All Because of You (Lakeview #2) (19 page)

“I know what you mean,” he agreed to Natalie’s surprise, while one of his companions gave him an odd look. “I suppose they could have tried something different.”

“Something different – they could have made an effort to start with! This is supposed be a fun, trendy London club, not a reception for the Queen! Now if I were organising a party like this, I’d give it a theme,” she went on, warming to her subject. “A launch for a club like this is crying out for a theme.”

“Such as?”

“Purple, of course!” she said grinning. “I’d instruct the organisers to use a purple entrance carpet to start with. What were they
thinking
using the tried and trusted red? Purple is the obvious choice, and something to really get the cameras clicking. And while we’ve got a theme going, why not serve Kir Royale instead of cheap sparkling Cava?”

“Purple drinks for Purple Grapefruit,” he said, nodding solemnly. 

“I know – and there’s this fab Lebanese lemonade you can get that would be perfect too.”  She shrugged. “Of course it’s unbelievably tacky, but tacky’s in these days, and celebs love it.”

“I see. So tacky’s the way forward, is it?”

“For a place like this – definitely.”

“Right, next time we arrange an event of this size I must call on you for advice, Ms … what was it again?”

She stared at him warily, for the first time wondering if she’d drunk and said too much. “Webb, Natalie Webb from Blue Moon PR. And you are?”

“Jay Murray,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Labyrinth Event Management.”

Natalie closed her eyes.  Oh shit. 

Right at that moment Natalie understood well why Tara, the girl she’d met on holiday, had taken the decision not to drink. If she’d put her foot in it the same way that Natalie just had, then who could blame her! 

She gulped and swallowed hard as she realised she had just insulted the work of one of London’s most prolific event management companies – a company that Blue Moon had used on numerous occasions, but one with which Natalie had never dealt directly.  How could she have been so stupid as to openly criticise the party in front of the very people who’d organised it? Or automatically presume that Jay Murray, with his Hugo Boss suit and stuffy, buttoned-up appearance, was simply a hanger-on?

Usually these guys looked like a cross between Jean Paul Gaultier and David Beckham with their ultra-trendy clothes and frequently effeminate exterior. Still, given that he wasn’t racing around the venue like a headless chicken, it was unlikely Murray was one of the planners. Which meant he had to be Labyrinth management. 

Even worse.

“So I take it you’re not a big fan of canapés and champagne, Ms Webb?” he asked, his dark eyes mocking her.

Natalie instinctively straightened her dress and tried to regain some composure. She glanced across at Danni who was still trying to fend off the advances of the bald man and, mercifully, seemed totally oblivious to her boss’s faux pas. 

“It’s Natalie,” she said, with a nervous laugh. “And of course I am, but I thought that a place like this could … could do better, that’s all …” she trailed off, too embarrassed to elaborate. Thanks to the aforementioned cava, she’d already said way too much. “Look, I’m very sorry if I insulted you – I had no idea – ”

“No idea that we’d spent weeks on end organising this … wait a second … what was it you called it again? Ah yes … ‘a reception for the Queen’, wasn’t it?”

Natalie bit her lip, mortified.

“But it’s OK,” he went on. “As it happens, I agree with you, and it’s good to get the feedback. I like to get a feel for what people really think of our events, which is why I try to blend in at these things.”

“Blend in, or go in disguise? When we were introduced, I had you pegged as a city trader.”

He glanced down at his none-too-casual attire. “Really? I thought all the party people dressed like this,” he joked, before adding, “But as I remember it, Ms Webb, or should I say Natalie, we weren’t actually introduced before you so eloquently voiced your opinion of my company’s work.”

Yikes! She’d walked into that one. Saying nothing more, Natalie took another gulp of champagne, wishing that she were anywhere else but here. She hadn’t really wanted to come to this sodding party in the first place – fitting that, like everything else in her life these days, it should end up in disaster!

“Anyway, as I said, I think you’re right in what you said,” Murray conceded. “We had some great ideas for this launch, but the club management wouldn’t go for any of it. Although to be honest, nobody had come up with your purple carpet suggestion, and now that I think of it, you’re right – it is the obvious choice. You could have a future in this kind of thing, Natalie – your talents are obviously wasted in PR.” 

By his tone, Natalie knew he was teasing her. Thank goodness. At least he hadn’t taken serious umbrage at her remarks. Some of these events and promotions types could be very touchy indeed, and Jack Moon would kill her if he found out she’d managed to alienate one of the city’s top promotions people.

“Yes, well, it was just a suggestion,” she said, cringing as she realised how stupid her tacky ideas must have sounded to someone of his expertise. “I see a lot of this kind of thing and, well, it would be good for once to experience something different.”

“You work with Blue Moon, you said?”

“Yes, I’m an account manager there.”

“Great company – Jack Moon’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is.” 

“Tell him I said hello, will you?”

“Sure.” Shit, Jay Murray and her boss obviously knew each other.
For heaven’s sake, please, please, don’t tell him I made a fool of myself tonight!
Natalie pleaded silently.
The last thing she needed was her work life going to pot too. Work was the only thing in her life that was going smoothly. If only she hadn’t opened her big fat mouth!  

Murray was now leaning casually against the bar, and Natalie realised that the two of them had gradually moved away from the others, and were now having a private conversation. 

“So, Natalie, do you think the place has any chance of being the next Ivy? And this time, give me your honest opinion – I wouldn’t want you to hold back or anything.” His mouth curled up into a not altogether unattractive smile and yet again Natalie tried to place that accent. It was British, but with a faint tinge of something else … Scottish maybe?

She smiled back, thankful that the tension had finally been relieved. “Well – no offence – but with a damp squib like this for a launch, I doubt it.” She shook her head from side to side. “Never mind celebrities, it’s not even the kind of place
I’d
hang out.”

“I see, and where would that kind of place be?” he asked, looking her squarely in the eye, and with a jolt Natalie realised he was flirting with her. 

In fact, he probably had been all along, but she’d been too caught up in her embarrassment to notice. 

She took a second or two to study him properly. He was tall, so tall he towered above her five-foot-five frame by a good six or seven inches. And he seemed well built, although it was difficult to tell what lay underneath that banker’s suit. But while he had a nice face, he wasn’t conventionally attractive, save for his dark, almost black eyes, and now that she thought about it, rather arresting presence.

Natalie only wished she’d taken notice of that powerful presence long before she’d started shooting her mouth off about the crappiness of the party. Yes, she decided as Jay Murray’s dark eyes stared back at her own, he wasn’t bad at all.

Almost instinctively she straightened up, subtly thrust forward her boobs and flashed him her most alluring smile. In that same split second, she forgot all about Steve and her shattered, never-to-be-repaired heart. 

“A million miles away from where supposed city-types like you hang out,” she replied, her smile widening.

Freya had been right, Natalie thought happily, there
were
plenty more fish in the sea, and she’d just decided she might like to try and land this one.

“So how’s everything?” Tara asked her mother. It was her first visit to
Lakeview since her return from Egypt, having been up to her eyes in work after the ten-day break. 

“Everyth
ing is the same as it always is Tara,” Isobel replied with a put-upon sigh. 

“And Emma? How is she now? Has she said anything at all about the father yet?”

Her sister was fast asleep in bed right then, apparently ‘worn out from the stress of her pregnancy’.  

Isobel shrugged. “If she doesn’t want to say anything, then none of us can force her.”

“Still, Mum – don’t you think all this secrecy about it is a little bit foolish, not to mention over the top? Fair enough if she doesn’t want to tell him, but why not tell us?”

“Well, it’s her own business, isn’t it? And anyway who’s to say that telling the father will make things better? He could be an awful layabout for all we know.”

That was true, Tara thought, guilty of the fact she hadn’t before considered that Emma was being secretive about the father simply because she wanted nothing to do with him. But for some reason she didn’t think that was the case. Emma had given little sign of being troubled in this way, and Tara truly believed that all the secrecy was just her sister being her usual melodramatic self.

“Well
yes, of course it’s her own business, but by refusing to ask him for help, isn’t she making things hard on you and Dad too?  It’s hardly fair that at thirty-one years of age she should be moving back home and expecting you to look after her.”

Isobel smiled. “Emma was always a home-bird,” she replied fondly.

Tara said nothing. Having got over the initial shock of Emma’s pregnancy, Isobel had now resumed normal service and was back to feeling sorry for – and needlessly indulging – her youngest daughter. Of course, Tara couldn’t blame Isobel for wanting to help Emma out in her hour of need, but still she felt annoyed at the girl for blatantly exploiting her mother’s generosity. Oh, well, she thought with a sigh, those two had always had a close relationship, and she knew Isobel would go to the ends of the earth just to keep Emma happy.

“I’m sure she has her reasons for keeping it a secret,” Isobel went on, “but, to be truthful, I’m wondering lately if she might have been in contact with him. She’s going out in the evenings a lot these days, and doesn’t say where.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, she goes out for a couple of hours at a time, and then when she comes back she’s usually in much better form.”

“I wonder is it anyone from around here then?” Tara wondered out loud. They’d all assumed the father of Emma’s baby was some guy she’d been seeing in Dublin during her short stint living there. But perhaps not. Still, who could she possibly be seeing from around here?

“I don’t know,” Isobel replied, “but whoever he is, there’s no fear of her telling us anyway.”

With that, Emma appeared at the doorway, and Tara and Isobel looked at her guiltily, both wondering if she’d overheard them talking about her.

“Emma, pet.
” Isobel cried, getting up. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”

Her daughter gave a deep sigh in reply. “Actually, I was just about to drop off when I heard Tara come in.”

This sounded innocent, but Tara knew her sister well enough to understand that there was a deliberate dig in there.

“Did you have a nice holiday?” Emma asked then, and again there was an edge to her tone.

Tara smiled, unwilling to let Emma’s theatrics get to her. “It was great, thanks. Sorry I haven’t been to see you before now. Work has been manic.”

“Oh, that’s OK – I’m sure you’ve got much more important things to be doing than worrying about me,” her sister replied mournfully.

“Sit down there and take the weight off your feet, pet,” Isobel urged, going over to the sink and filling the kettle. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Tara marvelled at the way she fussed over Emma.  Fair enough, she’d been sickly as a child, and this had always given Isobel reason to worry, but by the way her mother carried on, you’d swear Emma was still a helpless baby, not a fully-grown adult!

It hurt too that her mother had never fallen over herself to do the same for Tara, but the Harrington family dynamic had always been the same, and at this stage in their lives it was hardly going to change. Especially not now, when Emma was in real ‘trouble’.

“I was just telling Tara all about Dave McNamara getting engaged,” Isobel said and, confused, Tara’s head snapped up. When Isobel flashed her a pointed stare she realised that their mother was trying to give Emma the impression that she and Tara had been partaking in a bit of local gossip rather than discussing her.

“Yes,” she replied after a beat, deciding to play along, despite the fact that this was the first she’d heard of the aforesaid Dave’s engagement. But perhaps this time her mother was right; Emma seemed in bad enough form as it was without thinking she was being talked about. “That’s a bit of a surprise, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Emma replied sourly, evidently unimpressed by the news of the local councillor.