touched the floor and she found herself standing propped up by Heath, next to Amber and Sam, who were smirking like mad—at her.
‘How did I do, Kate?’ Heath whispered in his very best husky voice into her ear, with his chin pressed against her temple. ‘Do you think those girls got the message? Now why don’t I get you that drink before I escort you all home?’ Heath grinned and tipped up her chin with a cheeky wink. ‘I take my job as a stand-in party date very seriously. So don’t you dare go away. I’ll be right back.’
She waited until Heath’s hand had slid languorously down her arm and his back was turned before grabbing Amber by the arm and flicking her head towards the ladies’ room.
‘We’ll just be a minute,’ she absent-mindedly flung at Sam, who simply shook his head, far too used to their little gang of rebels sticking together whenever possible. Petra seemed to have gone outside with a boy—typical—but Saskia didn’t even have time to ask what was happening before Kate propelled her into the powder room and as far away as possible from the cubicles where most of the other girls in their class seemed to be either crying or noisily suffering the effects of cheap wine and vodka cocktails.
‘What’s the emergency? Has Crystal been winding you up again?’ Saskia asked, trying not to shout above the ear-damaging background noise. ‘I keep telling you that the girl is only jealous.’
Kate swept her two best pals into a tight huddle before taking a breath so that all of her words came out in one long rush. ‘Heath Sheridan has just rescued me from the Crystallites and called me darling. And now he has gone to get me a drink. Amber, help me out here. What shall I do? I didn’t think that Heath even knew my name!’
‘Do?’ the six-foot-tall stunning blonde replied with a laugh. ‘You’re asking the wrong person. He might be my stepbrother but Heath has always looked out for me. I say go with it and then accept his offer of a lift home. Your grandfather’s place is just a few streets away and, from what I saw, he would be more than happy to see you home safely after he has dropped me off.’
‘Safely? This is your Heath we are talking about here. You know, the boy who has his pick of the rich, gorgeous girls at university? And what about those celebrity mags you keep showing me? He always has some flash, sophisticated lady draped over him at some big cheese event or other. Boys like that don’t have time for a seventeen-year-old wannabe fashion student.’
Saskia wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulder. ‘Stop putting yourself down like that. You’re gorgeous and he knows it. Top marks to Heath—and it’s not as though he’s a stranger. You have met him before and Amber adores him.’
Amber sniffed. ‘I do. There is nobody else my mum would trust to deliver me home safe and sound—not even Sam. Go for it, Kate. He won’t let you down. Be brave.’
* * *
Brave? Brave was fine when she was with her pals but it was a very different matter sitting in the passenger seat of Heath’s sports car an hour later.
Alone. With Heath Sheridan.
Listening to his warm deep voice chatter on about the lecture he was planning to attend the next day. The radio was tuned to popular music, the brightly lit streets spun by and it seemed only minutes between leaving Amber’s third dad’s house and pulling up onto the pavement outside Kate’s grandfather’s shop. Her brain was spinning to come up with something clever and witty and eloquent to say. No chance! Breathing was hard enough, never mind talking.
Heath must think that she was a complete idiot. It was so humiliating.
And now he was opening the car door for her. If she was going to say something this was the time.
‘Thank you, Heath,’ she choked through a throat as dry as the Sahara as she took his hand, locked her knees together and swung her legs out of the car with as much decorum as she could manage and lifted her chin. ‘It was very kind of you to bring me home.’
His reply was to wrap one arm around her waist, push the car door closed with the other and half support her all of the four steps to the front door of the shop. Then wait until she had fished her key out of her tiny evening bag.
It was heaven and she sneaked a cuddle before he laughed out loud and whirled her around. ‘You are most welcome, lovely lady. Any time.’ And before she could reply he had lifted her gloved right hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. ‘It was my pleasure.’ He wrinkled his nose up and winked at her. And slowly, slowly, slid his hand from hers and half turned to go.
He was leaving. Heath was leaving. No!
Which was when she did it. Kate Lovat, doing-okay-but-not-likely-to-win-any-prizes high school student, trainee fashion designer and glove aficionado extraordinaire, stepped forward, grabbed the lapels of Heath’s jacket with both hands, raised herself as high as she could on tiptoe, closed her eyes and kissed him on the mouth. Hard.
The startled and strangely delighted look on his face when she did squint her eyes open made her whirl around, turn the key in the door and hurl herself inside before she had to face him.
‘Goodnight, Heath,’ she whispered as she pressed her back to the door, heart thumping and lungs heaving. ‘Goodnight. And very, very sweet dreams.’
ONE
Eleven years later.
Heath Sheridan was going to kill her.
He was going to jump up and stomp around and scowl and say that he knew that he had made a huge, huge mistake trusting her with something as important as making the bridesmaid dresses for his dad’s wedding.
Kate Lovat lifted her left arm and squinted at her wristwatch for the tenth time in the last five minutes, then winced, sighed out loud and joggled from foot to foot.
Amber had warned her that Heath hated people being late to meetings. Hated it.
After all, he wasn’t some heart-throb student any longer. Heath Sheridan was a serious publishing executive running his own media empire. He might have turned up late for that Valentine’s Day dance, but this was different. This was business.
And she was now officially, undeniably, without doubt, late.
As in already ten minutes late. And that was allowing for the fact that her grandmother’s watch always ran slow.
If only she hadn’t bumped into Patrick, the friend she shared her loft with, on her way out.
Of course Pat wanted to check that he hadn’t left anything behind in the studio, and then they’d got talking about his leaving party and then Leo had arrived to organise the photo shoot and...she’d finally escaped almost thirty minutes later. But it had always been the same. She was hopeless when it came to her friends.
Simply hopeless.
Just like her business management skills.
Good thing that she was a goddess when it came to the actual tailoring.
Kate slumped into the corner of the carriage of the rush-hour train on the London underground with both arms wrapped so tightly around her precious dress box that whenever the carriage lurched to one side, she lurched with it.
Today,
