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‘So... I just spoke to Lara and she had this idea. I think it’s ridiculous, but she’s pretty adamant.’
Rufus crossed his arms and leaned back against the worktop. ‘Why do I feel like I should be worried? Very worried.’
‘She said that you had a licence to use this place as a wedding venue.’
He felt blood rushing to his cheeks, and tried to hide the flush with a cough. ‘Yeah, it’s a big money-maker for venues like this.’
‘She wants some pictures to appeal to that market. She wants me to make a veil out of a lace tablecloth or fashion a flower crown out of mistletoe or something. She just told me to make sure it looked romantic. Tell me you think she’s being ridiculous.’
‘She’s being ridiculous,’ he said, but there was a catch in his voice.
‘But?’
‘But...’ He hesitated. Was he really going to say this? ‘It is an important revenue stream. And when I was in the attic, I may have noticed that my mother’s wedding dress is boxed-up up there.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘I sort of wish I was.’ He groaned. As if his feelings for Jess right now weren’t complicated and inconvenient enough, they had to start talking weddings? But Lara was right. The wedding industry was a big market. He couldn’t afford to ignore it—or to ignore Lara’s advice. However much he might suspect that she might be meddling.
‘Your parents must have got married in the eighties, right?’ Jess said, and he guessed she was looking for an out. ‘I bet your mum had big poufy lace dress. It’s not going to work for Instagram.’
He shook his head. ‘Actually she wore a replica of my great-grandmother’s dress. Edwardian. Kind of beautiful.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Then she’s not going to want me to play dress-up in it.’
‘Why not? Pretty sure it was in the fancy dress box when we were kids. She’s not precious about that sort of thing.’
‘You’re really going to make me do this?’ she asked, her eyes wide.
‘I’m not going to make you do anything, Jess. I hope you know that.’
‘You’re as ridiculous as she is,’ she retorted.
He shrugged. ‘Lara’s your best friend. You must like ridiculous sometimes.’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.’
Rufus smiled, just a little. ‘You’re agreeing?’
‘Ugh.’
* * *
Jess contorted her spine, but it was no use. The dress had two dozen buttons up the back and there was no way she could reach even half of them. She looked in the mirror and tried to decide whether she was decent enough to call Rufus in for his help. She’d done the buttons at the base of her spine—the dress fitted perfectly—but there was still a swathe of bare skin up her back. And she wasn’t going to get any more covered up without help.
The dress was cut high at the front, with lace sleeves. Once these bloody buttons were fastened she would barely have an inch of skin on show. But for that to happen...she was going to have to invite Rufus in here. And then she was going to have to stand while he slipped button after silk-covered button through the tiny loops that traced a path up her spine. Would have to stand there and pretend that the thought of his fingers so close to her skin wasn’t making her burn up with wanting him. Making her second-guess all the very good reasons why she had pulled away from that kiss the day before, and told him—and herself—that it wasn’t going to happen.
‘Rufus,’ she called, crossing to the bedroom door and opening it a crack. ‘I think I’m going to need some help here.’
She turned back from the mirror when she heard the creak of the door and Rufus stopped dead on the threshold, his lips slightly parted, his mess of red-brown curls falling over his forehead.
‘You look...’
She blushed as she waited for him to finish that sentence, but, wherever it had been going, he seemed to have fallen permanently off track.
‘I can’t get the buttons,’ she explained, turning so that he could see the back of the dress. ‘Do you think you could...?’
He cleared his throat and she looked away. It was too much, trying to maintain eye contact when he was looking at her with such naked appreciation. Desire. Need. Her eyes clashed with his again in the pitted reflection of the cheval mirror and she let her lids close, avoiding what was impossible to ignore.
