Last-Minute Proposal

CHAPTER TEN

JUST one more night. Was that so much to ask?

Tilly didn’t think it was, but she wasn’t sure she would have the nerve to suggest it. She had been hoping the champagne would give her Dutch courage, but it didn’t seem to have had much effect yet.

Draining the glass, she put it down on the dressing table with a sharp click and regarded her reflection for a doubtful moment. She was flushed with a mixture of excitement, champagne and nerves. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders, her eyes were dark and dubious.

Cleo had insisted that she buy a new dress, and Tilly was glad now that she had. It was a lovely midnight-blue, in a flattering cut that left her shoulders bare. She picked up a gossamer-fine shawl spangled with sequins and draped it over them. She was going to feel vulnerable enough asking Campbell to make love to her one last time without feeling half naked while she did it.

After all the agony of waiting, Tilly dithered so long getting ready that she was one of the last to arrive in the ballroom where the ceremony was to take place. There was to be a champagne reception first, followed by dinner, and then some excerpts from the programme would be screened before the final winners were announced. All the participants would be there, along with representatives from the charities they supported, and Suzy had promised a good turnout from the celebrities who had been invited, too.

The room was crowded by the time Tilly arrived, but she had eyes for only one man.

Hesitating in the doorway, she let her eyes travel slowly around until they locked with a pair of familiar green ones, and her heart seemed to collide with something hard and unyielding as all the oxygen was sucked instantly from the huge room.

Campbell.

He looked amazing. He was wearing a dinner jacket that only made him look leaner, tougher and more devastating than ever.

Unsmiling, Campbell walked towards her. ‘You’re late, Jenkins,’ he said, and then he smiled into her eyes. ‘But you look wonderful.’

Tilly stammered some reply. She wanted to throw her arms round him and pat him all over like a dog to make sure he was real. Had he really said she looked wonderful?

She should ask him now, in case he had meant it, and before her mascara smudged and her lipstick wore off and she spilt something down the front of her dress. Would you like to come to my room later? she could say and get the question out of the way, but she hesitated too long. Maybe it was a bit crass to come straight out with it, before they had even had a token conversation.

The trouble was that it was difficult to have any kind of conversation when she was overwhelmed by his nearness. There was so much she wanted to ask him, so much to say, but Tilly was tongue-tied with nerves, and when a waiter passed with a tray of champagne she grabbed a glass and practically downed it in one.

‘Aren’t you drinking?’ she asked Campbell, seeing that he was holding a glass of orange juice.

‘Not yet.’

‘Keeping a clear head for your winning speech?’

The dent at the corner of his mouth deepened. ‘Something like that.’

There was a pause.

‘So…how are you?’ Tilly tried to get things going again.

‘Good. And you?’

‘Oh, fine, fine,’ she lied. ‘Is the new job going well?’

Campbell nodded. ‘I’d say so. We’re poised to win back a major contract, and if we can pull that off, then we should be able to start turning things round. Unfortunately, the meeting is on Monday, so I’ll have to fly back tomorrow.’

‘It must be important.’

‘It is. It could be make or break.’

‘For you or for the company?’

‘Both,’ said Campbell.

Tilly looked around the crowded ballroom. ‘It’s a long way to come for one night,’ she commented.

‘Some things are worth coming a long way for.’

Winning would always be worth the effort for competitive types like Campbell, Tilly remembered. ‘Beating Roger and his GPS?’ she enquired, and he smiled then.

‘Not just that,’ he said.

Tilly wanted to ask what else would matter enough to him to make it worth crossing the Atlantic for a night, two at best, but before she had a chance they were joined by Maggie, director of the hospice. She had been invited with some of the nursing staff and representatives of patients’ families, and they were all much more excited about the result than Tilly was.

‘You both came over wonderfully,’ Maggie told them, talking about the programme. ‘I do hope you’ll win, and not just for what it will mean to us. Thank you so much for everything you did, especially you, Tilly.’

‘That’s what I always want to say to you,’ said Tilly, embarrassed. ‘I’ll never forget what everyone at the hospice did for Mum, and for Jack. Besides, the competition turned out to be fun, so I got more out of it than anyone. I loved every minute of it.’

Campbell arched a brow. ‘What, even the abseil?’

‘Well, not those few minutes,’ she said, making a face at him, ‘but just about everything else.’

I loved being with you, she wanted to tell him, but there never seemed to be an opportunity. People kept coming up and saying how much they had enjoyed the programme. Keith, Campbell’s old PR Director, ribbed him about the pink apron, Suzy wanted to talk about what would happen when the winners were announced…Couldn’t they see she just wanted to be alone with Campbell?

Tilly was so jittery with frustration and nerves that she didn’t notice quite how often her glass was being refilled until the wooziness hit her with a vengeance. She was badly in need of some food to mop up the champagne, but it was already half past nine and there was no sign of dinner.

She had better try and clear her head a little or she would never make it through to the announcement of the winners.

Murmuring an excuse, Tilly slipped outside. The night air was cool and quiet after the hubbub of the ballroom and she took a deep breath. How was she ever going to get Campbell on his own with all these people around? Perhaps part of her had hoped that he would follow her, but there was no sign of him. Instead, she saw Jim, the cameraman, sneaking out for a smoke.

Jim was a chatty type and, if he noticed her, he would be bound to come over and talk. It wasn’t that Tilly disliked him, but there was only one man she wanted with her right then, and she made a show of digging out her mobile as if she was about to make an important call.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jim veer away but, having got that far, she thought she might as well switch the phone on. Cleo had said that she would text her to wish her luck, and Seb and Harry might remember what a big night it was for her, too.

Sure enough, there was a text message from Cleo, and another informing her that she had a message on her voicemail. Feeling virtuous without a glass of champagne in her hand, Tilly dialled up the service to listen.

It was Harry, and all thoughts of champagne were promptly driven from her mind. Horrified, she listened to his message and looked wildly round, instinctively seeking Campbell.

Campbell saw her hurry back into the ballroom and one look at her face had him striding towards her. ‘What is it?’ he asked sharply.

Tilly grabbed at him. ‘Oh, thank goodness I’ve found you! It’s Seb,’ she said, her voice threaded with panic. ‘I’ve just had a message from Harry. There’s been an accident and Seb’s in hospital…Harry said something about operating and needing me as next of kin.’

Her eyes were huge as she stared up at him. ‘I don’t know what to do. I know I should stay for the hospice, but I need to go to Seb. What if he’s really hurt? What if he’s…?’

Her voice broke, unable to finish the sentence, and Campbell gripped her firmly by both arms. ‘Tell me exactly what Harry said,’ he said, and Tilly drew a steadying breath as she felt the strength of his hands holding her,