A Bride for the Runaway Groom. Scarlet Wilson

to meet you, Mr Carter. Pay special attention to the instructions and—’ she glanced at Rose ‘—I wish you well for the future.’ She wheeled her dressing trolley out of the cubicle.

      Rose was fuming. Half of her thought this was all his own fault, and half of her was wondering if the millionaire would sue her for personal damages. She’d heard of these things before. What if Will couldn’t sell his next wedding to Exclusive magazine because of his scar?

      What if he sold the story of how he got his scar instead? She groaned and leaned back against the wall.

      ‘Rose, are you going to pass out? Sorry, I didn’t think you were squeamish.’

      She opened her eyes to face his broad chest. He’d made a miraculous recovery and was standing in front of her with his hand on her arm to steady her.

      The irony wasn’t lost on her. She was supposed to be looking after him—not the other way about.

      He’d told her he needed help with publicity. Maybe she’d unwittingly played into his hands? Her brain started to spin.

      Her head sagged back and hit against the cold hospital wall. Her eyes sprang back open and he was staring right at her again.

      How many women had he charmed with those blue eyes? And that killer dimple...

      His arm slid around her shoulders. ‘It’s hot in here. Maybe you’ll feel better if we get some fresh air.’

      His body seemed to automatically steer hers along. Her feet walking in concordance with his, along the hospital corridor and back out to the car park. Her first reaction was to shake off his unwanted arm.

      But something weird was happening. Her body seemed to enjoy being next to his. She seemed to fit well under his shoulder. In her simple sundress the touch of his arm across her shoulders was sending little currents to places that had been dormant for a while.

      Twenty-four hours. That was how long she would have to be in his company.

      Panic was starting to flood through her, pushing aside all the other confusing thoughts. This guy could charm the birds from the trees. She’d thought she’d be immune. But her body impulses were telling her differently.

      As soon as the fresh air hit she wriggled free from under his arm. ‘I’m fine.’ She walked across the car park and jiggled her keys in her hand.

      ‘We need to have some ground rules.’

      He leaned against the Rolls-Royce. She could almost hear her father scream in her ear.

      ‘What exactly might they be?’ One eyebrow was raised. He probably couldn’t raise the other. That part of his forehead would still be anaesthetised. Darn it. The guilty feelings were sneaking their way back in.

      ‘I think when we get back to Hawksley Castle we should ask Violet to stay with you. After all, she knows you best. She’ll know if you do anything out of character—like grope strange women.’ She couldn’t help but throw it in there. She waved the instructions at him. ‘You know, anything that might mean you need to go back to hospital.’ Now she was saying the words out loud they made perfect sense.

      He waved his finger at her. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

      ‘Don’t what?’

      ‘Try and get out of this.’ He pointed to his forehead. ‘You did this to me, Rose. It’s your job to hang around to make sure I’m okay.’

      He was so smooth. A mixture of treacle and syrup.

      ‘Oh, stop it, Will. I’m not your typical girl. I’m not going to fall at your feet and expect a ring. And if you keep going the way you are I’ll hit you again with the next vase I find. I’ve got things to do. I can’t hang around Hawksley Castle.’

      He smiled and opened the car door. ‘Who said we were spending the next twenty-four hours at Hawksley Castle?’

      She started as he climbed in. She pulled open the car door and slid in. ‘What on earth do you mean? Of course we’re going back to Hawksley Castle.’

      He shook his head. ‘I think both of us have overstayed our welcome. You’ve damaged one of Seb’s precious heirlooms and I’ve probably put immovable stains on an ancient carpet and wall. I suggest we regroup and go somewhere else.’

      She started the engine. ‘Like where?’

      ‘Like Gideon Hall.’

      Gideon Hall. Will Carter’s millionaire mansion. At least at Hawksley Castle she’d be surrounded by family and friends. There was safety in numbers. Being alone with Will Carter wasn’t something she wanted to risk.

      ‘Oh, no. I need to work, Will.’

      ‘I can give you access to a phone and computer. What else do you need?’

      ‘My jewellery equipment, my soldering iron, my casting machine. My yellow, white and rose gold. My precious stones. Do you have any of those at Gideon Hall?’

      The confident grin fell from his face. ‘You’re serious about making the jewellery?’

      His question annoyed her. ‘Of course I am. Working for my dad is the day job. Working to make wedding jewellery? That’s the job I actually want to do. I spend most of my nights working on jewellery for upcoming weddings. I have an order to make wedding rings for a bride and groom. I can’t afford to take any time off.’

      It was nice to see his unwavering confidence start to fail. It seemed Mr Charming hadn’t thought of everything.

      She sighed. ‘If need be, we can collect our things from Seb’s, then go back to my parents’ place. If you’ve hung around with Violet long enough you must be familiar with it.’

      He settled back in the chair. ‘Do you have your equipment at your parents’ house?’

      She nodded. ‘I have one set in New York, and one set here.’

      ‘That’s fine. We can move it to my house in the next hour. I’ll get someone to help us.’

      He pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialling. ‘What? No. What on earth is wrong with you? I’ve said I’ll hang around you for the next twenty-four hours. Isn’t that enough?’

      He turned to face her. ‘Actually, no, it’s not. I’ve got a meeting later on today with a potential investor for the homeless charity. It’s taken for ever to set up and I don’t want to miss it.’

      ‘Can’t you just change the venue?’

      Will let out a long, slow puff of air and named a footballer her father had had a spat with a few months ago. ‘How would your dad feel about him being in his house?’

      She gulped. ‘Wow. No. He’d probably blow a gasket. He hates the guy.’ She frowned. ‘Are you sure he’s the right kind of guy to help your charity?’ She was racking her brains. Her dad was a good judge of character. He could spot a fake at twenty paces and didn’t hesitate to tell them. She was sure there was a good reason he didn’t like this footballer—she just couldn’t remember what it was.

      Will still couldn’t frown properly. It was kind of cute. ‘I’ve no idea. I’ve never met him before. But he’s well known and popular with sports fans. It’s not so much about the money. It’s the publicity I need help with. We need to get the homeless agenda on people’s radars. They need to understand the reason people end up on the streets. It’s not just because they’re drunks, or drug addicts or can’t hold down a job.’

      She turned back into the grounds of Hawksley Castle. ‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?’

      ‘Of course I am. Why would you think I’m not?’

      She bit her lip. ‘What’s in it for you? Why is a homeless charity your thing?’

      It took him a few seconds to answer. ‘I had a