He was being given the cold English attitude he’d heard about. How did they do it while still sounding so polite? ‘Well, isn’t she trustworthy?’ He went on the offensive and got a mild kick of pleasure when she nodded. ‘By the way I never did introduce myself. I’m Chad Robertson, cousin of the groom. I’d shake your hand but you might drop those delicious eggs.’ His tone was teasing but he was happy when Emily managed a slight smile.
‘I see why Maggie was annoyed at me dragging her away now.’
A rush of heat flamed up his neck at the pithy comment and for one of the few times in his life Chad found himself speechless.
‘Enjoy your meal.’ Emily breezed off leaving him standing there with the remains of a Scotch egg in his hand. Making sure no one was looking he deposited it in the nearest plant pot and reluctantly followed everyone into the dining room.
The things he did for his grandmother.
* * *
Maggie nibbled at her lip and concentrated. If this didn’t work Fiona might never speak to her again. She’d cleaned up the floor first — being sued because someone broke their leg slipping on the sticky mess was the last thing they needed. Next she’d salvaged what she could from the remains on the table and retrieved her emergency box of supplies from the car. With a reserved slab of almond cake and a big container of butter cream icing she would do her best. Maggie had forgotten to put in any extra raspberry puree but it was too late to fret over that now. There was no way she could transform this disaster back to the five tier creation she’d spent the last two days working on so it was time to make up a Plan B.
‘You haven’t done anything!’ Emily shrieked and Maggie nearly dropped her knife. ‘We’ll start taking around the prawn cocktails in another ten minutes. How long do you think I can drag out serving the rest of the meal?’ The hysterical edge to her sister’s voice didn’t do anything for Maggie’s confidence.
‘Fiona originally wanted a cupcake tower and her mother talked her out of it. But she’s the bride so we’re going to sort of give her what she really wants,’ Maggie explained with as much patience as she could muster, all the while cutting cake and fitting it into paper cases she’d discovered in one of the kitchen cupboards.
‘You can’t do that. How’re you going to explain . . .’
Maggie snorted. ‘I’m not going to. You are.’
‘Me?’
If Emily wasn’t so young and fit Maggie wouldn’t have been surprised to see her sister have a fatal heart attack on the spot.
‘Yes, you,’ Maggie stated firmly. ‘People always believe you. They think you’re sweet and innocent and never lie.’
Emily’s mouth flopped open and closed like a goldfish.
‘You’ll take Fiona to one side and explain that the cake won’t look as she expects because it will be so much better. Tell her we always put the bride’s wishes first and we felt she wasn’t happy with the original plan.’ The explanation tripped off Maggie’s tongue and she wondered if she should’ve gone in for politics instead of cake decorating.
Emily rolled her eyes in horror. ‘You’re mad.’
‘Do you have a better idea?’ she challenged, a tiny bit satisfied when her sister shook her head. ‘I didn’t think so. This is how you’re going to describe it.’ Maggie ploughed on before she lost her nerve. She’d come up with the brilliant idea of calling the new design “deconstructed cupcakes” — deconstructed was the new culinary buzz word and she’d do whatever was necessary to get away with this.
‘Fine.’ Emily sighed. ‘When do I have to humiliate myself?’
Maggie ignored the sarcasm and proceeded to make herself very clear. Nothing was to be said until the main course had been served so there was no time for Fiona to throw a wobbly. ‘Now get on with the prawn cocktails and leave me to salvage our reputation.’
Emily swung around on her heels and headed for the other end of the kitchen. After picking up a loaded tray she turned and glanced back at Maggie with a mischievous smile.
‘Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you I spoke to your admirer earlier.’
A fierce rush of heat flooded Maggie’s face.
‘The hottest single man in the room and you’re stuck in the kitchen mending cupcakes. Not fair is it?’ Emily breezed out, leaving Maggie to bite back a curse that would’ve shamed a sailor.
Chapter Three
Chad gave a swift glance towards the Reject Table at the back of the room and a bleached blonde in a skin-tight red dress met his gaze, shamelessly ogling him. Emily and a tribe of waitresses carrying silver platters emerged from the kitchen and began to circulate.Time to make a detour.
He sidled around the edges of the room until he reached the kitchen door and sneaked inside. Chad’s gaze homed in on Maggie, bent over a table and completely engrossed in her work. It gave him the opportunity to admire her shapely figure from behind and he swiftly decided he’d been right the first time. Thank goodness he was an observant man because her tempting curves were well-disguised under the hideous green dress. Scarlett O’Hara’s curtains would be a distinct improvement.
‘How’s it goin’?’
She startled at the sound of his voice, dropped a spoon on the floor and jerked around with a fierce glare. ‘What on earth are you doing in here?’
Not the warmest welcome he’d ever received from a woman, but Chad sauntered across the room watching Maggie’s cheeks flame as he got closer. ‘I thought I’d see how you were getting on and whether there was any chance of you coming back out and rescuing me any time soon?’
