Dream Wedding

  Dream Wedding

  By

  Helen Brooks

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  "I have no enthusiasm for this wedding."

  Reece continued, his voice deep and unemotional, "And I have no intention of pretending I have."

  "Then why are you spending so much money and making such a fuss?" Miriam asked.

  "She is my sister. She is certainly more than old enough to make her own decisions and her own mistakes, but this…this is a mistake."

  "But they might love each other!"

  "Oh, spare me," he interrupted mockingly.

  "I think you're being very narrow-minded. It's a well-known fact that opposites attract!"

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  October #3429 Working Girl Jessica Hart

  November #3434 Dream Wedding Helen Brooks

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  The Editors, Harlequin Romance

  ISBN 0-373-03434-2

  DREAM WEDDING

  First North American Publication 1996.

  Copyright© 1996 by Helen Brooks.

  CHAPTER ONE

  'You aren't Bennett and Bennett? Tell me you aren't Bennett and Bennett.' The hard grey gaze was uncompromising as it swept over their faces, and Miriam swallowed deep in her throat before forcing a smile to her lips.

  'The very same.' She gestured to her brother. 'Mitch Bennett, and I'm Miriam. How do you do?' As she held out her hand the tall dark figure in front of her turned abruptly, stepping back into the sumptuous hall with a cursory flick of his head.

  'You'd better come in.' The tone was rude and aggressive, and for a moment they stood in bewilderment on the top step before following Reece Vance into the gorgeous, lavishly decorated surroundings.

  'Mr Vance, I think—'

  'Look, there's been some sort of a mistake.' Again he turned and fixed them with that icy glare. 'I was told I was going to meet the joint partners of a successful and thriving catering firm who could get me out of the mess I'm in with the minimum of fuss.' He eyed them angrily. 'Not a pair of teenagers who clearly—'

  'My brother and I took over our father's catering firm on his death five years ago, Mr Vance, as I'm sure Mr Craven explained,' Miriam cut in quickly, desperately holding onto both her temper and her aplomb by the skin of her teeth. 'I'm aware we don't look our age, but that's hereditary, I'm afraid. However, we've had plenty of experience—'

  'How old are you?' He almost ground his teeth at them. 'Both of you?'

  'My brother is twenty-six and I'm twenty-five—'

  'For crying out loud!' It was meant to be insulting, and as Miriam felt her face flame she remembered what Frank had told her.

  'The man's under a lot of pressure, Miriam—his sister's wedding only two weeks away and the catering firm he'd employed under investigation by the police for fraud. He might be a little… touchy, but nothing you can't handle.'

  'Excuse me,' Mitch said at her side, his tone almost as aggressive as Reece Vance's. 'It might have escaped your notice, Mr Vance, but no one dishes out any favours these days. It's dog eat dog. When my sister and I took ova: the business it wasn't doing too well.' The understatement of the year, Miriam reflected silently as she remembered the mound of debts and unpaid bills. 'And now we employ five other people besides ourselves—'

  'Very creditable, I'm sure.' His tone was scathing. 'But this particular job would entail a staff of at least twenty on the day, not to mention all the preparatory work.'

  'Of course it would.' Miriam smiled at him sunnily as she reflected that he was easily the most obnoxious, unpleasant, detestable individual she had ever met in her whole life. 'And my brother was just about to add that we have part-time employees prepared to work at very short notice.' Why have you done this to us, Frank? she asked silently as the grey eyes held her own violet ones in a vice. We might need work, but no one needs it this bad!

  'And you think you can cope with this contract?' he asked icily.

  'I've no idea, Mr Vance.' Her own smile died now and she stared at him straight-faced, her eyes disdainful. 'You haven't even begun to tell us what it entails, have you? Catering we can supply, but mind-reading comes extra.' Steady, Miriam, steady, she warned herself quickly as the grey eyes chilled further. This job could establish Bennett and Bennett for good if you pull it off; don't blow it on a temper tantrum.

  'I would have thought Frank would have explained,' he said after a long moment of taut silence.

  'He merely phoned us with a minute to spare as he boarded a plane for the States and gave us a time and your address,' Miriam tried another smile but it would have had more effect on a block of stone. 'He said you'd had some difficulty with the present caterers,' she added tactfully.

  'You could say that.' He glared at her as if it were all her fault. 'Well, now you're both here you might as well come in the study for a moment and I'll explain what the job entails.'

  His tone said, quite succinctly, that such a procedure was a waste of time, and as they followed him into a huge room just to the right of the stairs, which seemed to stretch forever upwards, she had the mad urge to kick him hard up his dignified and very regal backside.

  'Now.' He sat down behind a large and expensive desk in beautifully polished walnut and gestured towards two easy chairs placed strategically in front of it. 'Do sit down.' He spoke as if he was bestowing an honour of the utmost proportions, and just for a moment Miriam's irrepressible humour asserted itself. What a stuffed shirt! What an overwhelmingly pompous stuffed shirt. He made her feel as though she wanted to do something outrageous to get through the hard outer skin that clothed this man like a barrier: take her clothes off and dance on his desk naked, maybe?

  Her mouth curved slightly at the thought until she met the silver-grey eyes again, her gaze taking in the hard, high cheekbones and aquiline nose that at the moment was flared with something approaching distaste. No, perhaps not. On reflection, the thought of appearing anything but fully dressed in front of this man sent a little shiver snaking right down to her toes.

  'Now—' the splintered gaze took in Mitch too '—I don't know how much Frank has told you, but let me fill you in on the details. My sister is getting married at the beginning of December—the second to be exact— and
she is marrying an Australian with a host of relatives who are coming over en masse for the nuptials. Something, quite frankly, that I am not particularly looking forward to. With me so far?' They nodded silently; the tone was biting.

  'The actual wedding breakfast for the two immediate families, which at the last count numbered just over one hundred and fifty, is no problem; that has been arranged separately at an excellent hotel.' He mentioned a name that made Miriam's eyes widen. She knew the place; one needed to take out a second mortgage to eat there, and this man had arranged a wedding breakfast for half of Australia on its premises? Rothschilds, eat your hearts out, she thought faintly as she tried desperately to concentrate on the precise, cold voice.

  'However, Barbara, my sister, wanted to continue the rest of the celebrations in the family home—a buffet through the afternoon and evening, with dancing in the big hall and a firework display at night.'

  The big hall? Miriam tried desperately to look unimpressed.

  'We have over three hundred family and friends descending on this house, expecting food and drink in vast quantities, and at this time I have no idea how I'm going to accommodate them.' He eyed them grimly. 'The directors of the catering firm I had employed are at the moment in police custody, so I don't expect any help from than.'

  With anyone else it would have been an attempt to lighten the conversation, but Miriam saw that he was speaking with no shred of amusement in either his face or voice, just a cold iron-hardness that was beginning to deflate even her natural optimism.

  'I would expect a large selection of seafood and English dishes, another section devoted to Chinese and Indian cuisine, with at least nine hot dishes in each be-sides the attendant cold foodstuffs, and, of course, the appropriate choice of desserts. The whole lot would be cleared by six o'clock and cheese and biscuits, fresh fruit and strawberries and champagne served at precisely nine o'clock, when the firework display has finished.'

  He looked at them both sitting in front of him, their bodies completely motionless, and as the cool, ironic gaze lingered on her face for an instant Miriam shut her half -open mouth with a little snap.

  'You think you can handle all this? Before you reply, a word of warning.' The arctic gaze chilled further. 'The present catering firm will rue the day they let me down; prison will suddenly become an oasis in the desert I intend to make of their lives.'

  He wasn't joking, Miriam thought faintly; he really wasn't joking.

  'I pay for, and expect, the test—both in quality of service and the speed and efficiency with which my smallest wish is carried out. If you took this contract on and I was satisfied, you would find me most generous, both with your remuneration and the references that would be your due. If you failed me…' The icy grey gaze washed over their attentive faces and Miriam had to stop herself gulping like a schoolgirl.

  'So?' He smiled grimly and rose from behind the desk. 'I presume you would like some time to think about your answer.' He didn't expect them to take it. As Miriam looked up into the patronisingly superior expression that the hard features had settled in she found herself speaking before she could stop herself.

  'I would have thought time was of the essence, Mr Vance.'

  'It is.' Just for a moment she saw a flash of surprise in the silver-grey eyes.

  'Then I think, certainly from our side, we can let you know our answer immediately.' She felt rather than saw Mitch stiffen by her side, but something outside herself was driving her on and she was powerless to stop her next words, which she heard with a shred of horror. 'We would be pleased to take the contract if it is offered and we can assure you that all your requirements would be met most satisfactorily.'

  'I see.' The silver gaze narrowed. 'And do I take it you are in agreement with your sister, Mr Bennett?'

  Mitch's voice was slightly strangled but he backed her to the hilt. 'Of course.' He rose as he spoke and Miriam was conscious that Reece Vance dwarfed her brother's six-foot frame by a good few inches. 'We are a partnership.'

  Black eyebrows rose a fraction, but beyond that Reece Vance didn't comment.

  'We'll leave you our particulars, Mr Vance, and some brochures you may find of interest—'

  'Why?' He cut into her polite farewell speech abruptly. 'If you are taking the job you will surely need to inspect the premises?'

  'Taking…?' He had called her bluff. She hadn't expected him to offer them the job in a thousand years; it was right outside their league and he knew it. She knew he knew it.

  The dark face was inscrutable, his manner relaxed, but she knew instinctively that he had responded to the challenge that she had been mesmerised into throwing down because he was a man who couldn't resist such a situation. He hadn't liked her response to him. She bit on her lower lip hard. And now he wanted his pound of flesh; he wanted her to admit that she had spoken foolishly. And she had.

  'Come and have a look at the kitchens.' He was already walking out of the room and she found herself trotting after him with Mitch at her side, her brother's face stunned with the sort of blank vacancy that she was sure must be written all over hers.

  How could she have been so impulsive, so foolish? How could she? She barely noticed the magnificent surroundings that they were passing through as her thoughts raced frantically.

  When she and Mitch had taken over their father's tottering catering business on his sudden and totally unexpected death five years before, they had been met with a host of problems—not least their possible immediate bankruptcy. Their father had been no businessman; how the firm had survived as long as it had in his hands no one knew, and for two greenhorns fresh out of college, aged twenty and twenty-one respectively, to attempt to resuscitate the failing concern had seemed ludicrous to everyone but themselves.

  But they had seen the blood, sweat and tears that had gone into their father's dream of a family business and both of them had felt that they couldn't just sit back and see the vultures move in. And so they had worked. And worked. And worked. And it had only been in the last year that they had begun to see the reward.

  Their name was getting established and their reputation assured; they were, at long last, out of the red, and for the first time in several long years the nightmares that accompanied each pay-day for their five faithful employees were a thing of the past. And now she had possibly thrown it all away. She felt her heart thud painfully. She would have to eat humble pie, tell him they couldn't possibly—

  'This is the big hall I spoke of.' She came out of her panic to find that they had just entered what appeared to be a massive ballroom, its ceiling lofty and the high, curved walls gracious. 'It's an extension to the original house. My mother loved to entertain when she was alive and so my father had this place built on.'

  'It has its own kitchens, which are separate from the original one which serves the rest of the house; they are situated at the back of the hall down a corridor where there is also a small flat. You would be welcome to use that if you felt it necessary to stay on the premises to oversee everything.'

  Oversee it? She glanced up, and up, at the dark man by her side—the tall, powerfully built body seemed to dwarf her slim, five-foot-eight-inch frame—and noticed that the hard, tanned face was really very attractive. The thought didn't help and she dragged her mind back to the task at hand. Oversee it? She and Mitch would be working every hour of the night and day if they took this thing on, and then some.

  'Come along.' like a pair of obedient puppies they followed at his heels again as he crossed the beautiful wide expanse of exquisite parquet flooring which seemed endless before opening a carved oak door at the far end and waving them through. 'Here are the kitchens.' A few yards down the wide, white-walled corridor was another door which he opened with a flourish. 'I think you will find everything you need.'

  As Miriam preceded him into the room, followed by Mitch, she felt a dart of excitement pierce the panic for the first time since her disastrous impulsiveness. The kitchens went on and on, gleaming bright and beautifu
lly furnished with every available modern appliance known to man amid space and more space. To work in such surroundings would be heaven.

  She glanced at Mitch and could read the same thoughts on her brother's face. Everything could be done on site— everything—and that alone would make the whole job so much easier.

  She wandered down the length of the vast room, turning to find that it went on still more in an L shape, the far end having a magnificent view over immaculately tended gardens that stretched into the distance before disappearing into what appeared to be a large wood.

  'It's just… just—'

  'Functional?' He'd interrupted her dazed voice drily but as she glanced at him again she saw that the dark face was smiling, and the effect was riveting. Whether or not it was the shaft of white sunlight glancing in from the massive windows, she didn't know, but she hadn't noticed before that his hair was so thick and black, or that the lashes which curtained the silver-grey eyes were so profuse. He was undeniably male, and the strong features and aquiline nose were too aggressive to be classically handsome, but he'd got something. He'd certainly got something, she thought weakly. 'Come and see the flat.'

  They retraced their footsteps out into the corridor, and directly opposite another door opened into a beautifully sunny little flat complete with small lounge, bedroom, shower room and a tiny but expertly fitted kitchen.

  'There's only one bedroom, I'm afraid.' He glanced at them with eyes narrowed against the bright winter sunlight. 'But the sofa extends into a double bed, should it prove necessary.'

  'I—' She took a deep breath and swallowed before trying again. 'What exactly are the financial—?'

  'I would expect you to buy whatever you need; there will be a blank cheque with regard to that side of things,' he said coolly, gesturing for them to be seated on the sofa as he perched on the side of a small writing desk. 'I won't be looking over your shoulder every two minutes, but I would expect a receipt for everything purchased, of course, and I want both food and drink to be of the best quality. The champagne for the evening supper is already taken care of, but the wines and spirits along with everything else will be down to you. Your own fee will be the same as I was offering the other firm.'