It Started at a Wedding... - Kate Hardy Mills & Boon Cherish

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an hour uphill in a wedding dress and high heels, so they ride on the chairlift. I’ve seen photographs where the bride carried her shoes in one hand and her bouquet in the other.’

      ‘And I suppose Claire showed them to you,’ Sean said.

      Claire didn’t rise to the bait, but she wished she hadn’t already done the final fitting of his waistcoat, because otherwise she would’ve had great pleasure in being totally unprofessional and sticking pins into him.

      ‘No,’ Ashleigh said. ‘Actually, she talked me out of it.’

      ‘Because the design of your dress means you wouldn’t fit in the seat properly and I didn’t want your dress all creased in the photographs,’ Claire said with a smile.

      Ashleigh laughed. ‘More like because you wouldn’t be able to hang on to your shoes and your flowers and cling on to the central bar for dear life all at the same time.’

      Claire laughed back. ‘OK, so I’m a wuss about heights—but I would’ve done it if that’s what you’d really wanted, Ash. Because it’s your day, and what you want is what’s important.’ Her words were directed at her best friend, but she looked straight into Sean’s eyes, making it very clear that she meant every word.

      He had the grace to flush.

      It looked as if he’d got the message, then. Ashleigh came first and they’d put their differences aside for her sake.

      Luke and Tom chatted easily, covering up the fact that Claire and Sean were barely speaking to each other. And gradually Claire relaxed, letting herself enjoy the incredibly romantic setting. They watched as the sun began to set over the sea; mist rose around the distant islands as the sky became striped with yellow and pink and purple, making them seem mysterious and otherworldly.

      Claire took a few shots with her camera; she knew they wouldn’t be anything near as good as Sammy’s photographs, but it would at least be a nice memory. She glanced at Sean; he looked as if he was lost in thought, staring out at the sunset. Before she quite realised what she was doing, she took the snap.

      Later that evening, back in her hotel room, she reviewed her photographs. There were some gorgeous shots of the sunset and the sea, of Ashleigh and Luke and Tom. But the picture she couldn’t get out of her head was the impulsive one she’d taken of Sean. If they’d never met before, if there were no history of sniping and backbiting between them, she would’ve said he was the most attractive man she’d ever met and she would’ve been seriously tempted to get together with him.

       But.

      She’d known Sean for years, he was far from an easy man, and she really didn’t need any complications in her life right now.

      ‘Too much Prosecco addling your brain, Claire Stewart,’ she told herself with a wry smile. ‘Tomorrow, you’re on sparkling water.’

      Tomorrow.

      Ashleigh’s wedding day.

      And please, please, let it be perfect.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘MISS STEWART?’ THE woman from the airline introduced herself swiftly on the phone. ‘I’m very pleased to say we’ve found the dress box that went missing.’

      It took a moment for it to sink in. They’d actually found Ashleigh’s original dress?

      ‘That’s fantastic,’ Claire said. She glanced at her watch. Ashleigh’s wedding wasn’t until four o’clock. Which meant she had enough time to get the hydrofoil across to Sorrento and then a taxi to the airport to collect the dress, and she’d be back in time to get the dress ready while Ashleigh was having her hair and make-up done. Thankfully, she’d brought her portable steam presser with her in her luggage, so although the dress would be quite badly creased by now, she’d be able to fix it. ‘Thank you very much. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.’

      ‘And if you could bring some identification with you, it would be helpful,’ the airline assistant added.

      ‘I’ll bring my passport,’ Claire said. Even before she’d said goodbye and ended the call, she was unlocking the safe in her wardrobe and taking her passport out.

      When she went to tell Ashleigh the good news, Sean was there.

      ‘It’d be quicker to get the dress couriered here,’ he said.

      ‘I’ve already lost the dress once. If you think I’m taking the risk of that happening again...’ Claire shook her head. ‘No chance.’

      It also meant she had a bulletproof excuse to avoid Sean for the next few hours. Though that was slightly beside the point. She kissed Ashleigh’s cheek. ‘I’ll text you when I’ve picked it up and I’m on my way back. But I’ll be back well before it’s time to have our hair and make-up done, I promise.’

      Ashleigh hugged her back. ‘I know. And thanks, Claire.’

      ‘Hey. That’s what best friends are for,’ she said with a smile.

      When Claire collected the dress, the box was in perfect condition, so she didn’t have to worry that the contents had been damaged in any way. It didn’t matter any more where the dress had been; the important thing was that she had it now, and Ashleigh would wear the dress of her dreams on her wedding day.

      ‘Miss Stewart? Before you go,’ the airline assistant said, ‘I have a message for you. You have transport back to Capri. Would you mind coming this way?’

      ‘Why?’ Claire asked, mystified. She’d planned to get another taxi back to Sorrento, and then the hydrofoil across to Capri.

      Before the airline assistant could answer, Claire’s phone pinged with a message. ‘Sorry, would you mind if I check this?’ she asked, just in case it was Ashleigh.

      To her surprise, the message was from Sean.

      Transport arranged. Don’t argue. Ashleigh worrying. Need to save time.

      Sean had arranged transport for her? She swallowed hard. She knew Sean had done this for his sister’s sake, not for hers, but it was still such a nice thing to do.

      And the transport wasn’t a taxi back to Sorrento. It was a helicopter. And the pilot told her that the flight from Naples to Capri took less time than the hydrofoil from Sorrento to Capri, so Sean had saved her the time of the taxi journey on top of that.

      She texted back swiftly. Thank you. Tell her the dress is absolutely fine. Let me know how much I owe you for the transport. She knew Sean’s opinion of her was already low and she was absolutely not going to let him think she was a freeloader, on top of whatever else he thought about her. She’d always paid her own way.

      A text came back from him.

      Will tell her. Transport on me.

      Oh, no, it wasn’t. Dress my responsibility, so *I* will pay. Not negotiable, she typed back pointedly. No way was she going to be in debt to Sean.

      She’d half expected a taxi to meet her at the helipad, but Sean was in the reception area, waiting for her. He was wearing formal dark trousers and a white shirt—Claire didn’t think he actually owned a pair of jeans—but for once he wasn’t wearing a tie. His concession to casual dress, perhaps.

      He looked gorgeous.

      And he was totally off limits. She really needed to get a grip. Like now.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

      ‘Transport,’ he said, gesturing to an open-topped sports car in the car park.

      She didn’t have much choice other than to accept. ‘Thank you.’ She looked at him. ‘Is Ash OK?’

      ‘She’s fine,’ he reassured her.

      ‘Good.’

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