Best of Fiona Harper

My irritation melted like a chocolate bar left on a hot car dashboard. I was suddenly very glad Adam was here, and not just because it saved me from Izzi’s displeasure if I hadn’t come up with a willing victim. It was moments like these when I realised what a treasure Adam was. I hadn’t steered the conversation or fished for that compliment; he’d produced it all on his own. No string-pulling on my part whatsoever. And the warmth it gave me was twice as sweet as if I’d wrung it from one of my lovelorn swains. My heartbeat steadied into four-four time, and I was about to hug his arm when a horrible thought occurred to me. ‘You are coming on the weekend too? You’re not just here today to spy, are you?’

Adam reclaimed the please behave look and I instantly mumbled an apology. I should have known better. Adam is an in-it-for-the-long-haul kind of guy—probably why he puts up with me—and he wouldn’t have turned up today if he wasn’t going to go through with the whole thing. I was just nervous. What was taking all this time? Was Nicholas even at home?

The discreet man, who must have been a butler of some sort, reappeared and waited patiently while Izzi finished her call and slid her phone into her handbag. I’d half-heard the end of it and gathered she’d been chivvying her girlfriends along, telling them to prise their tiny backsides out of bed and get down here pronto.

‘Your brother is ready for you in the drawing room,’ Mr Discreet said in a silky voice, then disappeared again.

I was tempted to shudder. If I ever got to be a significant part of Nicholas’s life, I wasn’t sure how I’d cope with him. He seemed to vanish in and out of thin air, and, frankly, manners that good are just plain creepy.

Izzi started off up the marble staircase and nodded for us to follow. With each step my head grew lighter and lighter. By the time I reached the top I was verging on dizzy. It was all so elegant, so refined and understated. And in comparison I felt I had all the subtlety and grace of a kids’ cartoon. I suddenly wished I’d tried harder to eradicate the Cockney edge in my accent. I’d given up too quickly, frustrated that when I tried to emulate Izzi’s effortless drawl I always ended up sounding like a parody of Celia Johnson in Brief Encounter.

I decided then that being cool, aloof and businesslike—namely, keeping my mouth shut unless absolutely necessary—would probably be in my best interests. Men like a woman who’s mysterious, don’t they? And this approach would give me another fortnight to work on those vowels of mine before the murder-mystery weekend. I’d dazzle Nicholas with my witty banter then.

Izzi led us into a large drawing room with tall, almost floor-to-ceiling sash windows, and elegant yet somehow minimalist furnishings in neutral tones. I held my breath and hovered by the doorway, overcome by uncharacteristic shyness. Nicholas was there, gazing out of the window on the right and looking all lean, sexy and slightly irritated, in dark grey trousers and a shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Even in casual attire he oozed class.

I knew at that moment that if I had a future with Nicholas I would never again have to fear the spectre of the velour jogging bottoms. Not only would I not have to worry about being old and lonely and sad, but I’d become all I’d been training myself to be for all these years. I wouldn’t be dressing up any more. I’d rightfully inhabit a world of glamour and elegance, sliding into it with the ease of Cinderella trying on that glass slipper. I’d finally be able to look myself in the mirror without having to blink a few times to erase my mother’s eyes.

Nicholas turned to face his sister, the frown he was wearing only making him seem more broody and Mr Darcy-ish.

He spoke in a low voice, but unfortunately for him his gorgeous high ceilings carried his words over to where Adam and I were standing by the door. ‘I thought you were joking when you said you were bringing “the gang” over for a fitting for this weekend of yours.’ He hardly glanced in my direction long enough to register my presence, let alone see how cute I was looking in my pretend Lilli Ann suit with the flared jacket.

Izzi just kissed him on the cheek and waved his objections away with an airy hand. ‘Well, we’re here now. So you might as well get it over and done with. If you shoo us away, you grumpy old thing, we’ll just have to come back another time.’

To his credit, I saw a flicker of indulgent amusement in his eyes as he nodded grudgingly at Izzi, then strode across the room to greet us. He held out his hand for mine.

‘Nice to meet you again…’

That pause—the one meaning he couldn’t quite remember my name—almost finished me off. I felt like one of those buildings that you see getting demolished on the evening news. For a few slow-motion seconds it felt as if nothing was happening, and then everything inside me started to slide downwards. I grinned widely, hoping the shockwave wasn’t showing on the surface.

‘Coreen,’ I said, doing a pretty good job of sounding nonchalant, actually. ‘Coreen Fraser. We met at Izzi’s birthday bash.’

A pinprick of recognition registered in his eyes, and it was just enough to delay the almost inevitable collapse of my crumbling spirits.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said slowly. ‘You’re the girl who sells Izzi all those second-hand dresses she raves about.’

‘Vintage clothing, actually,’ a gruff voice beside me said. ‘Coreen is an innovative and successful businesswoman.’

Nicholas’s eyebrows raised and he turned his attention to Adam.

Seriously, what is it about men? Sometimes you get two of them into a room together and they have to turn everything into a competition for who’s got the most testosterone. Of course Adam’s surly interjection hadn’t helped things. I really was going to have to have a word with him about this big brother protectiveness thing. It was starting to make him behave most strangely at times.

‘Adam Conrad,’ he said, thrusting his hand forward.

Nicholas looked across at me, and then back to Adam. I knew that look. It was a jumping-to-conclusions kind of look, and it seemed as if I was going to have to intercept swiftly before he got the wrong idea.

‘My very good friend,’ I added sweetly, before Nicholas had a chance to put two and two together and come up with a million and six. He didn’t, however, look either pleased or relieved, as many men did when they found out Adam and I were nothing more than pals. His features hardly moved as he shook Adam’s hand. There might have been a slight squaring of his shoulders, but who wouldn’t when Adam was giving off such confrontational vibes? I was feeling a bit like standing taller on my heels and punching Adam on the nose myself.

Adam released Nicholas’s hand, a hint of a satisfied smirk sparkling in his eyes, and Nicholas flexed his fingers almost imperceptibly. If we weren’t in such elegant company I would have delivered that punch. Or at the very least put one of my pointy elbows to good use. I’d only chosen Adam for this weekend because I’d thought he’d be a help, rather than a hindrance, but I was starting to see the problem with not enlisting one of my ‘puppies’ instead. Mongrels have a nasty habit of having a mind of their own.

How strange. I realised as I saw the two men standing next to each other that I’d thought Nicholas was much taller than Adam, but they were practically eye to eye, and instead of seeming younger and scruffier and more laid-back in comparison to Nicholas, Adam looked rough around the edges, yes, but in a masculine, slightly dangerous way. I suddenly understood why my single girlfriends—and some of the not-so-single ones—had begged me to set them up with him.

Although Adam and Nicholas had stopped squashing each other’s hands in a show of masculine strength, there was still an atmosphere of tension in the room. Probably all those male pheromones floating in the air. Unfortunately, I’ve always been a little susceptible to the stuff, and I felt my neck grow warm and the little hairs at the back of my neck tickle. I blinked to snap myself out of it. Now was not the time to get all hot and bothered over Nicholas. I wanted to be cool and poised and professional, remember?

But even with my eyelids shut I could feel myself reacting to his nearness. My skin got too warm as the heat at my neck began to spread. My jacket suddenly felt a little too fitted. I decided that keeping my eyes closed, even for a second or so, was just magnifying the sensations, so I snapped them open again. Only, as everything swam back into focus, I discovered that it wasn’t Nicholas I was standing opposite but Adam.

How odd. Nicholas must have moved.

Izzi flitted round the three of us like a somewhat demented butterfly. ‘Oh, this is going to be so much fun,’ she gushed, dragging us all into the centre of the room. ‘You first, Nicky!’ she said, and shoved me at him. Thankfully I kept my balance.

Nicholas looked at me now, waiting, so I delved into my alligator bag, half expecting it to bite back, and produced my tape measure—not so much with a flourish this time as with a fumble.

Nicholas was looking down at me, a faint look of concern in his eyes. His gaze drifted to the tape measure and stayed there. ‘How are you going to…? I mean, where do you want to…?’

It was the first time I’d seen him anything but slightly bored-looking, and it was actually quite sweet. I got a little carried away with the idea he might be just as affected by the idea of me getting my hands on him as I was, and I totally blame the resulting adrenaline surge for what I said next.

I grinned back at him, forgetting the whole aloof plan entirely. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, my voice coming out even huskier than usual. ‘No need to do a striptease. I’m very experienced in doing it both dressed and undressed.’

See? That came out totally wrong. And for some unfathomable reason every time I tell a joke or make a funny comment it always brings out the Londoner in me. In our supremely elegant surroundings my words clanged off the walls, sounding crass instead of playful. I blushed and busied myself getting my notepad and pen out of my bag.

Izzi just hooted with laughter, and said something about it being ‘classic Coreen’. I didn’t look at Adam. He ribs me mercilessly when I put my patent heels in my mouth, usually both at once, and I didn’t want to set him off and give Izzi even more encouragement. I concentrated on being belatedly poised and professional instead.

Finally I managed to get something right. I took all of Nicholas’s measurements swiftly and efficiently. Well, not all. I took his word for it on the inside leg. And my hands didn’t shake even once. I was very proud of myself. In fact I couldn’t have been more composed if I’d been measuring up Gladys and Glynnis, the two second-hand mannequins that live in Coreen’s Closet.

I moved onto Adam next, since I was in a man-measuring frame of mind, and that was when the delayed reaction hit. My ears began to tingle and I kept dropping my tape measure and forgetting the numbers so I had to start all over again. Thankfully Nicholas was deep in conversation with Izzi by then, and didn’t see a thing.

Hmm. I stared at my notepad and compared figures. It seemed Adam’s shoulders were as broad as Nicholas’s. Broader, in fact. Just goes to show how appearances can be deceptive.

Once I’d got started with the measuring, I didn’t stop. The rest of Izzi’s friends arrived while I was doing her bust measurement and she dashed off to greet them, almost taking me with her, connected by the tape measure, but I managed to wiggle free in time. There were a couple of floppy-haired ex-public schoolboys called Julian and Marcus, Izzi’s best friend Jos, and, to my horror, mouldy old duck-faced, stick-thin Louisa Fanshawe. Nicholas suddenly stopped looking as if he was a caged lion pacing backwards and forwards, smiled microscopically, and sent for coffee and croissants.

I noticed when they arrived that Louisa only nibbled hers.

I hate girls who nibble things. Don’t trust them. In my book, if you want to have a cake or some chocolate you should just have it. None of this gnawing at it like a hamster, pretending it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d wolf down in one go if you were on your own, and then leaving it half eaten because you’re supposedly too full up. My reasons for not having a croissant were purely professional, of course. It had nothing whatsoever to do with not wanting to look piggy. I mean, I could hardly leave greasy, flaky marks on everybody’s clothes as I measured, could I?

I could tell as I was doing the last of the measuring that Izzi was revving up to something. She kept giggling to herself and pressing her fingers over her mouth. She’d announced earlier that she’d tell us which parts she’d assigned us today, and I was dying to know who I’d be.

As I wound my tape measure I let myself dream about playing the part of the debutante. The whole murder-mystery thing was to be set around a family gathering on a country estate, as far as I could tell. I guessed that Nicholas would probably end up as the heir to the family fortune, and I was desperate to play his devoted fiancеe. I even had a midnight-blue floaty chiffon dress picked out that would really set off my colouring.

Izzi made a big show of gathering us all on two vast sofas that faced each other near the fireplace, and produced a little notebook and silver pencil from her bag.

‘Boys first!’ she exclaimed, and fixed her eyes on Julian.

It turned out he was going to play the carousing younger brother. Marcus slapped him on the back and almost made Julian choke on his coffee. ‘That means you’re actually going to have to talk to a girl!’ he bellowed. Poor old Julian just blushed and stammered something about talking to girls on a fairly regular basis, actually.

Marcus was going to be the layabout best friend of the son and heir, to which he merely said, ‘Nothing new there, then!’ and slapped Julian twice as hard on the shoulder. He’d better be careful. From the looks Julian was giving him there might be a second murder at Izzi’s weekend. An unplanned one.

When Izzi said that Adam was going to play the cousin, who happened to be a vicar, I almost snorted my coffee out through my nose. Oh, I was going to have such fun with him! I wondered if he’d let me give him false teeth and a bald wig.

That meant, of course, that Nicholas was to be just who he should be—Prince Charming, for want of a better description—and I was more than willing to step into the shoes of his devoted princess. I sighed and reached for a pain au chocolat, completely forgetting myself.