wedding’s at four. And now … this weather’s so awful there’s no way anyone’s going out there.’
It certainly was awful. Alistair had been planning to take a diving trip to the Great Barrier Reef. Now he was trapped in Crocodile Creek, surrounded by wedding preparations for a couple he hardly knew.
‘Maybe I should check on her,’ he said, and Gina paused in what she was doing—was she really tying silver-painted chicken wishbones to baskets of sugared almonds?—and looked at him. Thoughtfully.
‘Don’t. She doesn’t want you to. You upset her last night.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ he said, taken aback.
‘She said you treated her like a tramp.’
‘I didn’t mean to do that either.’
‘You suggested it was no wonder she didn’t get custody of Max.’
‘Hey.’ He sighed and sat down at the kitchen table in front of Gina. And tried to think what to say. And couldn’t. ‘How many of these do you have to tie?’ he said at last, which was pathetic but small talk had never been his forte.
‘A hundred and twenty.’
‘How many have you done?’
‘Thirty.’
‘And they’re for?’
‘Fertility. Mrs Poulos says.’
‘Silly me for asking,’ he said, and picked up a wishbone. ‘Tell me about Georgiana.’
Gina kept on tying. ‘She says you have her summed up.’
‘I did have her summed up,’ he said ruefully. ‘I may have got it wrong.’
‘She doesn’t always wear stilettos,’ Gina conceded.
‘You mean she only did it for my benefit?’
‘I suspect she was horrified about the way she behaved when you were here last.’
‘I was pretty horrified at myself, too.’
‘So have you apologised?’
‘I … No.’
‘She had a reason for behaving appallingly. What was yours?’
‘I thought she was …’
There was a lengthy pause. Four more chicken wishbones got attached to baskets.
‘You thought she was cheap?’ Gina suggested.
‘I thought she was gorgeous,’ Alistair admitted. ‘Cheap, yeah. But still gorgeous. When she threw herself at me, I couldn’t resist.’
‘Men!’
‘She was … gorgeous. Trashy but great. You don’t feel like that when you look at Cal?’
‘Hey, we’re talking about my future husband here,’ Gina said with asperity. ‘My husband in a week. Someone I respect. You’re talking about someone you’re describing as trashy.’
He winced. ‘Are these wishbones for your wedding or for the one this afternoon?’
‘This afternoon. Mike’s mum read it in Vogue about a hundred years ago and she’s had her heart set on them ever since. Every chicken that’s gone through this kitchen has died for the greater good of Mike’s wedding.’ She tied another. ‘So …’ She looked at him dubiously across the table. ‘You saw Georgie and you got the hots for her.’
‘I’m sure there are better ways of framing it.’
‘I don’t have to watch my mouth with my cousin. Do you still have the hots?’
‘No!’
‘But six months ago … you felt so strongly that you went home and broke it off with Eloise’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Just because our mothers are dead, it doesn’t mean I don’t know your intimate secrets, Alistair Carmichael. Not that breaking off an engagement is an intimate secret. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It wasn’t important.’ He glowered. ‘We’re still friends and professional colleagues. So how exactly did you find out?’
‘Georgie told me. She said you told her last night.’
She and Georgie had talked about him. That was … interesting.
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ Gina asked again.
‘I didn’t want you to—’
‘To get the wrong impression,’ she finished for him, suddenly thoughtful. ‘You know, I’m starting to think there might be some other purpose in you agreeing to come here and give me away.’
‘There’s not,’ he said shortly.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘But if Eloise is out of the picture …’
‘Don’t even go there.’
They went back to tying ribbons. Great intellectual exercise. It left Alistair’s mind free to wander in places he didn’t particularly want to wander. Finally they were interrupted. It was Gina’s fiancé, Dr Cal Jamieson. He saw what they were doing and grinned. ‘Hey, you’ve got another suck—I mean helper,’ he told Gina. ‘Well done, mate. Gina asked me to help but I was really busy. Lawns to watch grow. Imperative stuff like that.’
He got two wishbones thrown at him simultaneously. Followed by two baskets of almonds.
‘Hey, don’t both of you shoot,’ he said, wounded.
‘We’re cousins,’ Gina said briefly. ‘It’s called family support.’
‘Why isn’t CJ doing this?’ Cal asked.
‘He said it was boring.’
‘Which it is—mate,’ Alistair said, and rose. ‘I’ve done twelve. That’s my quota.’
‘Actually, I have a job for you,’ Cal said, turning serious. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Anything that doesn’t involve chicken wishbones and painted almonds. And I’m not even going to this wedding …’
‘It’s Georgie,’ Cal said. ‘She’s over in the nursery. She and Charles are fretting about Megan. We want your advice.’
‘I’m a neurosurgeon,’ Alistair said, frowning. ‘Advice?’
‘She’s hoping she doesn’t need it,’ Cal said,
