The Wedding-Night Affair. Miranda Lee

      Kathryn disengaged her arm from Fiona’s as Philip approached, moving forward to give her son an astonishing hug. ‘It’s so nice to see you, son. I hope you didn’t drive too fast, now.’

      ‘I never drive too fast, Mother dearest. Can’t afford to get any blemishes on my record.’

      ‘My son’s a lawyer,’ his mother proudly explained, with a smiling glance over her shoulder at Fiona.

      Philip’s gaze swung to Fiona as well, who felt as if there was a vice around her chest, squeezing tightly.

      ‘So, who have we here, Mother?’ he said quite nonchalantly. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

      A little of the pressure eased, though a perverse dismay was added to the emotions besieging Fiona at that moment. So he hadn’t recognised her! She shouldn’t have been disappointed. But, stupidly, she was. He’d once claimed he would never forget her, that he would love her till the end of time.

      ‘The end of time’ apparently expired after ten years, came the pained thought. If truth be told, it had probably begun to run out the moment she’d exited his life.

      Philip’s father had been so right about his son’s so-called love. It had had about as much substance as fairy-floss.

      ‘Your memory for some things is appalling these days, Philip,’ his mother said, blissfully unaware of the irony within those words. ‘Fiona is the wedding co-ordinator from Five-Star Weddings that I was telling you about on Friday. I’m sure I mentioned I was having lunch with her today. Fiona, this is Philip, the absent-minded groom. Philip, this is Fiona. Fiona Kirby, wasn’t it, dear?’

      ‘Yes, that’s right.’

      ‘How do you do, Mrs Kirby?’ he greeted her.

      ‘Miss,’ she corrected sharply, and his eyebrows lifted above the sunglasses.

      ‘My mistake. Sorry. Ms Kirby.’

      ‘Oh, don’t call her that, Philip,’ his mother said with a soft laugh. ‘We’re already on a first-name basis, aren’t we, my dear? As I said to Fiona, we’ll be spending quite a deal of time together in the near future so we might as well be friends.’

      Fiona wanted to scream and make a dash for the car. Friends? She was no more capable of being friends with Philip and his mother than she was of being friends with a pair of serial killers.

      Yet for the moment she was trapped. Owen would kill her if she alienated such an influential family as the Forsythes, thereby damaging the reputation of Five-Star Weddings. And, frankly, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d been very foolish indeed to come here in person and risk all for the sake of her infernal pride.

      ‘You’ve already decided on Five-Star Weddings to do the wedding?’ Philip asked his mother, a frown bunching his forehead.

      ‘I certainly have. The moment I met Fiona I knew she was the right person to do the job.’

      ‘Did you indeed? How interesting. I, however, would like to see what she has in mind before any decisions are made and any contracts signed.’

      ‘Lawyers!’ Kathryn exclaimed, with a roll of her eyes and an apologetic glance towards Fiona. ‘They see trouble at every turn.’

      ‘Not at all,’ Philip countered smoothly. ‘I simply don’t believe in rushing into anything, especially when it comes to business dealings. The world is full of conartists and shysters. I know nothing of Five-Star Weddings other than what you told me over the phone. And absolutely nothing about Ms Kirby here, except what I can see for myself. As attractive as her outer package might be, in reality she might be anybody!’

      Fiona stiffened, then saw red. Be damned with what Owen thought. Be damned with everything. She was not going to let Philip stand there and insult her.

      Sweeping off her sunglasses, she glared up at him, her cold fury only increasing when he still didn’t recognise her.

      ‘Five-Star Weddings has an impeccable record and reputation, Mr Forsythe,’ she stated through clenched teeth. ’As do I. Might I remind you that your mother solicited this appointment, not the other way around? Nevertheless, I can show you many personal letters of recommendation, plus extensive portfolios of weddings I have arranged. Believe it or not, I am heavily booked at the moment, and only came here as a favour for my business partner, who agreed to this appointment without consulting me.

      ‘Under the circumstances, it would be better if you found someone else, Kathryn,’ she directed at Philip’s mother. ‘Lovely to have met you.’

      Kathryn grabbed her arm before she could make good her escape. ‘Please, don’t go!’ she cried, before rounding on her son, her voice trembling and full of reproach. ‘What on earth’s got into you, Philip? I’ve never known you be so rude before!’

      ‘I wasn’t being rude. I was trying to be sensible. Anyway, given that Ms Kirby says she overbooked, it’s better you do hire someone else.’

      ‘But I don’t want someone else! I want Fiona. She’s the one who was recommended. On top of that, I like her. You’d do the job personally, wouldn’t you, dear, if I paid you double your usual fee?’

      ‘Well, I... I...’

      ‘Mother, for pity’s sake, you don—’

      ‘Philip!’ his mother interrupted sternly, the stubborn and autocratic Kathryn of ten years ago emerging for a few moments. ‘You and Corinne asked me to organise your wedding and I am only too happy to do so. But with your proposed wedding date only ten weeks off, and your bride-to-be overseas for most of that time, I will need help. I want Fiona to be that help. Please don’t be difficult about this.’

      Philip stood there silently for several tense seconds, his shoulders squared, his mouth grim.

      Fiona didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It really was a bizarre situation.

      Suddenly, Philip swept off his sunglasses and stared deep into her eyes, his own no longer masked.

      They had always been his most attractive feature, his eyes. A vivid blue and deeply set, with a dark rim around the iris which gave them an added intensity, both of colour and expression. The first time he’d looked at her all those years ago, across the shop counter, her knees had gone to jelly.

      He stared at her now and she stared boldly back, her knees only marginally shaky.

      His gaze raked her face, his expression puzzled and searching. For what? she thought angrily. Was he finally being bothered by a faint glimmer of familiarity? Was his subconscious teasing him with all those times he’d looked deeply into her eyes and told her she was the most incredible, adorable, irresistible girl in the world?

      Quite abruptly, his eyes cooled to a bland, infuriatingly unreadable expression.

      ‘I apologise,’ he said, but insincerely, she believed. ‘I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on your reputation. I have to confess to a certain cynicism these days, especially in matters of business. I’m sure Five-Star Weddings is without peer in its field and I’m sure you’re one of its star co-ordinators.’

      ‘She certainly is,’ his mother joined in, looking both relieved and pleased. ‘You should have heard the photographer rave. He said Fiona was the very best in the business.’

      ‘I’m sure,’ Philip murmured. ‘Still, perhaps Fiona could humour me a little by coming inside and telling us some more about herself. But first, I’m dying for some decent coffee, Mother dearest. Do you think you could make me some? I know it’s Brenda’s day off, but you make much better coffee than she does anyway.’

      ‘Flatterer!’ Kathryn returned, but she was beaming.

      ‘What about you, Fiona?’ Philip said, with the sort of suave smoothness she both desired and despised in a man. ‘You look like a coffee girl to me.’

      ‘Coffee would be nice,’