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

They need fiancés in a hurry…

Convenient

Engagements

Three feel good romances from one beloved award-winning Mills & Boon author!

JESSICA HART was born in West Africa, and has suffered from itchy feet ever since, travelling and working around the world in a wide variety of interesting but very lowly jobs, all of which have provided inspiration on which to draw when it comes to the settings and plots of her stories. Now she lives a rather more settled existence in York, where she has been able to pursue her interest in history, although she still yearns sometimes for wider horizons. If you’d like to know more about Jessica, visit her website www.jessicahart.co.uk.

Convenient

Engagements

JESSICA HART

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘MALLORY left you?’ Josh lowered his water bottle and stared at Gib in surprise.

‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ said Gib with a somewhat crooked grin, shifting his back against the ice wall and putting on his jacket. It had been hot work climbing the last pitch, but at this altitude you soon lost heat. ‘The boot’s usually on the other foot!’

Josh grimaced. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said slowly. ‘I always liked Mallory. You seemed really good together too.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Gib wryly. ‘Mallory’s a very special lady. Smart as anything and beautiful and independent … I really thought she was going to be different.’

He tapped the side of his crampons with his ice pick to loosen the balled ice. ‘But then the old C word started cropping up and I knew that was the beginning of the end.’

‘The what word?’ asked Josh, diverted.

‘Commitment.’ Gib stared morosely out at the spectacular view.

They had stopped for a rest on a frozen ledge, high up on the mountain. It was still some way to the summit, but you could look out at the hills stretching off to the hazy horizon. Gib loved the mountains. The air was clean and pure and the only sound was the wind cutting icily through the brilliant sunlight.

He was glad that Josh had called him up and suggested a climb. It was good to be up here where everything was simple and there was not a tearful woman in sight.

It certainly made a nice change.

‘Why are women so obsessed with commitment?’ he demanded. ‘They all start off pretending that they’re independent and just want a good time, but you’re lucky if you get to a third date without them planning their wedding dresses!’

‘You and Mallory had been together a bit longer than three dates,’ Josh pointed out reasonably. ‘It’s nearly a year now, isn’t it?’

‘Exactly!’ grumbled Gib. ‘We were getting along great, everything was fine … why did she have to go and spoil it?’

‘What did she say?’

‘Apparently I am completely unable to “commit” or to “relate”.’ Gib hooked his fingers in the air to add sarcastic emphasis to the inverted commas. ‘According to Mallory, I just thought of her as part of some kind of smorgasbord of women!’

Josh looked blank. ‘A smorgasbord?’

‘You know, one of those buffet affairs where all the dishes are set out along a big table and you go round to help yourself to whatever you fancy.’

‘Right,’ said Josh, none the wiser.

‘Mallory’s theory is that I treat women like so many different dishes, so that even if I find one I really like, I won’t be content to stick with one because I’ll always be wondering if there might not be one I might like even better further along the table.’ Gib gave an exclamation of disgust. ‘Don’t you hate it when women analyse you?’

Josh didn’t answer directly. Behind the dark glasses that protected his eyes from the glare, his expression was unreadable as he studied the view and considered Mallory’s theory.

‘She’s right, though, isn’t she?’ he said at last.

‘Listen, whose side are you on?’ demanded Gib.

‘You’re the one who said that she’s a smart lady.’

‘I just happen to like women,’ said Gib defensively. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘Nothing.’

‘And women like me.’ He scowled. ‘I love women! It’s ridiculous to say that I can’t relate to them properly!’

‘Is that what Mallory says?’

‘She says I’ve got no idea how to be friends with a woman.’ Gib sounded outraged. ‘Can you believe that?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, taken aback by the typically quiet, uncompromising reply. Josh was so … so … so British … sometimes!

Josh was checking the ropes. ‘Have you ever had a platonic relationship with a woman? A good one?’

‘Sure.’

‘When?’

‘When? Well, let’s see … when … when …’ Gib searched his mind frantically. ‘OK, I can’t think of anyone right this moment,’ he was forced to acknowledge, ‘but I’m sure there must have been someone. I bet you can’t think of anyone either,’ he added, going on the offensive.

It didn’t faze Josh. ‘Yes I can,’ he said calmly. ‘Bella is one of my best friends, probably the best friend I’ve got, in fact. We were students together, and we’ve been close ever since.’

‘And you’ve never slept with her?’

‘No.’

‘I bet you wanted to!’

Josh shook his head. ‘No, that would spoil our friendship. Bella’s always got some man in tow, and I have girlfriends, but it’s different with her. I prefer what we’ve got. I can talk to Bella in a way I can’t talk to anyone else. We understand each other.

‘It’s nothing to do with sex,’ he went on. ‘You could never be friends with a woman in the same way.’

‘Want a bet?’ said Gib, ruffled.

‘OK.’

‘OK?’

Josh tied off the end of the rope and sat back against the rock. ‘I’ll bet you … let’s say ten thousand dollars?… to the charity of your choice that you can’t be friends with a woman.’

Gib laughed. ‘Ten thousand dollars? You’re kidding, right?’

‘You can afford it.’

‘Yeah, but can you?’

‘I don’t think I will have to,’ said Josh with annoying calm.

Well, Gib wasn’t a man who could turn down a challenge like that! His eyes narrowed.

‘Being friends is a bit subjective, isn’t it? How would we decide if I’d succeeded or not?’

Josh unwrapped an energy bar and chewed meditatively for a while. ‘How would you feel about spending a few weeks in London?’ he asked at last.

‘It wouldn’t be a problem, I guess,’ said Gib, a bit thrown by the apparent non sequitur. ‘It’s easy enough to keep in touch with what’s happening here wherever I am.’

Absently he took the bar Josh handed him out of his rucksack. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he went on slowly, ‘it might suit me quite well. I’ve been thinking about developing more European connections and with this whole Mallory thing, I wouldn’t mind leaving the country for a while. I could do without all those scenes about who takes what!’

‘OK.’ Josh nodded briskly. ‘Here’s the deal. Bella shares a house in south London with three other girls, but one of them is getting married soon, so they’re going to have a spare room. I reckon I could arrange it for you to live with them for a while.’ He grinned. ‘I think it would be a real test for you! If at the end of six weeks Bella and Kate and Phoebe all describe you to me as a real friend, you name the charity and I’ll send the cheque!’

‘Hhmmnn.’ Gib looked a bit dubious. ‘What are these girls like?’

‘They’re just three very nice, very ordinary English girls.’

‘And that’s it? I just live with them for six weeks and be their friend?’

‘There’s one more condition,’ said Josh. ‘You have to go incognito. You’ve had too many attractive, successful women falling over themselves for you here. Mallory’s a psychologist and before that there was the TV presenter and that model … what was her name? The one with the legs up to her armpits?’

‘Verona?’

‘That’s the one.’ Josh allowed himself to remember her legs for a moment. They really had been spectacular.

‘Anyway, the point is, you’re spoilt!’ he went on. ‘It’ll be different in London. The girls won’t know anything about you, so you won’t be able to buy their affection or impress them the way you do here. You’ll just have to be yourself and if you can’t be friends with them under those circumstances then you’ll just have to accept that Mallory is right!’

Gib’s face was inscrutable behind the dark glasses that cut out the mountain glare as he studied the horizon.

He was thinking about his father, who was now on his fourth wife. Gib got on with his father fine, but he didn’t want to be like him. He had seen too many women in tears because his father’s idea of commitment turned out to be very different from theirs.

Gib, on the other hand, prided himself on never making promises he couldn’t fulfil. He always made it clear to girlfriends that he wasn’t offering happy ever after, and frankly couldn’t see what was so wrong with being honest about wanting to live in the present without tying yourself to a future you weren’t ready for.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be friends with a woman! No way was Gib prepared to accept that his attitude was anything like his father’s. If he didn’t have a female friend like Josh, it was just because most of the women he knew were more interested in being wives than friends.

Well, he would show Josh and Mallory and his father that he was perfectly capable of building a relationship with a woman that was based on friendship rather than sex. He would take the bet.

‘Ten thousand dollars?’ he said.

‘Ten thousand dollars.’

‘And I get to choose the charity that gets the money?’

‘Only if you win. Otherwise I do.’

‘OK, then.’ Gib grinned as he held out his hand to Josh. ‘You’re on!’

Phoebe collapsed onto the sofa, kicking off her shoes and swinging her legs up with a sigh of relief. ‘My feet are killing me! Next time I go to a wedding, remind me not to wear stilettos!’

‘They are fab, though,’ said Bella, handing out mugs of tea. It had been a sad moment when they all realised that after drinking champagne all day tea was all they really wanted. ‘Sometimes you just have to suffer for style.’

Kate took her tea gratefully. She was lolling on one of the deep chairs, with her legs dangling over one arm.

‘Personally I’d be exhausted if I had to be that stylish all the time. I’d no idea it was going to be such a smart wedding. Did you see some of those women there? It must be a full-time job looking like that! I felt so dowdy, like I was one of those embarrassing relatives you have to invite but nobody wants to talk to.’

‘I know,’ Phoebe agreed gloomily. ‘You could tell they weren’t at all surprised that we couldn’t muster a single boyfriend between us.’

‘Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,’ said Bella. ‘I thought it was excellent! I love smart weddings like that. If I ever get married, I’m going to do it like Caro—the posh church, reception at some classy club, hundreds of guests all looking incredibly stylish.’

‘Better get some new friends then,’ said Phoebe rather indistinctly through a mouthful of chocolate digestive. ‘If you’re going to impose a fashion code, half of us won’t be able to come. Kate and Josh and I will be camped out on the church steps just to get a glimpse of you as you sweep by!’

Bella grinned. ‘Oh, Josh brushes up pretty well, and I’m sure I’ll be able to find a dark corner to put you two in!’

‘Better tell your father to start saving now,’ put in Kate. ‘That wedding today must have cost a packet.’

‘I think Anthony must have contributed. It’s not as if he can’t afford it!’

‘Well, I’d rather have a traditional country wedding,’ said Kate. ‘Just family and good friends and a marquee in my parents’ garden so we can walk back from the village church. I’m going to have my two little nieces as bridesmaids,’ she went on dreamily. ‘They’d look sweet in taffeta with puffed sleeves and—’

She stopped as she saw Phoebe and Bella looking at her. ‘Not that I’ve given it much thought, of course,’ she said, but had the grace to blush.

‘Of course not!’ said Bella. She turned to Phoebe who was saying ‘What about you, Phoebe? Would you go for urban chic or the perfect country wedding?’

Phoebe concentrated on brushing biscuit crumbs from her dress. ‘Neither. I think the best option would be to run away and get married on the quiet so that you don’t have to plan anything. At least that way you would know the bridegroom was going to turn up!’

‘Sorry, Phoebe,’ said Bella contritely. ‘I forgot you’d already been through all this.’

Phoebe attempted a careless shrug. ‘Oh, well, it’s been over a year now.’

Sixteen months, three weeks and four days, in fact.

Not that she was counting.

‘And we didn’t really get as far as planning the wedding before Ben changed his mind.’

Kate and Bella preserved a tactful silence. They knew quite well that she and Ben had been childhood sweethearts and that the chances of her not having spent most of her life thinking about the day they would get married were remote to say the least.

At least her parents hadn’t sent out any invitations. She had been spared the humiliation of returning presents and answering sympathetic notes, although everybody had known, of course.

Phoebe picked up her tea. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I don’t think any of us need panic about planning our weddings just yet. It’s not as if hordes of men are desperate to sweep us off to the altar!’

‘No,’ Bella and Kate sighed.

‘I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with this house,’ she went on gesturing with her mug around the kitchen where they were sitting. ‘It’s as if it’s cursed with a special man-repelling aura! Do you think I should sell it?’

The other two sat up in alarm. ‘No!’

‘I like it here,’ Kate insisted.

‘So do I,’ said Bella, adding more practically, ‘and we’d never be able to afford anywhere nearly as nice to live.’

‘I know what you mean about the aura, though,’ Kate reassured Phoebe. She brightened. ‘Maybe that explains why Seb has been so funny recently?

‘I think we should try feng shui before you do anything drastic,’ she hurried on before Phoebe could start on the other possibilities for Seb’s defection. ‘I’ve got a friend who does it. Apparently you can change your luck just by shifting your furniture around a bit and keeping the loo seat down so that bad spirits can’t get into the house.’

‘Well, that shouldn’t be a problem with no blokes around,’ observed Phoebe glumly.

‘Kate’s right,’ said Bella. ‘Well, not about the feng shui maybe, but about not selling. It’s a lovely house, and I certainly don’t want to move. I must admit it’s not going to be the same without Caro, though,’ she added. ‘I can’t believe she’d be selfish enough to leave us just to get married!’

‘I know,’ agreed Phoebe. ‘I mean, what’s in it for her?’ She gestured expansively with her free hand around the kitchen which was in its usual state of shabby chaos.

‘Why would she want to leave all this for a big house in Fulham, a cleaner and an adoring husband?’

‘I can’t imagine,’ said Kate loyally. ‘You wouldn’t catch me doing anything like that! Maybe she’ll miss us so much she’ll come back?’

‘I don’t think we should count on it,’ sighed Phoebe. ‘I know it’s going to be hard to replace her, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to find someone else for her room or I won’t be able to pay the mortgage. Neither of you have heard of anyone who’s looking for somewhere to live, have you?’

They shook their heads. ‘Not anyone I would want to share with anyway,’ amended Bella.

‘It looks like I might have to advertise then.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ said Kate nervously. ‘We could get all sorts of weirdos. Remember that film where the new flatmate murders the first girl and takes over her life? We could get someone like that.’

‘Or worse,’ said Bella. ‘We could get someone obsessed with country dancing.’

They were all silent for a moment, brooding on the thought.

‘Or we might get someone obsessed with cleaning,’ suggested Phoebe. She looked ruefully around the kitchen. ‘That wouldn’t be too bad. She’d have plenty to keep her busy, anyway.’

‘I shared with a girl like that once.’ Bella shuddered at the memory. ‘She was completely neurotic about cleaning. There were Post-its all over the flat with instructions about taking out the rubbish or reminders about the dusting rota, and the moment you made yourself a mug of tea she would whip out a coaster and follow you around until you put it down.’

She grimaced. ‘It was seriously spooky! I think we’d be better off with a serial killer or a country dancer.’

‘I think I’d rather sell the house,’ sighed Phoebe.

‘What about that guy Josh was talking about?’ asked Kate suddenly. ‘Did he mention him to you, Phoebe?’

‘Briefly.’ Phoebe drained her mug. ‘What did he say his name was again?’

Kate tipped her head back and contemplated the ceiling while she searched her erratic memory. ‘Gus?’

‘Gib,’ Bella corrected her.

‘That was it.’ Phoebe remembered her conversation with Josh as she helped herself to another biscuit. ‘Doesn’t he only want somewhere temporary, though? We need to find someone permanent.’

‘Yes, but if he was here for a while it would give us time to find someone we really like,’ said Kate.

Phoebe munched doubtfully. ‘We don’t really know anything about him, though,’ she pointed out.

‘We know he’s a friend of Josh’s.’

‘But why does he only want to be here for a few weeks?’ she asked Bella, who as Josh’s best friend could be presumed to know more than the rest of them.

‘I’m not sure. Josh was a bit vague about that. I know he lives in California, but that’s about all. I got the impression he might be in a bit of financial difficulty, which is why he wants somewhere relatively cheap.’

Phoebe looked dubious. ‘If he’s that short of cash, why fly all the way from the States to London?’

‘Maybe he just wants to get away from home for a bit,’ suggested Kate, brightening perceptively at the idea of someone else to take under her wing. ‘Perhaps his heart has been broken, and he needs some time and space to lick his wounds?’

‘Oh, yes, that’s so likely!’ said Phoebe, rolling her eyes. ‘There you are in California, with all that sunshine and spectacular scenery, and you think, “I need to cheer myself up, what can I do? I know, I’ll go and spend six weeks in Tooting!” I mean, nothing against Tooting—I know we like it—but you’ve to admit that a suburb in south-west London isn’t top of everybody’s top ten tourist destinations.’

‘It doesn’t matter why he’s coming, does it?’ said Bella practically. ‘Josh wouldn’t have recommended him if he hadn’t been able to pay the rent, and he can’t be too awful if he’s a friend of his. Why not think about it, Phoebe? Quite apart from anything else, it would be fun to have a man around the house again!’

Kate sat up straighter. ‘And maybe Seb will hear about it and be jealous,’ she added hopefully.

Privately, Phoebe thought it extremely unlikely that Kate’s on-off, but more usually off, boyfriend, known to the rest of the world as Slimy Seb, would care one way or the other, but she knew that Kate lived in daily hope of hearing from him again. She was the only person Phoebe knew who actually believed that if you kept kissing a frog you’d eventually end up with a prince.

‘You never know,’ she said, avoiding Bella’s eye. ‘All right then, we’ll give this Gib a go!’

Gib’s mouth pulled down at the corners as he looked up at his home for the next six weeks. It was part of a terrace of identically narrow, faintly shabby Victorian houses that lined the street, and in the dank drizzle of that April evening even the tub of flowering bulbs at the front door failed to relieve the atmosphere of gloom.

Gib couldn’t help thinking about his home on the Pacific coast, with its huge, light, open rooms and its view of the ocean, and he sighed. He was beginning to wonder if he might regret taking up the challenge Josh had thrown him.

Behind him, the taxi driver cleared his throat meaningfully, and Gib stepped up to the door and pushed the bell, his most charming smile at the ready. A bet was a bet, and it was too late to change his mind now.

He hadn’t heard the bell ring inside, and pushed it again just as the door jerked open and he found himself looking at a tall, slender girl with the fiercest green eyes he had ever seen. She had a swing of straight dark hair, straight dark brows and a generous mouth that belied the severity of her expression.

Gib’s smile blinked off in surprise. Had he got the right address? He distinctly remembered Josh saying that all three girls were very ordinary. They’re just nice, friendly girls, he had said.

This girl didn’t look at all ordinary to Gib, and she didn’t look very friendly either.

‘Yes?’ she snapped.

‘I’m John Gibson.’ Gib put his smile back on, but it bounced right off her. ‘Gib to my friends. And you must be Phoebe, Bella or Kate?’

‘I’m Phoebe,’ she acknowledged reluctantly, and frowned. ‘We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow was the original plan, but I was all ready and an earlier flight came up, so I thought I might as well just come on over and turn up.’

He had the bluest eyes Phoebe had ever seen, and they danced in a way that instantly made her feel boring and repressed for not being the kind of spontaneous person that changed arrangements at a whim and breezed across the Atlantic with about as much fuss as she would make popping down to the shop on the corner.

Less, probably.

Phoebe had had a bad day. Her boss, Celia, had been in a vile mood, nitpicking and throwing tantrums with an even greater regularity than normal. Escaping at last, she had spent more than forty minutes waiting for a bus which turned out to be only going as far as Clapham Junction anyway. Too fed up to hang around in the rain, she had set off to walk the rest of the way, without thinking about the fact that it would take her nearly an hour and that she was carrying two heavy folders and wearing quite unsuitable shoes, and when she finally hobbled into the kitchen she had discovered that the pilot light on the boiler had gone out, so there was no hot water for a bath.

And now there was this Gib on her doorstep.

Sod’s law, thought Phoebe morosely. Be at your best with your hair perfectly in place and your lipstick perfectly applied, and you could be sure that when the doorbell went unexpectedly it would be someone doing market surveys or that man who kept trying to get them to change their electricity supplier.

Look and feel like a limp rag, however, and you could guarantee that the most attractive man you had ever seen in the flesh would turn up on the doorstep!

When she looked at him properly, she could see that he wasn’t actually that handsome—his features were too irregular for classic good looks—but he had a quirky, mobile face with eyes so blue and so alive that somehow that was all that you noticed.

Phoebe was distinctly unnerved by the sheer vibrancy of the man. He had that relaxed yet vivid air of someone who spent his life in the sun. Just looking at him was like getting a blast of ozone. He was the sort of man who ought by rights to be at the helm of a yacht or plunging into the ocean waves with a surfboard under his arm, not standing in this grey south London street evidently wondering why she was staring at him.