Nancy Warren - British Bad Boys

“How long do I have?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When’s your return ticket home?”

“Oh. It’s open. I can stay up to twelve weeks, I think.”

“Well, that’s not so bad. I’ve got some time to convince you to stay.”

She looked at him, truly curious. “So if I said right now, yes, let’s get married…”

“I’d be driving straight back so I could cancel all my appointments tomorrow and we’d get married.”

“How can you be so sure? No one’s ever wanted me like this.”

He sent her a look that melted her heart. “Maybe no one’s ever loved you enough.”

Wow. There was a zinger. As much as it hurt to admit it, she thought he was right. “I’ve failed so much in the last year. I don’t have much faith in my own judgment.”

“Never mind. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take it as slowly as you like.” He turned to her in alarm. “You won’t stop shagging me, will you?”

She glanced at him, all crisp and clean and gorgeous, not a big overblown mess like she was. “I may be stupid, but I’m not crazy.”

He pulled into the station. “You know, if I didn’t have Chloe waiting at home, I’d drive you down in spite of your protests.”

“I know you would. But the train’s fun for me. And-”

“Yes, all right. You need some time.”

He’d stopped the car at a drop-off point by the taxi rank. Now he got out and retrieved her bag. He stood before her and she saw this tall, gorgeous, successful Londoner who loved her. Or at least who believed he did enough to say so.

Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. “I had a really wonderful time. Thank you for last night. Thank you for everything.”

“I’ll ring you.”

“And be nice to Chloe.”

“I’m always much nicer to Chloe than she deserves.”

Rachel chuckled. “She’s lucky to have you.”

He gave her a quizzical glance.

“No, really. She is. And”-she took a deep breath-“thank you. For loving me.”

“My pleasure.”

“You’re back early,” said Max when Rachel finally tracked her sister down in the long gallery.

“Jack’s sister Chloe showed up.”

“Ah, yes, the bride. Definitely puts a cramp in the affair to have little sis hanging around.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that.”

“You don’t have to,” Max said. “Chloe rang. God, listen to me. She rang. I’m turning into a Brit. Anyway, she’s canceling the wedding. Can you believe it? Our big society wedding, the one that was going to put us on the map. Gone. Poof. And I already put a deposit on the tent.”

She’d done a lot more than put a few pounds down on a tent, but she was obviously trying to stay cheerful, even though, the way things were going, she and George were going to be too old to get married before they ever dragged Hart House into profitability.

“We’ll figure something out.” Jack’s words echoed unpleasantly in Rachel’s mind. Was it possible that she was jealous of Maxine? She hadn’t exactly been super-supportive of her sister, and yet, look at her. She was glowing. “You’re really happy here, aren’t you?”

Max laughed. “Amazing, isn’t it? I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but things keep getting better.”

She knew Max had made up her mind not to marry George until they were in the black, and maybe it was stupid, but Maxine was not one to budge after she’d made up her mind. So it was up to Rachel to help bring in the bucks. Already, she knew they’d made a sizable dent in the bank loan. What they needed was a big, splashy success.

“Don’t cancel that tent. There must be a replacement couple who want a splashy wedding. Let’s brainstorm later. I’m going to shower.”

“It’s not your problem, Rach.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe I’m not being clear. In my subtle way I’m giving you my blessing. George is a wonderful man and you two belong together. I’ve been pretty whiny and self-involved recently so maybe I wasn’t as enthusiastic as I could have been, but I’m telling you right now that I’m going to do everything I can to help raise revenue. With the two of us on full throttle?” She grinned. “ England doesn’t have a chance.”

She patted her sister’s shoulder as she walked by. “Now close your mouth and start thinking.”

Rachel had contemplated Jack’s words all the way down on the train. First, she had to take in the astonishing fact that he’d said her loved her, and even more astonishing, that she believed him. Then she replayed the accusations he’d lobbed her way. She was scared, jealous, yearning for love. When she got past the sting, she thought maybe he wasn’t completely wrong.

Even if he was right and she was too terrified to accept love for herself, she could at least be big enough to help her sister reach her happy ending.

A little scary warmth stole through her every time she replayed the moment when he’d looked at her with his sexy eyes all serious and said he loved her. And what about her? Was he right? Was she so terrified of love that she’d turn it away?

A person didn’t fall in love in a week, she told herself furiously. One didn’t!

She showered, and then went into the kitchen and baked shortbread cookies with chunks of candied ginger, a lemon pound cake, and thick, gooey espresso brownies. The baking soothed her and the scents coming from the oven lifted her mood. The kitchen was her place, where she felt in control, and while she worked her mind was free to brainstorm money-making ideas for Hart House.

“Rachel?” She heard George calling her and turned to find him striding into the kitchen. He was so impossibly cute. “I thought I’d find you here.” He stopped to breathe. “God, it smells fantastic in here.” He scoffed a shortbread cookie in a practiced fashion. “Can you come into the drawing room?”

“I’ve still got one batch of cookies to bake.”

“Oh, do come. I’m opening a rather nice bottle of bubbly.”

“All right.” She felt more like being alone-a recluse, in fact. Having her meals sent to her on trays and writing in her journal. She’d have to buy a journal somewhere. What she needed was an elegant journal bound in leather where she could write her thoughts and feelings with a fountain pen. She smiled to herself. She’d just bet that Chloe was at this very moment writing in her journal.

Instead, she was going to have to play nice with two people she adored, but who were going to have her believing in love again if she wasn’t careful. Champagne was for celebrating. George couldn’t have picked a worse time to pop a cork.

George seemed chattier than usual as they walked back to the great house. Given that Chloe had cancelled her extremely expensive and already planned wedding, she was surprised at how buoyant he seemed.

When Rachel walked into the parlor, Maxine was closing her cell phone. “Mum and Greg say hi,” she said.

“You talked to them on Friday. Why are you-”

Then Maxine looked up at her and she noticed the glow. She’d never seen Max look so beautiful, or so happy.

She glanced at George, who’d broken into the widest, most heartfelt grin she’d ever seen.

“Oh, my God,” she squealed. “You’re not?”

“I am. We are. We’re getting married.”

The two of them screamed like five-year-olds who’d drunk too much pop, and were suddenly hugging, laughing, and crying, and hugging some more.

When Rachel pulled away, she glanced at George, who was looking a little shy but pleased. “I’m so happy for you both,” she said, and threw her arms around George, too. “I think you’ll be an excellent big brother. I always wanted one.”