Page 4 of One Bridegroom Required!

‘Why?’

Holly smiled at his belligerence. ‘Well, you’ve barged in here as if you own the place, asking me questions as though I’m on the witness stand, so I suppose one more won’t make any difference. Why do people usually rent a shop? Because they want to sell something, perhaps? Like me—I’m a dress designer.’

He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he agreed slowly, and an ironic smile touched the corners of his mouth. ‘Yes, you look like a dress designer.’

Holly noted the disapproving look on his face and was glad she wasn’t opening an escort agency! ‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’

‘No.’

‘I didn’t think so. I fit the stereotype, do I?’

He shrugged. ‘I guess you do.’ His eyes flickered to the gauzy shirt, where the stark outline of her nipples bore testimony to the cold weather. ‘You wear unsuitable clothes. You drive a hand-painted, beaten-up old car—I wasn’t for a minute labouring under the illusion that you were a bank clerk!’

‘Nothing wrong with bank clerks,’ Holly defended staunchly.

‘I didn’t say there was,’ came his soft reply. ‘So tell me why you’re renting this shop.’

‘To sell my designs.’

He frowned as he tried to picture the insubstantial and outrageous garments in which emaciated models sashayed up the catwalk. He tried to imagine Caroline or any other woman he knew wearing one. And the only one who could get away with it was the leggy beauty standing in front of him. ‘Think there’ll be a market for them around here, do you?’ he mocked. ‘It’s a pretty conservative kind of area.’

She ignored the sarcasm. ‘I certainly hope so! There’s always a market for bridal gowns—’

His dark eyebrows disappeared beneath the tawny hair. ‘Bridal gowns?’

‘There you go again,’ she murmured. ‘Yes. Bridal gowns. You know—the long white frocks that women wear on what is supposed to be the happiest day of their lives.’ She waited for him to say something about his wedding day, which was what people always did say. But he didn’t. And Holly was both alarmed and astonished at the great sensation of relief which flooded through her at his lack of reaction. He isn’t married! she found herself thinking with a feeling which was very close to elation, and then hoped she hadn’t given anything away in her expression.

‘You design bridal gowns?’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘Maybe that’s because I am. You aren’t exactly what most people have in mind when they think of wedding dresses.’

‘Too young?’ she guessed.

‘There’s that,’ he agreed. ‘And marriage is traditional...’ his eyes glimmered ‘...which you ain’t.’

‘I can be. I know how to be.’

Interesting. ‘And you’ll be living—?’

‘In the flat upstairs, of course.’ She smiled in response to his frowned reaction to that, and wiped a dusty hand down the side of her jeans before extending her hand. ‘I guess we’d better introduce ourselves. I’m Holly Lovelace of Lovelace Brides.’ She smiled disarmingly. ‘Who are you?’

‘Holly Lovelace?’ He started to laugh.

‘That’s right.’

‘Not your real name, right?’

‘Wrong. I’ve got my birth certificate somewhere, if you’d like to check.’

He looked down at the hand she was still holding out, and shook it, her narrow fingers seeming to get lost within the grasp of his big, rough palm. ‘I’m Luke Goodwin,’ he said deliberately, and waited.

‘Hello, Luke!’

There was another brief pause as he savoured a heady feeling of power. ‘You haven’t heard of me?’

‘You’re absolutely right. I haven’t.’

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