Convenient Engagements: Fiance Wanted Fast! / The Blind-Date Proposal / A Whirlwind Engagement

‘You don’t think that sounds a bit dry?’ said Gib. ‘I mean, won’t they want to know a few more details?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to gesture vaguely. ‘Like whether it was love at first sight for both of us, or did I have to work really hard to win you?’

‘Oh, that last one, I think,’ said Phoebe crisply. ‘I don’t want to be a pushover.’

Gib cast her a wry look. ‘I can’t imagine you ever being that,’ he said. ‘Still, you obviously didn’t play too hard to get since I’ve moved in with you already. In fact,’ he went on with one of his swift, sidelong grins, ‘I think you’d better just admit it! You couldn’t resist me, could you?’

She hated his habit of being right about things like that. It would sound odd if she was claiming to be keeping her distance when Gib had apparently moved into her house barely a week after she had supposedly met him.

‘I suppose we’d better say I was swept off my feet,’ she agreed stiffly.

Gib’s eyes rested thoughtfully for a moment on her averted profile before he looked back at the road. ‘What would it take to do that, Phoebe?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s never happened to me. I always knew I loved Ben, so it wasn’t something that happened overnight. I can’t imagine ever doing anything as rash as falling in love with someone I don’t really know,’ she admitted. ‘I mean, being swept off your feet is all very well in theory, but in practice, how would you be able to trust a man who overwhelmed you and persuaded you into changing your life before you’d had a chance to think about what you were really doing?’

‘I thought you wanted to live dangerously?’

‘Not that dangerously,’ said Phoebe. ‘Falling in love like that seems like a sure way to get yourself hurt.’

Gib signalled and then moved out to overtake. ‘I think if you fell in love you might change your mind. If you really loved someone, you’d be prepared to take that risk.’

‘I’ve been in love,’ she said flatly. ‘I took that risk, and I got hurt. I’m not going through that again.’

There was silence for a while. Gib concentrated on driving, and Phoebe looked out of the side window and thought about Ben and the look in his eyes when he had told her that he had fallen in love with Lisa. He was the last person she had ever expected to hurt her. They had been so comfortable together, so gentle, so safe. She had thought that was what he had wanted too, but she had been wrong. Perhaps she hadn’t known him as well as she had thought.

And then for some reason she found herself remembering what she had said to Bella about Gib. It would be hard to find a man more different from Ben. Safe was the last word you would use about him! Phoebe could imagine him sweeping a girl off her feet all right. He was the type who saw what he wanted and went for it, and if what he wanted was you, you would have little choice in the matter, she thought with a tiny shiver. He would turn your life upside down, spin you around, subject you to a roller coaster of adrenalin and excitement—and then drop you back down to earth with a thump when he was bored and wanted to move on.

No, thank you, thought Phoebe. She could do without that kind of excitement. Living dangerously like that would not be worth the pain and humiliation you would have to endure afterwards. She had had enough of both of them in the last year.

‘What shall I call you?’ Gib broke the silence at last, and she turned to look at him in surprise.

‘What’s wrong with my name?’

‘I was thinking more along the lines of endearments. Do you want to be “darling” or “honey” or what?’

Phoebe grimaced. ‘I’m not really a “darling” kind of girl.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because darlings are soft and sweet and pretty, not sharp and intimidating.’

‘Hey,’ said Gib with a grin, ‘you don’t intimidate me, baby!’

She shot him a look. ‘I’m not a “baby” either!’

‘Shall I call you bunnikins then?’

‘Not unless you want to spend the next month with your jaw wired,’ said Phoebe evenly, and he threw back his head and laughed.

‘But we’re so in love!’ he pretended to protest.

‘We’re not that in love,’ she said, more unnerved than she wanted to admit by the way Gib looked when he laughed like that. He had obviously taken advantage of American dentistry because his teeth were very white and strong, and the creases starring his eyes deepened in what was—OK, she was prepared to concede this—a disturbingly attractive way. The sound of his laughter rolled around the car and seemed to linger, reverberating over her skin so that she shivered slightly.

If only he wasn’t quite so overwhelming. He was so vivid, so vital, that she was left feeling pale and drab and somehow vulnerable in comparison.

Gib was still talking. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the perfect man for you?’

‘Exactly,’ said Phoebe, pulling herself together with an effort. She really must get a grip. ‘And everyone knows that I wouldn’t let a man who would even think about calling me bunnikins within a mile of me!’

‘So if they heard me calling you bunnikins, they’d know it had to be true love,’ he pointed out.

‘Listen, who’s paying you here?’ she said crossly, feeling herself being drawn into a ridiculous argument that would, on past form, end with her not only agreeing but begging Gib to call her bunnikins. That was how she had ended up in this mess in the first place! She had been determined not to be talked into asking him to act as her imaginary lover, but somehow, here she was, heading down the motorway towards the wedding with Gib beside her.

‘If I hear the word bunnikins cross your lips, I’ll cut that fee we agreed in half, so don’t say I didn’t warn you!’

‘OK, bunni-boss!’

‘Very funny,’ she said with a frosty look.

‘Perhaps I just call you madam and be done with it, if you’re going to be that stand-offish,’ said Gib, pretending to sound aggrieved.

Phoebe gritted her teeth. ‘Look, I don’t care what you call me, as long as it’s not bunnikins, all right? You’re supposed to be perfect!’

‘If I’m so perfect, how are you going to explain the fact that our fantastic, perfect relationship is going to end shortly after this wedding?’

‘Well, I haven’t quite decided yet,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I’ll discover that you’ve got a deep dark secret. Everyone knows that I could never love a man who lied to me.’

‘Oh?’ he said carefully. ‘Why’s that?’

‘I’ve always had a thing about lying. I hate it.’

‘But you lie,’ Gib pointed out with a cool glance. ‘You’ve lied to your mother about our relationship and you’re going to carry on lying today.’

‘That’s different,’ she protested.

‘How?’

‘My lies aren’t going to hurt anyone.’

‘Things aren’t always as straightforward as you want them to be,’ said Gib, choosing his words with care. ‘Sometimes the truth can hurt as much as a lie.’

Did he think she didn’t know that? Phoebe thought about Ben, insisting on telling her about Lisa as soon as he knew that he was in love. That was one thing about Ben, he was always absolutely honest. He had never pretended, and if the truth had been unbearably painful, at least it had been better than discovering it from someone else much later.

Gib glanced sideways. Phoebe’s face was sad and he cursed himself inwardly for triggering what were obviously unhappy memories. He was supposed to be supporting her today like the good friend he was trying to prove that he was, not making her even more miserable.

‘So the idea is that in a couple of weeks’ time you’re going to tell your mother that I lied to you and dump me without hearing my side of the story, is that right?’ he said, deliberately keeping his voice light and upbeat.

‘I’ll probably have found out by then that there are lots of other things about you that have begun to irritate me,’ said Phoebe loftily, but Gib saw the effort it cost her to reply in kind. ‘Your lies will just be the final straw.’

‘Wouldn’t it be simpler to forget about the whole lies thing?’ said Gib. ‘Why don’t you just say that I’m a bastard who’s dumped you?’

‘Because I’ve already been dumped once,’ she said with a slight edge to her voice. ‘This time I’m the one who gets to do the dumping. And what’s more,’ she went on, pointing at him for emphasis, ‘you are going to devastated! I’m going to tell Mum that you’re making a real nuisance of yourself, sending me flowers every day, showering me with diamonds, and ringing up every five minutes to beg me to give you another chance.’

That was better. Gib pretended to look disconsolate. ‘If I’m going to humiliate myself to that extent, I think you should give me one.’

‘No way!’ Phoebe shook her head definitely and he heaved a sigh.

‘You’re a hard-hearted woman!’

‘You deceived me,’ she pointed out.

‘Yes, but I couldn’t help myself,’ said Gib. ‘You drive me crazy. I haven’t been able to think of anyone but you since I met you.’

Primming her mouth, she tried hard not to laugh. ‘You should have thought of that before you abandoned your wife and six children in the States, shouldn’t you?’

‘Six children? Cut me a break! Wouldn’t two be enough?’

‘Nope. You’ve got six little darlings depending on you.’

There was a twitch at the corner of Gib’s mouth. ‘I’m surprised I’m in any state for a passionate affair with you in that case! I must be quite a guy!’

‘No, you’re not,’ said Phoebe firmly, realising with an odd start that she was actually enjoying herself. ‘It turns out that you’re a low, treacherous, lying creep.’

He considered the matter, but after a moment shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s going to work,’ he decided.

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t believe that you would ever be taken in by someone with so little integrity,’ he said coolly. ‘You’re too …’ He stopped, searching for the right word.

Too what? Phoebe found herself wanting to know, when really she shouldn’t be caring one way or another what he thought.

‘… too perceptive?’ Gib wondered, almost as if she had asked out loud. ‘Too honest? Too intelligent, maybe? Anyway, I can’t see it happening.’

Hhmmnn. How was she supposed to take that? On the surface, being thought intelligent and honest and perceptive ought to be a compliment, but as usual it was impossible to tell from Gib’s voice whether he was being serious or not.

In the end, Phoebe chose to ignore his comment altogether. ‘All right, maybe there’s some ex-girlfriend you forgot to mention,’ she offered as an alternative. ‘She gets in touch with me, weeping and wailing and complaining that you’ve broken her heart, and I feel so sorry for her that I break it all off with you.’

Gib lifted an eyebrow. ‘Would you really do that?’

‘I might if you were annoying me anyway and I was looking for an excuse to end the relationship.’

That disconcerting crease was back at the corner of his mouth. ‘But what could I possibly do that would annoy you enough to kick out a man like me—wealthy, successful, a passionate lover—on the say-so of some neurotic ex?’ he asked, assuming an aggrieved air.

Phoebe tried to think of all the ways he irritated her, but it was hard to put her finger on exactly why she found him so unsettling. It wasn’t so much anything he did, she realised. It was just the way he was.

‘You’re too possessive,’ she offered eventually.

‘Oh, come on, you’ll have to do better than that!’

‘And you snore.’

Gib’s expression showed how much he thought of that suggestion.

‘You don’t get on with Kate and Bella.’

He snorted. ‘No one’s going to believe that! I can’t imagine anyone not getting on with those two.’

It was true, Phoebe thought, startled by the pang of envy that shot through her. Everybody loved her friends. They were bright and bubbly and fun in a way she could never quite manage. Of course Gib got on with them. It would be a lot easier for him to pretend to be in love with Bella or with Kate than her with her prickles and her sharp tongue.

Still, it was too late to start being sweet now. ‘If you’re going to be difficult about it, I’ll tell everyone I was just using you as a sex toy and got bored with your technique,’ she said crisply.

‘Ouch!’ Gib winced. ‘I think I’ll take the vengeful girlfriend, thanks!’

He glanced at Phoebe, who was sitting straight in her seat, her fine cheekbones tinged with colour and the smooth dark hair slipping silkily around her face. As he watched, she hooked a swathe behind her ear and he glimpsed the pulse beating nervously in her throat before he made himself look back at the road. She was trying hard, but she must be dreading the day ahead.

‘Of course, you realise that she’ll turn out to be the one who’s lying, don’t you?’ he said, wanting to distract her, to stop her thinking about Ben and the fact that another bride was going to be standing in the place that should have been hers. ‘You’ll find that out too late, though, and realise that I was perfect after all, and then you’ll be sorry!’

‘Hah! I am so not going to have any regrets,’ said Phoebe, shaking back her hair, but Gib was glad to see that she was laughing.

His tomfoolery had diverted her and for the first time she felt able to relax. For a while they talked easily, and it was only when they turned off the motorway that the butterflies started to swoop and flutter around her stomach once more.

Smoothing the map nervously over her knees, Phoebe directed Gib through the lush Wiltshire countryside with one part of her mind, while the other was fully occupied reviewing all the potentially disastrous scenarios that might unfold when they arrived.

‘You won’t forget that you’re going back to London tonight, will you?’ she fretted.

‘What, and miss that meeting in Zurich? Impossible!’

Phoebe was too dithery by this stage to pick him up on his sarcasm. ‘Right, so we’d better order a taxi to the station when we get there. It can pick you up after the reception. If we say half past six, that ought to be fine—oh, next on the left!’

Gib muttered under his breath at the lateness of the instruction and swung the car round the bend with a squeal of tires. ‘Thanks for the warning! Do you think you could concentrate on the map and forget how you’re going to get rid of me for the moment?’

‘Yes, sorry …’ Phoebe bent her head diligently over the map, only to be struck by another thought. Gib looked so much the part in his suit that it was easy to forget that he didn’t have a real job. She chewed her lip, eyeing him under her lashes.

‘Um … have you got enough cash to get you back to London?’ she asked awkwardly. ‘I brought some extra with me, just in case, so if you need it …’

Gib’s smile twisted as she trailed off uncomfortably. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘I don’t want you to be out of pocket.’

‘I tell you what,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll keep an account of everything I spend today and we can tally it up at the end. You can add it to the fee we agreed.’

Phoebe went back to her map-reading. ‘Oh. Right. Yes, of course. If you’re happy with that.’

Now that the subject had come up, perhaps it might be an idea to sort out a few other things, she thought. Things she had deliberately avoided thinking about so far.

She cleared her throat. ‘Maybe we should talk about what happens when we get there,’ she said stiltedly. ‘Lay down a few rules of engagement, so to speak.’

‘Engagement?’ Gib lifted his brows. ‘I thought we were just lovers?’

‘Engagement as in a battle,’ she said with a frosty look. As if he didn’t know.

‘Battle? I didn’t know things were going to get that serious,’ he said, not bothering to disguise the undercurrent of laughter in his voice. ‘Perhaps I should have negotiated danger money?’

‘You might think so after today,’ said Phoebe, unamused. ‘I should warn you that you are going to be kissed a lot by people like my mother and Penelope who are going to fall on your neck for rescuing me from dreary spinsterhood.’

‘I don’t mind a few kisses,’ he said equably.

‘Good.’ Phoebe bit her lip. ‘And, er, I might have to … you know … hold your hand or something. Just for show,’ she added hastily.

‘Holding hands, eh?’ said Gib. ‘Passionate stuff!’

‘Nobody’s going to expect you to throw me down and ravish me in front of the bridesmaids just to prove your affection,’ she retorted in a tart voice. ‘You’re back in England now!’

‘Still, I think we could do a bit better than holding hands,’ he said, amused. ‘Maybe we could go wild and have a little kiss every now and then, just to show them how much in love we are?’

Phoebe’s colour deepened. She wished she could treat it as lightly as Gib. It was all just a big joke to him. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said stiffly.

Gib slid her one of those unsettling sideways looks. ‘No, I don’t mind,’ he said.

‘Just so long as you realise that it doesn’t mean anything if … if …’

‘If you kiss me back?’

‘Yes,’ she said, grateful to him for putting it into words but obscurely resentful of his casual attitude. He might at least pretend to find the prospect of kissing each other as awkward as she did!

She would just have to convince him that she was equally businesslike about the whole affair, Phoebe decided. ‘So that’s the first rule of engagement for today,’ she said briskly. ‘No getting involved, or misinterpreting any form of physical contact that we may have today.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Gib with a slight smile. ‘What’s the second rule?’

Good question. Phoebe wracked her brains for something suitable. ‘Stick to the story we’ve agreed, and keep it simple.’

‘And the third?’

‘Two rules is quite enough,’ she said a little crossly. She couldn’t think up any more.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I should be able to remember those.’

‘You’d better,’ said Phoebe, rather proud of her rules now that she came to think of them. She had made it clear that their relationship today was to be a purely businesslike one, and ensured that there would be no misunderstandings between them. How cool could you get?

Even so, as they left the main road and cut across country towards the castle, she found herself fiddling with the map on her knees, turning over the corner until it was dog-eared and tatty.

Gib glanced at her. ‘Nervous?’

‘Yes.’ What was the use of pretending, after all? ‘Terrified might be a better word, if you really want to know!’

‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ he asked, wanting to make her feel better but not sure how. Weren’t friends supposed to know this kind of thing instinctively?

Phoebe was still mangling the page between her fingers. ‘I suppose that we won’t seem convincing together,’ she said eventually. ‘People like my sister pick up on body language. They’ll be watching us so closely, I’m afraid they’ll see that … you know … that we aren’t really lovers.’

‘You mean they’ll be able to tell just from looking at us that we haven’t even kissed?’

‘Well … yes.’

Gib checked his mirror before pulling over into the entrance to a farm gate. This was one thing he could do to help her. ‘Let’s kiss now, then,’ he said as he put on the handbrake and switched off the ignition.

‘What?’

Calmly, he unclipped his seat belt and reached across to undo hers. ‘You’re the one who’s worried people are going to guess that we haven’t kissed,’ he pointed out reasonably. ‘If we kiss now, they won’t be able to do that, will they?’

‘You’re not serious!’ Astounded, Phoebe struggled to sit up straight, but that only brought her closer to him as he leaned over towards her, so she hastily retreated, shrinking back into her seat.

Gib paused. ‘Don’t you think it’s a good idea?’ he asked. ‘Personally, I think it would be easier to kiss you for the first time when there are just two of us and not in front of an entire wedding reception, but it’s up to you,’ he said, as casually as if they were discussing whether or not to stop for a coffee. ‘Of course,’ he added with a look at Phoebe’s face, ‘if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I don’t want to force you. I just thought it might help.’

‘No … no,’ she said, abruptly changing her mind as he made to sit back. ‘You might have a point there.’

The idea of a first kiss under the interested gaze of assorted family and friends had been enough to make Phoebe blench. Ben might be watching too, and if anyone would be able to tell that she and Gib had never kissed before, he would. No, Gib was right. It was far better to have a go here. At least then she would know what to expect.

‘No,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘OK.’

‘OK,’ Phoebe agreed, moistening her lips nervously.

Gib was disconcerted to discover just how much he wanted to kiss her. Of course, kissing like this wasn’t really what friends did, he reminded himself, and a friend was all he was supposed to be. On the other hand, pretending to be Phoebe’s lover was just a way of helping her out, so he was being a friend. A kiss under these circumstances wouldn’t really count, would it? And it wasn’t even as if it would be a real kiss, he reminded himself, remembering her rules of engagement. Surely even Josh couldn’t object?

Lifting his hand, he pushed the silky hair away from her face. The green eyes staring back at him were wide and distinctly wary, in spite of her decision.

Gib smiled. ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘Think of it as a dress rehearsal.’

He laid his palm against her soft cheek and tipped her chin up with his thumb. Then, very slowly so as not to alarm her, he touched his mouth to hers.

The feel of his warm, firm lips sent a jolt through Phoebe. She had been bracing herself against his touch, but when it came she was still unprepared for the clutch of her heart or the wash of sheer pleasure that lapped along her veins.

It was just pretending, of course. Gib was right, this was only a practice. Still, it did feel nice, she thought hazily. It felt very nice, so much so, in fact, that when his fingers slid into her hair and his kiss deepened persuasively she didn’t try to resist. Instead, she let him push her back into the seat and kissed him back, her lips parting eagerly and her arms winding around his neck, enjoying the tightness of his hands in her hair, holding her still, enjoying the taste of his mouth and the feel of his hard body pressing against hers. Oh, yes, it was very, very nice …

And then, somehow, nice wasn’t the word. Something indefinable changed, banishing niceness, as their kisses became hungrier and more demanding. Lost in the pounding of her heart and the surge of sensation, Phoebe was half-intoxicated, half-scared by the heat flaring between them. It was darkly, secretly exciting, it was dangerously intoxicating, it was much, much more than nice, and it was out of control.

This isn’t what they were supposed to be practising, the thought drifted elusively through Phoebe’s mind, but she was too far gone to care, and it was only when Gib broke the kiss reluctantly that her brain cleared enough for her to think that it shouldn’t have been like that at all. It should have been a chaste little peck on the lips not … not that.

For a long, long moment they could only stare at each other, both breathing raggedly. Gib’s eyes were very blue, their mocking gleam for once entirely absent.

Phoebe’s heart was jerking frantically. She couldn’t have spoken if she had tried. She could only think how close he still was and how easy it would be for them to kiss again. The same knowledge was reflected in Gib’s eyes, and the possibility shimmered tantalisingly in the air between them until he pushed himself abruptly away with a muttered exclamation.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he sat back in the driving seat. ‘Well,’ was all he could say.