Love is the Drug. Ashley Croft

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      He glared at her. Molly fancied him more than ever, if it was possible. ‘We are going to focus totally on our research, making this project a success and publishing our results. There will be gossip and speculation, naturally, for a few days but it will pass. People will soon realise that there is nothing between us beyond a professional relationship.’

      ‘Of course not, Professor,’ Molly said coolly.

      ‘Please stop calling me Professor. You’ll thank me for this one day. One day very soon. There is nothing worse, believe me, than a relationship failing, and that’s when the two people have to see each other every day at work. If you want to know what it’s like to hate the sight of someone you once cared for, then let’s go ahead and shag each other’s brains out for a few weeks but then it will all go wrong. Office romances are a recipe for disaster. Trust me.’

      She was momentarily stunned into silence by this outburst.

      ‘So you care about your career more than being happy?’ she said, eventually.

      ‘No, I care about yours.’

      His phone rang. He mouthed “fuck” before snatching up the handset. ‘What is it? I’m in a bloody meeting … Oh, yes, Dame Eleanor. I’m so sorry. Yes, I was working late last night and went to the party on New Year’s Eve. You’re right, I should probably get more sleep but you know how busy we are … Come to your office now? No … no … I’m almost done here. I’ll be up in five minutes … Yes, coffee would be a great idea.’

      She sat, arms folded, enjoying him squirming as he spoke to their eminent head of faculty.

      Eventually, he put the phone down. ‘And, that,’ he said quietly, ‘is exactly what I meant about bringing relationships into the workplace. Now, as you heard, I have a meeting with Dame Eleanor. I expect you to go back to the lab and get on with the abstract for that paper. I want to get into a decent journal with the two of us as co-authors, which can only be good for your career. And the next time we meet, I also expect things to be back on civil, professional terms. Am I making myself clear?’ he said coldly.

      There was something in his tone that told Molly not to argue. He was, after all, her boss and she’d pushed him further than she ever thought she’d dare. It was all hideously unfair of course, but possibly, maybe, he had a point and she really wanted her name as co-author on the paper. It would be a big thing to be associated with Ewan Baxter, in scientific terms if not in other ways.

      She picked up her notebook again. ‘Perfectly clear,’ she said and walked to the door, hoping that the clogging in her throat wasn’t the start of an infection.

      ‘I’m sorry, Molly. It just wouldn’t work between us,’ said Ewan. ‘No matter how much I like and respect you. Let’s not spoil what is, after all, a great working relationship.’

      Molly’s favoured replies included an expletive but she stopped short. ‘You’re probably right,’ she muttered and shut the door.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      In the Tiara Kabin, Sarah fixed on a smile as her first wedding client of the year unfurled a list of demands that would rival a hip-hop diva. She just hoped her customer wouldn’t notice her puffy eyes, but luckily Cassandra Burling rarely noticed anything that didn’t stare back from her own mirror.

      ‘I’d want the pearls dyed to exactly match my shoes. I’ve brought one of them so you can see what I want,’ said Cassandra Burling, ‘and there will be six matching hair slides for the bridesmaids and two smaller ones for the flower girls.’

      ‘I’m sure I can help …’ said Sarah with a smile, while silently screaming.

      ‘And I want a Swarovski crystals dove with a pearl in his beak to symbolise our union. And I want the bridesmaids’ hair clips all done to match but not as nice as mine, obvs. Then there’s the necklaces for my mum and his mum, not that the evil cow deserves anything but we can’t leave her out or she’ll probably cut us out of her will …’

      Finally Cassandra drew breath. She picked at the plastic on the edge of the coffee table with a Barbie-pink nail.

      ‘You can do that by the end of the month, can’t you?’ she added, flicking a piece of plastic onto the floor of the workshop.

      Sarah swallowed down a gasp of dismay. ‘The end of this month? As in the end of January?’

      ‘Yeah. Why?’

      ‘I thought you told me your wedding was in May?’

      ‘Oh, it was but we’ve got a cancellation at a theme park. It’s on Valentine’s Day and there’s a cable telly contest for Valentine’s Day brides. I want to have the ceremony on the Termination ride at Adrenalin Park. We’ll be upside down while the celebrant marries us but I still want to look ahm-azing. If you win, the telly company give you all your money back for the wedding and honeymoon.’ Cassandra folded her arms. ‘No one will be able to beat that idea.’

      Sarah wanted to vom at the very thought of being upside down. ‘No. I doubt if they will, but won’t the headdresses fall off on the ride?’

      ‘Oh, you’ll come up with something and if I win, your tiaras and stuff will be all over Brekkie.’

      ‘Wow,’ said Sarah.

      ‘Anyway, we’ve brought everything forward and I need the headdresses for a trial run at the salon at the end of January. You can do it, can’t you?’ Cassandra’s voice took on a vaguely menacing tone.

      ‘Well, there’s a lot of work, especially if I have to adapt them to being worn upside down, at high speed with all that G force.’

      ‘Well, I’d have thought you’d have been gagging for the work, and maybe offering me a discount if I’m going to advertise your work on Brekkie … but if you don’t need the business, I could try someone else.’

      ‘Yes, I do. Of course, I want the business and of course, I’ll do it.’ Sarah forced a smile to her face. She needed the business more than ever now that Niall had moved out. ‘Don’t worry, everything will be ready for your big day,’ she said soothingly.

      ‘Good, because I want it all to be totally one hundred and ten per cent perfect.’

      ‘Of course, it’s once in a lifetime.’

      Cassandra examined her nail. ‘Well, yeah, I suppose so. If it lasts. But that’s marriage, innit – a lottery?’ she added cheerfully.

      Cassandra didn’t sound the slightest bit bothered by the prospect of her relationship not lasting and Sarah couldn’t say she was shocked or even surprised. Cassandra wasn’t the first bride she’d had who looked on the wedding mainly as an excuse to have a party and be a princess for the day. And after all, wasn’t that what she was selling? Be a princess. Wear a tiara. Pretend you’re Kate or Meghan or Princess Aurora? Sarah was in the fairy-tale business after all, but she’d liked to think she had a slightly less cynical approach than some of the suppliers – a more personal touch, a genuine sincerity that most customers recognised even if they didn’t all appreciate it.

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