Holiday With The Best Man

Billionaires of London

Finding love in the world’s greatest city!

Billionaire bachelors Hugh Moncrieff and Roland Devereux might not be searching for love, but when the Faraday sisters walk into their lives, they’ll pay a price far greater than their wealth to live happily-ever-after … they’ll lose their hearts.

Billionaire, Boss … Bridegroom?

Meet gorgeous CEO Hugh Moncrieff and the charming and quirky Bella Faraday in this whirlwind office romance!

&

Holiday with the Best Man

Billionaire best man Roland Devereux sweeps bridesmaid Grace Faraday off her feet with the holiday of a lifetime!

Available now.

Holiday with the Best Man

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATE HARDY has always loved books and could read before she went to school. She discovered Mills & Boon books when she was twelve and decided this was what she wanted to do. When she isn’t writing, Kate enjoys reading, cinema, ballroom dancing and the gym. You can contact her via her website: www.katehardy.com.

To Gay, the best stepmum in the world

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

ROLAND’S FACE ACTUALLY ached from smiling, but he knew he had to keep it up. Apart from the fact that it was his best friend’s wedding day—and of course Roland was delighted that Hugh had found the love of his life—he also knew that half the guests were remembering that Roland’s wife had been killed in a car accident nearly two years ago, and were worrying that he was finding it hard to cope with today.

As he’d said to Hugh at the altar, today had brought back good memories of his own wedding day. Roland just hoped that Hugh and Bella would have a lot more years of happiness together than he and Lynette had had—and none of the misery that they’d both kept secret, even from their family and their closest friends.

He knew he ought to make the effort to go and dance with the chief bridesmaid. Even though his friend Hugh had opted to have two best men, and Tarquin—the other best man—was dancing with Bella’s sister right now, Roland knew that he couldn’t use that as an excuse. If he didn’t dance with Grace, everyone would assume that it was because he was thinking of Lynette, and the last thing he wanted right now was another dose of pity. He’d had more than enough of that after the crash.

One dance. He could do that. All he had to do was ignore the fact that the ballroom in the Elizabethan manor house was full of fairy lights, creating the most romantic mood. And to ignore his misgivings about the chief bridesmaid, because it wasn’t his place to judge her—even though the little he knew about her pressed all the wrong buttons. Grace had been so drunk the first time she’d met Hugh, that she’d thrown up over him in the taxi; plus she’d cancelled her wedding at the last minute. Sure, everyone had an off day or made mistakes, but to Roland it sounded as if Grace was a spoiled princess who liked alcohol too much.

And a spoiled, princessy drunk driver had shattered Roland’s life with her selfishness, nearly two years ago. Having to be nice to a woman like that for even a few minutes really stuck in his craw. But he’d do it for his best friend’s sake. His best friend who, even now, was dancing with his bride—and Roland was pretty sure that the glow around Hugh and Bella was due to more than just the fairy lights. This was real happiness.

Which left him to man up and do his duty. Right now Grace looked perfectly demure in her dark red bridesmaid’s dress with its ballerina skirt and sweetheart neckline, and she was even wearing flat shoes rather than spindly heels so she didn’t tower over the bride. Though her dark hair was in a sophisticated up-do with wisps of hair curled into ringlets that framed her face—a seriously high-maintenance style—and her eyelashes had most definitely been enhanced. So maybe Roland was right about the princessy tendencies. And even Tarquin—who saw the good in everyone—had admitted that Grace was nothing like sweet, bubbly little Bella.

One dance, he reminded himself. Do your duty and don’t let your best friend down.

At the end of the song, he walked over to Grace and Tarquin. ‘As the other best man, I believe the next dance is meant to be mine,’ he said, forcing himself to keep smiling.

‘It is indeed,’ Tarquin said, and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘See you later, Grace.’

‘See you later, Tarquin,’ she echoed, then turned to Roland. ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet. I’m Bella’s sister, Grace. You’re Roland, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand to shake his.

Thinking, oh, please, just hurry up and let us get this over with, Roland took her hand and shook it. And he was truly shocked to find a prickle of awareness running down his spine.

Close up, Grace Faraday had the most incredible eyes: a deep cornflower blue. Her mouth was a perfect cupid’s bow. Her complexion was fresh, almost dewy. And there was something that drew him to her. Something that made him feel protective.

And that really threw him.

Based on what he’d heard from the two people whose opinion he trusted most in the world, Roland had expected to dislike the woman. Instead, he found himself attracted to her. Attracted to someone he’d been sure was the last woman he’d ever want to date. And he really didn’t know what to do about it.

‘It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?’ Grace said. ‘And that song Hugh wrote for Bella—that was amazing.’

‘Mmm,’ Roland said, too confused to string a coherent sentence together, and gave her his best attempt at a smile.

* * *

Grace was shocked by how different Hugh’s two best friends were. Tarquin had been sweet and funny, and she’d felt really comfortable with him; Roland was taciturn to the point of making Grace feel awkward and shy, the way she usually was with strangers.

It didn’t help that she’d felt a weird prickle of awareness when he’d shaken her hand. By any standards, Roland was good-looking, and the tailcoat, dark trousers, dark red waistcoat and matching cravat he wore emphasised it even more. His dark hair was brushed back from his forehead, and his slightly olive skin was clean-shaven. He could’ve been a model for a wedding suit company, and Grace wasn’t sure if she found that more attractive or intimidating.

Maybe if she treated this as work—if she was professional and sensible with him, the way she’d be with a client—they could get through this dance without it being a total disaster.

Not having a clue what to say to him, she went through the motions of dancing with him and really hoped that pinning a smile to her face would be enough to get her through the next song. Just as well she’d talked Bella into letting her wear flat shoes; if she’d worn heels, she would probably have tripped over Roland’s feet and made a complete and utter fool of herself.

Though it felt odd to be dancing with someone who was six inches taller than she was. Howard, her ex-fiancé, had been five foot eight, so she’d always worn flat shoes to make him feel less self-conscious about the fact that she was the same height as he was. Roland was broad-shouldered, where Howard had been slight. Being in his arms made Grace feel petite and feminine—something she wasn’t used to. She was sensible, no-nonsense, and way too tall to be treated as if she was fragile.

She noticed that Roland’s dark eyes were watchful. Why did he look so wary? Grace wondered.

Then she realised with a sinking heart just why she was feeling so awkward with him: because Roland was looking at her in exactly the same way that Howard’s mother always had. Rather than smiling back at her, his lips were thinned. It was pretty clear that he’d judged her and decided that she wasn’t quite good enough.

No wonder he wasn’t chatting to her, the way Tarquin had. The guy clearly disliked her—even though he’d never met her before.

Well, that was his problem. She’d be polite and dance with him to this song, fulfilling their duty as the chief bridesmaid and the best man. Then she’d make sure she stayed out of his way for the rest of the evening, spending her time with her parents and Hugh’s family.

And as for that weird prickle of awareness just now—well, that was just how weddings made everyone feel. Especially a glitzy wedding like this one, held in the grounds and ballroom of a manor house that had been in Hugh’s family for generations. Yet behind the glamour was a warm-hearted, loving family who adored Grace’s bubbly, slightly unconventional baby sister for who she was. And Grace had seen Roland hugging Bella earlier—with a proper smile on his face—so clearly he liked Grace’s sister.

But this taciturn, slightly forbidding man clearly wasn’t going to extend that warmth to Grace. And she absolutely refused to let it get to her. Why should his opinion of her matter? She didn’t know anything about him, other than that he was Hugh’s other best friend from school and was a sleeping partner in Hugh’s record label. But, even if Roland was single, he was the last man Grace would even consider dating. She wasn’t going to repeat her mistake with Howard. The next man she dated would be one who made her heart skip a beat and who’d sweep her off her feet. Someone who’d make her feel good about herself.

Which meant absolutely not Roland whatever-his-name-was.

Even if he was one of the most good-looking men she’d ever met.

CHAPTER ONE

Two days later

YET AGAIN GRACE missed Bella. Her little sister was the person she most wanted to call and talk to about her job interview today. But Bella was in San Francisco right now with Hugh and, even without having to take into account the eight-hour time difference, Grace had no intention of interrupting her baby sister’s honeymoon. She’d wait for Bella’s daily ‘postcard’ text, and casually mention in her reply that she thought the interview had gone OK. And hopefully later in the week she’d be able to report good news.

Please let her have got the job.

Temping was fine, but Grace knew that she functioned at her best with a solid structure in her life, and when she was able to plan more than just a couple of days ahead. The last couple of months, since she’d called off her own wedding, had changed her entire life. Not only had her relationship ended, she’d lost her job and her home because of it, too.

Bella was the bubbly one who coped just fine with change and seizing the day, always living life to the full; whereas Grace was more cautious, weighing things up and doing the sensible thing every single time. Even though calling off the wedding had been the right thing to do, it had caused her a huge amount of heartache and guilt. Bella had stood by her, as had their parents. But Grace hated the ensuing chaos.

At least she had a flat of her own again now. She’d been let down at the last minute with the flat she’d managed to find, but Bella as usual had been a bit scatty and forgotten to give her landlord her notice on time. And it had all worked out perfectly for both of them, because the landlord had agreed to let Grace take over the lease; she was just awaiting the paperwork. So that was another little bit of her life rebuilt.

Trying to push away the thought that she wasn’t adjusting terribly well to her new life so far, Grace opened the front door of the house that had been converted into three flats—and saw with horror that the hallway was an inch deep in water. Water that was coming from underneath her front door.

OK. Forget the panic and work with your common sense, the way you always do, she told herself. Turn off the water supply at the mains to stop any more water gushing out from wherever the leak is, turn off the electricity to avoid any problems there, run the taps to make sure the system drains fully, and then find out where the leak is coming from and call the landlord to organise a plumber.

Fortified now she had a plan to work to, Grace opened the flat’s front door to find water everywhere. The carpet was soaked through and she could see from the change in the colour of the material that the water was soaking its way up into the sofa, too. What a mess. She took a deep breath, took off her shoes, and put them on the kitchen table along with her handbag and briefcase so they’d be out of the way of the water.

Stopcock. Where would the stopcock be? The house had been converted into flats, so there was only a fifty-fifty chance that the stopcock would be inside her flat. But, to her relief, when she opened the cupboard under the sink in the hope that it was the most likely place to find the stopcock, the little wheel on the water pipe was clearly visible. She turned it off. Another switch dealt with the electricity supply, and when she went into the bathroom to turn on the taps to drain the system she could see the problem immediately: water was gushing through a burst pipe underneath the sink.

She grabbed the washing up bowl from the kitchen sink and put it there to catch the water that was still gushing from the burst pipe, then turned on the taps in the bath so the system would start to drain.

Those were the most important things. Now to call the landlord—and she really hoped that he’d be able to send an emergency plumber out to fix the pipe tonight. Though, even when the pipe was fixed and the water supply was back on, Grace knew that she was still going to have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight, because the flat was too badly flooded to be habitable. She’d also have to find somewhere to store all her stuff.

Although part of her wanted to burst into tears of sheer frustration and anger and misery, she knew that crying wasn’t going to solve anything. She needed to stick with the practical stuff. Once she’d sorted that out, she could start weeping. But absolutely not until then.

There was a note in Bella’s handwriting underneath a magnet on the door of the fridge, with a telephone number and the words, Call if any problems. Obviously this was the landlord’s number; Grace was truly grateful that for once her little sister had been organised, despite spending the last three weeks knee-deep in plans for her whirlwind wedding to Hugh. Grace grabbed her mobile phone from her bag and called the number on the note.

* * *

Roland didn’t recognise the number on his phone’s screen, so he let the call go through to voicemail. A cold caller would give up as soon as Roland’s recorded message started playing, and anyone who really wanted to talk to him could leave a message and he’d return the call when he had time.

There was an audible sigh on the answering machine. ‘Hello. This is Grace Faraday.’

Bella’s sister? Roland frowned. Why on earth would she be calling him?

‘Please call me back urgently.’ She said her telephone number slowly and clearly. ‘If I haven’t heard from you within thirty minutes, I’ll call an emergency plumber and assume that you’ll pick up the bill.’

Why did she need an emergency plumber? And why on earth did she think that he’d pay for the cost?

Intending to suggest that she called her landlord or her insurance company instead, he picked up the phone. ‘Roland Devereux speaking.’

There was a stunned silence for a moment. ‘Roland? As in Hugh’s other best man Roland?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Um, right—if you didn’t catch the message I was in the middle of leaving, it’s Bella’s sister Grace. There’s a flood at the flat and I need an emergency plumber.’ Her voice took on a slightly haughty tone. ‘I assume that you, as the landlord, have a list of tradesmen you use.’

So that was why she thought he’d pay the bill for an emergency plumber. ‘I’m not the landlord.’

‘Ah. Sorry.’ The haughtiness disappeared, and there was the slightest wobble in her voice. ‘I don’t suppose you know the landlord’s contact details?’

Why on earth would he know something like that? ‘No.’

‘OK. Never mind.’

And there it was.

The tiniest sob. Muffled quickly, but he heard it.

It brought back all the memories of Lynette. Her heart-wrenching sobs every single month they’d failed to make a baby. The guilt about how badly he’d let her down and how he’d failed her at the last.

Plus Grace was his best friend’s sister-in-law. If Roland’s sister had called Hugh for help, Hugh would’ve come straight to Philly’s rescue. So Roland knew he had to do the right thing.

‘I’m sorry to have bother—’ she began.

‘Grace. How bad is the flood?’ he cut in.

‘You’ve just told me you’re not the landlord, so don’t worry about it.’

He winced, but he knew that he deserved the slightly acidic tone in her voice. But there was one thing that was bothering him. ‘Where did you get my number?’

‘Bella left me a note on the fridge—a phone number for emergencies.’ She sighed. ‘Again, I apologise. I assumed it was the landlord’s number. Obviously I was wrong.’

That didn’t matter right now. He was focused on the flood. ‘Have you turned off the water?’

‘Yes. I’m not an airhead,’ she said drily. ‘I also turned off the electricity supply to prevent any problems there, and I’m currently draining the system to try and stop any more water coming through. I need a plumber to fix the burst pipe, and I also need to tell the people in the flats upstairs, in case the problem in my flat has affected their water supply, too.’

He was surprised that Grace sounded so capable and so organised. It didn’t fit with what he’d been told about her. But she’d said there was a burst pipe, and clearly she didn’t have a number to call for help—apart from his, which Bella had left her in case of emergencies. He could hardly just hang up and leave her to it. ‘What’s the address?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Why?’

‘Because you just called me for help,’ he said.

‘Mistakenly,’ she said crisply. ‘For which I apologise. Yet again.’

‘Bella obviously left you my number in case of emergencies—and a burst pipe counts as an emergency.’ Although Bella had forgotten to tell him she’d given Grace his number, that wasn’t Grace’s fault. ‘Where are you?’

‘Bella’s flat.’

‘I don’t actually know the address,’ Roland explained.

‘Oh. Right.’ Sounding slightly reluctant, she told him the address.

‘OK. I’m on my way.’

‘Are you a plumber or something?’

‘No, but I know a good one. I’ll call him on the way and have him on standby in case you can’t get hold of the landlord.’

‘Thank you,’ Grace said. ‘I appreciate this.’

Roland called his plumber from the car, warning him that it was possibly a storm in a teacup but asking him to stay on standby. But, when he turned up at the flat, he discovered that Grace had been underplaying the situation, if anything. The water had clearly been gushing for a while and the carpets were soaked through; they’d need to be taken up and probably replaced. The sofa also needed to be moved, because water was seeping into it. And he felt another twinge of guilt as he noticed that Grace looked as if she’d been crying. Although she was clearly trying to be brave, this had obviously upset her.

‘Did you manage to get in touch with the landlord?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘His details are probably somewhere in Bella’s shoebox—but I’m not blaming her, because I should’ve checked everything properly myself before she and Hugh left. I live here now, so it’s my responsibility.’

‘Shoebox?’ he asked, mystified.

‘Bella’s not really one for filing,’ Grace explained. ‘She has a shoebox system. Business receipts go in one shoebox, household stuff in another, and you just rummage through the shoeboxes when you want something.’

‘That sounds a bit chaotic.’ And it was definitely not the way Roland would do things. It wasted way too much time.

Grace shrugged. ‘At least she has the shoeboxes now. It took a bit of nagging to get her that far.’

What? This didn’t fit, at all. Wasn’t Grace the drunken, princessy one? And yet right now she was wearing a sober grey suit and white shirt; plus that looked like a proper briefcase on the kitchen table, along with a pair of sensible black shoes and an equally sensible-looking handbag. Her nails weren’t professionally manicured, her dark hair was cut simply in a long bob rather than being in a fussy high-maintenance style like the one she’d had at the wedding, and her make-up was minimal.

Maybe he’d got her totally wrong. More guilt flooded through him.

‘The neighbours aren’t home yet, so I’ve left a note on their doors to tell them what’s happened,’ she said. ‘And I really need to find the landlord’s details and check the insurance.’

Again, there was that tiny wobble in her voice.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, hoping that she wasn’t going to start crying.

‘I’ve had better days.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And worse, for that matter. I’ll live. Sorry. I would offer you a cup of tea but, as I don’t have water or electricity right now...’ She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘It’s not a problem,’ Roland said. ‘My plumber’s on standby, so I’ll call him again to get him up to speed with the situation—and we need to shift that sofa in a minute before it soaks up any more water, to try and minimise the damage.’

‘And the bookcase. And the bed. And...’ She blew out a breath. ‘It’s just as well my car’s a hatchback. I’m going to have to move everything I can out of here until this place dries out. And find somewhere for storage—though, as all my friends have flats just as tiny as this and none of them have a garage I can borrow, even temporarily. It’s probably going to have to be one of those lock-up storage places.’

‘Give me a moment.’ Roland went outside and made a swift call to his plumber and then to one of the restoration specialist firms he’d used in the past. He also remembered seeing a café on the corner as he’d driven here; he made an executive decision to grab two takeaway black coffees, packets of sugar and two chocolate brownies. It would give them both enough energy to get through to the next stage. And if she didn’t drink coffee—well, now would be a good time to start.

Grace had talked about finding a lock-up place to store the stuff from the flat. At this time of the evening, she’d be lucky to find somewhere to sort it out. And he had more than enough space to store her stuff. Even though part of him didn’t really want to get involved, part of him knew that if something like this had happened to his sister, he’d want someone looking out for her. Grace was his best friend’s sister-in-law. So that kind of made him responsible, didn’t it?

On the way back to her flat, he called one of his team and asked him to bring a van.

She was already loading things into the back of her car when he got there.

‘Coffee,’ he said, and handed her one of the paper cups. ‘I didn’t know if you took milk or sugar, so I got it black and there are packets of sugar.’

‘Thank you. How much do I owe you?’ she asked.