Accidental Bride

She felt her sister’s body shake—and it hit her, sharply in the chest, just how much she hadn’t wanted to let her sister down. She’d take on a dozen jerks like King if it meant making Fiona happy.

Clare had spent more time looking after Fiona than her mother had. Mum had always been at work, and apart from Paul’s teasing all they’d had was each other. Aunty Rose, Paul’s mum, had been too upset with the loss of her husband to notice the living.

Clare held her sister tighter. She had to have done something to tip him off. But no matter how much she racked her brain she couldn’t fathom what it was that had warned him off. If she knew, she might have a chance to remedy the disaster tonight had become. As it was…she was helpless.

‘Look, you don’t need him. You can move on without him.’ She squeezed her sister, lightening her voice, hoping her optimism would be catching. ‘You have to do what’s best for you.’

‘Mum figured that, too.’ Fiona broke out of her embrace and faced Clare, hands folded tightly across her chest. ‘She did what was best for her. And look where that got her. And us.’

‘Here, honey. It got us here. We wouldn’t be who we are today if Dad hadn’t left like that.’ Clare touched her right eyebrow, tracing the line of her scar.

‘And where is that, exactly?’ Fiona bit out. ‘Sure, you have money, a place of your own, your independence—but there’s more to life than that, Clare. A lot more. And I want that. I want someone to share my life with.’

‘Fiona…’

‘No, I’m sick of you telling me what I should do. I know what I need to do. And I need him.’ She sagged into a chair and covered her face with her hands. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ She lifted her face. ‘Maybe I can’t have him. But I need to talk to him. Please. You have to do something.’

Clare wrenched the hairpins out of her hair, turning to a small occasional table she’d arranged with colourful maracas and string dolls. ‘It’ll be okay. I almost had him.’

‘Are you going to try again?’

‘Sure, honey.’ Clare ran her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. Though how she could make it work she had no idea. Tonight should have worked. It should all have been over and done with by now.

‘And what happens if he won’t come?’

‘I guess we’ll work it out—if that happens.’

Mark shook the hand of the last guest. It had been a memorable night. One of the best charity dinners he’d ever hosted. The donations had been varied, but on the whole he counted it as a success. Somewhere, some time, some poor soul would benefit from tonight, and a swell of satisfaction filled his chest.

He could have done better, and usually he’d be berating himself for lost opportunities or missed chances. But tonight it was Clare Harrison who still buzzed in his veins. She’d been a great time.

She was right. He was bored. And he was all for meeting her challenge and finding out everything about her.

It was late and he was slowing down, but the memory of her was as vivid and immediate for him as it had been when she’d been in his arms, at his table, taunting his mind. He rubbed his jaw. It annoyed him that he still couldn’t work out what her game was. Pre-empting people was what he did well, what he was good at, but he was at a loss here. What the hell was she up to?

‘Mark, I’m exhausted. Take me home.’ Sasha rubbed a hand up his arm and over his shoulder.

He offered her a soft smile. She’d been extremely tolerant of his behaviour. After Clare had left he had finally given her the introductions she’d come for. Better late than never, he’d figured—though Sasha hadn’t seemed as interested as he’d expected her to be after all the fuss she’d made about it.

‘Get them to call the car around. I’ll be out in a minute.’ Mark watched Sasha saunter out of the ballroom, swinging her hips. She was a cute kid, and a great friend to his sister. Jess needed good friends. She’d been through enough and didn’t need any more upsets in her life.

Clare had got her facts spot-on. Their parents’ divorce had been a traumatic time. Add to that their father losing everything he’d had left to bankruptcy, and Jess barely escaping a wild plunge into drink and drugs, there wasn’t any wonder that poor Jess clung to him now for her stability.

Mark figured it was ironic that he now had the lifestyle his father had worked so hard towards. He’d even given his father a loan just last year for yet another venture.