all the same, she intrigued him.
And attracted him. An attraction he wouldn’t let himself act on—not while his life was in chaos and all his energy seemed to be used up in fighting the fear that the career he loved was over. Besides, she was only here for the wedding. It wasn’t as if their paths were likely to cross again in the near future. There was no point in starting something he had no intention of continuing.
When Allie and Gina started to clear away, Amber stood up and started helping—something else Guy hadn’t expected. Véra would have considered herself a guest and therefore someone to be waited on, not someone to help with the waiting.
As if she read the expression on his face, she said, ‘I’m in charge of pudding. Back in a minute.’ She smiled, and was gone.
And what a pudding. She came back holding a platter containing two soft meringue roulades, filled with what looked like some kind of cream-and-fruit mixture; the top was decorated with candied rose-petals and a drizzle of passion-fruit seeds, and she’d found some indoor sparklers somewhere and stuck those in, too, so her pudding could make a real entrance.
‘So that’s why Allie wanted three more roses,’ he said when she brought him a slice neatly plated.
She looked awkward. ‘Sorry, but they were so perfect for this—cream in the centre shading out to deep pink at the edges.’
‘And candying them must’ve taken you a while.’
‘It’s the little details that make the difference,’ she said simply.
‘And you pay attention to them.’ Again, he hadn’t expected that. He’d pigeonholed her as a careless, thoughtless diva. How had she managed to wrong foot him so completely? He gestured to the pudding to cover his awkwardness. ‘This looks good. Are you a chef?’
She shook her head. ‘I like messing about in the kitchen. But being a chef would mean working crazy hours. Not my thing.’
‘So what is your thing?’ he asked, suddenly curious.
‘I organise parties.’
He blinked. ‘You organise parties?’
‘It’s how I met Allie. She came to one of my parties, a couple of years back, and we hit it off. We’ve become friends.’
‘You’re a party girl.’ So he’d been right, at heart. She was a media darling—just like his ex-wife.
‘Uh-huh.’ She sighed. ‘But don’t believe everything you see in the press about me.’
‘You’re in the press a lot?’ Although her face seemed familiar, he couldn’t quite place her. He skimmed the business news, most of the time online because it was quicker; he certainly didn’t read the gossip and celeb pages in the newspapers, and the only time he saw one of the celeb magazines was if the cuttings agency sent it over because it contained a piece about GL Parfums. One of the things that drove his business partner, Phillipe, crazy was Guy’s insistence on low-key product launches—but Guy had already been burned by the media. Badly. And he wasn’t giving them a chance to dig around in his life again.
‘She’s the darling of the celeb mags, our Bambi,’ Gina said, coming over and draping her arms round Amber’s neck.
‘Bambi?’ The question was out before he could stop it.
‘Because of those big brown eyes and the legs up to her armpits. If she wasn’t so nice,’ Gina said cheerfully, ‘we’d all hate her for looking this good. Everyone else has to work at it. Not her. She could be wearing a sack after having no sleep for a week, and she’d still manage to look glamorous and start setting a trend! Life just isn’t fair.’
Amber laughed. ‘Thank you for the compliment, Gina, but you have to credit my mother for giving me her genes. And if you’d let me get you out of your “I’m an artist so I must wear black” uniform and put you in some colour to show off that porcelain skin, beautiful auburn hair and those gorgeous eyes, there’d be a queue of men from here to Paris.’
‘No chance. I’m an artist,’ Gina retorted, returning the grin.
‘Hopeless,’ Amber said, rolling her eyes. ‘Tell her, Guy. She’s gorgeous.’
‘She’s gorgeous,’ Guy said dutifully. Gina was pretty enough. But Amber was stunning: next to her, all the other women seemed plain.
And that unsettled him. He’d been here before. Lost his heart and his head to a gorgeous media darling. Married her within a month. And he’d really repented at leisure.
Not that he had any intention of getting involved with Amber. Even if she didn’t remind him of the biggest mistake of his life, he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Not right now, when his life was such a mess. He needed to focus on getting his career back on track. On finding a cure for his loss of smell. He couldn’t afford to let his libido get in the way.
‘Come and help me with the coffee?’ Gina asked.
‘Sure.’ Amber smiled at her. ‘Excuse me, Guy. I enjoyed our chat. Catch you later.’
And then she was gone.
Funny how his little corner of the terrace had suddenly lost its brightness. Guy shook himself. She wasn’t his type. And he’d be crazy to let himself think otherwise.
Chapter Two
THE next morning, Amber was awake before the alarm on her mobile phone went off. She had a quick shower and washed her hair, then headed for the kitchen. Allie and Gina were already there, having breakfast; she joined them, then did their nails afterwards and then made them sit to dry their nails properly while she sorted out the washing up.
Next was make-up and hair; and she was intrigued by the differences between a French wedding and an English one. ‘So you have two wedding ceremonies—the official one at the Mairie, where you wear a business suit, and then at the church, where you have the white dress?’ she asked.
‘That’s right,’ Allie confirmed.
‘Two weddings. That’s just greedy,’ Amber said, laughing. She stood back to look at her handiwork. ‘Oh, Allie—Xav’s going to take one look at you and then be desperate to carry you off to his lair.’
‘You look stunning,’ Gina agreed. ‘Radiant.’
Allie flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Ah, that’s what you’re supposed to say to all brides.’
‘But it’s still true,’ Amber said. She pushed back the tiny bit of wistfulness: ridiculous. Right at the moment, she didn’t even want to date anyone, let alone get married and settle down.
When Amélie, the flower-girl, arrived, Amber sat on the floor with her and taught her a counting song to make her feel less shy and more at ease, then did her hair, too.
‘I look like a princess!’ the little girl exclaimed in French when Amber showed her in the mirror.
‘You certainly do,’ Amber said, giving her a hug. ‘Absolutely beautiful. And now I’d better get ready myself. See you all in a bit!’
