One Wedding Required!

‘Well, I sure as hell didn’t steal it,’ he teased.

‘You guessed my size?’

He shook his head. ‘I borrowed that tiny moonstone thing you wear. I took it from the dressing table weeks ago.’

‘And I thought I’d lost it!’

And their eyes met in a long moment.

‘I love you,’ he said simply.

‘Snap,’ she told him shakily.

‘Amber? Amber?’

Lost in her reverie, Amber looked up to find the journalist staring at her.

His eyes were hard, but his words were casual—casual enough to lull her into a false sense of security. ‘So where exactly did he propose?’

His question seeped insidiously into the mists of her consciousness, and Amber heard herself saying automatically, ‘In the bathroom—of all places!’

‘The bathroom?’

‘Yes, but I don’t really want to answer any more questions, certainly not on that—would you mind?’

The journalist gave a contented smirk as he shook his head. He had a pretty good idea of what must have happened in the bathroom—she had one of those beautifully transparent faces that were a huge boon to his job! ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ He twirled his pencil in between his thumb and forefinger and drew in a deep breath as he psyched himself up to ask what he always termed his face-slapping question. Though, come to think of it, Amber O’Neil—despite her fiery golden hair—looked far too much of a lady ever to slap him round the face—no matter what the provocation!

‘You’re a good-looking woman, Amber—’

‘Why, thank you,’ she put in drily. ‘Very nice of you to say so!’

‘But you work in an industry peopled with beautiful women, some who—dare I say it?—are far more beautiful than you.’

Amber’s voice was wry. ‘Oh, you can say it, Mr Millington—’

‘Paul.’

‘Paul,’ Amber echoed obediently, and smiled. ‘Other people have said it before, time and again.’

‘So will you share with our readers the secret of your mystery weapon?’

‘The weapon with which I entrapped Finn, you mean?’

‘Exactly!’

His eyes glinted rather insultingly and Amber knew exactly what he was not-so-subtly implying. What did the man expect, for heaven’s sake? That she was going to suddenly announce that she was pure dynamite in bed? That, surely, was a testimony which only Finn could give...

‘I have no secret weapon,’ she told him quietly. ‘The very word suggests conflict, and—so far—there has been remarkably little of that in our relationship. Touch wood,’ she added superstitiously. ‘Whatever works between us I think is down to one thing, pure and simple. Love,’ she explained, in answer to his puzzled expression.

‘Oh.’ He looked positively crestfallen, and Amber almost felt sorry for him until she caught a glimpse of the time.

‘I really ought to wind this up now,’ she told him apologetically. ‘If there are no more questions...?’

He smiled. ‘Just one.’

Amber blinked at him, the curving sweep of her dark lashes beautifully framing the deep blue of her eyes. ‘Oh?’

‘It’s the obvious one, really—when’s the wedding going to be?’

If only she knew! ‘Well, Finn mentioned Valentine’s Day in passing, but I’m not sure whether we’ll get it organised for then. It’s only a couple of months away.’

The journalist’s eyes gleamed like twin beacons. ‘A Valentine’s Day wedding!’ he breathed. ‘It would make a wonderful piece. Front-page spread,’ he added, a sly light gleaming in his eyes. ‘I can promise you that!’

Amber rose to her feet. Not with Finn co-operating, she would wager!

She felt vaguely uneasy as she showed Paul Millington out, but reasoned that he couldn’t write anything too racy. Apart from those last few comments, she hadn’t said anything that people didn’t already know. And there wasn’t much of a story about someone having been proposed to in a bathroom, was there? Not much of a scoop there!

She was humming gently to herself as she began to chop onions in preparation for making Finn’s dinner.

CHAPTER TWO (#ua9ef7235-ad6d-50b1-a9b0-1993072cc8d4)

FINN was delayed.

After the journalist had left, Amber kept glancing up at the clock as she chopped garlic and fresh coriander, wondering where her busy man had got to. He was often held up, but he usually let her know when he was going to be late.

Eventually he rang her on his mobile phone from the car, his voice faint and indistinct.

‘Amber?’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’ve been tied up with New York,’ he told her tiredly. ‘Karolina Lindberg has been throwing tantrums and they’ve—’ There was a loud crackling on the line and then a long squeak. Amber could hear the impatience in Finn’s voice as he said, ‘Listen, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, sweetheart, but I’m snarled up in traffic right now—’

‘Okay,’ murmured Amber, holding her hand up in the air, and watching while the hall light glittered and sparkled on the facets of her diamond ring. ‘Drive carefully.’

‘Don’t I always?’

‘No, you drive too fast!’

‘Nag, nag, nag!’ he laughed, and cut the connection.

She put the phone down, turned the chicken off and made herself a cup of tea, then settled down to read a magazine whilst trying not to look as though she was waiting—though of course she was waiting. Waiting for Finn, just as she always waited for Finn. But what choice did she have? He was a busy man, his business interests were diverse, and, although she worked for Allure as well, she couldn’t stay beside him all the time.

It was a side of herself that she had grown to dislike and fear—the side that didn’t feel complete unless Finn was somewhere around, as though a major part of her was missing. Though that much, she supposed, was true. Finn was a major part of her life.

It just went against everything she believed in—that a woman simply couldn’t function properly when she was on her own. That, although she was living, she simply didn’t feel alive unless the tall, ruffle-haired man with the hard, lean body and the bright green eyes was somewhere in the vicinity.

She must have dozed off, something she never normally did, and awoke with a muzzy head to find Finn standing over her, his face pale and unsmiling.