No need to turn it into more than it is.’
Emma stared as Adam finally raised his voice enough to make her mother stop talking.
‘Mum, you’re in denial!’
As she stopped her protests and looked at him he took a deep breath and lowered his voice, speaking with the tired patience of someone who’d covered the same ground many times, only to end up where he’d started.
‘I’ve been out since I was eighteen. I know you’ve never wanted to accept it, but the right girl for me doesn’t exist. We’re having a civil partnership ceremony in six weeks’ time and I want you all to be there and be happy for me.’
‘I’m happy for you,’ Emma said, smiling tentatively.
Happiness she could do. Unfortunately being at the wedding might be a bit trickier. Her plans with Alistair lurked at the edge of her mind. She’d been so excited about going away with him. He’d showered her with gifts and attention, and for the first time in her life she was being blown away by being the sole focus of another person. And not just any person. Alistair Woods had to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the universe, with an army of female fans, and he had chosen to be with her. She still couldn’t quite believe her luck. Their trip was planned to the hilt. She would have to make Adam understand somehow.
He leaned in and gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, Em.’
She had grown up feeling overshadowed by Adam’s achievements. Just the look of him was attention-grabbing, with his perfectly chiselled features and foppish dress sense. And that was just now. She couldn’t forget the school years, where for every one of Emma’s hard-earned A grades there had been a matching two or three showered effortlessly on Adam. His flamboyant, outgoing personality charmed everyone he came into contact with, and her mother never ceased championing his successes to anyone who would listen.
It hadn’t been easy being her parents’ Plan B. Competing for their interest with someone as dazzling as Adam was an impossible, cold task.
‘I blame you for this, Donald,’ her mother snapped at her father. ‘Indulging his ridiculous obsession with musical theatre when he was in his teens.’
Sometimes Emma forgot that being her parents’ Plan A was probably no picnic either.
Adam held up his hands.
‘Please, Mum. It’s not up for discussion. It’s happening with or without your approval. Can’t you just be pleased for us?’
There was an extremely long pause and then her mother gave an enormous grudging sigh.
‘Well, I can kiss goodbye to grandchildren, I suppose,’ she grumbled. ‘We’ll have to count on you for that now, Emma. If you can ever manage to find a man who’ll commit.’
She glared pointedly at Dan, who totally ignored the jibe. Emma had been wondering how long it would be before her biological clock got a mention. Terrific. So now Adam could carve out the life he wanted without bearing the brunt of her parents’ wrath because they had Emma lined up as their biological backup plan to carry on their insane gene pool.
Going away with Alistair was beginning to feel like a lucky escape. She just needed to get her plans back on track.
* * *
Dan scanned an e-mail for the third time and realised he still hadn’t properly taken it in. His mind had been all over the place this last day or two.
Since the night of Adam’s exhibition, to be exact.
There was a gnawing feeling deep in his gut that work didn’t seem to be suppressing, and he finally threw in the towel on distracting himself, took his mind off work and applied it to the problem instead.
He was piqued because Emma had ended things with him. OK, so her plans to dump him publicly hadn’t come off, thankfully, but the end result was the same. She’d drawn a line under their relationship without so much as a moment’s pause and he hadn’t heard from her since. No discussion, no input from him.
He was even more piqued because now it was over with he really shouldn’t give a damn. They were friends, work colleagues, and that was all there was to it. Their romantic attachment existed only in the impression they’d given to the outside world, to work contacts and her family. It had always been a front.
His pique had absolutely nothing to do with any sudden realisation that Emma was attractive. He’d always known she was attractive. Dan Morgan wouldn’t be seen dating a moose, even for business reasons. That didn’t mean she was his type, though—not with her dark hair and minimal make-up, and her conservative taste in clothes. And that in turn had made it easy to pigeonhole her as friend. A proper relationship with someone like Emma would be complex, would need commitment, compromise, emotional investment. All things he wasn’t prepared to give another woman. Tried, tested and failed. Dan Morgan learned from his mistakes and never repeated his failures.
It had quickly become clear that Emma was far more useful to him in the role of friend than love interest, and all thoughts of attraction had been relegated from that moment onwards. It had been so long now that not noticing the way she looked was second nature.
But the gnawing feeling in his gut was there nonetheless. Their romantic relationship might have been counterfeit, but some element of it had obviously been real enough to make the dumping feel extremely uncomfortable.
He’d never been dumped before. He was the one who did the backing off. That was the way he played it. A couple of dinner dates somewhere nice, the second one generally ending up in his bed, a couple more dates and then, when the girl started to show signs of getting comfortable—maybe she’d start leaving belongings in his flat, or perhaps she’d suggest he meet her family—he’d simply go into backing-off mode. It wasn’t as if he lied to them about his intentions. He was careful always to make it clear from the outset that he wasn’t in the market for anything serious. He was in absolute control at all times—just as he was in every aspect of his life. That was the way he wanted it. The way he needed it.
He was amazed at how affronted he felt by the apparent ease with which Emma had dispensed with him. Not an ounce of concern for how he might feel as she’d planned to trounce him spectacularly in front of all those people. His irritation at her unbelievable fake break-up plan was surpassed only by his anger with himself for actually giving a damn.
Feeling low at being dumped meant you had feelings for the person dumping you. Didn’t it?
Unease flared in his gut at that needling thought, because Dan Morgan didn’t do deep feelings. That slippery slope led to dark places he had no intention of revisiting. He did fun, easy, no-strings flings. Feelings need not apply. Surely hurt feelings should only apply where a relationship was bona fide. Fake relationships should mean fake feelings, and fake feelings couldn’t be hurt.
That sensation of spinning back in time made him feel faintly nauseous. Here it was again—like an irritating old acquaintance you think you’ve cut out of your life who then pops back up unexpectedly for a visit. That reeling loss of control he’d felt in the hideous few months after Maggie had left, walking away with apparent ease from the ruins of their relationship. He’d made sure he retained the upper hand in all dealings with women since. These days every situation worked for him. No emotion involved. No risk. His relationships were orchestrated by him, no one else. That way he could be sure of every outcome.
But not this time.
