‘Right,’ Guy said. ‘Let’s go for an elegant Christmas theme. Deep crimson and a rich, dark green.’
‘Seven dresses?’ Jenny said faintly.
‘Six bridesmaids in their lovely black dresses. It means they won’t have to spend a cent, and they’ll have already chosen something that looks great on them. There’ll be no one-style-suits-all disasters. They’ll wear their hair sleek and elegant-up if it’s long, in sophisticated chignons, or if it’s short I’ll arrange really good cuts. I’ll do it myself if need be. Black strappy shoes. The only colour about them will be a beautiful crimson and green corsage. That’ll bring in a tiny Christmas theme, which seems appropriate at this time of the year. I’ll get onto a Sydney florist this afternoon and organise the best.’
‘What about me?’ Kylie whispered. ‘And the men?’
‘Gangster-style suits and hats,’ Guy decreed. ‘We’ll hire them from Sydney or fly them from New York. What do you think?’
‘Gangsters?’ Kylie said, the beginnings of anticipation curving the sides of her mouth into a smile. ‘Hats and braces and white shoes?’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘Daryl will love it.’
Guy smiled. ‘Great. And you…’ He looked at Kylie for a long minute while Jenny watched in dumbfounded silence. ‘Kylie, let’s not try to disguise your pregnancy. Let’s be proud of it. I’m thinking pure white shot silk-Jenny, can we get shot silk?’
‘Sure,’ Jenny said, dazed.
‘A really simple dress,’ Guy said. ‘Shoestring straps and a low sweetheart neckline that accentuates those gorgeous breasts.’ Kylie started to blush, but he wasn’t distracted. He’d grabbed the pad beside the phone and was sketching. ‘Like this. Practically bare to the breasts. Softly curving into your waist, accentuating the swell of pregnancy, curving in again, and then falling with a side slit from your thigh to your ankles. I bet you have great legs.’
Kylie was staring at the sketch, entranced. ‘Daryl says…’ She subsided. ‘Yeah,’ she whispered. ‘My legs are… okay.’ The sketch was growing under Guy’s hands and she couldn’t stop watching. ‘Wow. That even looks like me. What are you doing to my hair?’
‘Piling it up in a thousand tiny curls on top of your head,’ he said. ‘The simplicity of your bridesmaids’ hair will accentuate yours. We’ll thread the same crimson and green though your hair-just a little. You’ll carry a tiny bouquet of fern and crimson rosebuds. And if you want…’
‘Wh-What?’ she stammered.
‘We’ll thread tiny silver imitation pistols through the ribbon of your bouquet. You’re a gangster’s moll. This is a shotgun wedding and you’ve got your man.’
Kylie stared. Jenny stared. Then, as one, they burst out laughing.
‘My mum will hate it,’ Kylie said when she finally recovered.
‘It’s a Carver Wedding. Take it or leave it.’
‘Oh, I’ll take it,’ Kylie whispered, smiling now through the beginning of unshed tears. ‘Yes, please.’
‘You’re a magician.’ Kylie had left them to spread her news. Guy was left with Jenny, who was staring at him as if he’d grown two heads.
‘I’m no magician,’ he said, but he was aware of a tinge of pleasure. It was a pleasure he hadn’t felt for a long time. And…was there also a tinge of excitement? He wanted to do this well, he thought, and when he tried to figure out why he knew that it had little to do with the reputation of the Carver empire. It was all to do with making Jenny smile.
And he had made her smile. She was definitely smiling.
‘I need to organise cars,’ he said, trying to move on.
‘There are limousines booked.’
‘Limousines won’t do. Transfer that booking to Anna’s, if you can. For Kylie we need to get Buicks, or something similar. We’ll take the theme right through.’
‘We’ll never get them locally.’
‘I’ll try Sydney.’
‘Kylie can’t afford-’
‘We’ll cover the cost ourselves,’ he said. ‘As the first Australian Carver Wedding, it’ll more than pay for itself in publicity. As for dress, we’ve done gangster-type weddings in my other salons, so gear shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll fly in costumes for the waiting staff.’ He paused. ‘I assume you have staff booked?’
‘Of course I have staff booked,’ she said, incensed. ‘This wedding is planned down to the last pew ribbon.’
‘We’ll use some of those resources for the Anna and Barret wedding. We’ll design the wedding for Kylie from scratch, and use the basis of Kylie’s for Anna’s. It’ll work. I’ll need to paint sets for the gangster setting. I’ll see if we can get a smoke machine from Sydney.’
‘A smoke machine…’
‘It creates the haze without the health risk. I should have everyone smoking either cigars or Gauloise, but I’ll bet you have laws preventing it.’
‘We do.’
‘There you go, then. A smoke machine it is. Now, let’s look at these dresses and see if any of them might fit without alterations.’
‘You’re good,’ she said, on a note of discovery, and Guy stopped making lists and glanced up at her.
‘You’re surprised?’
‘You said you could even cut hair?’
‘There’s nothing I haven’t been landed with in the years I’ve been building this business. I know my stuff, Jenny. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.’ He smiled at her look of scepticism. ‘You don’t need to worry,’ he said softly. ‘We’ll look after Kylie. The first Australian Carver Wedding will go off with a bang.’
‘It surely will,’ she said, awed, and then suddenly, as if she couldn’t help herself, she slipped out from behind the counter, took two steps forward and kissed him.
It was nothing like the kiss they’d shared last night. It was a kiss of gratitude, nothing more, and why it had the capacity to make him feel as if his feet weren’t quite on the ground he couldn’t say.
‘You’re making Kylie happy,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ he said, or he tried to say it, but the words weren’t quite there. He was staring at Jenny as if…
He didn’t know what.
This wasn’t the type of woman that attracted him.
He hadn’t exactly been celibate since Christa had died. What had Jenny said? It was crazy, wearing the willow for someone for fifteen years. He hadn’t. Or maybe he had, but only in the sense that he never got emotionally involved. Where relationships went he used his head and not his heart. It did his firm’s reputation good if he was seen with A-listers on his arm. He chose glamorous women who could make him laugh, but who knew commitment was neither wanted nor expected.
But Jenny…
She was dressed like a prim secretary. Like a repressed old maid. Like something she wasn’t. He knew she wasn’t. Because otherwise why would his body be screaming that it wanted this woman-he wanted this woman?
She was a complication, he told himself desperately, and he’d spent his entire adult life making sure that he had as few complications in his life as possible.
‘I need to go check the facilities at Anna’s property,’ he said, and if he sounded brusque he couldn’t help it.
She grabbed her bag. ‘It’s in the hills, north of town.’
‘I’ll find it,’ he said, and she hesitated and then put her bag down again.
‘You want me to stay here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine.’ Back to being subservient. ‘I’ll make lists of what’s needed.’ She hesitated. ‘That is, if you want me to?’
‘I want you to.’
