Convenient Engagements. Jessica Hart

family and oldest friends, were they? If anyone at the wedding discovered that Gib was not in fact the banker he claimed to be, her cover would be blown too. She would be revealed as a sad, pathetic spinster who was reduced to paying a man to pretend to be in love with her.

      Phoebe cringed at the prospect. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could go wrong, and had lived through each potentially disastrous scenario so many times that she could picture every one down to the last detail.

      There was the banker who quizzed Gib about exchange rate mechanisms and investment portfolios with increasing puzzlement until he exclaimed, ‘Damn it, I don’t think you’re a banker at all!’ just as a hush fell on the gathering. Phoebe shuddered at the thought of everyone turning to stare at Gib, who would be left blustering unconvincingly.

      Or one of the other guests might know Gib. It was all very well for him to say that he had been in the States for the past few years, but people travelled and coincidences happened all the time. What was the betting one of his old surfing pals would be there, only too ready to throw back his head and hoot with laughter at the idea of Gib being a banker?

      Sometimes Phoebe varied the theme, and imagined one of his ex-girlfriends turning up at the wedding with one of Ben’s friends, and spotting an ideal opportunity to wreak her revenge on him. There would be champagne thrown in his face, tears and tantrums and accusations as Gib’s past caught up with him … oh, yes, she could see it all.

      But the scenario Phoebe dreaded most was the one where it gradually dawned on her parents that the man masquerading as their daughter’s lover knew nothing about her and cared even less. If they guessed that she was deceiving them, they would be desperately hurt. Her mother would tell Penelope, who would tell Ben, who would obviously tell Lisa, and before she knew it, word would go round the reception like wildfire. Already Phoebe could picture the whispered asides, the pitying glances, the way the conversation would fall awkwardly silent as soon as she approached, and she cringed as if it was already happening.

      After nights spent churning over one humiliating scenario after another, she had just decided to call the whole thing off when she let herself into the house one evening to find Gib chatting cosily to her mother on the phone in the kitchen.

      ‘To tell you the truth, Mrs Lane,’ he was saying in a confidential tone, ‘I knew the moment I saw Phoebe. It was like a bolt from the blue. I just looked at her and knew that she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with!’

      Phoebe’s mouth dropped open before she recovered sufficiently to snatch the receiver from Gib’s hand. ‘Mum!’ she said on a gasp. ‘Sorry, I’ve just got in.’

      ‘That’s all right, dear. I’ve been having a nice little chat with Gib. I must say, he sounds absolutely charming!’

      Her voice was clearly audible, and Gib sent Phoebe a smug grin. Pointedly, she turned her back on him.

      ‘We can’t wait to meet him,’ her mother was burbling happily on. ‘Penelope was thrilled when I told her, and she said she would send an invitation off straight away. Did Gib get it?’

      An embossed white card had dropped through the door practically the day after Phoebe had rung her mother to drop Gib’s name into the conversation for the first time. She must have been straight on the phone to Penelope. Phoebe could picture Ben’s mother frantically gesturing for a pen so that she could write out the invitation there and then.

      ‘Yes, we got it,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure Gib will be able to spend the night, though,’ she went on quickly, anticipating her mother’s next question. She might as well knock that idea on the head right now. Her nerves were going to be in shreds as it was, without the prospect of spending the night with Gib as well.

      ‘Oh, what a pity!’ Her mother was clearly disappointed. ‘You know what receptions are like. We won’t get a chance to relax and talk to him properly until the evening.’

      Relaxing and talking properly was precisely what Phoebe didn’t want. That would be the very time they were likely to let slip a comment that brought the whole pretence crashing down around them. No, much better to get Gib firmly out of the way.

      ‘I know, but Gib’s got to work the next day, I’m afraid,’ she said, trying to force some regret into her voice.

      Her mother clicked her tongue impatiently. She had no time for the tedious business of actually earning a living. ‘I’m sure he can work another time,’ she said, and then to Phoebe’s acute embarrassment lowered her voice. ‘You know it’s not a problem about you two sharing a room, don’t you? Penelope’s absolutely fine about it. We know things are different for your generation.’

      ‘It’s not that, Mum,’ said Phoebe, squirming and hoping Gib couldn’t hear. He hadn’t even had the decency to leave the kitchen to let her talk to her mother in peace, and she was very conscious of him lounging on the sofa behind her, hands behind his head and long legs crossed.

      ‘It’s just that he’s got a meeting in … um …’ Oh, God, where did bankers have meetings? ‘… in … er, in … yes, Switzerland,’ she remembered triumphantly after a nasty moment where her mind went completely blank. ‘It’s first thing the next day, so he’ll have to get back.’

      ‘Oh, well, if he must, he must.’ Her mother made no attempt to hide her disappointment, and Phoebe sighed inwardly, spotting a fresh attack of guilt coming on.

      ‘But do try and see if he can change his meeting,’ her mother went on, working up to the emotional blackmail. ‘We’re all so looking forward to getting to know him. It’s not just your father and I. Lara’s very keen to meet him, too.’

      Phoebe closed her eyes briefly. Lara was her younger sister. She had a sweet, pretty face and could be disconcertingly perceptive at times. Phoebe would have to keep her well away from Gib. She would see through him in a second.

      ‘I’ll ask him,’ she lied. ‘I’m sure he’ll see what he can do.’

      ‘This is turning into a nightmare,’ she sighed as she switched off the phone and threw it onto a chair. ‘I wish I’d never mentioned you to my mother!’

      ‘Why?’ said Gib. ‘It seems to be working perfectly. You wanted your mother to be happy, and she is.’

      This was unanswerable. Phoebe made a show of looking through the post she had brought in from the hall. A credit card bill, two circulars and a letter from the gym asking plaintively why they hadn’t seen her for a while.

      ‘Why did you tell Mum all that stuff about love at first sight?’ she demanded instead.

      ‘I thought I was supposed to be a besotted lover,’ said Gib.

      ‘Not that besotted! Nobody’s going to believe you if you carry on like that!’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Well, because it doesn’t happen like that in real life, does it?’ she said, a bit thrown by the directness of Gib’s question.

      ‘What doesn’t?’

      ‘All that bolt from the blue stuff. You have to know someone before you can fall in love with them.’

      Gib looked at her, one corner of his long, mobile mouth curling upwards in a crooked smile. ‘That might be true for you, but it isn’t necessarily the same for everyone else.’

      ‘Don’t tell me you’ve ever fallen in love at first sight!’ said Phoebe, tearing up the letter from the gym and dropping the credit card bill onto the table unopened.

      ‘Why shouldn’t I have done?’

      It was a fair enough question. ‘You don’t seem the type,’ was the best she could do for an answer.

      ‘That’s what I thought until it happened to me.’

      ‘Oh.’ She eyed him a little uncertainly, wishing, not for the first time, that she could tell whether he was joking or not. He could keep his