The Little Shop of Hopes and Dreams. Fiona Harper

she was supposed to be finding an exit ramp for this conversation, Nicole swung round sharply. ‘This is your exhibition?’

      A wry smile played on his lips for a moment. ‘And there was me thinking you’d seen a flyer and come because you’d finally found me after all these months of tireless searching.’ The humour in his eyes told her he was still teasing, but had turned it on himself. She’d just about pigeonholed him as a strutting peacock, but his self-mockery shot a hole in that idea. Damn. She liked a little humility in a man. And if it came with a dry and self-deprecating sense of humour it was doubly as potent.

      ‘I…I…’

      So it was back to this. Great.

      His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked down at her, inviting her to join him, to turn the joke back on herself and see the funny side. Unfortunately, Nicole couldn’t stand even the hint that someone might be laughing at her and she stiffened, feeling both superior and hypocritical at the same time.

      Wow. This guy really brought out the best in her, didn’t he?

      Which was why she was getting out before things deteriorated any further. She should have listened to her gut instinct and done it minutes ago. ‘I’m sure you’re far too busy and important to be standing around gassing to me,’ she said, a little snippily. ‘I should let you go and talk to some of your other guests.’

      She moved to walk past him, pretending she was heading round the corner to a section of the exhibition she had yet to visit, but his hand shot out and his fingers lightly circled her wrist. ‘Not so fast, Holly.’

      She stopped dead. His touch was light and she knew she could pull away easily if she wanted to, which she did, but for some reason she didn’t move a millimetre.

      ‘This time I need a name at least.’

      Nicole blew out a shaky breath. That wouldn’t be a good idea. As gorgeous as he was, he wasn’t her type, and he probably had ‘drifter’ stamped all the way through him like Brighton rock. Still, she wasn’t rude enough to completely snub him. Her parents had brought her up better than that.

      ‘Nicole,’ she said, gently easing her wrist from his grasp and circling it with her own fingers. ‘Nicole Harrison.’

      He nodded. ‘And what do you do, Nicole Harrison, when you’re not driving men crazy by disappearing into the night air never to be found again?’

      Her stomach bottomed out. For the last ten minutes she’d completely forgotten why she was here. She’d forgotten all about Saffron and her fiancé-to-be. She’d forgotten all about Hopes & Dreams and why this job was so darn important. She needed to stop chit-chatting and find Alex Black. The easiest way was to stop sparring with this man and just roll over and answer his questions.

      ‘I’m a journalist,’ she said quickly, then frowned at herself. She didn’t know why she’d said that. It would have been okay to tell him the truth. But maybe, because she’d been all prepped to come out with a cover story this evening, that was what had left her mouth first.

      ‘And what are you working on now? Not covering the show, are you?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, this is just for fun…’

      Torture, more like.

      ‘Actually, I’m doing a piece on…a piece on…’

      He raised his eyebrows again. And the smile was back. The one where she thought he might be laughing at her.

      ‘On weddings,’ she blurted out. It was all she’d been able to think of. ‘For Beautiful Weddings magazine.’

      ‘Really?’ he said and waited, clearly expecting her to elaborate.

      Nicole’s brain flew in three directions at once, and none of them useful. See? This was why she didn’t like veering from her careful plans. Everything turned out messy and unpredictable.

      She had to say something. Something that was easy to understand and wouldn’t require further interrogation. Something to do with weddings. Something that would work for a magazine feature.

      She thought of all the weddings she’d planned when she’d worked at Elite Gatherings, when she’d been part of an army of worker bees who’d found the day anything but ethereal and magical.

      She refocused on him. ‘I’m going to do a piece on the unsung heroes of the wedding industry, you know…all the people who work in the background to make the magic happen.’ She shot him a smile. Her brain was whirring now and she went with it. ‘Rather than just chatting to people on the phone and doing the superficial stuff, I want to follow each professional round for a couple of weeks, do different kinds of weddings, make it really in-depth. Then I can do an interest piece, but also with some really good tips about getting the most out of that professional when someone plans their own big day.’

      He nodded. ‘So who would you follow round?’

      She shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. People like caterers and waitresses, florists or bakers.’

      The grin was back. ‘People like photographers?’

      She could have sworn her insides turned to chocolate. Melting chocolate.

      ‘People like photographers,’ she echoed, a slight dryness in her voice.

      ‘Then you’ve come to the right guy,’ he said then waved an arm to encompass the photos on the walls. ‘This is what I really love to do, why I pick up my camera on a daily basis, but I earn my bread and butter doing weddings. At least for now.’

      ‘Oh,’ she said, forgetting to keep calm and collected, letting her eyes widen. She hadn’t expected him to say that. There was nothing about this guy that made her think of weddings and rings and happy-ever-afters.

      ‘So why don’t you follow me around for a couple of weeks?’ he asked, his dimple putting in another appearance. Nicole couldn’t quite tear her eyes from it.

      He lowered his voice. ‘I could give you the low-down on slaves and f-stops?’

      F-stops? She knew it was probably a technical term, but in that voice and with that smile it sounded kind of naughty.

      ‘So…are you interested?’ he said, leaning in close enough for her to get a whiff of his aftershave.

      She swallowed again. The tiniest glimmer of interest in his eyes suggested he was asking about more than a professional opportunity. He didn’t want to just score a point; he wanted total defeat. Revenge for skipping out on him all those months ago.

      So she would say no. To the offer to shadow him—because that wasn’t her real job anyway, and it would be a total waste of time—and to the offer to spend more time with him, because…because…

      Although he’d moved back, she could still smell his scent, and it prompted one of those New Year flashbacks, a particularly potent one of his lips on the soft skin of her neck, his hands round her waist. Suddenly she was very tempted to say yes. To everything.

      She knew she should walk away a second time, but something was sticking her feet to the floor like Velcro. Something was telling her to go with that wild feeling his photographs had stirred inside her, to tell the voice of caution inside her head to go to hell.

      He was watching her, taking in the emotions, the thoughts, flitting across her features. The knowing expression told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, knew exactly what decision she was teetering on the edge of.

      Nicole was about to open her mouth, suggest they go for a coffee after the exhibition to discuss his offer, when her phone buzzed in her pocket again.

      It brought her back to reality with a bump.

      Oh, heck. Saffron.

      She glanced up at him as she pulled her phone out of her coat pocket. ‘I’m sorry…I really need to check this.’

      He