on her hips. ‘He’s an economist.’
Riana shrugged. ‘Yes. Well, he takes the economy very seriously.’
‘U-huh.’
Riana turned her attention to adjusting the fit of the strapless bodice of the satin gown. She knew Maggie’s view of Stuart intimately. So, she didn’t like him that much. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be the one marrying him. Riana was. Mrs Riana Brooks had such a nice ring to it.
And she was sick of being alone, sick of the dating games, the bad kissers, the sleazy hands, the selfish needs of men out there, and of frozen dinners for one.
She was getting married. This year. She was sure of it. And Stuart Brooks was the man.
The D’Amore was all they said it was. From the time her oldest sister had announced her engagement, Riana had dreamt of this night.
Everyone knew the French restaurant was a place to take a girl to let her know how serious the relationship was. Her older sister, Tara, used it all the time for her proposal clients.
Riana shivered with anticipation and unabashed excitement. Stuart was seriously into her.
Would he push for a spring wedding? Would they honeymoon in Europe? Move in together in his apartment in the city or buy a house in the northern suburbs?
It was about time a guy fell totally in love with her. Wanted her to marry him. Live happily ever after.
Classical music drifted through the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she sauntered into the bar, walking slowly, conscious of the impression Stuart would have of her when he saw her.
The kick-ass red dress she’d made for herself after her older sister’s wedding clung to her curves, accentuating her shape, leaving no doubt that she was serious in her hunt for the perfect partner. The thin straps and plunging neckline gave the message of her simple elegance, and the thin necklace with a small golden heart spoke a thousand words as to what she wanted from him.
Stuart was at the bar, his hand gripped tightly around a double Scotch…or was it a triple?
‘Honey?’ She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned over and kissed him. His breath was heavy with alcohol. How many drinks had he had?
‘Riana, darling.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’re late.’
‘I’m always late.’ She smiled.
He waved a finger at her, frowning. ‘You know that I don’t like it when I’m kept waiting.’ He took her arm, his sober expression giving nothing away. ‘Shall we eat then?’
She nodded. He didn’t appear to be in the best of moods, but that could just be an act so she’d be more surprised when he popped the question. ‘I hear the food here is wonderful,’ she offered hopefully.
Stuart grunted and steered her to the entrance to the dining room.
The maître d’ seated them near the back of the crowded restaurant. The table was small, draped with a pearl-white lace tablecloth with shining cutlery laid out, and a vase of roses nestled in the middle.
Stuart dropped into his seat, running his eyes over her body as she sank into her own seat. ‘I have something important to ask you.’
Riana’s breath caught in her throat. Already? She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.
She could see it now. A beautiful apartment on the north side with views to the harbour, a man by her side sharing her life, a fluffy little dog and maybe, and in time, a child or three.
‘Yes?’ she whispered, leaning forward. Was he going to go down on one knee like in the movies? Was he packing a ring in his pocket? Did he have champagne organised as soon as she’d said yes?
He leant his elbows on to the table. ‘I want you to go away with me.’
Riana looked into his face. ‘Away?’ Maybe he was taking the long way round to his proposal of undying love and intense need for her to be his for ever. Was it the honeymoon he was referring to?
‘To Switzerland.’ He lifted his hand for the waiter. ‘My family has a chalet there and it’s my turn to take advantage of it.’
Riana took a sip of water. ‘How romantic,’ she said with extreme calm, holding in her eagerness for the real question.
Did she have to wait long?
Switzerland had those beautiful mountains, with the snow-covered peaks, with the blue-blue skies overhead and a sprawling chalet just for the two of them…It would be a beautifully romantic place to have Stuart propose to her.
Stuart pulled out his cigarettes and tapped the box on the table as though he was itching to light up. ‘Of course, we won’t be alone exactly.’
Riana’s body became heavy. ‘Exactly?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow at the man opposite her.
He waved a hand in the air dismissively. ‘Well, there are a few friends I’ve asked to come to the chalet as well.’
Her body chilled. ‘You’ve already asked them?’
Stuart waved a hand dismissively. ‘Of course. I could hardly keep it to myself.’
But she was only just finding out? She swallowed hard. ‘Sounds crowded.’
He shook his head and grinned at her. ‘Not at all. We’ll have a great time with my mates. And when I get tired of them—’
Riana stared at him, her mouth dry.
‘You’ll be there.’ He took a gulp of the drink the waiter had put down in front of him. ‘But I couldn’t imagine being there without you. You’re such fun to be with.’
‘Fun?’ she said dully. Was that all she was to him or was he just teasing her?
‘Of course. You’re a real blast to be with, Riana. Never a dull moment.’ He leant closer, taking her hands in his. ‘You’re my little party animal…What’s the matter?’
Riana looked at Stuart, her mind struggling to make sense of his words, while she tried not to. ‘I thought…I thought we were moving to the next level…you know?’
She lifted her chin and glared at the man opposite her. This couldn’t be happening to her.
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d misheard, been mistaken. Stuart Brooks wasn’t the sort of man who would toy with a woman. He had breeding, class and manners.
She shifted in her seat, determined. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, least of all Switzerland, until she knew exactly where he figured this relationship was heading.
He furrowed his brow. ‘Next level?’
‘Yes,’ she said softly, trying to smile at his act of naïvety. ‘I thought you were going to propose to me tonight.’
Stuart closed his mouth tightly, making rumbling noises as though he was going to explode. ‘Come
