Something Borrowed (12 page)

‘Julia?’ The voice was definitely being directed in her ear. ‘At least I’m assuming that’s who you’re meant to be. Aren’t you wearing her dress? Chloe?’

Julia.
Of course. How stupid of her. Patting her French knot up-do and making sure it was still hair-sprayed to within an inch of its life, she turned and clashed gazes with a very dapper Vaughn, resplendent in black suit, white shirt, and black tie. His normally messy hair had been slicked to one side, a la nineteen thirties leading man, which made his dark eyes stand out even more.

Without meaning to, she inhaled sharply. God almighty, he was gorgeous. Actually, the man would have been gorgeous in a paper bag on a dark night, during a lunar eclipse. She worked on keeping her voice even and cooling the heated buzz that thrummed through her veins. ‘Yes, you’re right. Top of the class, Mr Brooks. Julia Roberts, Academy Awards night two thousand and one, only with a much shorter train. How did you know? Men aren’t usually interested in women’s dresses.’

He took a seat next to her; chair turned out to face the dance floor like her. Then he leant in a little to talk over the music. He smelt clean and fresh, with a discreet hint of masculine cologne on his jaw, and he was so close her heart wouldn’t stop its silly
hello Vaughn
dance. And hell, this was Vaughn Brooks—the man she’d hated. Should still hate.

But clearly she didn’t hate him at all. Her body was practically begging for his touch.

‘Come on, Chloe, Julia Roberts was every boy’s fantasy back then. Black dress, white straps. Diamonds. Long legs. Big smile. What’s not to like? And you rock the look spectacularly.’

‘Thank you. Clearly, apart from the long legs, the beautiful red hair, the famous caramel-coloured eyes and the Yankee drawl, I’m the double of Julia Roberts.’

He laughed as his gaze met hers for a little longer than she was used to. ‘You’ll do.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment, shall I? I think it’s the best one I’ll get today.’ Probably the only one. ‘You look very nice, too. Very… er… who are you meant to be, exactly?’

‘Pick any man from any awards ceremony any year, last century, last decade, and this. We all get to wear the same thing. Suit, tie…’ He smiled, and she remembered the review and her heart swelled a little.
Meh, indeed.
There was nothing about this man that was meh. A little brooding at times, definitely with grump potential as she knew only too well following the bouquet incident, and sometimes distracted by his own bloody genius creativity—but never, ever meh. He took a drink from his pint of beer then turned to her again. ‘Things going okay? It seems as if everyone’s happy. You’ve done well, not that I know anything about these things. But I didn’t notice any problems during the ceremony, and it’s a great venue.’

Yes, let’s talk about work, shall we?
‘So far so good. It’s a perfect place and they’ve gone overboard helping us dress the set for a wedding.’ The staff had pulled out all the stops with a glamorous nineteen thirties’ style gin palace with echoes of
The Great Gatsby
as a reception venue. The waiters wore spats and black and white outfits, and the waitresses all had black bob wigs.

The actual wedding ceremony had taken place in the main gallery in front of a huge bower of beautiful white flowers reminiscent of
Twilight
. It had taken Jenna hours to make it and taken them both hours to install it in front of some props from a recent movie about a dragon prince, so there was magic and mystery and a little bit of sorcery happening too. Much like the job of a wedding planner, Chloe mused to herself. ‘I saw people enjoying the cute clapperboard place cards and awards trophy chocolate favours. But I can’t get complacent; we still have a few hours to go.’

‘And the dress was a definite hit, so that should please your mum.’

‘She’s nothing if not talented with a needle. I’ll give her that.’ Jane’s dress was indeed phenomenal. A confection of white satin, it was a copy of Marilyn Munroe’s iconic halter dress from
Seven Year Itch
that billowed over a New York subway grate. It had been elevated to wedding dress status by the addition of Swarovski crystals beaded heavily across the fitted bodice, and a filmy, frothy, tulle overlay on the skirt.

As she’d walked down the makeshift aisle, the guests had sighed at the beauty of it all and Chloe had noticed the satisfied coy smile the bride wore as she’d made her vows.

‘Any more business happened yet? People begging you to plan their nuptials? Your diary is brimming with events? Bar Mitzvahs, christenings, Halloweens?’ He lowered his voice so she had to crane in to hear. ‘D.I.V.O.R.C.Es?’

‘Hush that mouth, Vaughn Brooks. Never mention that word in my presence again. At least, not at a wedding.’ She pointed to the empty space around them; everyone else was joining in a conga dance. They were having a good time and that, at least, was down to her planning and DJ recommendations. She was good at this. ‘Can’t you see the queue of clients forming around the block?’

‘It will happen, give it time.’ Vaughn gave her an encouraging smile that warmed her through. With his infectious positivity, she could start to believe that things really would happen. And a little nugget of self-belief was there too, glowing timidly in the centre of her chest. Yes, she could do this.

‘I hope so. I’ve taken every opportunity to let people know I’m available. My business cards are everywhere, and my website is printed on everything. I almost thought about having it tattooed on my forehead… too much?’

‘Let me see…’ He laughed and reached out to her side-swept fringe, tugging it gently up to reveal her forehead. Such an intimate gesture that it had her stomach twirling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jason standing at the bar watching her with a strange look on his face. Her heart picked up its rhythm, and she focused back on Vaughn and his touch. All too soon, he dropped his hand, and she wanted to grab it, just to feel his heat under her fingertips. He was still laughing, and she liked that, even though he hadn’t spent much time talking to anyone, he’d sought her out and was giving her his full attention. ‘A tattoo would be just a little over the top, I think. Business cards and word of mouth will do just fine. Maybe draw up some flyers? Take some photos of this wedding if you’re going to go down the weird and wonderful route.’

‘Jane said she’d write me a testimonial about how smoothly everything’s gone and that I can use a couple of her official wedding photos when she gets them. Although, I’ve already taken a few on my phone.’ For something to do with her hands, she lifted out her phone and showed him. He seemed genuinely interested and talked about composition, layout and the rule of thirds in photography. Once again, she started to relax with him. It was nice having someone to talk these things through with. Jenna and her mum were invested in getting things done, but they weren’t interested in spreadsheets and marketing budgets and branding.

Vaughn nodded as she scrolled through her photos of the flowers and close-ups of some exquisite detailing on the dress. ‘You need more photos of the venue and the tables if you’re going to sell yourself as a general party planner and not just weddings. Do close-ups of the quirky things, like the place cards because they will highlight your attention to detail. But steady as you go, it won’t happen overnight.’

‘Such a shame, because I could really do with overnight success, believe me. I never was very good at that patience malarkey.’

‘No, I’ve already had the brunt of that particular personality trait.’ He rubbed his head and winked. ‘Have you discussed things with your family yet?’

‘Do not talk to me about families.’ She couldn’t help but laugh, remembering picking up Jenna and the flowers this morning, and their mum not even coming downstairs to talk. Or the lack of response to Chloe knocking on the bedroom door and calling through to
get well soon, Mum. I love you
. Or the blackcurrant jam stain, from Evie, down her favourite cream Zara trousers. And the way Jenna kept looking at Chloe as if everything was her fault. Talking about the business was way down on her list. Survival was at the top.

Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why not? Trouble?’

‘Where to start? If my mum taking to her bed and refusing to budge for three whole days is what you might loosely describe as trouble, then yes. Trouble it is.’

He looked as if he regretted asking that first question, never mind the second. Or third. ‘Is she sick?’

‘No. Yes. I don’t know. She’s been hiding a secret for twenty odd years, and we all found out about it the other night… about my dad. Turns out, he didn’t die. Well, he did, but he didn’t die immediately. She kicked him out. And then he died.’

There was a deep furrow above Vaughn’s eyes as he tried to keep up. ‘He died because she kicked him out?’

‘No.’

He held his hands up. ‘So whoa, I am way out of my depth here. It sounds very complicated.’

‘It is. She wanted to protect us because we were little, but the lie sort of grew and then she didn’t feel like she could tell us the truth. Anyhoo, it means that we don’t have a Cassidy curse after all. She was just making it all up. I think. I’m not sure about the last bit, to be honest. But it means that she wasn’t really a widow after all, although I don’t know if they ever got around to getting a divorce either. And now Jenna’s cross with her too, which never happens. Jenna’s the favourite.’

She hauled in a breath and was just about to explain about the book group night, but he jumped in. ‘Chloe, is anything straightforward with you?’

She looked over at Jason, still standing at the bar, then back at Vaughn. ‘No. I don’t think it is.’

Vaughn nodded slowly. ‘I thought not.’

‘Is that good or bad?’

‘Neither. I just think of it more as a warning.’ He grinned. ‘I’m not good at complications.’

‘I know, you said before. Is that a warning too?’

He thought about it for a moment then shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Right, then. We’re both well… er… warned. You don’t do complications or commitments. Noted. And my life is just crazy.’

‘Also noted.’ He smiled, and it was such a warm, soft smile. Then his hand brushed against hers, and she shivered with the biggest tingle rush she’d ever had. ‘Glad we got that out of the way.’

She felt way, way out of her depth. No, actually, she felt as if she wanted to throw caution to the wind and dive right into those non-committal arms and stay there. That was the trouble with warnings; they made you want to ignore them completely and test the dangerous waters for yourself.

She also wanted to deflect attention away from her and this, because she’d already spoken far too much and he was looking at her with a kind of pity that was muted by a sad smile that said he felt sorry for her. She didn’t want to talk about herself anymore, but how to broach the next subject?

In the end, she channelled Jenna and went for honesty being the best policy. She moved her hand away. ‘Look, Vaughn, I saw the review.’

‘Ah. Yes. That.’ His eyebrows rose and he gave a sort of shrug that she figured was supposed to indicate that he didn’t give a toss about the review, but it was clear from the fall in his mouth and the faded light in his eyes that he did care. A lot. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was also a little embarrassed as he looked down at his empty glass. ‘You want another drink?’

She reached for his arm and gave it a little squeeze that she tried to turn into a gentle, friendly punch, in case she gave him the wrong idea. ‘It is okay to talk about these things, you know.’

He frowned. ‘Yes, I was going to. I just need something to help smooth things over first. Just to bolster my ego, you know.’

‘Oh. Right. Okay. I’ll just finish this; then you can get me another chardonnay.’

‘No hurry. I can wait all week to talk about a very average review.’ He was going to talk to her about how he felt. And he didn’t seem scared about the prospect or worried. It was the most masculine thing she’d ever heard.

She glanced away and noticed that the catering guy was gesticulating at her from across the room. He was making a sawing motion with his hand, which she deduced was about the cutting of the wedding cake.
Perfect bloody timing, mate
. Although, to be fair, she already had plenty of reasons to leave Vaughn well alone.

One of them was still staring at her from the bar; Jason’s face was screwed up tight and even from this distance she could see he was not happy at all. In fact, she could feel the pinpoints of daggers at her heart the more he stared. Probably, because she was talking to his cousin. Or the simple fact she was here at all, making his new Chloe-less life just that little bit more difficult.

When he saw her looking over, Jason raised his eyebrows, making sure eye contact was made.

She looked away quickly.

‘Oh. Sorry, Vaughn, but… I… actually… I need to go. I think I’m needed for the cake cutting.’

Vaughn followed her gaze over to Jason, then back. He nodded and frowned. ‘It seems like I’m always trying to convince you to have a drink, Chloe. Don’t have one on my account. It’s fine.’

She looked at the catering guy who was still gesticulating, then at Jason, who was still frowning, then at Vaughn, who was starting to walk away. No man for months then three all wanting her attention at the same time.
Typical.
‘No. No, it’s not that. I will. I’d love a drink, thank you. Once I’ve sorted out the cake cutting.’ She held her empty glass out to him. ‘Chardonnay please, and line them up.’

‘If you insist.’

And with that, man number one turned away. She watched him walk towards the bar, breathing a silent sigh that Jason had seemingly disappeared. Now, for the cake cutting and man number two, who was the one with the sharp knives, so she should probably have made him man number one.

She stood up, turned to head to the kitchen area out back and smacked hard into… man number three. ‘Oh. Jason.’

Damn.

‘Chloe. Hi.’ It came out as a slur, more like
Chloeeehi
. Too much wine, knowing Jason. He was like that, guzzling the free booze as if there was a prize for whoever drank the most and he was determined to win it.