Marriage Campaign by Helen Bianchin

Author:Helen Bianchin [Bianchin, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780373119608
Amazon: 0373119607
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1998-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE Leukaemia Foundation luncheon was well patronised, the venue excellent, and the fashion parade succeeded without a visible hitch.

Behind the scenes it was a different story. Annaliese arrived late and in a dangerous mood, taking pleasure in denigrating a designer, which reduced him in a very short space of time to a quivering wreck. Nothing assigned from Wardrobe pleased her, and she insisted on making changes, which caused frayed tempers, hand-wringing, and mutterings among the ranks of fellow models, not to mention everyone else involved backstage. It wasn’t the worst session Francesca had participated in, but it came close.

Choosing what to wear for the evening took considerable thought, and Francesca cursed as she riffled through the contents of her wardrobe. Relaxed and casual? Or should she aim for sophistication?

The tension knotted inside her stomach as she considered crossing to the phone and cancelling out.

Her fingers momentarily stilled as Dominic’s image came vividly to mind. A curse fell from her lips and her eyes clouded with pensive introspection. What was she doing?

Why did she have the feeling that he would appear at her door within an hour of her failing to appear at his?

After much deliberation, she selected an elegant three-piece silk trouser suit in deep emerald-green. Jewellery was minimal, and she stepped into matching stiletto-heeled pumps.

It was a glorious evening. Clear sky, blue ocean, creating a perfect background for various harbour craft taking the benefit of a slight breeze drifting over the sea.

The worst of the traffic making a daily exodus from the city was over, and Francesca experienced no delays at computer-controlled intersections.

Consequently, it was six thirty when she turned into Dominic’s drive, and within minutes she cleared the gates and drew to a halt close to the main door.

She hadn’t suffered such a wealth of nervous tension since her early modelling days.

Dammit, get a grip, she counselled herself silently as she pressed the doorchimes. Seconds later the door opened, and she summoned a warm smile.

‘Hello.’

Dominic’s eyes narrowed slightly at the huskiness evident, the faint shadows clouding her expression.

Attired in dark tailored trousers and a cream cotton shirt unbuttoned at the neck, he looked relaxed and at ease.

It would be wonderful to move into those arms and lift her face for his kiss. For a wild moment she almost considered doing just that.

‘Bad day?’

Francesca offered a faintly wry smile. ‘I guess you could say that.’

‘Want to tell me about it?’

‘What part do you want to hear?’

‘Let me guess. One of the models went ballistic, a designer threw a tantrum, and whoever was in charge of Wardrobe threatened to quit.’ One eye-brow slanted in humour. ‘Close?’

‘Close enough.’

He took hold of her arm and led her into the lounge. ‘Mineral water or wine?’

‘It’s sacrilege, but can I have half of each?’

She felt too restless to sit, and she crossed the room to examine a small painting that had caught her attention on a previous occasion.

It was beautiful in every detail, soft blues, pinks and lilacs, a garden scene. She glimpsed the signature in the lower right corner, and almost forgot to breathe.

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