The Eleventh-Hour Groom. Kathryn Ross

cosy, Jay, but, at the risk of sounding rude, I’m sure you haven’t come all this way to make idle chit-chat with me. Do you want to cut to the bottom line?’

      ‘You know the bottom line. I want you to sign those papers,’ he said calmly. ‘Why haven’t you?’

      She avoided his eyes. ‘I just haven’t got around to it, that’s all.’

      The waiter brought their wine and poured it for Jay to taste, before filling up their glasses.

      A piano struck up at the other side of the room, a relaxing romantic melody that blended with the gentle hum of conversation around them, but was at discomforting odds with their situation.

      ‘Are you ready to order?’ Jay asked as another waiter approached.

      ‘Yes.’ She ordered with the briefest glance at the menu, choosing a salad, her usual preference when she came here on business.

      Then she snapped the menu closed and handed it back with a smile. She would pretend this was a business deal. She could handle those. ‘I’m surprised you remember London well enough to select this restaurant. How long ago is it since you were here?’

      ‘About seven months.’

      She’d expected him to say seven years, because she knew he had visited London before they first met. It was a shock, therefore, to know he’d been here and hadn’t looked her up.

      ‘Oh?’ She took a sip of her wine. Well, why should he look her up? she told herself. He’d only do that if, like now, he wanted something. It wasn’t as if he missed her, or that they were even still friends.

      ‘I was here on business. I’m designing a craft for the round the world yacht race.’

      ‘The boat yard is doing well, then?’ she asked idly.

      He frowned. ‘Beth, you are still a sleeping partner in the business. I send you cheques every quarter, direct to your bank account. You know how the business is doing.’

      She shrugged. In truth she never looked at that money; she didn’t want it. It felt like blood money.

      ‘You don’t have to pretend. I know how much that money means to you,’ he grated quietly. ‘And I suppose the reason you won’t sign my papers is monetary as well.’

      ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jay, but I don’t need your money. I’m an independent, successful career woman.’

      ‘Well, you like to play at being one, anyway,’ he said suddenly, impatiently.

      ‘I’m not playing, Jay. I am independent.’

      ‘May I remind Elizabeth Hammond that she wouldn’t be where she is today if it wasn’t for my help,’ he grated mockingly.

      ‘And you wouldn’t be where you are today if it wasn’t for my help,’ she retorted, her eyes flashing fire. ‘Our arrangement was to our mutual benefit, and don’t you forget it.’

      ‘Well, that took all of, what, fifteen minutes?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And we are right back to the same argument we were having a year ago.’

      ‘You started it,’ Beth murmured.

      ‘No. You started it when you proposed marriage to me,’ he reminded her grimly.

      ‘I didn’t propose marriage; I proposed a business merger.’ With difficulty she kept the colour from flooding into her face. ‘And I wouldn’t have done it except for the fact that I was desperate and I thought you were my friend. I also thought you were a gentleman. It seems I was wrong on both counts.’

      ‘Maybe I’m not much of a gentleman.’ He shrugged and sat back in his chair. ‘But I was your friend.’

      She noted his use of the past tense and felt her heart heavy against her chest. She had ruined everything. Once upon a time Jay had liked her. They had been friends. Now he looked on her with contempt. He thought she was money-orientated; he thought she had used him. She supposed she was guilty of being greedy, but her greed had nothing much to do with money. Her greed had been to want more than Jay’s friendship. She had wanted him to love her, as she had loved him. But because of her pride she had gone about it the wrong way. Used the terms of her father’s will to provide a convenient excuse.

      She remembered clearly the day she had made the outrageous proposal. They had been sitting at the beach bar. She had ordered a rum punch, downed it quickly and ordered a second.

      ‘It’s not like you to drink in the middle of the afternoon,’ he had remarked softly. ‘I know you are upset about your dad’s death, but this isn’t the answer.’

      ‘So what’s the answer then?’ she asked.

      ‘I don’t know. Henry’s death is a shock; you must still be reeling from it. Coming to terms with his will on top of that must be hard.’ Jay shook his head. ‘I can’t believe that he actually went ahead and made out his will the way he did.’

      ‘Can’t you?’ Elizabeth’s tone was dry. ‘You know what a strong character he was. How stubborn he could be when he got an idea in his head. He always made it clear that his dearest wish was for you and I to get together.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose he did,’ Jay said thoughtfully. ‘In the two years I worked for him, I don’t think a day went by without him mentioning your name in a very positive way to me.’ For a moment a gleam of humour lit Jay’s dark eyes. ‘We used to find his matchmaking antics amusing, didn’t we, Beth? But this is going some even by his tenacious standards.’

      ‘Let’s not go through all that.’ Beth cut across him hastily, cringing with embarrassment. Jay might have found her father’s matchmaking attempts amusing but they had always flustered her. They’d been too near the mark, too near what she wished for secretly in her heart. Whether her father had realised her feelings or just thought their union would make sound economical sense, she had no idea; she just hoped that Jay didn’t perceive how she felt. That would be too humiliating by far.

      Elizabeth tried to sound cool and objective. ‘The fact is that he did make his will out with the clear purpose of pushing us together, and if I don’t marry you within seven weeks the boat yard, plus a substantial sum of money, go to my stepmother, along with everything else.’

      ‘Cheryl will probably see that you are well provided for. I’m sure your father will have left her very well off. The boat yard is just a tiny proportion of your father’s assets.’

      ‘Cheryl will be all right. But that’s not the point is it?’ Beth retorted, hurt beyond words. ‘I shouldn’t have to ask for what is rightfully mine.’

      ‘Well, there’s not much you can do about that, is there?’

      ‘Aren’t you worried about your job?’ Beth tried a new track. If he wasn’t worried about her, maybe he was worried about his own position.

      ‘Not really. I suppose Cheryl will keep me on.’

      ‘If she has any sense.’ Beth tried to implant some doubt in his mind. Though she knew full well that her stepmother was well aware that without Jay the boat yard would go downhill fast. Not only was he a talented designer, he ran the place with extreme efficiency. Her father had tried to get him to buy into the business on many occasions, just to keep him there, but Jay had always refused the offers.

      ‘Anyway I’ve been offered another job,’ he said suddenly.

      ‘What?’ Beth sat straighter in her chair. ‘Where? Here, on the island?’

      Jay grinned. ‘No. The Bahamas.’

      Those words shocked her more than her father’s will. The thought that Jay would leave was unbearable.

      ‘They’ve made me a good offer. I think I’m going to accept it, subject to a few loose ends here—’

      ‘You can’t!’ She stared at him in horror.