Blind Date Rivals. Nina Harrington

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      A brief smile flashed across his lips. Impressive. No wonder his aunt had snapped the house up the minute it came onto the market. She had impeccable taste.

      Minutes later, Leo threw open the car door, swung his body out of the bucket seat and stepped out onto the cobblestone car park. His favourite designer black boots emerged first, followed by the rest of him, all six foot two of gym-toned muscle, sharp reflexes and an uncanny instinct for what made a commercial business a success … or at least that was what the financial press liked to say.

      In his high-profile work with international clients, superficial aspects such as his designer clothing were simply parts of a business image he had spent years perfecting. His clients expected prestige and results and that was what they got. It was as simple as that. They did not care that he had started his working life washing dishes in the kitchens of his aunt’s boutique London hotel. Why should they? He was paid to make a difference to their business. Nothing else mattered. This was business, not personal.

      And now it was time to do the same for Kingsmede Manor.

      Leo strolled around to the back of the car and lifted out his leather weekend bag. His only hope was that there would be a marked absence of those boring white orchids that every hotel in the world seemed to have at the moment. Perhaps this time he was going to get a pleasant surprise?

      It was almost nine that evening when Sara finally tottered in her evening sandals through the familiar white marble hall with its twisted double staircase and grinned up at the huge scarlet banner which hung suspended from the ornate plasterwork arch above her head.

      The words ‘Hollywood Night’ had been printed in enormous gold letters across the banner. Trust Helen to choose a movie theme for her birthday party. And subtle did not come into it.

      Shaking her head with a low chuckle, Sara could not resist checking on the pair of stunning orchid plants which she had delivered only two days earlier as a special order.

      This variety of Phalaenopsis was a triumph. At the heart of each of the huge ivory blossoms was a crimson tongue speckled with gold dust. Of course she did not expect the guests and staff at the hotel to appreciate how much work went into create such perfect flower spikes from each plant, but they did look amazing. She had suggested other colour combinations, of course, but the Events Manager had insisted on the ivory blossoms. They were a lovely match for the antique console table which stood along the length of the hall below the huge gold framed mirror which had once belonged to her grandmother.

      It had been heartbreaking for her to watch so many of her favourite pieces of treasured antique furniture being sold off in auction to strangers, but her mother had been right for once. Huge heavy pieces of furniture and enormous gilt mirrors belonged in a house large enough to appreciate them and not in some minimalist apartment or tiny cottage. And of course they had needed the proceeds of the sale so very badly.

      At least the luxury hotel chain who had bought Kingsmede Manor had the good sense to snap up as many of the lovely original pieces as they could while they still had the chance.

      At that moment the front doors opened to a gaggle of laughing guests who swept into the hall, bringing a breeze of evening air to waft through the orchid spikes. Sara did not recognise anyone in the group—but that was hardly surprising. Helen’s jewellery design business was based in London and it had been three years since they had shared a flat together. Their lives had changed so much since then it was little wonder that they had different friends and such different lives.

      For a moment Sara looked past the orchid blossoms and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hand instantly went to her hair and flicked back her short fringe. There had been a time when she had been one of those laughing, happy city girls, with their smart high heels and expensive grooming habits, who could afford wonderful hairdressers. Now she was simply grateful that the pixie style was back in fashion.

      Sara checked her watch. She was late. Correction, make that very late. Perhaps her blind date was already here and waiting for her? Frightened of being stood up? And probably as scared as she was.

      She lifted her chin and fixed a smile on her lips as she wandered into what had been her grandmother’s drawing room and stood on tiptoe to see if she could spot Helen.

      At five feet nothing, Helen had always been petite enough to make Sara feel like a gangly beanstalk. That was one reason why Sara had chosen medium black sandals to accompany her simple black shift dress—one of the many treasures her grandmother had left behind in the dressing-up box! Helen had supplied the pearl necklaces and huge black sunglasses but she had turned down the plastic tiara. Not with her current hairstyle. The long black evening gloves and cigarette-holder were the only other props she needed to become Audrey for the evening.

      Then she spotted someone waving to her from across the room.

      Sara worked her way through the crowd of costumed strangers, trying to reach Helen’s table which was just in front of the wide patio doors that led out onto the terrace. A warm breeze from the garden wafted into the packed room. Perfect.

      ‘Thank goodness you are here,’ Helen called against the background noise. ‘We need to come up with a plan to make sure that we win the karaoke contest later on, and you’re the only person I know who can sing vaguely in tune.’

      Helen was dressed as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and looked absolutely charming, from her simple gingham pinafore dress to her red glittery shoes and a tiny little basket with a stuffed toy dog inside.

      ‘Oh, thanks a lot, Dotty,’ Sara replied with a laugh and bent down quickly to kiss her friend, while trying to avoid kissing away the bright spot of red on Helen’s cheek which she had helped apply. ‘Sorry I’m so late. I think the mice have been in the orchid house again and Pasha refused to move from his comfy cat bed without a fight.’

      Sara stretched out her left arm and turned it from side to side. ‘Can you still see the scratch marks? I’ve taken two antihistamines and tried to cover them up with several layers of make-up and long gloves. What do you think?’

      Helen waved her fingers in the air. ‘Forget about all of that. I need you to focus, sweetie. Focus. I have just decided that our table will win the most points so you have to be on top form.’ She nodded and tapped her finger against her nose, which was slightly redder than normal, and Sara wondered how many glasses of champagne Helen had sampled in the past hour.

      But, before Sara could answer, a tall slim man in a pinstriped suit with huge shoulders, black and white brogues, a fedora and black eye mask sidled up towards them, tipped his hat to an even more jaunty angle, lifted Helen’s hand, bent over sharply from the waist and kissed the inside of her wrist. ‘Hiya, Gorgeous,’ he said in a very fake American gangster accent, ‘are you ready to be my moll tonight? You and your little dog too.’

      ‘Good evening, Caspar,’ Sara said with a smile. ‘You are looking terribly elegant.’

      The black silk mask was hoisted up with a sigh of exasperation.

      ‘Come on. What gave me away?’ Caspar asked.

      Sara pointed to his wrist. ‘I’m afraid designer watches like that were not so very common in the organised crime community.’

      He looked casually down and snorted. ‘Serves me right for accepting gifts from every jewellery designer I promise to marry,’ he answered, grinning down at Helen, who raised her eyebrows in recognition.

      ‘Anyway—look at you! All dressed up for a Saturday night and looking very handsome.’

      ‘Helen dragged me here.’ Sara nodded. ‘Apparently this is the poor girl’s last chance to have some fun before she leaves the world of young, free and single.’

      Caspar was already looking over Helen’s head towards the bar, and nodded to the wine waiter who was carrying trays of chilled champagne glasses with what looked like dry ice streaming out of them.

      ‘I consider it my solemn duty to help my future bride achieve all her goals. Be right back with the drinks, ladies. Prepare