wasn’t used to anyone being interested in her reactions. ‘It was. I’m relieved it’s not too serious.’ When he continued to stare at her—which did nothing to slow her heart-rate—she forced her lips upwards. ‘I’ll call her later to check if there’s anything she needs. It’s kind of you to be so concerned. Now, let me show you the material Nora and I have gathered in relation to Ms Fairweather’s wedding.’
‘Please—you must call us Carla and Dylan.’
Must she? There was a certain protection afforded by the formality of Mr and Ms.
The customer is always right.
She bit back a sigh. If that were the case...
‘Dylan.’ She tested the name on her tongue. It emerged without any effort at all and tasted like her favourite brand of dark chocolate—flavoured with a bite of sea salt. His smile was her reward, making her forget the rest of her sentence.
‘See...it wasn’t so hard, was it—Mia?’
He made her name sound like a song.
He smiled. ‘I can see why Carla requested you work on her wedding’
She opened her mouth and then closed it, blinking. ‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m afraid I don’t know your sister, Mr Fair—uh... Dylan.’
He stared across at her, but in the end he merely nodded and let it go without challenge. It was as if someone had cut a string and released her.
She glanced down at the folder in an effort to collect herself. ‘Do you know...?’ She cleared her throat. ‘Do you know where Carla would like the ceremony to take place?’
He glanced towards the door, as if hoping his sister would magically appear. ‘Beside some lily pond. It’s apparently where she and Thierry met.’
Right. Mia jotted a note down on her pad.
Blue eyes twinkled across the table at her when she looked up at him again. ‘Aren’t you going to gush about how romantic that is?’
Should she? Was gushing part of the job description?
He laughed as if he’d read that thought in her face, pointing a lean tanned finger at her. ‘You, Ms Maydew, are not a romantic.’
He stared at her as if he knew her. It was utterly disconcerting. She had no intention of letting him know that, though.
She pointed her pen back at him. ‘I am, however, an excellent worker.’
‘Perfect.’ His grin widened. ‘You’ll at least provide a port of sanity amid all the craziness.’
That made her lips twitch. She’d watched TV programs about Bridezillas. Was that what they had on their hands with Carla?
‘Hallelujah!’ He raised his hands heavenwards.
‘What?’
‘I finally managed to get a proper smile out of you.’
She stared at him, nonplussed. Why should he care one way or the other whether she smiled or not? Was smiling also part of the job description?
Darn it—it probably was! Give her animals and plants any day.
She forced her lips to curve upwards.
‘Oh, dear me, no! On a scale of one to ten, that’s not even going to score you a three.’ He donned a mock commentator’s voice. ‘And Mia’s smile has only scored a two point one from the Romanian judge!’
She had to choke back a laugh.
He leant his elbows on the table. There was the whole width of the table between them, but somehow he seemed to bridge that distance without any effort at all. Maybe it was a combination of his height and breadth? She could make out the tiny laughter lines that fanned out from his eyes. She suspected Dylan laughed a lot. She noted the dusky eyelashes...ridiculously long and tipped with gold...and the firm fullness of his bottom lip. She’d bet he kissed a lot too. A pulse started up in the centre of her chest.
‘I suspect, Mia Maydew, it’d be really something to make you laugh.’
She couldn’t explain why, but she found herself jerking back as if he’d just propositioned her.
To cover her confusion, she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. ‘I have your number, Dylan Fairweather.’ She used his full name in the same way he’d used hers. ‘You’re an incorrigible flirt. I suspect you can’t help yourself.’
He raised his hands. ‘Guilty as charged! But it’s flirting without intent...just a bit of frivolous nonsense.’
His smile made her stomach tumble. ‘Then why...?’
‘Because it’s fun.’ His grin widened and she swore he had the devil in his eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to flirt back?’
She couldn’t help it. She laughed.
* * *
Thank heavens! The woman could laugh.
Dylan sat back and let out a breath when the rather plain and schoolmistressy Mia momentarily transformed from uptight and ordinary-looking to mischievous imp. His gaze lingered on her mouth. He hadn’t noticed how wide and generous it was earlier.
Since he’d witnessed her shock at learning of Nora’s accident, and sensed her nerves at being thrust into the role of wedding co-ordinator, he’d wanted to put her at ease. Putting people at ease was his stock in trade. Mia might call it flirting, but it was nothing more than a bit of harmless fun designed to make her laugh and loosen up. And it had half worked—she’d laughed.
Having now seen Mia smile for real, though, he could see that she was neither plain nor schoolmistressy. It was just an attitude she cultivated. Interesting...
Nora had been ecstatic yesterday when he’d mentioned that they’d like Mia as part of their wedding team. Nora mightn’t have known it, but she’d unwittingly supplied a glowing character reference for Mia. He sat back, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. He wanted everything associated with this wedding to be a joy for Carla. He meant to ensure it went without a hitch.
If only he could be certain the damn wedding should go ahead!
The walls of the glassed-in meeting room pressed in on him. He wanted to be outside and in the fresh air. Now! He wanted to be away from the fresh juniper berry scent of the woman opposite. It had his mind turning to black ski runs in St Moritz, with the wind tearing at his hair and the cold making him feel alive. Which was ridiculous. While he might be on leave, this was no holiday. Besides, if there’d been less frivolity in his life recently Carla might never have become embroiled with a man like Thierry.
Carla’s happiness—that was what he had to focus on. ‘Is the lily pond far? Can you show it to me?’
‘You want to see the lily pond now?’
‘Yes.’
‘What
