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Yesterday evening he’d been at the London wrap party of his latest movie getting an offer he shouldn’t have been able to refuse from his beautiful co-star Imelda Jackson. But instead of taking Imelda up on her suggestion of a ‘quick, one-night liaison to let off steam’, he’d turned her down flat.
He scowled and drained the last of the juice. There was no doubting it any more. The blame for that bit of insanity and his mad decision to come to Connor’s wedding lay squarely at the dainty feet of the Invisible Miss Juno.
She’d cast a spell on him and lured him here against his will like some damn siren queen. Ever since she’d kissed him at Heathrow, he’d not been able to get her out of his thoughts. When he’d woken up this morning after yet another erotic fantasy in which she was the headline attraction, he’d known it was past time to take affirmative action.
He didn’t obsess about sex and he certainly didn’t let women he barely knew invade his dreams. So he’d taken the last in a long line of cold showers, dug out the wedding invite—which he’d somehow forgotten to toss—cancelled his first-class flight to LA that evening and booked a midmorning one to Nice.
It wasn’t until he’d been standing at the back of the little French chapel, though, that he’d realised he’d bitten off considerably more than he wanted to chew. Seeing his brother again had been like taking a solid right hook to the gut and that had been bad enough. But then he’d come face to face with Juno, her slim, coltish figure dressed in some gorgeous bit of fancy that stroked over her curves like a lover’s hand. He’d looked into those incredible eyes, felt the jolt of awareness thump him hard in the solar plexus, and he’d known dealing with Connor wasn’t his biggest problem—not by a long shot.
She hadn’t looked one bit pleased to see him. But just when he’d thought he’d got a handle on her, when he’d felt that connection between them in the car and seen the attraction in her luminous blue-green eyes, she’d done her disappearing act.
Now, after an evening of making pointless small talk with people he didn’t know but who behaved as if they knew him, of wandering around like a fool searching for someone who seemed to have vanished—and carefully avoiding his brother and his brother’s wife—he felt tense and edgy and seriously pissed off—with himself as well as her.
He should have left hours ago. But he hadn’t been able to make himself do it. He couldn’t walk away from Juno. Not a second time. Whatever the hell she’d done to him two weeks ago, he needed to sort it out. Tonight. He wasn’t spending a moment longer with her dogging his thoughts—especially as he now had the vision of her in that damn dress to contend with.
He dumped his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter and once more swept his gaze over the crowd. As she was the maid of honour, she couldn’t have just vanished. The answer had to be that the woman was trying to avoid him—which was another new experience. But all he really need do was sit her out.
One thing was for definite, though—once he finally got his hands on Little Miss Juno Whatever-The-Hell-Her-Name-Was she wouldn’t be getting away again so easily.
His head stilled as a glimmer of gold caught his eye on the other side of the ballroom. He squinted at the shifting shadows in the entrance lobby and his gaze locked onto the mass of curls sheened by candlelight.
Gotcha.
The embers smouldering in his belly leapt back to life as he wound his way across the ballroom. Oblivious to the bumps and shoves from the gyrating dancers, he kept his eyes peeled on his prey every single step of the way.
‘Juno, there you are, thank goodness I found you.’ Daisy brushed the wayward strands of hair off a face flushed from champagne and excitement. ‘Connor’s whisking me away to my bridal bower any minute now.’ She giggled, the bubbly sound making Juno’s heart flutter. ‘As soon as we’ve got Ronan settled. By the way, where’s Mac? Connor’s worried he might have left without saying goodbye.’
‘Why would he do that?’ she asked, trying to keep the guilt out of her voice.
She’d basically abandoned him hours ago and she wasn’t too proud of herself. But when he’d given her that look, as if he could see right through her clothing, all the insecurities from their kiss had come flooding back and she’d gone into panic mode.
She hadn’t been avoiding him. Well, not exactly.
The plan had been to change into some shoes she could actually walk in and then find him again—after all, Dais
y had asked her to look after him and she’d probably imagined the intensity of that look. But once she’d returned from her room, he’d been surrounded by a very persistent group of teenage girls, and after that she’d seen him talking to Daisy’s impossibly glamorous socialite friend Joannie. In the end, she’d decided to keep out of his way—he made her nervous and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself. So she’d chatted to Mrs Valdermeyer, danced with Jacie’s son Cal, had a long discussion with New York artist Monroe Latimer and his wife, Jessie, about modern art and made sure she kept well away from Mac Brody all evening. From what she’d observed he hadn’t been lonely, so she had nothing whatsoever to feel guilty about.
‘Mac looked as if he’d been hit with a brick when he first set eyes on Connor in the church,’ Daisy explained, craning her neck to scan the ballroom. ‘Poor guy, I don’t think he’s quite ready for all this yet.’ Daisy’s gaze returned to Juno and she grinned. ‘Plus, it was pretty obvious once he got a load of you in that dress, he hasn’t come all this way just to attend our wedding.’
‘How do you mean?’ Juno asked, her voice shaking at the shocking bubble of excitement. Mac Brody couldn’t possibly have come all this way to see her. Daisy was being absurd.
‘Come off it,’ Daisy scoffed. ‘The look he gave you could have powered the National Grid.’
‘Do you really think so?’ she said, then realised how ridiculous she sounded. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want Mac Brody to look at her like that. Did she?
‘Yes, I really do.’ Daisy’s gaze sharpened. ‘Which means that, as I suspected—’ she wagged her finger like an indignant schoolmarm ‘—I did not get the whole truth about that kiss. Exactly how hot was it?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Juno replied, her pulse rate doing the merengue as her panic button tripped again. ‘It wasn’t that big a deal.’ She should never have told Daisy about that stupid kiss. Her hopelessly romantic friend had blown it completely out of proportion—and now she was starting to do it too.
‘I’ll just bet it wasn’t,’ Daisy said, not sounding convinced. Huffing dramatically, she looped her arm through Juno’s and dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. ‘Ju, baby. However much you may have deluded yourself about that kiss, the point is the man is here now and he’s seriously hot and seriously interested. So why are you hiding from him?’
‘I’m not hiding,’ Juno said, trying to convince herself.
‘Yeah, right,’ Daisy replied. ‘Well, that being the case, why don’t you get yourself a glass of champagne and go jump him before someone else gets there first? Everyone’s talking about him being here—and if you heard what Joannie Marceau said about him you’d know you have some serious competition.’
Exactly how much champagne had Daisy had?
‘I’m not going to go jump him. He’s not that interested… And it would be…’ She shuddered to a halt.
