Lynne Marshall - Wedding Bell Wishes - It Started at a Wedding... / The Wedding Planner and the CEO / Her Perfect Proposal

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked, pulling back.

‘It’s the “just got out of bed” look. Which makes you look seriously hot,’ she added. ‘Like you did in Capri.’

He gave her a predatory smile. ‘So if you think I look hot...’

‘Rain check,’ she said. ‘Because we’re going out and having fun, first.’

* * *

There was a bossy side to Claire, Sean thought, that he’d never seen before. The whole idea of giving up control—that just wasn’t how he did things.

Claire Stewart was dangerous with a capital D where his peace of mind was concerned.

‘This is your car?’ He looked at the bright pink convertible Mini stencilled with daisies that was parked on the road outside his house. ‘Oh, you are kidding me.’

‘What’s wrong with my car?’ She put her finger into the keyring and spun her keys round.

What was wrong with the car? Where did he start?

He closed his eyes. ‘OK. I know, I know, go with the flow.’ He groaned and opened his eyes again. ‘But, Claire. Pink. With daisies. Really?’

Finally she took pity on him. ‘I borrowed it from a friend. I don’t have a car of my own at the moment.’

‘Then we could go wherever it is in mine,’ he suggested hopefully.

‘Nope—we’re doing this my way.’ She gave him another of those insolent grins. ‘Actually, my friend wants to sell this. I was thinking about buying it from her.’

He pulled a face, but said nothing.

‘Very wise, Sean, very wise,’ she teased.

She tied her hair back with a scarf, added some dark glasses that made her look incredibly sexy, and then added the disgusting khaki cap he remembered from Capri and which cancelled out the effect of the glasses. Once they were sitting in the car, she put the roof down, connected her MP3 player, and started blasting out sugary nineteen-sixties pop songs. Worse still, she made him sing along; and Sean was surprised to discover that he actually knew most of the songs.

By the time they got to Brighton, he’d stopped being embarrassed by the sheer loudness of the car and was word-perfect on the choruses of all her favourite songs.

‘Brighton,’ he said.

‘Absolutely. Today is “Sean and Claire do the seaside”,’ she said brightly.

‘And this isn’t planned out?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be daft—you don’t plan things like going to the seaside. You go with the flow and you have fun .’ She parked the car, then took his hand and they strolled across to the seafront.

This was so far removed from what he’d normally do on a Sunday. He might sit in his garden—perfectly manicured by the man he paid to mow the lawn, weed the flower beds, and generally make the area look tidy—but nine times out of ten he’d be in his study, working. He couldn’t even remember the last time he went to the seaside. With one of his girlfriends, probably, but he hadn’t paid much attention.

But with Claire, he was definitely paying attention.

He hung back slightly. ‘Those are very short shorts.’ And it made him want to touch her.

She just laughed. ‘I have great legs—I might as well show them off before they go all wrinkly and saggy when I’m old.’

‘You’re...’ He stopped and shook his head.

‘I’m what, Sean?’

‘A lot of things,’ he said, ‘half of which I wouldn’t dare utter right now.’

‘Chicken,’ she teased.

‘Discretion’s the better part of valour,’ he protested.

She laughed and took him onto the pier. They queued up to go on the fairground rides.

‘You couldn’t get fast-track tickets?’ he asked.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Queuing is part of the fun.’

‘How?’ he asked. In his view, queuing was a waste of time. If something was worth visiting, you bought fast-track tickets; otherwise, you didn’t bother and you used your time more wisely.

‘Anticipation,’ she said. ‘It’ll be worth the wait.’

He wasn’t so sure, but he’d agreed to do this her way. ‘OK.’

But then they queued for the roller coaster.

‘I thought you hated heights?’

‘I do, but it’ll be worth it if it loosens you up a little,’ she said. ‘It’s OK to stop and smell the roses, Sean. If anything it’ll enrich the time you spend on your business, because you’ll look at things with a wider perspective.’

‘Playing the business guru now, are you?’

‘I don’t play when it comes to business,’ she said, ‘but I do remember to play in my free time.’

‘Hmm.’

He wasn’t that fussed about the thrill rides, but for her sake he pretended to enjoy himself.

They grabbed something quick to eat, then went over to the stony, steeply sloping beach next. The sea was such an intense shade of turquoise, they could have been standing on the shore of the Mediterranean rather than the English Channel. He’d never seen the sea in England look so blue. And this, he thought, was much more his style than waiting in a queue for a short thrill ride that did nothing to raise his pulse.

Claire, on the other hand, could seriously raise his pulse...

‘Shoes off,’ she said, removing her own canvas shoes, ‘and roll up your jeans.’

‘You’re so bossy,’ he grumbled.

She grinned. ‘The reward will be worth it.’

‘What reward?’

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘Wait and see.’

He had to admit that it was nice walking on the edge of the sea with her, his shoes in one hand and her hand in his other. The sound of the waves rushing onto the pebbles and the seagulls squawking, the scent of the sea air and the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. Right at that moment, he’d never felt more alive.

It must have shown in his face, because she said softly, ‘Told you it was rewarding.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He smiled at her. ‘Talking of rewards...’ He leaned forward and kissed her. But what started out as a sweet, soft brush of her lips against his soon turned hot.

He pulled back, remembering that they were in a public place and with families around them. ‘Claire. We need to...’

‘I know.’ Her fingers tightened round his. ‘And this was what I wanted today. For you to let go, just a little bit, and have some fun with me.’

‘I am having fun,’ he said, half surprised by the admission.

‘Good.’ Her face had gone all soft and dreamy and it made him want to kiss her again—later, he promised himself.

When they’d finished paddling, they had to walk on the pebbles to dry off—Claire clearly hadn’t thought to bring a towel with her—and then she said, ‘Time for afternoon tea. And I have somewhere really special in mind.’

‘OK.’ He didn’t mind going with the flow for a while, especially as it meant holding her hand. There was something to be said about just wandering along together.

As they walked into the town, he could see the exotic domes and spires of Brighton Pavilion.

Another queue, he thought with a sigh. It was one of the biggest tourist attractions in the area. Again, if she’d planned it they could’ve bought tickets online rather than having to queue up. He hated wasting time like this.

But, when they got closer, he realised there was something odd. No queues.

A notice outside the Pavilion informed them that the building was closed for urgent maintenance. Just for this weekend.

Sean just about stopped himself pointing out that if Claire had planned their trip in advance, then she would’ve known about this and she wouldn’t have been disappointed.

‘Oh, well,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m sure we can find a nice tea shop somewhere and have a traditional cream tea.’

Except all the tea shops nearby were full of tourists who’d had exactly the same idea. There were queues.