Of course she was. Why wouldn’t she say no? She hadn’t dated anyone since Simon Foster had made a fool out of her five years ago, stringing her along for months with weekend dates while he got it on in the city with a size-zero blonde the rest of the time. Of course she was going to say no. Her mouth even went as far to shape the word but instead she said, ‘N-yes.’
Harriet’s impeccably groomed eyebrows shot up beneath her perfectly trimmed and blow-dried fringe. ‘Who is it?’ But before Juliet could think of a name, Harriet had already come up with one. ‘It’s Marcus, isn’t it? That stuck-up naval architect friend of your brother’s?’
‘He’s not stuck up.’ Had she sounded too defensive?
‘Oh. My. God.’ Harriet’s china-blue eyes were as round as the satellite dishes on the International Space Station. ‘Get outta here. Are you serious? Marcus Bainbridge and you ?’
Juliet’s back came up at Harriet’s incredulity. She knew she wasn’t beautiful—or at least not without soft lighting or a quick touch-up in Photoshop. She knew she didn’t have the best figure, and she hated her freckles because they made her look about eight years old. But was it that unbelievable that a man like Marcus would be interested in her? He had almost kissed her at Christmas. She hadn’t been imagining that. Had she?
She was tired of being the odd one out.
Tired of being almost twenty-nine years old and unattached. The only one of Kendra’s Clan who was still single. An object of pity. Like at school, where she had been the only girl in her class without a father. The bookish nerd who studied instead of dated. The lonely fringe-dweller who had a sudden rush of best friends around exam time when everyone wanted her to help them swot.
What would it hurt to pretend she belonged to someone? It was only for the weekend. She could head back to Bath on Monday morning and no one would be the wiser. It wasn’t as if Marcus would even hear about it; he was currently living in Dubai while he designed a luxury yacht for a sheikh.
‘Yes,’ she said, and took it one step further because she didn’t care for the way Harriet was still gaping at her. ‘It’s serious.’
‘ How serious? Has he asked you to marry him?’ Harriet glanced at Juliet’s left hand, her eyes narrowing. ‘You’re not wearing an engagement ring.’
Juliet curled her fingers into a ball. There was a jeweller’s store half a block from the hotel. She had stopped to gaze dreamily at the rings in the window on her way past. ‘Erm, well, no, not yet. But I’m picking it up. Soon. This afternoon. Before tea.’ What are you doing? Are you crazy?
‘You’d better get a wriggle on,’ Harriet said. ‘I want everyone assembled for when Kendra makes her entrance. I want everything to be perfect for her.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Juliet pasted a smile on her face. ‘It will be.’
CHAPTER TWO
M ARCUS WAS JETLAGGED and hungry and a tension headache was throbbing like a pneumatic drill behind his eyeballs as the cab pulled up outside the Chatsfield in London. He still had some work to do on his proposal for Gene Chatsfield’s luxury yacht before he presented it on Monday morning. He was one of three naval architects shortlisted to pitch for the multimillion-pound contract. It would be a career coup if he pulled it off, especially on the back of his success with the Dubai deal. He figured staying in-house might give him the edge on his competitors. It would demonstrate his commitment and dedication to the Chatsfield brand. He had heard the newly appointed CEO, Christos Giantrakos, was a stickler for that sort of thing.
Marcus paid the driver and turned to enter the hotel just as a small figure came bolting down the brass steps from the other direction. Her shiny brown-haired head was bent down as she glanced at her watch, a little pleat of a frown was pulling at her brow and her teeth were savaging her lower lip.
‘Juliet?’
It
Harriet’s impeccably groomed eyebrows shot up beneath her perfectly trimmed and blow-dried fringe. ‘Who is it?’ But before Juliet could think of a name, Harriet had already come up with one. ‘It’s Marcus, isn’t it? That stuck-up naval architect friend of your brother’s?’
‘He’s not stuck up.’ Had she sounded too defensive?
‘Oh. My. God.’ Harriet’s china-blue eyes were as round as the satellite dishes on the International Space Station. ‘Get outta here. Are you serious? Marcus Bainbridge and you ?’
Juliet’s back came up at Harriet’s incredulity. She knew she wasn’t beautiful—or at least not without soft lighting or a quick touch-up in Photoshop. She knew she didn’t have the best figure, and she hated her freckles because they made her look about eight years old. But was it that unbelievable that a man like Marcus would be interested in her? He had almost kissed her at Christmas. She hadn’t been imagining that. Had she?
She was tired of being the odd one out.
Tired of being almost twenty-nine years old and unattached. The only one of Kendra’s Clan who was still single. An object of pity. Like at school, where she had been the only girl in her class without a father. The bookish nerd who studied instead of dated. The lonely fringe-dweller who had a sudden rush of best friends around exam time when everyone wanted her to help them swot.
What would it hurt to pretend she belonged to someone? It was only for the weekend. She could head back to Bath on Monday morning and no one would be the wiser. It wasn’t as if Marcus would even hear about it; he was currently living in Dubai while he designed a luxury yacht for a sheikh.
‘Yes,’ she said, and took it one step further because she didn’t care for the way Harriet was still gaping at her. ‘It’s serious.’
‘ How serious? Has he asked you to marry him?’ Harriet glanced at Juliet’s left hand, her eyes narrowing. ‘You’re not wearing an engagement ring.’
Juliet curled her fingers into a ball. There was a jeweller’s store half a block from the hotel. She had stopped to gaze dreamily at the rings in the window on her way past. ‘Erm, well, no, not yet. But I’m picking it up. Soon. This afternoon. Before tea.’ What are you doing? Are you crazy?
‘You’d better get a wriggle on,’ Harriet said. ‘I want everyone assembled for when Kendra makes her entrance. I want everything to be perfect for her.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Juliet pasted a smile on her face. ‘It will be.’
CHAPTER TWO
M ARCUS WAS JETLAGGED and hungry and a tension headache was throbbing like a pneumatic drill behind his eyeballs as the cab pulled up outside the Chatsfield in London. He still had some work to do on his proposal for Gene Chatsfield’s luxury yacht before he presented it on Monday morning. He was one of three naval architects shortlisted to pitch for the multimillion-pound contract. It would be a career coup if he pulled it off, especially on the back of his success with the Dubai deal. He figured staying in-house might give him the edge on his competitors. It would demonstrate his commitment and dedication to the Chatsfield brand. He had heard the newly appointed CEO, Christos Giantrakos, was a stickler for that sort of thing.
Marcus paid the driver and turned to enter the hotel just as a small figure came bolting down the brass steps from the other direction. Her shiny brown-haired head was bent down as she glanced at her watch, a little pleat of a frown was pulling at her brow and her teeth were savaging her lower lip.
‘Juliet?’
It
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