Cinderella’s Wedding Wish

‘She had a very clear checklist in her head about what she wanted from a man. She’s incredibly high-powered and, according to her, she doesn’t have the time to waste on getting to know a man who isn’t going to tick all the boxes.’

‘And you didn’t?’ said Miranda, surprised.

‘Apparently not.’

‘So who did you try next?’

‘Oh, next it was Isabel. She seemed really nice, and I really thought I was getting somewhere, but when I suggested a second date, she said no. She’d been hurt once before, she said, and she said my track record made her nervous. If I’d got to thirty-five without a serious relationship, she didn’t think I would ever be capable of one. So there you are,’ he told Miranda. ‘Three strikes. At least the restaurants are doing a booming business.’

He spoke lightly, but Miranda had the feeling the charge had hurt him more than he was prepared to admit.

‘I obviously haven’t been very successful at changing my image,’ he went on.

‘Perhaps she’d heard about you taking the other two out and thought you were running true to type?’

‘You’d think she’d be glad I wasn’t divorced and was waiting for the right woman before I made a commitment, but no! You women are never happy!’

‘It’s a pity you weren’t at least engaged before,’ Miranda agreed, shifting her tray to the other arm. ‘Then she would have known that you had been prepared to commit, but that you’d been hurt. That’s a big draw for a lot of women. They love the idea of a man they can rescue.’

‘Unfortunately, everyone knows that I was never engaged,’ said Rafe. ‘Thanks to the gossip magazines they all know more about me than I do!’ He paused. ‘Unless I could make up an engagement-when I was in Africa, perhaps?’

Miranda’s mouth turned down dubiously. ‘It would be difficult to carry off. You’d have to make up a whole story and remember it in every detail, and then the press would go off looking for your alleged fiancee…you know what they’re like.’

‘That’s true.’ Rafe sighed. ‘It wouldn’t work unless I could produce the girl and where am I going to find someone prepared to back up a story like that?’

‘Well, if you’d like to pay me, I’ll do it,’ said Miranda flippantly. ‘I’m looking for a new job next week!’ She looked down at her tray. ‘And talking of jobs, I’d better get on with this one.’

She made herself look into his eyes. ‘It was good to see you again,’ she said, meaning it. For a few moments there, it had been like old times talking together. ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone soon. Good luck with it!’

Rafe watched her go, straight-backed as ever. He wished she weren’t working. He wished he could take her out of here, and go somewhere quiet where they could just talk.

Damn it, he had missed her. He had missed the crispness of her comments, the directness of her gaze, the cool consolation of her presence.

Ever since the ball, he had been feeling edgy. Oh, he had tried. Look at all the women he had invited out! But that was the point: he had to try with them. He didn’t have to try with Miranda. He could just be himself. She was a friend. Of course he had missed her. It didn’t mean he needed her. It just meant he wanted to talk to her.

Whenever he went out to a reception or party, Rafe had been hoping to see Miranda among the waitresses, but she was never there, and in the end he had been reduced to looking up the number of the caterers at the ball and calling her friend Rosie to find out when and where she would be working. It hadn’t been difficult to get himself invited tonight. He’d just had to make a substantial donation, and all because he had wanted to see a friend!

Rafe was exasperated with himself. Women complained that men like him fought shy of commitment, but he wanted to settle down, he wanted to commit. Why was he finding it so hard?

His latest three dates had been salutary experiences. It had been easy taking girls out when he was just amusing himself, but getting them to take him seriously was proving more difficult than he thought.

It had been tempting to blame Miranda. The thought of her was distracting him, and he had hoped that seeing her again would put her in perspective so that he could focus on his search for a suitable bride. That ought to be his priority. God knew, he had spent enough on the ball. He couldn’t give up now, just because he had been so happy to see Miranda again.

I’ll do it. Her words echoed as he stared morosely down into his untouched glass of champagne. I need a job.

She had been joking, of course. Rafe knew that. She didn’t mean it.

It would never work, anyway.

Would it?

‘You go on home,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ve still got things to do.’

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Miranda offered. ‘Then we can go home together.’

But Rosie insisted that she go. There was an air of suppressed excitement about her tonight. Perhaps she had a new man on the go? Shrugging, Miranda picked up her bag and made her way outside. The night air was cool after the heat of the kitchen, and she paused for a moment, breathing it in with relief.

It was only then that she became aware of the sleek car waiting on the double yellow lines outside the entrance, its engine purring and its top down.

Rafe leant over to open the passenger door. ‘I’ll give you a lift home,’ he said.

‘It’s not exactly on your way,’ said Miranda after the first moment of shock.

‘I know. Rosie gave me the address.’

‘Rosie knows you’re here?’

‘She’s trusting me to see you safely home,’ said Rafe.

That explained why Rosie had been so keen to see her go.

‘I’m perfectly capable of getting the Tube,’ Miranda said, but she walked over to the car and got in. Her legs were aching, and she was too tired to make an issue of it. If Rafe wanted to drive around London in the dark, let him.

‘I thought you’d gone,’ she said unguardedly, and then cursed herself for an idiot. Rafe would think that she had looked for him again. She had, of course, but there was no need for him to know that.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said Rafe as he checked the mirror and pulled out into the traffic. ‘If you are available and willing, I’ve got a proposition to put to you.’

She looked at him warily. ‘What sort of proposition?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not the usual one a girl gets when she’s picked up from a pavement!’ Rafe slanted a smile at her. ‘You must be tired after being on your feet all evening. Wouldn’t you like to give up waitressing?’

‘I can’t. It’s the only way I can save anything for Whitestones.’

‘How much do you think you’ll need before you can move down there?’

Miranda sighed. ‘Twenty, twenty-five thousand?’

‘It’ll take a long time to save that on a temp’s salary even if you have got an evening job.’

‘Thank you for pointing that out,’ she said sourly. ‘I’d already worked it out for myself!’

‘How would you like to earn that in a month?’

Miranda laughed. ‘Would I have to do anything illegal?’ she asked, thinking that he was joking.

‘You might have to lie a bit.’

They had come to a stop at a red light, and she swivelled in her seat to stare at him. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Completely. I’ll pay you twenty-five thousand pounds if you’ll pretend to be my fiancee for a month.’

‘What?’

‘It was your idea,’ Rafe pointed out. ‘You said you needed a job.’

‘I meant a secretarial one!’

‘This one would be more fun.’

Fun. Miranda’s instinctive refusal died on her lips as the car shot away from the lights. Hadn’t she resolved not to take life so seriously? Fun was exactly what was missing in her life at the moment.

If only the thought of spending a month with Rafe would be as simple as fun. Miranda suspected it was more likely to turn her life upside down. It might be shattering or exhilarating or thrilling or dangerously appealing, but simple fun? No, it wouldn’t be that.