Unfortunately for his mood—which generally needed eight hours of sleep to function positively and had only had three—and his productivity—which generally needed a clear-headedness that was today conspicuous by its absence—there was nothing whatsoever wrong with his memory. On the contrary, over the past twelve hours or so it had been working better than ever, making a complete mockery of his attempts to put the events of last night, the kisses, Zoe and her bizarre exit in particular, out of his mind and get some sleep.
‘One or two,’ he muttered, not for the first time regretting that he’d only managed a non-oblivion-inducing two pints with Pete before they’d called it a night.
‘So, go on, then, spill the beans. If this Zoe Montgomery mystery shopper statistician person is going to be my sister-in-law, I want to know everything. Like where did you meet her? How long have you known her? Why have you never mentioned her? And will you be bringing her to Oliver’s wedding?’
Dan was just about to rattle the answers off in the same quick-fire way the questions had come at him—the pub, twelve hours, because he’d only recently been made aware of her existence and not before hell froze over—when he suddenly sat up and went still.
Hang on. Where the hell had Celia got such detailed information? In fact, how did she know anything? It was seven in the morning. Surely the grapevine hadn’t been active all night.
‘How do you know so much about it?’ he said, not at all sure he was ready to hear the answer.
His sister tutted and he could imagine her rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t you ever read the papers?’
And just like that, Dan froze. A bead of sweat trickled down his bare back and a wave of nausea rolled through him as the coffee turned his stomach. Oh, God, he thought, his skin going all clammy and his head beginning to pound. No. Not again. It couldn’t have happened again. Could it?
‘Celia?’ he said, his voice sounding thick and distant beneath the roar in his ears. ‘I’ll have to call you back.’
* * *
One quick Google search and five minutes later Dan was face to face with the irrefutable evidence that it had.
Every one of the concerns about the wisdom of going along with Zoe’s plan that he’d considered and stupidly dismissed had been justified because there, stretching right across the screen of his laptop, was the bold black headline that practically salivated as it shouted ‘Has London’s Most Eligible Bachelor Been Snagged?!’ Beneath it was a picture of him and Zoe kissing—that second time—clearly so involved, so caught up in the heat and the passion of the moment that that time he hadn’t noticed the flash of t
he camera.
And then beneath that was the article.
It started with a brief paragraph about the events of the latter part of the previous evening. It segued into a section about Zoe in which he learned that she had a doctorate in statistics from one of the country’s top universities and was co-managing director of Montgomery Mystery Shopping Limited with her sister, Lily. Then followed line upon line of rehashed detail about his career history and his eligibility, the story Jasmine had sold and the usual one-woman-a-week crap.
Practically the only relationship it didn’t mention, he thought grimly, the only relationship that had never been mentioned anywhere in fact, was the one he’d had with Natalie Blake when he was in his mid-twenties, the one that had shattered his ability to trust women and sent him hurtling off the rails. And the only reason that that hadn’t made it into the headlines was because firstly it had taken place before either of them had become of interest to the press, and secondly what with Natalie’s subsequent meteoric rise to supermodel stardom it wouldn’t do her reputation any good if it got out that she’d aborted his baby in order to pursue her career.
So who was responsible for this? he wondered, steering his thoughts back before they could head down that particular dark and gloomy track. Zoe? One of the other women there? Did it matter?
There was little point in being disappointed that his suspicions and concerns had been confirmed. Little point in beating himself up about his stupidity last night or berating himself for not paying attention to the voice of reason that had constantly been telling him to take a deep breath and step away. Even less in wondering whether he had his reckless streak quite as under control as he’d always assumed.
What mattered now was damage limitation, thought Dan, shoving his hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes to wipe out any lingering woolly-headedness, because if he didn’t keep his wits about him and concentrate on clearing up the mess that his rash act of chivalry seemed to have caused his life could get very complicated indeed.
Sitting back in his chair, he contemplated the two ways he could go from here and speedily narrowed it down to one because as far as he was concerned continuing with the charade was not an option.
For one thing, what would be the point? He had no need whatsoever for a fake fiancée and nothing to gain from having one. For another, the existence of such a figure in his life would only unfairly raise his mother’s hopes, and things could easily escalate to the point where he found himself manipulated into waiting for his fake fiancée at a genuine altar.
And as for Zoe, well, she’d tried to dissuade him from proposing in the first place, so couldn’t he reasonably assume that outside her school reunion she had as much need for a fake fiancé as he did?
He could, and OK, yes, etiquette probably demanded that he at least let her know he was breaking off their ‘engagement’, but etiquette didn’t take Celia into consideration. Having known his sister for thirty-one of his thirty-three years, he knew he had to nip things in the bud right now, because if he fudged things, if he attempted to put her off, she’d instantly leap to completely the wrong conclusion and then the grapevine—not to mention his mother—really would be quivering.
Besides it was seven a.m. and all he’d be able to find on the Internet would be Zoe’s work contact details, and even if she was a workaholic as she’d implied he doubted she’d be in the office this early. So he’d just have to wait before calling her and hope he got to her before anyone else did.
Picking up the phone and bracing himself for an uncomfortable couple of calls, Dan set his jaw and vowed that if ever the opportunity to indulge his chivalrous streak arose again, if ever a beautiful woman batted her eyelids up at him and begged him to do her a favour, if ever he thought he could get the better of fate, he’d ignore the whole bloody lot of it.
* * *
When Zoe’s mobile rang a while after Dan had wound up his extensive damage limitation exercise and done as much as he could to clear up the mess with various press and familial interests, she was head down and utterly absorbed in the work she was doing, her coffee going cold while she clicked her mouse on cell after cell and her brain sifted through the data in front of her.
So as she fumbled for the phone and stuck it to her ear she was totally unprepared for what was about to come.
‘Hello?’ she muttered distractedly, frowning at a column of figures and trying to work out why they weren’t adding up the way she’d expected.
‘Hi, Zoe?’