Ivy knew how to ensure the entire crowd felt she was talking directly to them. Unfortunately tonight the block of about five tables immediately surrounding Angus’s might have felt rather ignored.
But, it couldn’t be helped.
Not that the not looking helped a lot. Because he’d definitely just kept on looking at her.
She knew it, because her whole body felt his concentrated attention. It had only been sheer will that had prevented the stupid racing of her heart or the odd, inexplicable nerves that churned through her belly from impacting her voice. Honestly, she felt as though, if she let herself, she’d come over all soft and breathy and...pathetic.
But of course she hadn’t, and April had given her the tightest of hugs after her speech, so that was a relief. That was all that mattered tonight, that April was happy.
Even her mother—on the parents’ table in prime position near the cake—had lifted her chin in the subtlest of actions. Ivy had learnt long ago that that was about as effusive as Irene Molyneux ever got, so she’d take it.
With her formal duties out of the way, Ivy should now be able to relax for the remainder of the speeches. But of course she couldn’t.
By the time dessert was served, and Evan had delivered his—hilarious by the reaction of the guests, even if Ivy registered barely a word—speech, Ivy was about to crawl out of her skin in frustration.
Finally the dancing began—and Ivy made her escape.
With the straps of her heels tangled in her fingers, the lawn outside the marquee was cool beneath her bare feet. She had to walk some distance before she could hear the ocean above the exuberant cacophony of music and voices of the reception.
The hotel gardens stretched along the beach from either side of the main hotel building. Lights dotted pathways that led to bungalows and villas, but they were all empty, with every guest at the hotel also a guest at the wedding.
And it felt empty, which Ivy appreciated. She’d flown in from London only...yesterday? No, the day before.
Ivy smiled—it was recently enough, anyway, that jet lag still had her confusing her days.
But after a series of intense business meetings, a thirty-six-hour journey from London after delays in Dubai, the madness that was the last-minute planning for the wedding, and then that disconcerting attention from Angus Whoever—Ivy was seriously happy to finally be alone.
She took a long, measured breath and waited for her muscles to relax as she exhaled.
But they didn’t.
‘Ivy.’
She spun around to confront the reason for the tension throughout her body. Angus wore a cream linen shirt, untucked, and dark knee-length tailored shorts—a variation of what the majority of male guests were wearing. Unlike the majority of male guests, he still managed what should be impossible—to look as if he was attending a wedding, rather than a barbeque. Maybe it was his posture? The extreme straightness of how he stood, combined with the way his clothing hung so perfectly from his muscular frame? Whatever it was, Ivy suspected he looked equally gorgeous taking out his garbage.
‘You followed me,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘You knew I would.’
Ivy’s mouth dropped open. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
While his shirt was clearly visible in the limited light, the rest of him blurred into the darkness behind him, his face all angles and shadows. Even so, Ivy knew, knew, he was looking at her in disbelief.
‘Look,’ she said, in her no-nonsense work voice, ‘I really don’t have time for this.’
‘This being?’
He really did have a fantastic voice. Deep and authoritative.
Not that it made any difference.
‘This,’ she said, waving her hands to encompass them both.
‘I’m still confused,’ he said. ‘Can you elaborate?’
Ivy gave a little huff of frustration. ‘I don’t have time for whatever two random strangers might do when they meet at a wedding.’
And she didn’t. It had been hours since she’d checked her email.
A laugh. ‘C’mon, Ivy. I’m sure you can think up a far more interesting descriptor than whatever.’
‘I could,’ she said. ‘But that would take more of my precious time. So—’
She was half a step towards the path when Angus’s hand wrapped around her lower arm. He wore a light bandage that encircled his palm and extended halfway to his elbow, the fabric just the tiniest bit rough against her skin.
‘Honey, everyone has time for...’ his grip loosened and his fingers briefly traced a path across her wrist ‘...talking.’
Ignoring her body’s traitorous shivery reaction to his touch, Ivy went on the defensive. ‘This isn’t just talking.’
But, of course, that was a mistake.
She sensed, rather than saw, his smile.
‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’
Ivy shook her head, as if that would somehow help her brain reorganise itself. She was just...off. Unbalanced. If she was to walk away from him now, she’d be counting her steps, definitely.
‘No,’ she said. ‘The point is there is no point. That’s the point.’ Seriously? Could she be any more ridiculous?
She tried again. ‘You’re not my type, Angus.’
The shadow of his smile told her immediately that she’d made a mistake. Now he knew she knew his name.
But standing so close to him, Ivy supposed she should be relieved she could speak at all. What did this man do to her?
‘I don’t believe you,’ he said. As if that was that.
And then he surprised her by casually sitting on the sand. He leant right back on his elbows, his legs crossed at the ankles. ‘Sit.’
Logic would’ve had her back at the marquee by now, so it came as no surprise that she found herself seated beside him. She sat more stiffly though, her hands rested on the silk skirt that covered her knees, her gaze firmly on the black of the ocean.
A big part of her knew she really needed to get back to the marquee. What if April needed her? Plus it really had been hours since she’d checked her email—maybe she could pop by her suite on the way back?
She’d levered herself onto her knees to stand when she felt Angus’s hand on her arm. Electricity shot across her skin and she found herself completely still.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘We’re supposed to be having a conversation, remember?’
‘But, my emails—’
The
