An Heir To Make A Marriage. Эбби Грин

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      Rose had gone cold and clammy, all fingers and thumbs as she tried to gather up the detritus of expensive canapés. The other server hissed at her. ‘What is wrong with you? You’ve probably cost us both our jobs and I need this work.’

      Rose’s gut lurched and she looked at the other girl’s blazingly angry expression. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know—’

      ‘Now,’ an assured and deep voice cut in, ‘I don’t think anyone is going to lose their jobs over a simple accident—are they, Mr Wakefield?’

      Rose went still. That voice. Right above her head. His voice. She looked to her left and saw expensively shod feet.

      Someone else was saying something brightly—‘Not at all. Please, let’s just move aside and get this cleared up.’—and then Rose felt a hand under her upper arm, curling around it, and she was being urged upwards.

      All the way up until she was standing in front of a familiar broad chest. She couldn’t find enough breath to suck into her lungs. She was barely aware of people cleaning up and Zac leading her away from the site of the accident. She was surprised her legs were working; she couldn’t feel them.