Bound by a Baby Bump. Ellie Darkins

can make an exception.’

      He returned his hands to his pockets; it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he was there in place of his father, who was unwell and couldn’t attend. Normally, ‘representing the family’ wasn’t something he was interested in, but his father had promised the organisers that the family would be there with a generous donation—for a good cause he had been known to make an exception. He was intrigued, though. How did she know he was crashing—had she been asking questions about him?

      ‘I want to know more about why you think I’m crashing.’

      ‘Well...’ she said, pulling up another page on her tablet. ‘I planned the guest list. I sent the invitations, checked the RSVPs and wrote the table plan. There wasn’t a single Leo to be seen.’ Her eyes left her screen, and she looked him up and down, her eyes travelling from his face to his shoes, faltering slightly at his belt and chest. Encouraging.

      ‘Ah, so I must be crashing. I take it your lists are never wrong?’

      ‘Never,’ she agreed with a good-tempered nod, and just the merest hint of another chuckle.

      ‘Then I suppose I’ve got some making up to do. What will it take?’

      ‘Well, apart from your considerable contribution to Julia House, which I’m sure is already in hand...’

      ‘Naturally.’

      ‘I want an explanation.’

      It was his turn to laugh. ‘That’s all?’ But she didn’t look equally amused. In fact a worry line had appeared between her brows, and she glanced again at her screen.

      ‘Tonight has been planned and re-planned, checked and double-checked. I want to know how you’re here, and how I didn’t know about it.’

      He wanted that line gone. Wanted any evidence of discomfort wiped from her face. He still wanted to make her laugh.

      ‘I’ll tell you everything. Every dark secret and trick of the conman’s trade.’ He raised his eyebrows, attempting melodramatic villainy, and was rewarded with a lift at the corner of her lips. ‘All you have to do is dance with me.’

      * * *

      Rachel rested her hand stiffly on his shoulder as they started to move to the music, wondering—again—why she had agreed to this. She let her gaze travel up from his collar, over a tanned throat, blond stubbled jaw and endearingly crooked nose. Up to a pair of eyes as blue as a baking summer sky, and then remembered.

      Somewhere along the line, somewhere between guest list and dessert, her system had fallen short. He was probably standing in for someone—she had a shortlist of faces she’d been expecting to see but hadn’t. But how had she made it to eleven o’clock without realising something was wrong?

      ‘So,’ she prompted, trying to keep her mind on the job, rather than on the confident way Leo was leading her around the floor, or the scent coming from his skin. Something salty, natural and that had, she guessed, never been anywhere near a Selfridges counter.

      She faltered for a second as she caught him looking at her, and felt her cheeks warming under the intensity of his interest. She stilled, suddenly hyperaware of the pressure of his hand around hers, of his arm at her waist, the sound of him breathing close to her ear. Only the subtle squeeze of his arm reminded her she was supposed to be dancing. Forcing her feet to move, she glanced over his shoulder and spotted her boss, Will, and for a moment she was worried she was about to be caught slacking. But one look at his face told her she had nothing to worry about. He had eyes only for Maya, his partner, and she smiled. She couldn’t help but take a little credit for the happiness that was radiating from them both. She was the one who’d engineered Will into taking a cookery course he wasn’t interested in, all because it was run by a woman he definitely was.

      She’d watched that relationship blossom, from first meeting to their elation tonight, and felt a little pang of...what? Loneliness? No, that wasn’t it. She had friends—she’d even shared a flat with her best friend, Laura, until she’d bought her own place a year ago—right on track for her five-year plan. Sometimes she even managed to schedule time for a date or two.

      But she didn’t have that, whatever it was that made it look as if half the light in the room were emanating from them.

      So no, she wasn’t lonely, but maybe she was curious. Intrigued enough by the possibilities that when the surfy-looking blond who’d been casting looks in her direction all night had asked her if she wanted to dance, she’d looked him up and down and considered it.

      And she’d been intrigued enough by what she’d seen to fight down the urge to tell him that this wasn’t in her schedule, but to send him a smile instead.

      There wasn’t actually much left of her schedule tonight. That was the benefit of being chronically well organised, she supposed. When everything was planned and prepared in advance, she could just sit back and watch all the results of her hard work fall into place. Like with Will and Maya: the consequences of her plan had far exceeded her expectations, and she’d only had to intervene a couple of times to keep everything moving in the right direction. Better still, her boss had barely even noticed her involvement. The sign of a great executive assistant, she told herself. Her work was practically invisible.

      She was so engrossed with watching the results of her meticulous planning she almost, almost, forgot where she was and what she was doing.

      That was until a warm, rough fingertip found its way under her chin and tilted her face upward.

      ‘Should I be worried about the competition?’ Her eyes snapped back to his, and she was taken aback again by their intense colour, and the way he looked at her, as if there was some part of her he was trying desperately to see.

      ‘So who were you watching?’ he asked, reminding her of his question.

      ‘Jealous?’ She drew out the word with a smile, enjoying for a moment the control that it gave her. She didn’t even know yet what she wanted to do with this blatant expression of interest, other than enjoy it for a moment. ‘I’m just enjoying a plan coming together.’

      ‘You planned that?’ he asked, as her boss leant down and kissed Maya gently on the lips. The kiss itself was chaste enough, but the blatant bedroom eyes on both sides nudged it towards obscene.

      ‘I may have helped a little.’

      ‘Well, I prefer your attention here,’ he said, attempting to soften his words with a cheeky grin.

      ‘Demanding, much?’ Okay, so her attention wasn’t such a ridiculous thing to expect. But she didn’t want him thinking he could just demand what he wanted and expect her to deliver. And she still wasn’t sure how she felt about his attention. Attracted, sure. But meeting a party crasher with a cute smile and a devastating way of watching her hadn’t featured in her plans for tonight. She’d had no advance warning, no time to think about what she wanted to do.

      ‘Absolutely.’ He remained completely straight-faced and Rachel recognised the challenge. ‘But I think if you’re going to agree to dance with me, it’s only fair you give it your full attention.’

      ‘Perhaps. But you’re not holding up your end of the bargain. The dance was in exchange for an explanation. So spill. How did you get in without me knowing about it?’

      ‘Grappling hook,’ he replied, deadpan and with no hesitation. She let out a laugh, leaning back against his arm, letting the humour arch her body and soften her indignation.

      He teased and she laughed, until she could feel the tension of the night leaching from her body. She’d not checked her watch since he’d led her to the floor, and she had no idea how long they’d been up there. And she was dangerously close to not caring. His humour, the naughty light in his eyes, was forcing the strain of preparing this evening from her limbs, demanding she enjoy herself. That she enjoy him. Eventually, when she’d laughed off his latest suggestion for how he’d joined the party—something about an international jewel