‘I’ve had it up to here!’ She indicated a level somewhere above her head. ‘I obviously attract commitment-phobic men. And that’s why I’ve come to get your help.’

He stopped in his tracks, halfway to the door, and looked back at her dubiously. ‘What do you mean, my help? What can I do?’

‘You have loads of girlfriends, right? And you’re the most commitment-shy person I know.’

‘Well, yes… I mean no.’ He tried to work out if there was a compliment or an insult in there and decided there was probably both. ‘How is this relevant?’

‘I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands,’ she said firmly. ‘There’s no point hanging around waiting for Ed to get his act together. You can advise me on all this kind of thing.’

He raised his eyebrows at her quizzically.

‘Where I’m going wrong, of course. Why he isn’t falling over himself to get a ring on my finger.’ She warmed to her subject. ‘You must have a wealth of experience just waiting to be tapped. You can show me how to be totally irresistible to him.’

He thought for a moment she might actually be going mad. Hangover forgotten, he barged into the kitchen behind her. She’d had some crazy ideas in her time, but this…

‘No. Absolutely no way.’

About Charlotte Phillips

CHARLOTTE PHILLIPS has been reading romantic fiction since her teens, and she adores upbeat stories with happy endings. Writing them for Mills & Boon® is her dream job.

She combines writing with looking after her fabulous husband, two teenagers, a four-year-old and a dachshund. When something has to give, it’s usually housework.

She lives in Wiltshire.

The Proposal Plan
Charlotte Phillips

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This book is for Nick, who made me finish it.

With all my love always.

Table of Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘WILL YOU…?’

Lucy Telford leaned forward expectantly, mouth slightly open, sea-green eyes wide. So certain was she of how this sentence would end that for a moment she actually thought she’d heard the words ‘marry me’. But by the time her brain caught up and performed a reality check, Ed had moved on to describing the cottage for sale on the outskirts of Bath—on which he hoped she would supply the deposit. And it dawned on her to her utter disbelief: it had happened again.

She drove grimly through the quiet streets of the city early the following morning. Apparently the strength of cliché and female experience on her side meant nothing in the face of the male inability to take a hint. It was Valentine’s Day, check. She was out with her boyfriend of two years, relationship good, check. He’d booked her favourite restaurant, bought her favourite flowers and told her he had something special to ask her that evening. Check, check, check. What girl wouldn’t have expected a marriage proposal given a situation like that? Add in the heavy hints she’d been dropping for at least the last six months. Surely the odds were somewhere approaching dead cert?

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her face set, her dark curls even more defiantly springy than usual, reflecting the way she felt. The rest of the evening had passed in an angry red blur. The night hadn’t been much better. She’d tossed and turned, alternately hot and throwing the covers off, then freezing cold. Then somewhere around two a solution of sorts had come to her. A way of taking control.

She pulled the car into a roadside space in one of Bath’s lovely streets, the golden stone of the Georgian terrace picked out by the winter sunshine. It was a perfect February morning, icy cold but bright. Running her own bakery business had made her accustomed to extremely early starts and she adored the way the city looked when it was still half asleep. It did nothing to distract her today.

Killing the engine, she stalked, as well as she could in trainers, across the pavement and up the stone steps to the three-storey town house of the one person she could moan at unreservedly. The one person who would let her vent her anger, calm her down and give her an objective opinion on what she should do. Childhood friend, adult protector, confidant and big-brother figure, Gabriel Blake was about to kiss his Sunday morning lie-in goodbye.

Gabriel tried mashing one of the pillows over his head and holding it against both ears but the ringing simply faded to a more annoying level. Opening one eye to glance at the bedside clock, he groaned. Seven-thirty. He only knew one person who got up this early on a Sunday. The ringing continued and he eventually crawled from the bed and staggered half asleep down the stairs, gripping the banister for support. His thick dark hair stood up in crazy sleep spikes and a shadow of stubble defined his strong jaw. He rubbed at his scratchy eyes. By now she had obviously tired of intermittent ringing and was simply keeping the button depressed, resulting in a constant noise that challenged his impending hangover like an ice pick.

He opened the door a crack and, closing his aching eyes against the morning sun, he snarled through the gap. ‘Lucy, it’s seven-thirty on a Sunday morning. What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘You’ve got your eyes shut. How did you know it was me?’

‘Nobody else I know would dare disturb me at this time of the morning.’ He opened one eye and squinted at her. ‘Especially on a Sunday.’

She made a move to lean around the front door and see past him into the house, glancing indifferently as she did so at his toned torso and the muscular broad shoulders that were set off by the remains of a tan from his last trip abroad. She’d stayed with him in this house for a while a year or so ago and as a result she had developed a unique immunity to the fact that with no shirt on he looked like a god. Unlike the rest of the female race, to her he just looked like Gabriel. Best friend of some twenty-three years. No romantic attraction involved.

‘Is there someone with you?’ she asked him bossily. ‘Because if there is, get rid of them. This is an emergency.’

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than ever, and tried to think straight. ‘There’s no one here—it’s just me. What do you mean an emergency? Are you OK?’

‘I can’t discuss it on the doorstep. Let me in!’

He leaned wearily back against the wall and she lost no time in pushing past him like a tornado into the hall. He looked longingly back up the curving stairway in the direction of his bedroom and waved a mental white flag. Now he’d let her in the house there was no way sleep was going to be on the cards. He closed the front door and followed her resignedly to the kitchen to put coffee on.

She turned as he entered the room and he felt a fresh stab of exasperation as he noticed for the first time she was wearing jogging gear. Three-quarter-length running shorts hugged her lean frame, giving away for once the fact that she was fit and toned. She was so tiny that ordinary loose clothes gave her the impression of fragility. Ironic, he sometimes thought, that someone whose life revolved around cake should be so slender. Her dark curls were caught up in a band, but tendrils escaped as usual around her face. The clothes could only mean one thing. She intended to persuade him to go running with her when he still had at least three hours’ sleep to catch up on.

On the brink of losing his already frayed temper, he saw just in the nick of time the dark smudges under her green eyes, starkly contrasting with the creamy complexion, and the troubled expression on her face. Unable to feel anything but protective towards her when she was unhappy ever since she was six years old and he was eight, he abandoned his mission to fill the kettle and gave her a hug instead. He couldn’t help noticing the stiffness in the muscles of her shoulders even through her clothes, and her hands against his bare skin as they slid around his waist were cold enough to make him jump. Everything about her exuded tension.

‘What’s up?’ He spoke gently over her head, which nestled perfectly just under his chin, coils of her caught-up hair brushing his jaw lightly. Her hair had a lovely lemony scent, making him dimly aware that he could do with a shower. She didn’t seem to notice, though, as she made no move to pull away from his chest, and she would normally be the first person to point out if he smelled of last night’s curry. ‘Tell me it’s something serious to justify waking me up before eleven on a Sunday.’

She looked up at him in obvious anguish.

‘Oh, God, it’s not one of your parents, is it? Are they ill?’

Now she pulled back to arm’s length, an expression of incredulity on her face. ‘Something happening to either of my nightmare parents doesn’t come very high on the serious metre—you of all people should know that.’

‘OK, then,’ he conceded. ‘It obviously isn’t to do with your wonderful parents.’ He ignored Lucy as she made a face. ‘But I’m not up to playing guessing games. Come and sit down and tell me what’s up.’

Abandoning the coffee, he pulled her by the hand into the sitting room, shoved aside a pile of newspapers and dragged her down next to him on one of the squashy white sofas. She gazed down at her tiny hands, the nails always short and never varnished because that interfered with her baking.

‘It’s Ed.’ One of her hands crept up to her mouth and she chewed on one of the thumbnails distractedly.

‘I knew it! What’s the idiot done now?’ He had no real opinion of Ed. There seemed nothing about him to provoke strong feelings one way or the other. He seemed to treat Lucy well enough and he didn’t interfere with their friendship. That was all Gabriel really cared about. She always seemed too focused on building up her bakery business to be serious about anyone.

‘It’s not what he’s done.’ She looked at him miserably. ‘It’s what he hasn’t done.’

‘I’m not following.’

She sighed. ‘We’ve been together now for, what, two years. It’s all going fine, ticking along, you know.’ He nodded encouragingly. ‘And at Christmas, I thought that was going to be it…’

‘What was going to be it?’ His head had begun to ache. He wished she’d get to the point.

‘When he gave me the necklace. You know, the moon-shaped silver one?’ She searched his face. Gabriel had no idea what she was talking about but nodded anyway. ‘He handed the box over with this big grand gesture and I thought for sure that was it. I would open it and there would be the ring.’ She held a hand out, palm upturned, as if expecting the non-existent ring to materialise there in front of her eyes.

So this was it.

‘You mean you thought he was going to propose and it turned out he’d bought you a necklace?’ He laughed, feeling an unexpected flash of passing sympathy for Ed. Women. Sometimes there was no pleasing them. ‘Hey, at least he bought you a necklace!’

She threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘You’re missing the point. What was last night?’

He scratched his head. ‘You’ve got me. Saturday night?’

She shoved him. ‘No, you idiot. It was Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? Surely you must remember that—the postman probably got a hernia heaving your sackload of cards up the steps.’ She looked away and muttered disgustedly almost to herself, ‘I can’t believe you don’t remember.’

‘Of course, of course, Valentine’s Day. I did get a few cards as it happens.’ He glanced at the waste-paper bin in the corner, into which he’d dropped all the love-related correspondence of the previous day.

‘I don’t care about your cards! It was Valentine’s Day, and Ed had booked a table at our favourite restaurant, that Italian one, you know. And he’d told me he had something special to discuss with me. And I thought, well…’

Gabriel sighed. He could see where this was heading. ‘You thought he was going to propose.’

‘Yes.’

‘And did he?’

‘No! He started going on about this investment opportunity and wondering if I might consider putting some money in. The bakery has been doing pretty well lately…’ She trailed off miserably.

Gabriel looked at her, torn between concern for her and amusement. He’d known, of course, that she had a bit of a dream of ending up with the perfect happily ever after. Marriage, two-point-four children and a dog. How could he not know that when they’d been friends for so long? After the insecurities of her childhood it made perfect sense that she would want to build her own secure family in later life. But he’d never seriously considered it would happen in the foreseeable future; she was far too ambitious and engrossed in her growing business. And he’d never for a moment considered Ed as…

As what? Competition? His stomach did a slow and unexpected flip, adding to the hangover symptoms he was gradually developing. Where the hell had that thought come from? As permanent fixture material, he corrected himself. He must really need some sleep; he wasn’t thinking straight. He put a hand to his head and massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Lu, it’s just one of those things. He hasn’t done this to upset you—he probably hasn’t got a clue you feel like this. Did you tell him?’

She shook her head.

‘You know what Ed’s like. It probably doesn’t occur to him that you might like him to propose marriage.’ Gabriel didn’t particularly consider Ed to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but, even if he was, mind-reading was likely to be beyond him. ‘It doesn’t mean he isn’t happy, does it?’

She shrugged. He decided to try a more brutal tack. He felt an unexpected compulsion to talk her out of the marriage dream. Nothing to do with disliking Ed. If anything he was completely neutral on that subject. But Lucy was only just approaching thirty. She was far too ambitious to settle down; this would turn out to be one of her temporary crazes. Occasionally she got a mad idea into her head and threw her heart and soul into it, only to tire of it ten minutes later. The only thing she’d ever been totally committed to was creative cookery.

Straight talking was what was needed here. He took a deep breath. ‘Look, Lucy, you really need to get over this sudden obsession with settling down, with marriage. Marriage isn’t the be-all and end-all of everything these days, you know. Loads of people are happy just dating long term, or maybe moving in together. And don’t forget your business has just taken off. Ed probably just thinks there’s no rush.’ As an afterthought he added, ‘And he’s right.’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘You’re not getting it. I know loads of people don’t go for marriage these days and that’s up to them. But this is about me. And for me moving in together is a cop out. Not enough.’

She looked up at him, her green eyes wide and clear. He felt as if he could see every fleck of colour in them. ‘My parents just lived together and one or other of them was always either about to leave, leaving, or left. Maybe if they’d been married they might have taken it all a bit more seriously. Moving in is not enough of a commitment. Not for me. Not deep down.’ She made a fist and pressed it against her flat stomach. ‘Ed has no excuse. He’s more than up for getting married when we discuss it in principle, which we have done loads of times.’

Gabriel stood up and started back to the kitchen. He needed coffee and painkillers. Not necessarily in that order. The hangover was kicking in with a vengeance.

She called after him. ‘He’s quite happy to say of course he wants to get married one day. But when it comes to actually stepping up to the plate and making it official? Nothing! I’ve had it up to here!’ She indicated a level somewhere above her head. ‘I obviously attract commitment-phobic men. And so that’s why I’ve come to get your help.’

He stopped in his tracks halfway to the door and looked back at her dubiously. ‘What do you mean, my help? What the hell can I do?’

‘You have loads of girlfriends, right? And you’re the most commitment-shy person I know.’

‘Well, yes… I mean no.’ He tried to work out if there was a compliment or insult in there and decided there was probably both. ‘How is this relevant?’

‘Well, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands,’ she said firmly. ‘There’s no point hanging around waiting for Ed to get his act together. I’ll be ninety before that happens and my clock is ticking.’

Gabriel pulled a revolted face. ‘OK, can we not talk about the clock-ticking thing? Men don’t want to know about that biological time-bomb stuff. In fact, if you’ve mentioned that to Ed, it could be your reason right there.’

She held up a hand to shut him up. ‘Exactly my point. You can advise me on all this kind of thing.’

He raised his eyebrows at her quizzically.

‘Where I’m going wrong, of course. Why he isn’t falling over himself to get a ring on my finger.’ She warmed to her subject. ‘You must have a wealth of experience just waiting to be tapped. You can show me how to be totally irresistible to him. And then…’ she swept past him into the kitchen and crashing sounds began as she started to make the coffee herself ‘… I’m going to ask him to marry me. On February twenty-ninth.’

He thought for a moment she might actually be going mad.

‘It’s a leap year,’ she supplied helpfully, as if she had read his mind. ‘Women have a chance, no, a right to propose to their man on this day, once every four years. And you are going to help me do it in a way which means he will have to say yes!’

Hangover forgotten, he barged into the kitchen behind her. She’d had some crazy ideas in her time, but this…

‘No. Absolutely no way.’

‘Why not?’ She looked up from scrabbling about in the cutlery drawer to give him a petulant frown.

‘Because I don’t have time to provide you with an insight into the male mind, and, even if I did, it’s not right, Lucy. You have to go home, tell Ed how unhappy you are and force the issue.’

‘Do you think I haven’t tried that?’ Her voice began to take on an angry pitch. ‘I did all of that at Christmas, he was totally clear on my feelings and gave me the same old rubbish about it “happening one day soon”. It’s made absolutely zero difference.’ She slammed two cups down on the counter so hard he was amazed they didn’t break. ‘He bought me perfume for my birthday—another missed opportunity right there—and now Valentine’s Day. The most romantic day of the year and we spent the evening discussing cash flow for his property development business.’

Gabriel shook a generous mound of instant coffee directly from the jar into his cup. If he was going to survive this conversation he needed all the caffeine he could get. ‘Have you considered that maybe he just isn’t the right guy?’

Her face twisted and the anger gave way to frustration. ‘He is the right guy, Gabe. We get on great. He’s supportive, he makes me laugh and I love him. He’s got his own business like me, so he understands when I disappear on evenings and weekends to finish off wedding cakes…’

None of these things particularly struck Gabriel as evidence of true love—more like plenty of free time to watch football on the weekend and free evenings to go out with his mates.

‘Please, Gabe. I’ll do the same for you one day.’

‘I have absolutely no need of help on how to propose to women, thanks very much.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that. I just meant I’d owe you a favour. I know you’ve denounced commitment since Alison died.’ She looked at him uncertainly, and well she might. She knew perfectly well this would touch a nerve.

He felt the usual stab in his chest, where his heart was, he supposed. It was a low blow mentioning Alison. He devoted most of his waking hours to keeping all memory of her locked in a corner of his mind that he never visited. He certainly had no intention of talking about her now. He fixed a neutral expression on his face and grappled for a subject change. Thinking on his feet being one of his strengths, he very quickly found one.

‘Now that you mention owing me a favour…’ He spun away from her suddenly and grabbed a gilt-edged piece of stiff cream card from beneath a magnet on the fridge. ‘Will you come to my law firm dinner with me?’ He passed her the card and she scrutinised it.

‘You want me to be your date for some work do?’ she asked. ‘I thought you had them queuing up? Can’t that Tabitha go with you? Or is it Agatha? God, I lose track.’

‘Tabitha was months ago, keep up. I think you must mean Susan.’

‘Who the hell is Susan?’

‘It doesn’t matter, to be honest. We broke up last week. She was getting a bit full-on.’ Unable to find a clean teaspoon in his bombsite of a kitchen, he began to stir his coffee with a fork handle.

‘Well, in that case, you should be due to meet someone new…’ she consulted her watch with a flourish ‘… any time right about now. The dinner’s in a couple of weeks, so she should be at the perfect point in your relationship. Falling for you, but not yet far enough to scare you into dropping her like a hot potato. Problem solved—you really don’t need me. And anyway…’ she passed the invitation back to him and picked up her cup ‘… we’re talking about my problem, not your logistical dating rubbish.’

He shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. This is serious. I can’t be taking just anyone. It’s a big deal, this dinner, all our major clients will be there, and all the partners in the firm. I need a date who isn’t too showy and who won’t be draped all over me or hanging on my every word. In short, someone who will act the way I ask them to. That’s where you come in. Tabitha will be there, too, since she works for us, and things didn’t really end well with her.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you for real? You’re so arrogant. Have you ever thought it might be the type of woman you go for that causes the problem? Or maybe, shock-horror, the way you treat them? You never show any interest beyond a couple of dates.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m always honest with them. I never give the impression that I want anything serious. It’s not normally an issue, but the thing is I’ve dated a couple of the women at work, women who’ll be at the dance. You’re well known as just a friend of mine. So no chance of any jealous scenes. No one will feel remotely threatened by you. Problem solved.’

Lucy gave a cynical laugh. ‘I wouldn’t be convinced of that. Your girlfriends are never my biggest fans. Women are eternally suspicious of the female best friend. You automatically wonder what he’s getting from her that he can’t get from you.’

Gabriel was mystified. ‘No, no. They always say they like you. And they know you’re with Ed.’

‘They would say that. They’re trying to please you. You really could do with my insight, you know.’ She sighed. ‘But look, I’ll make a bargain with you. I will go to the dinner with you and solve your dating problems.’

He grinned triumphantly, but she held up a hand. ‘Please, let me finish. On condition that you help me with my proposal plan. I need the male point of view.’ She looked at him expectantly. ‘Do we have a deal? I thought we could start right away. We could go for a run by the river and discuss some details.’ She stood up and did a couple of sample stretches, lunging forward on her slightly built legs.

He watched her in horrified amazement. ‘You’re insane if you think I’m up to running anywhere. I only got to bed at three.’

Was it just that? He felt an irrational negativity towards the idea of helping her propose to Ed, and crushed it. It must be the hangover. Why should he care if she got married, as long as she was happy? That was all he ever wanted for her, after all. Based on past experience she would be bored with the idea in a couple of weeks, and if he got her to look closely enough at Ed’s faults he might even be able to speed it up and everything would get back to normal. Best to just go with the flow for now.

‘Let me go back to bed and I’ll come round to your place tomorrow night,’ he said. ‘I’ll even bring a bottle of wine. And, though I say it with a measure of dread, then you’ve got a deal.’

CHAPTER TWO

DESPITE Gabriel’s protestations that he needed sleep, after Lucy left to go running and he fell gratefully back into bed it totally eluded him. Lucy getting married. His mind worried at it like a dog at a bone. It was a given that if she were to propose, Ed would accept. He didn’t question that for a second. Any man would be a fool to refuse her. Knowing her as he did, she would storm ahead with the arrangements and be married by the end of the year. Her life would revolve around someone else then. His mind picked at this one thing. Where was the space for their friendship in that?

When she wanted help with anything Gabriel was the one she came to. It had been the same since they were kids. Hell, it had been him who’d found the property that was now her first shop, and persuaded her to move to Bath and expand her successful cake business, which up until then had operated through word of mouth from her own kitchen. He’d even let her live with him rent free for six months while she got the shop off the ground. If something really great or really bad happened to him she was the first person he wanted to tell about it. The great things because he knew she’d get a kick out of them just as he did. The bad things because her effervescent personality always made him feel better, no matter what kind of day he’d had. How did he feel about having someone else step into that role? If he were totally, brutally honest he hated the thought. Sleep was a long time coming.

Three hours later, Lucy was peeling potatoes in her cosy little kitchen when the front door slammed and Ed came into the flat. He gave her a smacking kiss and looked over her shoulder at the pans of vegetables.

‘Hi, baby. Smells great.’

‘Thanks.’

He was wearing a T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, hair still slightly damp from the shower. Ed played for a local football team and trained most Sunday mornings. He opened the fridge and took out two beers, holding one out to her. She shook her head.

‘No, thanks, I’m fine. How was training?’ She didn’t mind him playing. It was the one day of the week when she had a relaxed morning to herself. Except for this morning, of course. She felt exasperated still with Ed’s insensitivity the night before, but she was doing something about it now, wasn’t she? In a couple of weeks’ time they would be engaged. She smiled inwardly at the thought.

‘OK. Knee’s been giving me a bit of grief. Think I’ll go and put it up for a bit. Anything I can do?’

‘No, no. You go and sit down. I’ll just get the potatoes on and then I’ll be in.’

When she entered the lounge ten minutes later Ed was sprawled in the armchair, sports channel on the TV, foot resting on the coffee table.

She sat down on the arm of his chair and ruffled his blond hair affectionately. It fell over his forehead and the sideburns were grown long in homage to Ed’s music hero Elvis Presley. ‘I saw Gabriel this morning. I was going to drag him out jogging but he was hung way over. In the end I went on my own.’

‘Hmm.’ He didn’t avert his gaze from the TV screen.

‘He’s asked me if I’ll go to a dinner dance thing with him. It’s a work do.’

Ed glanced up at her.

‘Can’t he take one of his women? God knows there’s enough of them.’

She smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I said. Apparently he’s offended one of his ex-girlfriends and she’s going to be there. He needs a neutral date to avoid any grief. It’s the weekend after next—you don’t mind, do you?’

He took a swig from the bottle of beer. ‘No. I’ll go out with the lads probably. You go and enjoy yourself. Keep him in check.’

‘He’s coming round tomorrow night, too. Got a few work issues to discuss, but you’ll be out anyway.’

He simply nodded, clearly more attuned to the television than to her. She watched him. There had been a time, once, when they’d first got together, that they would have had a stand-up row at her suggestion she have a night out with Gabriel. The few boyfriends she’d had before Ed had been the same. She didn’t blame them. It normally took a good few months before they realised her relationship with Gabriel really was totally platonic and then they quit protesting and questioning her about him. Even so, Ed still couldn’t resist the occasional dig, and liked to amuse himself by promoting the view that Gabe took advantage of her friendship when it suited him. But he didn’t try to stop her seeing him, and that was all that really mattered to her. She simply rose above the masculine posturing.

After lunch, she watched Ed as he stacked dishes in the dishwasher. This was exactly what she liked so much about being with him. Domesticity. Her mind wandered before she could stop it towards her own childhood home. She had lived with her parents in the tied cottage on Gabriel’s family estate. The cottage went with her father’s job of groundsman. Anything to do with the upkeep of the manor house and its gardens and outhouses had been his responsibility. And to his credit, she thought, he did a good job for almost the entire time they were there. Until the end when his drinking had more charge of his life than he did himself.

Dragged down with him was her mother, who developed her own drinking problem alongside him, almost in sympathy with him. The rows had become more and more frequent, verbal at first, then at times physical. By the time Lucy was sixteen her mother had left and she was running the house herself as well as managing her own schoolwork. She had kept everything perfectly as if she could somehow bring order to the rest of her life by making the house run smoothly.

Watching Ed now in her tiny kitchen, helping her clear up after eating the meal she had cooked for them both, she felt a warmth deep inside her. She felt totally at ease, relaxed, secure. She wanted that feeling to last and to envelop every aspect of her life. She wanted to start thinking about having children now, a family of her own to look after. It was the logical next step for them, and getting married was the way she wanted to start that journey. She felt excited at the thought of it—a proper family at last.

The following evening, Gabriel was late as usual. Only in his private life, though, Lucy thought fondly as she tidied up. He was always impeccably presented, perfectly prepared and absolutely on time when he was working. In fact he was the most professional person she knew, totally reliable and with absolute integrity when he had his lawyer hat on. A rising star in legal circles, he had attained partnership before the age of thirty and his career was going from strength to strength. Unfortunately it never seemed to wrap over to his personal life. He was always late and his beautiful house was always a pigsty.

She let him in and he kissed her on the cheek. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, something woody that made her want to breathe in deeply. He marched straight through into her neat little kitchen, grabbed a couple of glasses and rummaged in the drawer for a bottle opener. She followed him in and leaned against the doorway, watching him with amused interest.

‘Make yourself at home,’ she said teasingly.

He grinned without looking up. ‘You’re such a creature of habit, Lu. After living with you for six months I could probably find any given kitchen utensil or crockery item in this room without even looking.’

‘Steak knife?’

He opened the drawer below the hob and pulled the knife out with a flourish. She liked all sharp items to be close to hob and chopping board.

‘Luck!’ she protested. ‘Olive oil?’

He pointed at the high cupboard on the left. ‘In the ingredients and condiments cupboard, of course.’

She didn’t have to open the cupboard to know he was right. Everything in her kitchen had order to it. She liked it that way. ‘Salad spinner?’

‘What the hell is one of those?’

She laughed and he grinned back at her as he uncorked the bottle of wine.

‘OK, let’s get started.’ She took one of the glasses and led the way into her little sitting room. It was neat and tidy. The scented candles she’d lit earlier gave off a delicious warm winter scent of orange and cloves. He followed with the bottle and took the armchair. She settled herself close by on the sofa.

‘So, where do you think we should start, then?’ she asked him as soon as she was comfortable.

He glanced up at her as he poured the wine.

‘Should I ask him on his own, or with all our friends and family there?’ She put her head on one side and screwed her nose up, considering. ‘Do you think it would be too weird if I bought myself a ring?’

He held up a hand for her to be quiet and she waited impatiently while he took a slug from his glass. ‘Firstly, for the record, I want you to know I think this is possibly the most crackpot idea you’ve ever had. I’m including in that the time when we were kids and you convinced me my mother would be pleased if we repainted the sitting-room door yellow with my fingerpaints.’

She laughed and he smiled back at her. He had a heart-melting smile that gradually crept up to his eyes, creasing the corners and giving him a look of intensity. She always felt he kept that smile just for her. No doubt many other women felt the same, she thought wryly.

‘But since you’ve agreed to watch my back at this wretched work dinner dance,’ he went on, ‘I will help you.’

She clapped her hands together excitedly.

‘But if we do this, we’re going to take it seriously and we’re going to do it my way. OK?’ He looked at her sternly for agreement.

‘OK.’ She sat on her hands to keep herself from fidgeting, and made herself wait for him to carry on. Once Gabriel had committed to something she knew he would take it totally seriously and wouldn’t allow her to sidetrack him with her enthusiasm. It was one of the things she adored about him.

In all the years she’d known him, he’d never let her down. Unlike most of the other main players in her life, she thought, with a pang of regret. The finger-painting memory reminded her of how much she’d loved spending time with him as a child. Gabriel was an only child, just like her, except that his parents were very loving and very wealthy. She hadn’t cared about the wealthy part, but she had envied him for the happy, unworried and loving life he had. His family were warm and kind and had always welcomed her. For her the ‘big house’, as she’d thought of it, had been a refuge from the constant escalating fights in her own home.

Gabriel dragged her back to the present by making an enthusiastic start on his plans. ‘OK, there’s only two weeks until the twenty-ninth so we need to get our skates on. That means radical plans to make him sit up and take notice of you.’ He leaned back a little and looked at her critically. ‘I know you, Lucy. You’ll be wanting to jump in and plan a massive party culminating with you getting down on one knee. But it’s not enough to plan a speech and a big sweeping gesture of a proposal.’ He paused for effect. ‘For true success you need to get to the bottom of why he doesn’t feel he needs to propose to you himself. If we can do that we can change the way he thinks of you and we’ll be guaranteed a positive outcome.’ He grinned at her across the coffee table.

‘How do we do that?’ She marvelled at how well he knew her. It was almost spooky. One of the options she’d been secretly considering was a party ending in a firework display. Another was hiring a barbershop quartet to sing the proposal to Ed while she looked smugly on awaiting his resounding ‘yes’. Her own enthusiasm could easily overshadow her common sense, which was why Gabriel’s calm perspective was exactly what was needed.

‘We’re going to scrutinise every area of your life,’ he said. ‘Find out why he needs a rocket lit under him to get him to commit. We’ll look at your home life, your social life, your wardrobe, your appearance…’ He sat back again for a moment and looked her up and down appraisingly from the extra distance. His slate-grey eyes looked puffy and sleep-starved, but nothing could detract from the strong jawline and determined mouth. Even when he’s tired he looks gorgeous, she thought. How unfair. And now he’s going to criticise the way I look.

She pushed her fingers through her curls defensively. ‘What’s the matter with my appearance?’ she demanded.

He leaned forward again to pick up his glass. ‘Nothing, sweetie, except that Ed is used to you looking like that. We need to make him see you through fresh eyes and the easiest way to do that is by working on your appearance. I know someone who runs the personal shopping service at Jolly’s in town. Leave it to me.’

‘Right,’ she said dubiously. ‘Because if your intention is to boost my ego, let me tell you you’re falling way short.’

He ignored her. ‘Tell me about your average day.’

‘Weekday or weekend?’ His businesslike attitude was beginning to tug at the edges of her temper. This was her life they were talking about after all, not some legal transaction.

‘Weekday. What do you both do? When do you see each other? How often do you get together?’

‘Wow, twenty questions.’

He simply looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised as if she were a misbehaving toddler, and she spoke quickly before he could admonish her for not taking it seriously. ‘Well, I get up early, of course. Usually about five so I can get to the bakery and sort out the stock for the day. So he rarely stays over on a week-night.’

‘So you don’t see him during the week except in the evening?’

‘Well, no, but he usually rings me every day mid-morning,’ she said brightly. ‘That’s if he’s not in the middle of something at one of the houses.’

Ed was a property developer. Fed up with his job in IT, he’d given it all up three years ago, just before they’d met in fact, and now spent his time buying run-down shacks and doing them up, then selling them on for profit. It wasn’t yet turning out to be the giant money-spinner he always talked it up to be.

Still, early days, she told herself. Give the guy a chance. She liked the fact that he’d thrown himself into building up a business, being his own boss. Taking responsibility for his own success or failure. It was something she could relate to. After all, it had taken her years of hard graft to build up her cake business. They had a lot in common, and that always made for a good, strong relationship, in her opinion.

Gabriel pressed on. ‘And how much does he actually do around the house?’

‘Plenty.’

‘Not good enough. What’s his house like? Imagine you’re married and living together in this lovely flat.’

She glanced around the perfectly tidy room with satisfaction. She loved her little flat, filled with unusual bits and pieces of furniture that she’d picked up in markets and antique shops. Gabriel had always teased her about it, telling her she was ‘nesting’.

‘Imagine you go away on holiday or business for a week,’ he went on. ‘You leave him alone here. Based on what you know of him, what would the place be like when you got back?’

She pulled a face. ‘Well, he’s not that good on his own, to be honest. He’s not really a cook, so he’d probably have lived on pizza and takeaways. The place would most likely look just like his house. A hovel. You’d feel at home in it!’ She dodged as he threw a cushion at her.

‘I’m not that bad!’

‘Your flat is a pigsty, Gabe. Face facts. The only time there’s been any semblance of order was when I stayed with you and that’s only because I can’t live in your kind of squalor.’

‘You’re not doing yourself any favours here, you know.’ He put on a hurt expression. ‘Anyway, we’re talking about Ed, not me. What else?’

She pursed her mouth, considering. ‘There’d be an overload of washing. I’m not sure he knows how to work the machine.’

‘Pathetic!’

‘And the plants would probably be dead. He never remembers to water them.’

He held up a hand to stop her. ‘I think I’ve heard enough. Basically, Lu, and I’m going to be brutal here…’ She looked at him expectantly. He paused dramatically then announced loudly, ‘You have become Ed’s mother.’

Silence for a moment while this sank in and then she exploded. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous! You’re twisting everything. You make it sound like he’s some layabout slob who doesn’t lift a finger while I do everything!’

‘Sounds about right.’

She stood up, feeling irrationally that it might somehow give her the advantage to be taller than him. ‘You’re wrong, Gabriel. We’re just very different people with different priorities. There must be millions, zillions of couples just like us.’

‘I’m sure there are,’ he said with calm amusement. ‘But what you think you have is the traditional “he hunts it, she cooks it” model of relationship. Only trouble is, unless he changes his ways you will hunt it and cook it because, face it, if you get married to Ed, you are going to be the main breadwinner.’

‘That has nothing to do with it!’

‘It has everything to do with it!’

Hands on hips, she glared at him angrily.

He held his hands up in a calm-down gesture. ‘OK, let’s take a different approach. Have you told him about going to the dinner as my date yet?’

‘Yes,’ she said, relaxing a little at the change of tack. She sat down again. Ed had been more than reasonable when she’d asked him. Let’s see you pick holes in that, Gabriel.

‘And what did he say?’

‘He was totally fine about it, as a matter of fact. Didn’t bat an eyelid. Even told me to have a good time,’ she said triumphantly.

‘Oh, dear.’ He looked at her sympathetically.

‘What now?’

‘Well, it’s good for me, of course, problem solved for the dinner and dance. But for you… you are being taken for granted! Big time.’

She felt her temper strain madly at its leash. This was rapidly becoming a character assassination of Ed and she wasn’t going to take it lying down. ‘I don’t see that,’ she countered coldly. ‘Surely it’s a positive thing that he’s being so reasonable.’

‘Aha! That’s where you’re wrong.’ He leaned in close to her suddenly, grabbed her wrist and looked into her eyes. Her stomach made a sudden unexpected flutter and she felt her pulse increase. She ignored it, assuming it must be part of the effort required to keep her temper from flaring. ‘Lucy, if I was in a relationship with you, lovely you, I would not let you go on a date with any other guy but me. I wouldn’t care whether he was your friend, if he was gay, whatever.’

She looked into his eyes. Clear slate grey filled with nothing but genuine love and concern for her. The pit of her stomach felt warm and soft suddenly, like melting chocolate. She felt the tiny spark of a long-forgotten memory, almost there and then gone again. Her mind felt adrift, as if sand had suddenly shifted below her and she was no longer standing firm. What the hell is this? Grappling for self-control, she focused hard on her train of thought.

‘He used to be like that when we first met,’ she protested in a small voice. ‘He couldn’t stand the sight of you.’

‘There you go.’ He released her hand and sat back with a triumphant nod, grabbing his wine glass as he went. She felt an odd sensation of loss and put her hand in her lap to compensate. ‘He’s got used to the fact that you will always be here, you’ll never look at anyone else, no one else will ever look at you…’

‘Hey!’

‘I’m not criticising you, Lu, I’m just telling you that he’s got complacent. He’s taking you for granted. No need to make an effort because he counts on you always being here. Stopped working at it, hasn’t he? That’s the key.’ He was nodding his head emphatically.

‘What is?’ She was rapidly losing the point of this conversation. Hadn’t it been to focus on the positives of her relationship? Instead he seemed to be implying that Ed was coasting along and taking her for granted. Just what was going on here?

‘He thinks he’s got it all sewn up. He doesn’t need to propose to you because he’s already got you. What we need to do is shake that perception up a bit. Make the ground shake a little bit underneath him. Make him realise how fabulous and gorgeous you are and that he has to work to keep you.’

That sounded a bit more like it. ‘OK, so how do we do that, Sherlock?’

‘You need to move the goalposts,’ he said firmly. ‘One of the things you can do is see a bit more of me. Get him to miss you a bit. I’m the winner then, too, because I get to spend a bit more time with you. I’ve missed you since you moved out.’

The warmth in her stomach bubbled back up again and she took a hefty slug of wine to stop it. That strange sense pervaded her again, of falling backwards in time. She shook her head as if to clear it. Of course, she assured herself firmly, it was perfectly normal to feel nervous and emotional. She was sitting here planning her future, after all.

‘Have you?’ She’d missed him at first, too, after she’d moved out of his house. It had been lovely seeing him every day for those few months after her arrival in Bath.

‘Yes.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘The house has a more relaxed look about it without your obsessive tidying and I get to keep the remote control to myself. But I kind of miss having a fridge full of proper food and coming home to someone. I liked talking to you every day.’

She took another glug of wine and reminded herself that this was Gabe she was talking to. Her best friend with her best interests at heart. He wouldn’t be trying to assassinate her relationship; he really was only trying to help, which, after all, was what she’d asked him to do. ‘Aww, that’s sweet. Bit of a backhanded compliment though. And “relaxed” isn’t a word I’d use to describe your hovel. You’ve got a nerve criticising Ed’s domesticity.’

‘This isn’t about me, though, is it? And anyway, backhanded compliments are the best kind. I’m saying I wish you still lived with me despite all your faults. Not the same as wanting you to change.’

‘Hmm, I suppose so,’ she said grudgingly.

He refilled her glass, then his own. ‘So you agree on how to proceed? Excellent. Why don’t you come to lunch with my parents this Sunday? They’d love to see you. They’re always asking about you.’

‘You mean go back to Gloucestershire?’ She felt a vague sense of unease and squashed it. She generally avoided going back to her home county, as if the new life she’d built since leaving would somehow be challenged by revisiting her old one. Her parents were long gone from there, of course, but the memories wouldn’t be.

‘Of course. Sunday roast. Not cooked by you. Sound tempting?’ He grinned at her expectantly.

She debated to herself. She knew she should put an end to the avoidance of anything relating to her childhood. She was an adult now and could recognise it for what it was. Maybe going back to Gloucestershire would do her good—she could lay a few ghosts, and she had to admit he had a point about Ed. Wasn’t absence meant to make the heart grow fonder? They had fallen into a bit of a rut recently, doing the same things on the same days.

She gave in. ‘It does sound tempting. And I suppose you could be right—perhaps Ed needs to miss me a bit.’

‘He definitely does. He needs to appreciate you a bit more and feel like he’s lucky to have you and he ought to snap you up officially just to make sure. He feels too sure of you, that’s the root of the whole thing. And in the meantime, we’ll have a look at your appearance and see what we can do with that. And I need to observe you out together socially.’

Lucy looked doubtfully down at her plain T-shirt and jeans with a vague but undeniable feeling of dread at the idea of Gabriel analysing her wardrobe. In an attempt to divert him she latched onto his second suggestion. ‘No problem. We’re all meeting up tomorrow night at that new wine bar on George Street. You could come along if you like. Do all the observing you want to.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Ed’s friends,’ she said. ‘Well, mine, too, of course. There’s Digger and Yabba, and their other halves, Suzy and Kate. Probably one or two others—it varies depending on who’s free.’

‘Digger and Yabba,’ Gabriel repeated. ‘They sound like rejects from some kids’ TV show.’

Lucy laughed. ‘That’s their nicknames. No one in Ed’s friendship group is called by their proper name. It’s a man thing. Even Ed isn’t his real name.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Gabriel said with sudden interest. ‘What is his real name?’

‘Roland,’ she said, expertly ignoring Gabriel as he almost choked on his wine with a sudden snort of laughter. ‘Ed is some schoolboy name to do with heading a football or something. I’ve never questioned it because frankly Roland is awful and Ed suits him far better.’

Gabriel shook his head in mock wonder. ‘There’s a whole laddish culture going on that seems to have passed me by.’

‘You haven’t missed much,’ she said. ‘It might have been vaguely funny once when they were in their teens but there’s something a bit sad about having the nickname Yabba when you’re pushing thirty and working as a fireman.’

She leaned back on the sofa and looked at him expectantly. ‘So what do you think, then?’ she asked. ‘Do you want to drop in and join us for a drink?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Should be interesting. Are there any single women going?’

She threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘For heaven’s sake, Gabriel, can’t you forget about your next conquest just for one night? Is it too much to ask? You’re meant to be concentrating on me and Ed, not chatting up the nearest single woman.’

‘I know, I know.’ A pause. ‘But are there? Any single women going?’

She sighed wearily. ‘Well, there’s Joanna, I suppose. She’s Kate’s sister. She’s been single for a bit and she’s started hanging out with us. But she’s been through a horrible break up and the last thing she needs is a three-week dalliance with the likes of you!’

‘That hurt!’ he protested. ‘I just meant it would be nice if I wasn’t the only single person there, that’s all.’

‘Hmm,’ she said dubiously. ‘I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. I take it that means you’re coming, then? Eight o’clock at Hardings. I’d tell you not to be late but there would be no point, would there?’

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