Convenient Engagements: Fiance Wanted Fast! / The Blind-Date Proposal / A Whirlwind Engagement. Jessica Hart

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      ‘I’ll ask him,’ she lied. ‘I’m sure he’ll see what he can do.’

      ‘This is turning into a nightmare,’ she sighed as she switched off the phone and threw it onto a chair. ‘I wish I’d never mentioned you to my mother!’

      ‘Why?’ said Gib. ‘It seems to be working perfectly. You wanted your mother to be happy, and she is.’

      This was unanswerable. Phoebe made a show of looking through the post she had brought in from the hall. A credit card bill, two circulars and a letter from the gym asking plaintively why they hadn’t seen her for a while.

      ‘Why did you tell Mum all that stuff about love at first sight?’ she demanded instead.

      ‘I thought I was supposed to be a besotted lover,’ said Gib.

      ‘Not that besotted! Nobody’s going to believe you if you carry on like that!’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Well, because it doesn’t happen like that in real life, does it?’ she said, a bit thrown by the directness of Gib’s question.

      ‘What doesn’t?’

      ‘All that bolt from the blue stuff. You have to know someone before you can fall in love with them.’

      Gib looked at her, one corner of his long, mobile mouth curling upwards in a crooked smile. ‘That might be true for you, but it isn’t necessarily the same for everyone else.’

      ‘Don’t tell me you’ve ever fallen in love at first sight!’ said Phoebe, tearing up the letter from the gym and dropping the credit card bill onto the table unopened.

      ‘Why shouldn’t I have done?’

      It was a fair enough question. ‘You don’t seem the type,’ was the best she could do for an answer.

      ‘That’s what I thought until it happened to me.’

      ‘Oh.’ She eyed him a little uncertainly, wishing, not for the first time, that she could tell whether he was joking or not. He could keep his mouth perfectly straight as now, but it always seemed on the verge of twitching upwards, and as for those eyes … Phoebe risked a glance only to find herself skewered by a blue gleam that was impossible to interpret but which for some reason sent the blood surging into her cheeks.

      She jerked her gaze away. ‘Are you sure was it was love and not lust?’ she said, trying to be ironic but succeeding only in sounding tremulous.

      ‘I think it was a bit of both,’ said Gib.

      He smiled then, a reminiscent smile that turned up the corners of his mouth and creased the edges of his eyes. No doubt thinking of some long-legged, sun-streaked blonde he had met lazing around on a Californian beach, thought Phoebe, inexplicably irritable.

      Turning her back on that smile, she headed over to the fridge, her dignified demeanour rather spoilt by falling over the cat who had been waiting to ambush the next human who approached his bowl.

      ‘The point is, I’m trying to convince my family here,’ she said coldly, disentangling herself from the weaving cat with difficulty and opening the fridge door, relieved to see a bottle of wine that had been chilling overnight. She could do with a drink! ‘We need to stick to a realistic scenario, or they won’t believe a word you say. And the fact is, I’m just not the kind of girl men fall in love with at first sight.’

      ‘Your mother didn’t seem to have any trouble believing me.’ Gib watched her scrabbling through the drawers in search of a corkscrew. ‘She told me that I sounded like a dream come true,’ he went on virtuously.

      Phoebe muttered under her breath as she located the corkscrew at last and attacked the foil at the top of the bottle. ‘You’re not taking this seriously!’ she accused him.

      ‘And you’re taking it too seriously,’ said Gib. ‘You need to lighten up, Phoebe! Everything’s under control.’

      ‘Easy for you to say,’ grumbled Phoebe, twisting the corkscrew. ‘Have you organised a suit yet?’ She bet he hadn’t.

      ‘Yes.’

      Oh.

      ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’ The cork popped out and she poured the wine into a glass, pausing for a second to savour its pale golden beauty before she went back to her fretting.

      ‘What about this job you’re supposed to have?’ she demanded as she carried her glass over to the armchair next to him. ‘I’ve told Mum you’re a banker now, so you’d better be able to carry it off.’

      ‘Relax,’ said Gib lazily. ‘I’ve been doing some research. Look.’ He picked up a brochure from the floor by the sofa and waved it at her.

      Phoebe took it with her spare hand. ‘This is for the Community Bank,’ she said blankly.

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Where did you get it?’

      ‘It was lying on the table with some of the other stuff you brought home with you,’ said Gib, and Phoebe was too busy studying the brochure to notice the faint hesitation in his voice. ‘I thought I might as well take advantage of the research you’ve been doing for your programme, so I had a look through it. If anyone asks, I’ll say I work in their development section. I ought to be able to bluff my way through on that.’

      ‘That’s not a bad idea.’ She looked at him with grudging respect. ‘It’s a bank, but not a real bank.’

      ‘What do you mean, it’s not a real bank?’ For once Gib was roused out of his lazy good humour and he sat up to object. ‘It lends money, it supports its customers, it’s an integral part of the financial infrastructure of the countries where it operates …’

      Phoebe looked at him in surprise. ‘You have been reading the brochure, haven’t you?’

      There was a tiny silence, and then Gib lay back down. ‘I told you I’d been doing some research,’ he said.

      ‘I’m glad to hear you’re getting into your role so well,’ she said dryly. ‘Anyway, I just meant that because it’s an ethical bank, if you meet any other City types there, they won’t expect you to be flash and boast about bonuses. They’ll probably make allowances if you seem a bit …’

      ‘A bit what?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Phoebe with a touch of irritation. Why did Gib have to pick her up on everything? ‘A bit different, I suppose.’

      She sipped her wine reflectively, trying to spot the flaws in Gib’s idea, but the more she thought about it, the better it seemed. ‘No, I think it might work,’ she said with gathering excitement. ‘We could say that’s how we met,’ she went on, getting into the idea.

      ‘Exactly,’ said Gib.

      Phoebe ignored his smugness. ‘People know that I’ve been working on the programme. I’m so desperate that I’ve asked most of Ben’s City friends if they’ve СКАЧАТЬ