understandably different levels of excitement to see him. He gave Virginia a kiss on the cheek, and patted poor Roger on the shoulder. Poor Roger’s eye began to twitch. But Bradley had more important things to worry about.
‘I’ve been searching for you for some time,’ he said.
Hannah’s eyes widened in a plea for help. ‘I’ve been right
here
for quite some time.’
Guilt clenched at him. While he’d been stewing about the way she’d walked away, right when things seemed to have been going so fine, he’d greedily forgotten why he was really there. He’d promised to watch her back. He’d already let her down. Some white knight he was.
‘We’ve monopolised her terribly,’ Virginia said, blinking at him coquettishly over a glass of champagne—clearly not her first.
Through clenched teeth Hannah said, ‘Virginia’s been telling Roger all about my lack of flair for any of the Young Tasmanian pageant sections she aced as a kid.’
‘Has she, now?’ Bradley asked, frowning at Virginia. It didn’t make a dent.
It seemed it would take more than his presence to give Hannah the upper hand. All he could think of for her to do was the same thing he’d done in order to shake off the shackles of his own mother’s disappointment. Prove to her, himself and the world that it didn’t matter.
‘On that note,’ he said, ‘did you forget we’re up next?’
‘Up?’
‘Karaoke.’
‘But I thought you couldn’t sing,’ Roger said.
‘I can’t,’ Hannah said, hand to her heart, eyes all but popping from her head.
‘She’s not kidding. She really can’t.’ That was Virginia.
Having seen enough, he reached in, took Hannah by the hand and dragged her from the local axis of evil. He shot them a little over-the-shoulder wave before he took their plaything away.
He skirted his way through the crowd in silence. Hannah kept close, tucking in behind him when things became overly cramped. Her small hand in his felt good. Really good.
‘Maid of honour business all finished?’ he asked, his voice gruff.
‘It is, thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now where are you taking me?’
‘I said we were going to sing, so now we have to sing.’
Suddenly his arm was almost yanked from its socket. He spun to find she’d dug in her heels and was refusing to budge.
He glanced towards the cocktail lounge. ‘It we don’t they’ll just think it was a dodgy excuse for you to ditch them.’
‘Wasn’t it?’
‘Only if you’re happy with them thinking so.’
Two little frown lines appeared above her nose, and she nibbled at her full lower lip. He found himself staring. Imagining. Planning.
Finally she shook her head. ‘But I really can’t sing.’
‘Can they?’ He motioned to the wannabe boy band who could barely slur out a sentence yet still had a rapt and voluble audience. ‘Now, pick a song. Something you can recite in your sleep.’
‘Oh, God. This is really happening, isn’t it?Umm … In my dreams when I audition for random TV talent shows I’m always singing something from
Grease
.’
He felt a grin coming at the thought of such innocent dreams, and struggled to bite it back.
Apparently not well enough. Her face fell. ‘You don’t know
Grease,
do you? Well, I am
not
going up there on my own.’
‘You’re safe. I had the biggest crush on Olivia Newton-John when I was a kid.’
The manic tugging relaxed instantly as she gawped at him. He used her moment of distraction to drag her to the edge of the stage.
‘I love it!’ she said, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You used to sing her songs into your mum’s hairbrush, didn’t you? You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell a soul. Well, bar Sonja, of course—and you know how discreet
she
is.’
She shook her head, her thick dark hair curling over her shoulders—sexy, unbridled, exposing a curve of soft golden skin just below her right ear that was crying out for a set of teeth to sink into it.
He stared at the spot, finding himself
‘I’ve been searching for you for some time,’ he said.
Hannah’s eyes widened in a plea for help. ‘I’ve been right
here
for quite some time.’
Guilt clenched at him. While he’d been stewing about the way she’d walked away, right when things seemed to have been going so fine, he’d greedily forgotten why he was really there. He’d promised to watch her back. He’d already let her down. Some white knight he was.
‘We’ve monopolised her terribly,’ Virginia said, blinking at him coquettishly over a glass of champagne—clearly not her first.
Through clenched teeth Hannah said, ‘Virginia’s been telling Roger all about my lack of flair for any of the Young Tasmanian pageant sections she aced as a kid.’
‘Has she, now?’ Bradley asked, frowning at Virginia. It didn’t make a dent.
It seemed it would take more than his presence to give Hannah the upper hand. All he could think of for her to do was the same thing he’d done in order to shake off the shackles of his own mother’s disappointment. Prove to her, himself and the world that it didn’t matter.
‘On that note,’ he said, ‘did you forget we’re up next?’
‘Up?’
‘Karaoke.’
‘But I thought you couldn’t sing,’ Roger said.
‘I can’t,’ Hannah said, hand to her heart, eyes all but popping from her head.
‘She’s not kidding. She really can’t.’ That was Virginia.
Having seen enough, he reached in, took Hannah by the hand and dragged her from the local axis of evil. He shot them a little over-the-shoulder wave before he took their plaything away.
He skirted his way through the crowd in silence. Hannah kept close, tucking in behind him when things became overly cramped. Her small hand in his felt good. Really good.
‘Maid of honour business all finished?’ he asked, his voice gruff.
‘It is, thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now where are you taking me?’
‘I said we were going to sing, so now we have to sing.’
Suddenly his arm was almost yanked from its socket. He spun to find she’d dug in her heels and was refusing to budge.
He glanced towards the cocktail lounge. ‘It we don’t they’ll just think it was a dodgy excuse for you to ditch them.’
‘Wasn’t it?’
‘Only if you’re happy with them thinking so.’
Two little frown lines appeared above her nose, and she nibbled at her full lower lip. He found himself staring. Imagining. Planning.
Finally she shook her head. ‘But I really can’t sing.’
‘Can they?’ He motioned to the wannabe boy band who could barely slur out a sentence yet still had a rapt and voluble audience. ‘Now, pick a song. Something you can recite in your sleep.’
‘Oh, God. This is really happening, isn’t it?Umm … In my dreams when I audition for random TV talent shows I’m always singing something from
Grease
.’
He felt a grin coming at the thought of such innocent dreams, and struggled to bite it back.
Apparently not well enough. Her face fell. ‘You don’t know
Grease,
do you? Well, I am
not
going up there on my own.’
‘You’re safe. I had the biggest crush on Olivia Newton-John when I was a kid.’
The manic tugging relaxed instantly as she gawped at him. He used her moment of distraction to drag her to the edge of the stage.
‘I love it!’ she said, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You used to sing her songs into your mum’s hairbrush, didn’t you? You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell a soul. Well, bar Sonja, of course—and you know how discreet
she
is.’
She shook her head, her thick dark hair curling over her shoulders—sexy, unbridled, exposing a curve of soft golden skin just below her right ear that was crying out for a set of teeth to sink into it.
He stared at the spot, finding himself
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