The Wedding Date: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year!

I would quite like to play with puppies too, but I have a job to do. A different kind of play date. The indecent proposal type.

‘Feeling better?’ Jake, I’ve decided, is quite posh. He’s sat at a table in the small café which is attached to the reception area and although he looks at home, there is something about him that says he’s not short of a bob or two. Though at the moment he probably is, as playing a patient in the third bed along can’t pay that well, can it?

But there is nothing the slightest bit hoity-toity about him. He has the type of voice you can listen to without wanting to yawn, or walk away. Now I think about it, Liam has a bit of a whiney edge to his.

He will fit into a country estate perfectly. I can imagine his sister Amy, who is definitely posh, in long boots and cream breeches standing in front of a castle with a couple of Labradors or spaniels at her feet quite easily. Jake is probably more the quadbike type, although I can picture him wading across a lake, his white shirt moulded to his muscled chest, his hair slicked back…

‘Sammy?’

He’s waiting for a response, his tawny-brown eyes slightly puzzled.

Nobody calls me Sammy apart from Tim, I think it makes me sound a bit like a dog, or a hamster. This is probably a good time to act a little bit sophisticated myself.

‘It’s Samantha, or Sam.’

‘Not Sammy?’

‘Definitely not Sammy.’

‘Shame, I quite like Sammy.’ The corner of his mouth twitches. ‘Cuddly.’

See? Cuddly does not say Ferrari and Monte Carlo, cuddly is what pyjamas and puppies are. And hamsters. ‘It rhymes with hammy.’ I puff my cheeks out. Sammy the hammy.

‘Ahh, I get where you’re coming from. Amy used to call me snakey Jakey.’

‘Oh. And are you?’

‘What?’

‘Snakey?’

‘Well, I don’t eat live mice, if that’s what you mean.’

‘But are you sneaky?’

‘Only in the way brothers are to bratty sisters. She also called me fakey Jakey when we were kids, and Jake the rake, and on-the-make Jake.’

‘Ahh.’

‘She loves me really. So is it Samantha or Sam?’

‘Sam to friends.’

‘Friends?’ He grins and a cute little dimple appears in the middle of his chin. Very cute. Gawd, I am pretty sure I shouldn’t be considering my potential employee in that way. ‘From what Amy told me, I gather you’re suggesting we get to be a bit more than that.’

I know now that this could work. Jake doesn’t look at all like a young George Clooney, which was one of my concerns as me meeting a Clooney lookalike would not be credible at all. He has got the same crinkly bits round his eyes, which suggest he smiles a lot, and that confident air, but there the similarity ends. He looks cheekier. Unsettling.

Which could be a problem, because even though he’s incredibly dishy, this isn’t really an indecent proposal, and I really don’t want him to think I’m that kind of girl.

‘No!’ Oh my God, what has Amy said to get him here? ‘Oh no, no, just like friends, but…’ Does he think I want a f-buddy (I can’t say the word, not even in my head, while he’s looking at me like that). ‘I’m not sure…’ This isn’t going quite how I expected, it was easier chatting to him on the dog walk, about his family, dogs, things like that. But now we are sat down here, and I need to explain, it all seems a bit trickier.

He seems a bit … well, a bit (lot) unmanageable. Like Tank. Jumping up at everybody. Ignoring the rules. Who knows what chaos he could cause in the wilds of Scotland?

‘Of course you’re not sure.’ He’s gone all serious and sensible for a moment, and my little niggle melts, along with something else as he puts his hand over mine. ‘Are you okay?’

I don’t want to grab my hand back, because he’s got the warmest of warm hands, but it seems like a good idea. I’d rehearsed this, but in real life it isn’t quite as easy. And the fact that I want to wriggle in my seat isn’t all down to his capable looking hands.

‘A bit soggy.’ Major understatement. Everything down to my knickers is damp – and not in a good way. If there is such a thing in polite society. It’s obviously the cold, sogginess and aching arms that have made me feel a bit pathetic and quivery.

I also know I look a complete disaster, I wouldn’t go out with me if you paid me. ‘I’m fine, that’s dog-walking for you, haha.’ He looks immaculate. Not a hair out of my place.

‘Wait here. You need warming up.’ He winks, and I’m right back in that Italian restaurant, warming up rapidly. ‘A coffee might help, or I hear they do a good hot chocolate here?’

How did he know that whipped cream, chocolate and marshmallows are exactly what I need right now?

Apparently he knows what every woman needs. He’s bounced up to the counter, and the girl serving him has gone all giggly as she whisks the cream, and the woman behind him in the queue is staring at him adoringly as he passes her a slice of cake she can’t quite reach (talk about obvious moves, honestly, whoever heard of anybody not being able to stretch that extra inch or three for a chocolate brownie?), and a loose dog runs up to him like he’s the last man on earth. Which is when it hits me. I need rules. If this is to work, if I’m going to be able to keep him (and myself) under control, I need rules. Boundaries.

This is where I have gone wrong in the past. I need fake-date rules. Like you would if you got a puppy – not that I’m saying he’s a puppy. No jumping on the sofa, no bad manners, no leaping over the fence and humping the neighbour’s dog…

Okay, so sometimes rules get broken now and then, but a broken rule is better than not having one in the first place.

‘There you go.’ He’s back, complete with hot drinks and a slice of chocolate brownie. If I wasn’t supposed to be interviewing him, I’d kiss him. ‘So, Amy says you’ve got a problem?’

I like the sound of that. Describing this as a problem, rather than an indecent proposal, makes it sound much more acceptable. I have a problem, and problems should be viewed as opportunities. And I now have the opportunity to date an extremely dishy man.

I can’t answer straight away though as I’m up to my nose in hot chocolate, thinking about rules. And of course getting a chocolate hit.

But when he leans forward and brushes the cream off my top lip with his slightly salty thumb (sorry, my tongue kind of brushed against it) it’s a bit distracting. Like a puppy giving you kisses when you’ve told him to sit.

I mustn’t think about kisses. Or tongues. This is a business deal. Nice eyes and arse or not. Although I do now know without a doubt that this is a face I could stand to gaze at for a week. ‘Er, bit of an awkward situation really, rather than a problem.’

He sits back, his head slightly tilted to one side. ‘She said you didn’t want to go to your mate’s wedding on your own.’ I nod. ‘But why do you need a fake date?’ He sounds more interested than judgemental, and I suppose it is fair enough, him wanting to know.

‘Well…’ I concentrate on my marshmallows but can’t help noticing (when I peep up) that his steady gaze never leaves me. ‘I told Jess, that’s my best friend, the one that is getting married, that I’ve got a boyfriend and I haven’t.’

‘I’m surprised about that.’ His voice has softened, and when I look up, the corner of his mouth lifts. ‘The “haven’t” bit.’ The gentle tone makes me blink, which is horrible, I’m not supposed to be feeling sorry for myself. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m totally fine.

‘Well I did have, until five months ago. He dumped me, for another woman.’

‘Ahh.’

‘A woman who I’ve just found out is pregnant. She’s huge apparently, hugely, hugely pregnant.’

‘To be honest, does it matter if she’s hugely pregnant, or just a little bit? If she’s pregnant, she’s pregnant.’

‘Well yes it does, actually, because it means he, he…’ I pause and take a deep breath, because this is the really horrible bit. ‘Well, she’s huge, as in more than five months pregnant. So that means he was poking her when he was still with me.’

‘What a total shit.’ I look up at him properly then, because there’s a harsh edge to his voice that I haven’t heard before. He looks genuinely angry, and his soft tawny eyes have gone hard. Wolf eyes.

‘And…’ I waver. ‘He’s going to be there, at the wedding.’

‘You have got to be kidding?’ It’s not just his eyes, his whole body has stiffened. ‘What kind of best friend is this Jess? Inviting your ex to her bloody wedding. That is totally out of order.’ He leans forward, and gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and some of the tension seems to ebb out of him. It feels nice, reassuring. Supportive.

‘It’s not Jess’s fault.’ I can’t help but sigh, as I stir rather too vigorously and marshmallows pop up and down like corks on a rough sea. ‘My ex happens to be the groom’s brother.’

‘Oh, tricky then.’

‘And the best man.’

‘Ah. That’s a tough call.’ His thumb is rubbing the base of mine, almost absentmindedly. It’s mesmerising and almost makes me forget the story and just ask him out for a real date. But then he stops.

‘I also told my mum I had a boyfriend, so that she wouldn’t insist I took Desmond.’

‘Desmond?’

‘He’s nobody. But Mum and Dad and all my mates will be there, and Liam of course.’ He looks blank. ‘My ex, with his girlfriend.’ I shrug and try and make out this isn’t the most important thing in my life at this precise moment. ‘Anyway, that’s why I want a date.’ I stop all my messing about with my hot chocolate and look at him. ‘I need a date. I don’t want them all feeling sorry for me, and whispering in corners. I’m so over him, and I need to show them I am.’

‘You could just not go?’

‘No!’ I think I shout it a bit too vehemently, because he freezes. ‘She’s my best mate. I can’t let her down just because of some stupid man.’

He nods.

‘I have to be there for her, she’d do it for me, and besides, I love her to bits. So I am going, whether you say yes or not.’ I stare him in the eye, so there is no doubt. ‘But, I would like to show them how totally over the heap of…’

‘Shit?’

‘Shit, thank you, I am. So, are you up for it?’ Please say yes, please say yes. I’m holding my breath; he might say no now he knows just what he’s letting himself in for.

‘Well…’ There’s a long pause, but he’s gazing into my eyes still, so at least he’s man enough to say no to my face. But then I realise I’ve missed out a crucial bit. If I don’t say this now, and he does say yes, then he might change it to no later.

‘Oh, and it’s in Scotland, a whole week.’

‘A whole week of mischief?’ His eyes are all twinkly and naughty again, which is very disturbing and makes me feel a bit giddy. ‘Well, just so you know, I did say no when Amy first asked.’

I lose my giddiness. ‘But she told me you—’

He holds his spare hand up to stop me. ‘I actually laughed and told her she was crazy.’

‘Oh.’ I am deflated. He’s right, it is crazy.

‘I dunno, it seemed a bit odd, I’ve never done anything like this before.’

‘Believe me, nor have I.’ I’m not sure if he believes me or not, he’s giving me a strange look. ‘Honestly.’ I’m very worried about what Amy might have said. It might have been along the lines of ‘sex-starved and desperate woman I met while I was having a cut and blow.’

‘I believe you. Honestly. Er, you’re gripping my hand a bit, I think my fingers are going blue.’

Sugar, I’ve been hanging on to his hand for dear life. Willing him to say yes. Which is why he’s looking at me strangely. Not because Amy has told him I’m sex-starved. Or maybe that as well.

‘Sorry.’ I let go. ‘But you did, er, agree to meet me.’

‘I did.’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’ If he says he thinks I’m out of my mind now that he’s heard the full story, then my whole plan is scuppered and I’ll be going to the wedding alone. Or with combover Desmond. I have a sudden desire to grab his hand again and plead. But I don’t. I grab a piece of the brownie and stuff it in my mouth to stop the words from forcing their way out.

‘Okay, I want to be upfront with you here, which I guess is best seeing as this is just business?’

The ‘just business’ bit jars a bit, I was hoping he found me a teeny bit attractive and wouldn’t keep reminding me that he is only here for the money. I notice he’s totally reclaimed his hand, and it is now wrapped round his mug of coffee. You see, this is the problem with dating an actor, isn’t it? You don’t know which bits are real and which bits are, well, acting. He might not have been genuinely angry about Liam, he might just have been practising his art.

The truth? He is only here for the money, and I am only here, walking the dog and swallowing too many calories (I have a maid of honour dress to fit into, and sewing in a strip down the side would be so uncool), because I am desperate.

But we still don’t need to spell things out and be too honest, do we? I mean, I’m not going to be completely honest and start saying that although he’s gorgeous, his ego is probably bigger than my spare room. That he is no doubt shallow and big-headed and thinks every girl will fall at his feet, that we are totally unsuited in every single way. Am I?

‘I’m not sure we need total honesty.’ After all this whole thing is dishonest, and so is business. I sell holidays for a living, and let’s face it, there is a tiny bit of stretching of the truth now and again. What you see isn’t always what you get. Infinity pool and tin bath on the edge of a cliff aren’t the same in everybody’s eyes.

‘I think we do need the whole truth.’ He grins. ‘How many times do you get a relationship where you can be totally honest? No white lies.’

The man has a point. ‘O-kay.’ I can take this, I am strong.

‘Well, like I said, at first I told her to get lost.’

‘Oh.’

‘My sister can be bossy, and I don’t like being told what to do.’ His eyes glint.

Bugger. He’s going to hate ‘the rules’, if he ever gives me chance to come up with some.

‘But though I hate to admit it, she is right, it is the perfect distraction.’

‘The perfect distraction from what?’ I can’t help myself, I mean, any normal person would want to know, wouldn’t they?

‘Life.’ There’s a wry quirk to his mouth, and he moves on before I can push it. ‘And then of course, I saw you.’

‘Saw me?’ This was sounding better.

‘Stalking me.’

‘Ahh.’ Worse.

‘In the restaurant, and Amy seemed to know you, so I grilled her. I’m intrigued.’

Intrigued isn’t quite ‘knocked off my feet by your presence’, but it’s a start I suppose.

‘And you sealed the deal out there with Tank.’ His eyes are all lit up and shiny. Which could be his brilliant acting skills, a sip of too hot coffee, or just the fluorescent lights. ‘I couldn’t sleep with a girl who doesn’t love animals, dogs in particular. That’s why I thought this would be a great place to meet.’

‘Sleep?’ I’ve gone all croaky. I don’t love Tank, but we can skip that for now.

‘Sleep. I presume you don’t intend staying awake for a whole week so you can keep an eye on me?’

‘Well no, but…’

‘And we will be sharing a room?’

‘Well, yes, but … just sleep, as in sleep?’

‘As in sleep. Unless you’re offering?’ I don’t know whether he’s just teasing, or he’s the one that is sex-starved.

‘I most certainly am not!’ I definitely need rules. ‘Sleep, bed, asleep, fine.’

‘Fine.’ He grins. ‘You were great with Tank, I love a girl with guts.’

‘I don’t need loving.’ It’s killed me to say it, when he’s looking all cute and nice, but it’s a fact. He’s not a date. I will keep reminding myself of that, before things get complicated. That’s rule number one.

‘Everybody needs loving, Sammy.’

‘I need rules, and don’t call me Sammy or I’ll call you snakey Jakey in public.’ He’s grinning. That might not quite work over the wedding breakfast though. Unless it’s said in a lip-licking way, which is frankly not how I should be thinking.

‘I have er, rules…’ Best to get it over with now, if we’re going to be totally honest.

‘Rules?’

‘No, er, loving.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Or sex.’

‘Is this with you, or in general?’

‘Ever!’

His eyebrow goes higher.

‘Not ever, ever. Just while we’re at the wedding. You can’t go off and shag the other guests. If Liam hadn’t gone off waving his willy in the wind, then … don’t you dare laugh!’ I glare, and he holds a hand up in surrender.

‘No laughing going on here. Promise.’ He’s gone all serious again. ‘But I don’t think it’s waving it in the wind that was the problem.’

He has a point. But if the one-eyed trouser snake had stayed in the cheating bugger’s trousers, then I wouldn’t have to be here, doing this. Splitting up is one thing, splitting up because your boyfriend has put his other girlfriend up the duff is another. ‘No sex in general.’ I know I’m muttering, and stabbing marshmallows like I’d like to stab a certain person’s dangly bits. ‘You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. My adoring boyfriend.’

‘Smitten?’

‘Totally. Yes, that’s rule number two. How could you not be?’ I’m going to have to write these down before I forget them.

‘How could I not be?’ I can hear the smile in his voice, and when I look up from my hunt-the-marshmallow search, he’s grinning.

‘Exactly. Stop laughing at me.’

‘That’s honestly a rule? The smitten bit? You just added that one.’ He is grinning in a way that suggests he might not be very good at sticking to rules. ‘How about we forget rules? We just need to get to know each other a bit.’

I knew he wasn’t the type to stick to rules. ‘The no sex rule is non-negotiable.’ But if I don’t see this through, then I’ve had it. This is make or break. I’m running out of time.

‘Shame, but who says I want sex anyway?’

I decide to ignore that bit. It was him that mentioned the loving bit, I just embellished. I mean that’s how it goes, isn’t? Love, sex, marriage? ‘So, you will do it?’

‘Look, Sam.’ His smile looks a bit sad. ‘I’m not being flip here, but I really get how you feel. I know what it’s like to be betrayed, I know how shitty it is.’ He’s looking past my right ear, and there’s a hint of that harshness back in his voice but this time it’s tinged with something else. Hurt. His gaze drifts back to my face, and he looks straight into my soul. ‘What you’re doing is incredibly brave.’ The smile lifts, and his tone softens. ‘Far braver than tackling Tank. And I love that you’re such a good friend to this Jess.’

I smile back. I can’t help it. I want to hug him.

‘I want to help, I want us to go up to Scotland and show this Liam just what a stupid twat he is.’ He leans forward, earnestly, like we are co-conspirators. ‘I want us to have a wild time.’ He’s gone all twinkly again. ‘We are going to have so much fun. I am definitely up for it.’

‘A whole week, in Scotland, with me and my batty friends and family?’ I need to be sure. ‘Horse-riding and fishing and stuff like that.’ He’s looking amused. ‘On a big estate, miles from anywhere.’ He’s still not said no. ‘With no sex.’

‘You’re really selling this.’ He’s chuckling. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘And everybody does have to believe you’re my real boyfriend.’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s top secret, the only people who know are Sarah and your sister, of course.’

‘Good.’

‘And my hairdresser, and everybody who was in the salon.’

‘But it is top secret?’

‘Nobody at the wedding must suspect. We’ll have to get to know each other, practise.’

‘Practise?’ Jake raises his eyebrow. He really has to stop that, it makes me wriggle. And when I wriggle I realise my knickers have dried into something more like cardboard than cotton. Which is not a good sensation.

I ignore his naughtiness. ‘You need to be…’ I pause. I had originally had in mind just a boyfriend, any kind of boyfriend. Okay, I hadn’t really thought about it in detail. But now I am thinking about it I realise that Jake isn’t like just any kind of boyfriend. Jake is posh, Jake is good-looking, Jake has endless possibilities that I need to have a think about. Jake is an actor. ‘You need to be the type of boyfriend who would drive a Ferrari, and adore me, and watch chick flicks on a Friday night, and…’ I really do need to think about this.

‘Whatever your heart desires.’ I’m pretty sure that warm huskiness is purely a demonstration of how good an actor he is, and nothing more.

‘Pizza and a bottle of wine normally.’

He laughs, a deep throaty laugh. ‘A girl after my own heart.’ Oh heavens, any more of this and I will be booking him for a lifetime, not a week. ‘Except I’d rather have the footie than a chick flick, but hey, I can pretend.’

‘Good.’

‘How about Thursday then, for the first getting to know you session? I can tell you about my rules then, as well.’ He winks, it’s a bad habit.

‘Your rules? You can’t have rules!’ I haven’t even got rules yet, and I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control here. It is part of my plan, to be in control of my own life.

‘Just watch me.’ He’s chuckling as he stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘How about Thursday then? You can come and watch the play I’m in, then we can go out after?’

‘Thursday.’ Watching him act seems like a very good idea, it will prove just how well he will be able to pull this off. ‘How about that new pizza place?’ Much as I like the way he’s being all assertive, I feel I need to be more that way myself. I’m the one that is supposed to be running this show. And I want pizza. And I’m a bit concerned about his rules.

‘If you like, not quite sure that’s where Ferrari man would take you though.’

‘You can start off being Mini man and we’ll work up.’

He laughs again. I could get used to listening to that laugh, it makes me feel happy inside. ‘Nothing Mini about me.’

‘But you are an actor, aren’t you?’ I try and look sweet and innocent. ‘I’m sure you could pull it off.’

He just shakes his head.

‘Jake?’ He stops, raises an eyebrow. ‘Why have you said you’ll do this?’ I’ve got a feeling this distraction must be something important, or why would Amy mention it?

‘Money? You know, penniless actor and all that.’

Even I can tell that’s not the whole truth, and we did say this was going to be an honest relationship. ‘And?’

‘And…’ He studies the crumbs on my plate for a moment, then lifts his gaze back up to mine. ‘Like I said before, I know what you’re going through, and what this means to you. Really.’ We stare at each other, for a long moment, and I believe him. He gets it. And I really want to know why. Except it would seem really rude to ask him, and I take it from his angry reaction that whatever happens still smarts, and is off bounds.

‘And I’ve got some time off, before I start filming.’

As a way of diverting me from quizzing him, it’s brilliant. I go after it like a terrier that’s seen a rat. ‘You’re going to be in a film?’

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