One Wedding Required!. Sharon Kendrick

      His eyes glinted rather insultingly and Amber knew exactly what he was not-so-subtly implying. What did the man expect, for heaven’s sake? That she was going to suddenly announce that she was pure dynamite in bed? That, surely, was a testimony which only Finn could give...

      ‘I have no secret weapon,’ she told him quietly. ‘The very word suggests conflict, and—so far—there has been remarkably little of that in our relationship. Touch wood,’ she added superstitiously. ‘Whatever works between us I think is down to one thing, pure and simple. Love,’ she explained, in answer to his puzzled expression.

      ‘Oh.’ He looked positively crestfallen, and Amber almost felt sorry for him until she caught a glimpse of the time.

      ‘I really ought to wind this up now,’ she told him apologetically. ‘If there are no more questions...?’

      He smiled. ‘Just one.’

      Amber blinked at him, the curving sweep of her dark lashes beautifully framing the deep blue of her eyes. ‘Oh?’

      ‘It’s the obvious one, really—when’s the wedding going to be?’

      If only she knew! ‘Well, Finn mentioned Valentine’s Day in passing, but I’m not sure whether we’ll get it organised for then. It’s only a couple of months away.’

      The journalist’s eyes gleamed like twin beacons. ‘A Valentine’s Day wedding!’ he breathed. ‘It would make a wonderful piece. Front-page spread,’ he added, a sly light gleaming in his eyes. ‘I can promise you that!’

      Amber rose to her feet. Not with Finn co-operating, she would wager!

      She felt vaguely uneasy as she showed Paul Millington out, but reasoned that he couldn’t write anything too racy. Apart from those last few comments, she hadn’t said anything that people didn’t already know. And there wasn’t much of a story about someone having been proposed to in a bathroom, was there? Not much of a scoop there!

      She was humming gently to herself as she began to chop onions in preparation for making Finn’s dinner.

       CHAPTER TWO

      FINN was delayed.

      After the journalist had left, Amber kept glancing up at the clock as she chopped garlic and fresh coriander, wondering where her busy man had got to. He was often held up, but he usually let her know when he was going to be late.

      Eventually he rang her on his mobile phone from the car, his voice faint and indistinct.

      ‘Amber?’

      ‘Where are you?’

      ‘I’ve been tied up with New York,’ he told her tiredly. ‘Karolina Lindberg has been throwing tantrums and they’ve—’ There was a loud crackling on the line and then a long squeak. Amber could hear the impatience in Finn’s voice as he said, ‘Listen, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, sweetheart, but I’m snarled up in traffic right now—’

      ‘Okay,’ murmured Amber, holding her hand up in the air, and watching while the hall light glittered and sparkled on the facets of her diamond ring. ‘Drive carefully.’

      ‘Don’t I always?’

      ‘No, you drive too fast!’

      ‘Nag, nag, nag!’ he laughed, and cut the connection.

      She put the phone down, turned the chicken off and made herself a cup of tea, then settled down to read a magazine whilst trying not to look as though she was waiting—though of course she was waiting. Waiting for Finn, just as she always waited for Finn. But what choice did she have? He was a busy man, his business interests were diverse, and, although she worked for Allure as well, she couldn’t stay beside him all the time.

      It was a side of herself that she had grown to dislike and fear—the side that didn’t feel complete unless Finn was somewhere around, as though a major part of her was missing. Though that much, she supposed, was true. Finn was a major part of her life.

      It just went against everything she believed in—that a woman simply couldn’t function properly when she was on her own. That, although she was living, she simply didn’t feel alive unless the tall, ruffle-haired man with the hard, lean body and the bright green eyes was somewhere in the vicinity.

      She must have dozed off, something she never normally did, and awoke with a muzzy head to find Finn standing over her, his face pale and unsmiling.

      She sat up immediately. ‘Hello, darling,’ she mumbled, and blinked at him rapidly while her eyes tried to accustom themselves to the overhead light he must have snapped on.

      ‘Hard day?’ he murmured sardonically.

      ‘No.’ Amber found herself frowning defensively. ‘You knew I was taking the afternoon off—’

      ‘I wasn’t criticising you,’ he said tetchily. ‘Just that you couldn’t have picked a worse day for it if you’d tried. The office has been going crazy—and it’s never easy when Jackson is away.’

      It wasn’t like Finn to be this grouchy, and it contrasted so markedly with the cute version of their romance which she had given to the journalist that Amber felt a bit of a fool. ‘Well, I wasn’t to know that, was I?’ she questioned sweetly. ‘Not when I booked it last month, after your accountant specifically told me to take some of the holiday which was owing to me.’

      ‘No, I guess not.’ He tipped his head back and wearily rubbed the back of his neck.

      ‘Hard day?’ she asked him sympathetically.

      ‘Tiring.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’ve had Birgitta on the phone from New York for most of the afternoon.’

      ‘And just who is Birgitta?’

      ‘She’s Karolina Lindberg’s mother. You met her—don’t you remember? She’s rather beautiful.’

      Amber frowned. She met so many beautiful women every day of her life that she had sort of grown immune to them. But Finn, it would seem, had not. Not judging by the remark he had just made. It was his job to assess women on how they looked, but Amber found it oddly hurtful to hear the mother of one of his models described as ‘rather beautiful’. She forced herself to put on an expression of interest. ‘Tall? White-blonde hair? Used to be a model herself before she had Karolina?’

      ‘That’s the one!’

      Amber forced herself to be generous. ‘It’s easy to see where Karolina got her beauty from.’

      ‘She’s a good-looking woman,’ conceded Finn. ‘They both are.’

      Karolina was Finn’s latest signing and one of Allure’s biggest potential earners, a star in the making—the kind of woman who came around once every couple of years. If you were lucky.

      It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what star quality was, but whatever it was Karolina had more than enough to go round. Six feet of exquisite white-blonde beauty, at sweet sixteen, she was a male fantasy come to life. Like her mother...

      Amber narrowed her navy eyes, unaccustomed antennae alerted. ‘And isn’t there a Mr Lindberg on the scene?’ she enquired casually.

      Finn shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, she’s just separated from Karolina’s father, and things are a little strained in the Lindberg family just now. Birgitta and Karolina are showing a distinct aversion to going back to Sweden. They’ve decided they want to be based in London.’

      Amber felt unfamiliar fingers of fear whisper over her skin. ‘And what’s that got to do with you?’

      ‘Well, they want to use the company flat, for starters.’

      ‘Oh. I see.’

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