Best Friend...Future Wife. Claire Baxter

      Best Friend…Future Wife

      Claire Baxter

      

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Raelene—for the constant encouragement

       and unconditional friendship

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      EPILOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘PLEASE don’t let it be Tom,’ Della Davis muttered when her mobile phone rang.

      She reached into her handbag with one hand and skilfully steered the car around the corner with the other. She didn’t need another call from Tom Dermont, client from hell. She’d spent most of the day dealing with him, and he’d turned her mind to mush.

      After coming to a standstill in the side street, she delved deeper into the large leather bag. Retrieving the phone from the very bottom, she steeled herself to see the caller’s ID. If it was Tom again, she’d scream. Better yet, she’d resign.

      The phone stopped ringing as she flipped it open. Great. She closed it with a snap and dropped it into her lap, sorely tempted to switch it off. But her conscience wouldn’t let her. Nor would she resign. She had too much to lose, including the promotion she’d worked so hard for.

      Still, she’d had enough of Tom for one day—her least favourite person at the best of times and, in a PR crisis like today’s, her worst nightmare.

      ‘Remind me why I love my job,’ she said out loud.

      Silence was the only response, and she shrugged, wincing at the stiffness in her shoulders. She needed a relaxing soak in her favourite lavender-scented bath foam.

      Rolling her shoulders slowly, she pictured herself collapsing into bed…but not to sleep. Not to do anything normal people did in bed. Fat chance. She’d brought piles of work home, and she’d be sitting up with it till she fell asleep on the laptop. Again.

      A beep from the phone made Della jump. Accessing her voicemail, she sighed with relief at the sound of her best friend’s bright tones. She rang Lyn straight back. Just what she needed. The perfect antidote for the way she felt.

      Lyn answered on the first ring. ‘I’m in the car,’ she said.

      Della heard the familiar background track of Jamie, aged four, singing at the top of his voice and Cassie, six months, drowning him out with her wails.

      ‘I have big news,’ Lyn said.

      Della rolled her eyes, but smiled at Lyn’s excitement. ‘Where are we going this time?’

      ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘I have more than enough shoes, Lynnie, so I hope it’s not another—’

      ‘No, no. It’s not a sale. Not this time. Luke’s coming home. For good.’

      It took a moment for Lyn’s words to register. Della blinked at the phone. ‘What did you say?’

      ‘Shock, isn’t it? Good one, though. I can’t wait to see him.’

      Too stunned to speak, Della wondered what she’d done to deserve this. On top of everything else. Today of all days.

      ‘Shock’ was an understatement. Oh, she’d known Luke would come home one day. He’d always said he wouldn’t stay overseas for ever. But she’d expected to have some notice. Time to prepare herself before seeing him again. With his wife.

      ‘Dell, hon? Are you there?’

      Della snapped out of her trance. After years of hiding her feelings from Lyn, the last thing she needed was to give herself away now.

      ‘Coming home?’ Her voice sounded almost normal. ‘You mean he and Yvonne are going to live here?’

      ‘Had enough of living in India, apparently. Moving back to little old Adelaide and his loving family.’ Lyn laughed. ‘Incredible, isn’t it?’

      ‘It’s—’ Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried again. ‘When?’

      ‘You know my brother,’ Lyn said. ‘Loves his surprises, doesn’t he? He rang from Melbourne while waiting for a connecting flight. So, Mum wants you there for dinner tonight.’

      ‘Tonight…’ Della’s brain had gone into overload. It simply couldn’t cope. She didn’t know what to say.

      ‘I’m on my way to Mum’s now. Seven-thirty sharp. Okay?’

      ‘But…’ Della glanced at the digital display on the dashboard. ‘I won’t have time to get home and back again.’

      ‘So don’t. Come straight over. I’ve got some margarita mix and tequila on the seat next to me. I’ll have a drink mixed and ready for you. I know how stressed you are after a day at work.’

      ‘Not every day,’ she murmured, while toying with the idea of declining. She couldn’t. Lyn’s mum had been more of a mother than her own ever had. She’d never disobeyed a summons from Dawn yet, and she wouldn’t start now.

      But. Luke. Would. Be. There.

      ‘Oh, cripes. I forgot,’ Lyn said. ‘Here I am rabbiting on and…’ Her tone changed, became softer. ‘You had your appointment today, didn’t you?’

      The sympathy she heard in Lyn’s voice made Della’s breath catch in her chest.

      ‘Yes,’ she squeezed out.

      And there’d been no time afterwards to lick her wounds. Her workload hadn’t allowed for such self-indulgence.

      ‘Dell, hon, what did the doctor say?’

      The knowledge was too new. Too raw. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

      Jamie’s voice filled Della’s ear for a moment, then Lyn said, ‘I’ll make it a large margarita.’

      Della clicked off the phone and dropped it into her bag. She needed that drink. Tom Dermont. Dr Morgan. Now Luke and Yvonne. What a day.

      She had to pull herself together. It was lucky she was wearing one of her best business suits and had some makeup in her bag. She’d be presentable, at least. And it wasn’t as though Luke had any inkling how she felt about him. She’d never made a fool of herself in front of him before and she wouldn’t today.

      She reached for the ignition, then hesitated, biting her lip. She couldn’t do this. A fluttering sensation rose from her chest to her throat.

      No. She wouldn’t give in to anxiety.

      She could do this. She was a crisis expert—the one her firm counted on to bring composure to chaos. She simply had to put on her work face, her mask.

      Just like she had when he’d been over on his occasional visits during the last decade or so.

      Just like she had when he’d brought his new bride home to meet the family a few years ago. She’d smiled and congratulated him as if she really had felt nothing more than a sisterly affection for him.

      She’d fooled