After Hours.... Christy McKellen
outside for a minute.’
Wrapping his hand around her arm, he propelled her back out through the doors of the church and down the steps, coming to a sudden halt under the looming shadow of the clock tower, where he released her. Crossing his arms, he looked down at her with an expression of such exasperation it made her quake in her stilettos.
‘Why didn’t you mention this to me before?’ he asked, shoving back the hair that had fallen across his forehead during their short journey, only drawing more attention to his piercing gaze.
Sticking her chin in the air, she crossed her own arms, determined to stand up for herself. ‘I really wanted to work with you and I thought you might not hire me if you knew the truth. It didn’t exactly look good on my CV that I’d only stuck it out there for three months before admitting defeat.’
‘So you thought you had to lie to me to get the job?’
She held up her hands in apology. ‘I know I should have told you the truth, but I’d already messed up other job interviews because I was so nervous and ashamed of myself for being so weak.’ She hugged her arms around her again. ‘I didn’t want you to think badly of me. Anyway, at the time you barely wanted to talk to me about the work I had to do, let alone anything of a personal nature, so I thought it best to keep it to myself.’ She looked at him steadily, craving his understanding. ‘You can be pretty intimidating, you know.’
She was saved from having to further explain herself by one of the ushers loudly asking the stragglers outside to please go into the church and take their seats because the bride had arrived.
From the look on Max’s face she wasn’t sure whether he was going to walk away and leave her standing there like a total lemon on her own or turn around and punch the wall. She didn’t fancy watching either scenario play out.
To her surprise, he let out a long, frustrated sigh and looked towards the gaggle of people filing into the church.
‘We can’t talk about this now or we’ll be walking in with the bridal party, and there’s no way I’d pass for a bridesmaid,’ he said stiffly.
She stared at him. ‘You mean you’re not going to leave?’
‘No, I’m not going to leave,’ he said crossly. ‘We’ll talk more about this after the ceremony.’
And with that he put his hand firmly against the middle of her back and ushered her inside.
Sliding into the polished wooden pew next to Max and surreptitiously wiping her damp palms on her dress, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. From the set of his shoulders she could tell he wasn’t likely to let this go with a casual wave of his hand.
In fact she’d bet everything she had left that he was really going to fire her this time.
Frustration churned in her stomach. After all the progress she’d made in getting back on her feet, and persuading Max to finally trust her, was it really going to end like this?
Looking along the pews, she saw that her nemesis was sitting on the other side of the church, a wide smile on her face as she watched the ceremony unfold. At least that threat had been neutralised. There wasn’t anything left that she could do to hurt her.
She hoped.
Rage unfurled within Cara at the unfairness of it all. Why did this woman get to enjoy herself when she had to sit here worrying about her future?
As she watched Amber make her stately way up the aisle towards a rather nervous-looking Jack, she could barely concentrate for wondering what Max was going to say to her once they were facing each other over their garlic mushrooms at the lunch afterwards. There was no way she was going to be able to force down a bite of food until they’d resolved this.
Oh, get a grip, Cara.
When she dared take a peek at him from the corner of her eye again, he seemed to be grimly staring straight ahead. Forcing herself to relax, she uncrossed her legs, then her arms and sat up straighter, determined not to appear anxious or pitiful. She knew what she had to do. There would be no gratuitous begging or bartering for a reprieve. She would hold her head high throughout it all and calmly state her case.
And until she had that opportunity she was going to damn well enjoy watching her friend get married.
* * *
Judging by her rigid posture and ashen complexion, Cara really didn’t appear to be enjoying the ceremony, which only increased Max’s discomfort at being there, too. Not that he blamed her in any way for it. He’d chosen to come here with her after all. Though, from the sound of it, she must be regretting bringing him along now.
Had he really been so unapproachable that she’d chosen to lie to his face instead of admitting to having a rough time at her last place of work?
He sighed inwardly.
She was absolutely right, though. Again. He could be intimidating. And he’d been at the peak of his remoteness when she’d first arrived on his doorstep and asked him for a job. He also knew that if she’d mentioned the personal issues that had been intrinsic to her leaving her last job when they’d first met it would have given him pause enough to turn her away. He hadn’t wanted any kind of complication at that point.
But he was so glad now that he hadn’t.
Somehow, in her innocent passive-aggressive way, she’d managed to push his buttons and, even though he’d fought it at the time, that was exactly what he’d needed.
She was what he’d needed.
After the ceremony finished they were immediately ushered out of the church and straight up the sweeping manicured driveway to the front of a grand Georgian house where an enormous canvas marquee had been set up next to the orangery.
A small affair, his foot.
As soon as they stepped inside they had toxic-coloured cocktails thrust upon them and were politely but firmly asked to make their way back outside again to the linen-draped tables on the terrace next to the house.
‘This is like a military operation,’ he muttered to Cara, who had walked quietly next to him since they’d left the church, her face pale and her expression serious. She gave him a weak smile, her eyes darting from side to side as if she was seriously contemplating making a run for it and scoping out the best means of escape.
He sighed. ‘Come and sit down over here where it’s quiet,’ he said, looping his arm through hers and guiding her towards one of the empty tables nearest the house.
To his frustration she stiffened, then slipped out of his steadying grip and folded her arms across her chest instead, her shoulders rigid and her chin firmly up as they walked. Just as they picked their way over the last bit of gravelled path to reach the table she stumbled and on reflex he quickly moved in to catch her.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, placing a hand on the exposed part of her back, feeling the heat of her body warm the palm of his hand and send an echoing sensation through his entire abdomen.
His touch seemed to undo something in her and she collapsed into the nearest chair and gave him such a fearful look his heart jumped into his throat.
‘I’m sorry for lying to you, Max. Please don’t fire me. If I lose this job I’ll have to move back to Cornwall and I really, really don’t want to leave London. It’s my home and I love it. I can’t imagine living anywhere else now. And I really like working for you.’ Swallowing hard, she gave him a small quavering smile. ‘I swear I will never lie to you again. Believe it or not, I usually have a rock-solid moral compass and if I hadn’t felt backed into a corner I never would have twisted the truth. I was on the cusp of losing everything and I was desperate, Max. Totally. Desperate.’ She punctuated each of the last words with a slap of her hand on the table.
‘Cara, I’m not going to fire you.’
How could she think that he would? Good grief, had he done such a number on her that she’d think he’d