around me and saw we were in a room with wood paneling and portraits of unsmiling dukes on unsmiling horses. In the corner was a perfectly decorated Christmas tree. No wonky home-made decorations like the ones Rosie and I used in our apartment, but designer perfection.
I was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be here, but I guessed Nico wasn’t giving much thought to protecting the assets of our hosts. He was more interested in hiding my assets from the gawping guests.
What was I supposed to say?
What was the etiquette for a serious wardrobe malfunction?
I had a feeling ‘oops’ wasn’t going to cut it and asking for a needle and thread would have been like asking for a teacup to bail out the Titanic.
‘Er—nice jacket.’ And because I was wearing his jacket, he was in his shirtsleeves and I could see the swell of hard male muscle pressing against the fabric. His shirt was pristine white and I noticed his skin was golden, not pale and pasty like Charlie’s, and his jaw had the beginnings of a dark shadow. Thick, dark lashes framed eyes that were indecently sexy—the only thing that spoiled it was the dangerous glint of anger.
He dragged his fingers through hair that was usually smooth and sleek, exploded into Italian, and then switched language in midsentence as if realizing that if he wanted to insult me he’d better do it in a language I understood. ‘Cristo, what were you thinking choosing a dress that revealing?’
‘I didn’t choose it.’
‘Then you should have refused to wear it.’ His gaze was fixed on mine and didn’t waver.
Clearly he’d had no desire to ogle my bare breasts. I told myself that didn’t bother me.
What did bother me was the unconcealed look of disapproval on his handsome face.
I was sure he was a very successful lawyer. I didn’t even know which bit of the law he dealt with, but whatever he did I was sure he was the best of the best. I knew that if I were on the witness stand and he fixed me with that penetrating gaze I would have confessed to pretty much anything.
Yes, Your Honour, it’s true that on the twenty-second day of December I wore a giant condom to a wedding…. No, I had no idea I would be arrested for antisocial behavior—condoms are supposed to only have a 2 percent failure rate, but in my case it was 150 percent. Yes, I understand there were serious consequences. Wedding interruptus.
I wondered why he was so angry.
It wasn’t as if the groom had ended up with me. This episode could have just been labeled ‘narrow escape’.
Outrage started to simmer inside me. I was the victim of a cruel fashion crime, blameless in everything except my proportions and I wasn’t about to apologize for my breasts.
And anyway, I felt a bit funny inside. Not queasy exactly, but a bit dizzy and swimmy-headed. I thought it was probably hearing him speaking Italian. The only Italian I knew I learned from a menu and there was nothing sexy about Pizza Margherita even if you tried saying it in a sultry voice.
This man, however, was spectacularly sexy and everything that came out of his mouth made me want to grab him and do very, very bad things which was definitely off limits because Nico was the sort who was always ruthlessly in control of himself and behaved impeccably in public. I assumed lawyers weren’t allowed to misbehave.
‘Why the fuck are you here, Hayley? You are the master of bad decisions.’ He spoke through his teeth as if he were afraid that if he opened his mouth a tirade of insults would escape.
Frankly I was surprised to hear him say ‘fuck’.
But now he’d said it, I started thinking about it. Not the word, but the act. I couldn’t help it. Truthfully I’d been thinking about it long before he’d said that word. I doubted any woman could look at Nico and not think of it. Not love or romance, you understand. He wasn’t the hearts and roses sort of man. I couldn’t imagine him risking his suit by changing a nappy or rolling up his perfectly ironed sleeves to wash a greasy saucepan, but sex? God, yes. All it took was one look to know this man would know everything there was to know about hard, hot, sweaty sex.
For a wild moment I wanted to ask if he’d impart some of his knowledge, but then I remembered he’d just told me I made bad decisions. There was only so much abuse a girl could take in one day and I was right up to my limit. When you work in a male dominated profession as I do, you’re used to being judged. Most of the time I let it wash over me. If I threatened their masculinity that was their problem, not mine. Occasionally I fought back. Sometimes I took sadistic pleasure in surprising people, but I was damned if I’d allow myself to be told I made bad decisions by a man who never let himself go.
I stood up straighter and pushed my chest out (good job I was wearing his jacket). ‘Excuse me, but what gives you the right to judge my decisions?’
‘We could start with the fact you’re currently naked from the waist up under my jacket. Fix the dress. I’m the best man. I have duties to perform.’
And I was willing to bet he’d perform them well.
Oh, God, I had to stop thinking like that.
‘The dress is unfixable. And I couldn’t refuse to wear it. This was what Cressida wanted.’
‘Your half-naked body on display? I don’t think so.’ He threw me a look that would have terrified an entire army into immediate surrender. ‘But you’re just a girl who can’t say no.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I exploded, which considering I was half-naked wasn’t a good idea. Because I was quite physical I tended to add emphasis to what I was saying by using my hands. Up until a moment ago my hands had been holding the front of his jacket together. Now they were waving around wildly, preparing to act in my defense. Unfortunately they were not the only part of me to be waving around wildly.
His eyes darkened and I realized that he had stopped looking at my face.
Suddenly there were four of us in the room.
Me, him and my breasts.
I saw a tiny muscle move in his jaw and then his gaze lifted to mine and that was the moment I discovered that looking at someone could make you burn inside.
‘I can say no.’ My voice came out croaky and I realized the timing of that sentence wasn’t great because I knew, I just knew, that both of us were thinking about sex.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Hayley? At this wedding? Have you no pride?’
‘Pride is the reason I’m here. If I’d stayed away everyone would have thought I was broken-hearted.’
‘And are you?’ His question surprised me as much as the roughness of his voice.
We didn’t exactly have the sort of relationship that included an exchange of confidences and that was a deeply personal question. I had no intention of answering it.
I hadn’t even told Rosie how bad I felt, although she knew of course. That was why she was here. Solidarity even in the absence of confession. That was one of the unspoken rules of true sisterhood.
The second was that we were going to leave at the first possible
