‘What if,’ he asked slowly, ‘I hired you?’
Tilly was watching him warily. ‘Haven’t you done that already?’
‘Not to plan anything or make any arrangements,’ he said. ‘Unless it’s to cancel arrangements already made, as we discussed. I will pay you to be my guide for the week. This is your country. We can stick to the itinerary you’ve provided. We will travel in the rental car you’ve organised and do all of the activities you’ve arranged, all of which are already paid for two people to do. You can remove what I don’t want to see and you can show me what you think Idoneed to see.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’
And, without missing a beat, he named a figure that equalled, or probably exceeded, the sum he’d already made available for the most extravagant seven days of his life.
* * *
Tilly’s head was spinning.
The shock was only just wearing off from the fear engendered by the prospect of having to refund thousands of euros thatshe didn’t have available. Along with that came the memory of how adverse publicity on social media had all but ruined the destination wedding business that she had helped Sophie to build up for long enough to feel just as invested in its success. Could history be trying to repeat itself? There was no way A Promise in Provence could go down in the dramatic kind of flames that only scandal could provide, but maybe it was doomed to simply sink without a trace by her becoming bankrupt?
And now Angus McLeod was offering her a life raft. But why would he want to pay a stranger to spend what was rather a long time with him as a guide? If it was simply to ensure that she would sweep away any reminders of what this holiday had been intended to achieve, it could mean that his anger was a way of trying to hide an utterly broken heart.
The pang of something that felt like sympathy took Tilly by surprise. This was the man who’d told her to sit down like a parent admonishing a naughty child. The man who’d almost rolled his eyes when she had been slow deciding on what she would like to drink but, above all, the man who had fired a warning shot, whether or not it had been intentional, that made her realise he could destroy the glue that held her entire life together.
A career that was making romantic dreams come true and letting lovers commit to spending the rest of their lives together. Weddings were wonderful too, of course, and she’d enjoyed every moment of working with Sophie, but the most important decision had already been made by the time a bride walked down the aisle. Tilly’s raison d’être was that moment of a proposal being offered and accepted. When pure love and hope for the future took flight and blossomed into a vision of a whole new world that only they could inhabit together.
If anyone could show some tolerance – and perhaps even forgive a less-than-acceptable reaction to the destruction of his hopes of spending the rest of his life with the woman he loved so much – it had to be Tilly.
And it wasn’t as if she had anywhere she had to be in person over the next few days. What work she had in progress could easily be done online because she’d deliberately kept herself available in case any troubleshooting was needed for her most important client so far. But…
She found herself shaking her head. ‘But…’ Her next words wouldn’t emerge.
If Angus’s eyebrows got any lower his eyes were going to vanish. ‘But what?’
‘But I’ve only booked one bedroom in all the hotels.’
One bedroom.
Onebed.
And a man that Tilly had, until very recently, considered to be the absolute epitome of sexy.
To her horror she could feel the flush of colour rising from her neck to her cheeks. She had to resist an urge to fan herself with her hand.
Angus didn’t seem to notice. He gave a small shrug that said he wasn’t bothered and even made a ‘pff’ sound that made him look, and sound, quite French. Italmostmade her smile.
‘I’ll arrange extra accommodation.’
‘That might not be easy. It’s high season.’
It was no more than a glance this time but it didn’t need words to make it comprehensible. If you were prepared to pay enough, it said, then almost anything was possible.
And Tilly had contacts which could make it more possible than it appeared. Friends she could stay with. Lists of boutiquechambres d’hôtesand gîtes that were off the beaten track or exclusive enough to be unaffordable for most tourists.
Did she want to spend several days travelling alone with an angry man?
Angry Angus…
It occurred to her then that his dismissive gesture might not have been simply because money could solve any problem inherent in them sharing a room. Or a bed.
Perhaps it wasn’t a problem because he didn’t find her remotely attractive. That she would be perfectly safe with him even if they did need to share a bed.
She could have been offended by that but she was, in fact, on board with it. Any inappropriate thoughts and feelings she’d been grappling with since she’d first seen his photograph had been scorched the moment he’d arrived, thanks to the lack of respect he’d demonstrated and, even more, by his astonishing antipathy to that list of anything that carried a nuance of romance.
Those storybook flourishes that had been life goals for Mathilde Pascoe since she was old enough to absorb every tiny drop of the magic that made fairy tales so perfect.
