Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick

and a black bow-tie knotted around his neck. The colour seemed to draw attention to his height and to the impressive breadth of his shoulders, while the beautifully cut trousers outlined the muscular thrust of his thighs. The contrast of a fine white shirt only added to his buccaneer-like appeal, and Romy felt her knees grow weak.

      OK, he looks like a dream, she admitted to herself as she tried not to trip down the last few steps. But so what? Those perfect looks conceal a man who may desire you but who will never respect you. Never in a million years.

      He chose just that moment to look up.

      Caught in the cross-fire of that luminous grey stare, Romy realised that he was studying her just as closely, and that a pulse was beating hypnotically at the base of his neck, and she immediately found herself wishing that she hadn’t gone to so much trouble with her appearance.

      ‘You look quite—exquisite,’ he said eventually.

      ‘Thank you.’ Feeling ridiculously nervous, Romy sucked in a deep breath and began looking distractedly around the hall. ‘Where is everyone?’

      ‘Having drinks. The Baileys junior aren’t coming, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘She’s feeling tired, and because she’s seven months pregnant they’ve decided to play safe and stay at home.’

      ‘I’ll have to alter the table,’ said Romy quickly.

      ‘Plenty of time to do that,’ he told her. ‘I’ve already spoken to Ellen. Come and have a drink first and meet everyone.’

      ‘O-OK’ Romy cringed inwardly at the way her voice trembled. Why was she suddenly feeling shot with nerves? She had had last-minute cancellations a million times before without panicking. This was supposed to be her job, for heaven’s sake!

      With a rather thoughtful glance at the way she was repeatedly smoothing her dress down over her hips, Dominic gestured towards the sitting room and the two of them walked towards it side by side.

      The French windows had been thrown open to the balmy summer evening, and Romy could hear the sound of voices and laughter and ice chinking in glasses.

      She walked into the garden, feeling far more sensitive than usual, and the first person she saw was Triss, looking outrageously stunning and wearing a floor-length gown made out of what appeared to be shiny yellow plastic, shimmying across the lawn towards them.

      ‘Hello, Dominic. Romy, hi.’ She smiled and, seeing Romy’s hastily disguised expression of amazement, shrugged her bare shoulders with a flirty little wriggle. ‘I know, I know! Eye-catching gown, isn’t it? The designer sends them over to me from Italy for nothing, and believe it or not they cost an absolute fortune in the shops,’ she added, with a grin.

      ‘He thinks that Triss is the best advertisement for his clothes that he could have,’ came a gravelly Irish voice from behind her, and Romy turned round to see Cormack Casey standing there, a glass of champagne in either hand. ‘And he’s right, of course.’

      Staring up at him, Romy had to gulp back her surprise that in the flesh he was even more captivating than in the rare photos she had seen of him. And she hadn’t realised that he was so tall! About six feet four, by the look of him!

      ‘Meet my husband-to-be, Cormack Casey—the world’s most wonderful scriptwriter,’ gurgled Triss. This is Romy Salisbury, darling—remember I told you about her? Is that champagne for us?’

      ‘It is indeed.’ He smiled, and a look of such love and longing passed between them that Romy got a very good idea of what a gooseberry might feel like, and was actually glad that Dominic had remained firmly rooted by her side—even if he had remained uncharacteristically silent all the while!

      ‘Hello, Romy,’ said Cormack, with a crinkly-eyed grin, holding the full glasses aloft as though they were Academy awards. ‘I think we’d better skip shaking hands, don’t you? I don’t think spilt champagne would look at all well over that pretty dress. Here.’ He handed her a glass of cold champagne.

      ‘Thanks,’ said Romy gratefully, taking a sip of wine and willing her usual self-possession to come back. ‘I loved Time and Tide—I thought it was the best thing you’ve ever done!’

      ‘Wait until you see my latest,’ he confided, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkling up at the corners. ‘I wrote it especially for Triss.’

      ‘Oh, darting.’ Triss looked deep into his eyes and sighed ecstatically.

      ‘Come over here,’ said Dominic, propelling Romy gently by the elbow. ‘The Baileys are being given a grand tour by Lola. I’ll introduce you to Geraint instead.’

      Geraint Howell-Williams was an extremely sexy Welshman who instantly put Romy at ease by saying to Dominic, ‘Stop standing there brooding at her side, looking like her satanic guardian, man! Just go and get my wife back before she starts rearranging your kitchen garden before dinner!’

      Dominic gave a lazy smile. ‘Lola’s so good at gardening that I really think I ought to give her a job one of these days,’ he commented. ‘Excuse me, Romy—I won’t be long.’

      Again, Romy found herself dazzled by that grey stare. Was he deliberately laying on the charm tonight? she asked herself mulishly. ‘Be as long as you like,’ she heard herself saying, and was treated to a sardonic sideways glance.

      Silently, Geraint and Romy watched Dominic as he walked up the garden, a striking vision in his stark black evening clothes set against the colours of the flowers as they bloomed in the still bright light.

      When he had all but disappeared, Romy looked up to find Geraint studying her.

      ‘Have you known Dominic long?’ she asked him, feeling flustered.

      He threw her a perceptive glance. ‘I met him out in Hong Kong.’

      ‘Oh?’ Romy felt her cheeks growing pink.

      ‘Mmm. His reputation went before him.’ Geraint smiled with recollection. ‘He was the archetypal rags to riches success story. Born poor but born brilliant—with a steely determination to succeed which intimidated a lot of people.’

      ‘But not you?’

      Geraint shook his head. ‘Not me, no. I admire ambition, and I like Dominic. Very much. He doesn’t give much away about himself, but beneath that formidable exterior is a man I would trust with my life. A truly good man.’ He grinned. ‘Plus I owe him a very great debt.’

      Romy blinked. ‘You do?’

      ‘Sure do. He lent me his house earlier this year, and that’s how I met Lola.’ His face momentarily clenched with something akin to pain, and he saw her look of bewilderment. ‘But that’s another story. Let’s just say that, indirectly, Dominic brought Lola and me together, and I can’t thank him enough for that.’

      The obvious emotion which had deepened Geraint’s voice had a sudden and profound effect on Romy, and she began to tremble, as though some unseen presence had iced her skin.

      Because she loved Dominic, she realised hopelessly. She loved him in a way he could never love her. Oh, Lord, what had she done?

      ‘You like him,’ Geraint said abruptly. ‘You like him a lot. Don’t you?’

      Romy found herself blushing again, and despaired. She seemed to have become so transparent recently. All she knew was that she was finding it impossible to disguise her feelings.

      She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t like him at all. Nothing could be further from the truth. We argue most of the time, as it happens.’

      ‘Ah! Then it must be serious!’ Geraint smiled and took a sip of his drink, then gave her a quick look. ‘If you really want to know-Lola and I thought it was absurd for Dominic to book a professional party planner in the first place.’

      Romy had had similar thoughts herself. She scooped a peanut out of a bowl and crunched