moving on to a nightclub. This nightclub. Chloe had hardly been able to believe her luck when, standing near the door with her group of friends and preparing to go on to somewhere else, she had actually seen Fergus McCloud coming in. Alone.
For a moment she had panicked, wondering what to do. Here had been her chance at last—and she hadn’t known what to do about it! But then she had forced herself to calm down, to think.
The answer had been obvious; she’d made her excuses to her friends, explained she had changed her mind about going on somewhere else, and was going to go home. But, instead, she had followed Fergus McCloud back inside the club, standing at a discreet distance away to watch him while she’d decided what to do next.
He’d appeared to be alone, but she hadn’t been sure whether or not someone, a woman, would eventually join him. After an hour, when he had drunk his way through one bottle of champagne, and ordered another one, she had decided that nobody would.
It was perfect, the ideal opportunity for her to at least have a chance to speak to him.
Except he had made it more than plain from the beginning that he didn’t want to talk to her.
Well, she wasn’t about to give up now!
‘How did your cousin’s wedding go today?’ she enquired conversationally, making no effort to drink the water he had poured for her; it had only been a way for her to delay having him ask her to leave.
Fergus frowned across at her, his good looks not in the least diminished by his scowling expression.
Chloe had known what he looked like, of course, but even so she hadn’t quite been prepared for the sheer physical force of the man. He was tall and powerfully built; there was no doubting he looked wonderful in his evening clothes. His dark hair was slightly overlong, his tanned face carved as if hewn from teak. Only his warm chocolate-brown eyes did anything to alleviate the hardness of his features.
Under any other circumstances, Chloe was sure she would find this man excitingly attractive. Under any other circumstances…
‘I’m not sure I like the fact that you seem quite so knowledgeable about my private life,’ he commented hardly.
That remark about his cousin’s wedding had been a mistake, Chloe realised belatedly, laughing softly to cover up the gaffe. ‘It’s hardly a secret that the business entrepreneur Logan McKenzie is your cousin. Or that he was getting married today.’ She shrugged.
‘No…’ Fergus conceded slowly.
But. He didn’t say it, but the word was there in his tone, nonetheless.
Chloe drew in a softly controlling breath. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, never had been. In fact, her behaviour this evening, approaching Fergus McCloud as she had, talking to him, inviting herself to join him, pressing him to provide her with a glass of water, was all totally out of character. Her friends and family would have been shocked if they could have seen and heard her! But she had been taken completely off guard by seeing Fergus arrive at the nightclub so suddenly, and had simply acted on impulse by inviting herself to join him. He certainly didn’t look in a mood to introduce himself to her!
‘It’s the society wedding of the month, Fergus,’ she chided him teasingly.
‘Hmm.’ He grimaced his distaste in recognition of that fact. ‘Well, to answer your question, it went well. Or, as well as any wedding can be expected to,’ he amended.
She raised dark brows. ‘You don’t like weddings?’
Once again he frowned across at her. ‘You aren’t a reporter, are you?’ he prompted suspiciously. ‘I’m not going to see my less-than-sober remarks splashed across the front page of a newspaper in the morning, am I?’
Hardly; she was no more enamoured of reporters than he appeared to be. They had already helped ruin her life once…
‘No,’ she assured him with certainty. ‘I was interested, that’s all.’
Struggling for a topic of conversation probably more accurately described it, she acknowledged ruefully. This was certainly heavy going.
‘Well, as I’ve already told you, it was fine,’ Fergus said abruptly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me?’ He put down his glass, sliding over to the end of the seat in preparation of standing up. ‘It’s time I got myself a taxi home.’
Chloe stared across at him in dismay. He couldn’t go! She hadn’t even begun to talk to him yet. If he left now, she might never get the chance to talk to him again. This was—
‘Oh, hell—!’ Fergus McCloud groaned as, having attempted to stand up, he suddenly found himself sitting back down again. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. ‘I don’t suppose you would like to do me a favour, would you?’ he asked Chloe very carefully, his eyes still closed.
Anything! As long as it meant he wasn’t about to just get up and walk away from her. Although, for the moment—thankfully!—he didn’t seem able to do that.
‘Yes?’ Chloe responded breathlessly.
He continued to breathe deeply, looking across at her with those warm brown eyes. ‘I seem to find myself temporarily unable to stand up. Actually, I’m drunk!’ he amended with forceful self-disgust. ‘Legless. Literally! I can’t remember the last time I— Yes, I can,’ he groaned. ‘It was when I graduated from Oxford fourteen years ago. I couldn’t get out of bed for two days afterwards!’
Her own graduation from university had only been a couple of years ago and, as she easily recalled, everyone had let themselves relax and had a good time; after three years’ hard work, they had needed to.
‘What would you like me to do?’ she offered.
‘Could you help me outside and put me in a taxi?’ He grimaced. Obviously he wasn’t a man accustomed to asking anyone for help.
She could do better than that, and it would suit her purpose much better. But she would keep that to herself for the moment…
‘Of course.’ She stood up smoothly, securing the strap of her evening bag on her shoulder before moving lightly round the table. ‘Just stand up and lean on me,’ she encouraged.
He eyed the slenderness of her frame with obvious scepticism. ‘I don’t think I had better “lean” too heavily,’ he observed. ‘Or we’ll both fall over!’
He was a good foot taller than Chloe, even in her three-inch heels, and probably weighed twice as much as her too. But she was stronger than she looked, helping him to his feet without too much difficulty, her arm about his waist, his across her shoulders as the two of them began to walk towards the exit.
‘This is so embarrassing,’ Fergus muttered grimly when they had crossed half the distance to the door without mishap.
Chloe turned to grin up at him unsympathetically. ‘Just think of it as practising for your old age!’
He gave a disgusted snort. ‘I feel a hundred now!’
He didn’t look it. In fact, he looked rather boyish, younger than the thirty-five years she knew him to be, his expression one of dazed disbelief at his own inability, dark
