘I wouldn’t think any woman would like to think she meant so little to you.’ She rubbed her arms, her body chilling. Had she meant so little to him? ‘You’re a chauvinistic ass, you know that?’

‘In my defence, I make sure every woman that comes into my life knows how little I think of commitment and marriage and all that junk.’

‘And if she had any argument?’ She knew from experience how clever he was at arguing his point. It was all she could do to keep track of the original dispute and her stance when she’d locked horns with him on one issue or another.

‘You didn’t.’

Skye shook her head. ‘I was young and foolish.’

‘You were beautiful. Are beautiful,’ he said softly.

‘Save your sweet talk for someone who cares.’

‘You don’t?’ He raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide and deep, almost giving him a touch of vulnerability. ‘You don’t think very highly of me, do you?’

She shook her head, not trusting herself to say anything to that. What could she say? He’d been her world…

‘We were good together, Skye.’ Nick’s voice was deep and husky. ‘Remember?’

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged. ‘But some things aren’t meant to be,’ she said as calmly as she could. She opened the car door and slipped inside.

He put a hand on the car roof and leant over her. ‘Some things could be worth another shot.’

She froze, her heart skipping a beat, looking up into his eyes, their brilliant blue colour shining in the light from the car. ‘What are you saying?’

He shrugged. ‘Come out to dinner with me.’

She shook her head. She was dreaming. Her wish could never come true. Nick Coburn was driven by his career—nothing else mattered. ‘I told you, I can’t.’

‘Tomorrow night, then?’

She shook her head, fighting every nerve in her body and every dream in her silly head. There was no future with Nick Coburn.

He pulled back, straightening tall. ‘I’m not going to give up on you easily.’

‘Then I’ll make it hard.’ Skye slammed the door of her car and shoved the key in the ignition. She twisted it and the engine roared to life.

She flicked on the headlights and pulled out of the car park, vividly aware of the dark form standing rigid, watching her.

She had too much to lose to make anything easy for Nick, way too much. And she knew him too well to let him anywhere near her defences, because when she was with him, she didn’t have any.

Nick was a disaster waiting to happen.

CHAPTER FIVE

SKYE pushed open the front door to Camelot, her mind a jumble of clients, times and Nick.

She looked down at her watch. She was late this morning, but she’d had to make up for coming home so late last night.

She hoped her mother would recover quickly so she didn’t have to keep working to this extent, especially anywhere near Nick.

She froze in the doorway. The foyer was filled with flowers—yellow roses, red roses, pink roses, white roses, carnations, daffodils and bunches of mixed blooms, all vibrant with colour. She breathed in the sweet scent, as if she’d stepped into a flower shop or a much-loved garden on a warm spring day. ‘What’s all this?’

Riana stuck her head out from behind a grove of carnations. ‘It’s what it looks like—a lot of flowers,’ she said, a cheeky grin across her face.

‘Nice to see you.’ Her younger sister was an amazing designer, specialising in wedding gowns, with an artistic temperament and a total disregard for office hours. She flitted in and out as she pleased, doing her gowns, and that was about all.

Riana picked up a rose and put it to her nose. ‘And nice to see you. Mum being sick must be a bummer for you.’

Skye nodded. ‘Rick’s being romantic with Tara again, is he?’ Skye’s chest filled with a beautiful warmth as she looked around the foyer. She was so glad her sister had found someone to love, and someone who loved her so much. It made her think that happy-ever-afters weren’t so impossible after all.

She pressed her lips tightly together, fighting the sting behind her eyes. Tara was so lucky.

Skye pulled one of the closest yellow roses towards her and dragged in the warm, rich scent. It was her favourite flower. She remembered all the times that Nick had brought home yellow roses for her.

He’d been an amazing lover. Romantic and caring—in the hours they had together, just brief snatches in time. The rest was work. All work. His driving need to be all he could be his primary focus.

She’d accepted that, and loved that passion for his work in him. She was busy too, and it was only later, when life had thrown her a curve-ball, that she had discovered there would be no future for her with Nick Coburn.

‘No.’ Riana rearranged the flowers in one of the bouquets. ‘The flowers are not for Tara.’

‘You?’ Skye could imagine her younger sister having a string of boyfriends willing to make such a grand gesture for her. She was pretty, young and full of energy.

Riana smiled. ‘They’re for you.’

‘Me?’ Skye’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her chest. She stepped forward tentatively, touching the small card that lay nestled in the nearest bunch.

Say Yes.

Nick! She’d thought yesterday that he was bluffing. Today…She looked around her and cringed. He had to have bought the entire florist’s stock!

She bit her bottom lip. She knew what he was like with challenges in his life—tenacious, stubborn and devious, not to mention dogged. She’d seen him go after cases, seen his determined study at night, seen how his mind worked.

She was in trouble!

‘So, are you going to say yes to the mystery guy? It isn’t John, is it?’

She shook her head. John. She hadn’t thought of him at all. She slapped her forehead. ‘I forgot to call him back.’ He was the latest in a series of dates set up by her mother, okay company but nothing like Nick.

‘I didn’t think so. John doesn’t strike me as the romantic type and especially not the type to splurge a heap of his hard-earned money on this—’ Riana drew in a deep breath ‘—amazingly romantic gesture.’