The Real Smell of Environmentalism The Bride's Baby | Page 18
18 THE BRIDE�S BABY
When Candy had borrowed Quentin for bag-carrying duties
on one of her many shopping expeditions it had never crossed
Sylvie�s mind that she�d risk her big day with the billionaire for
a fling with a twenty-five-year-old events assistant. Even one
who�deventuallymakeheracountess.Hecamefromalong-lived
family and the chances of him succeeding to his grandfather�s
earldom before he was fifty�more likely sixty�were remote.
And, while she�d been absolutely furious with both of them,
she did have a certain sympathy for Quentin; if a man like Tom
McFarlane had succumbed to Candy�s �assets�, what hope was
there for an innocent like him?
But, despite what she�d told Tom McFarlane, when Candy had
finished with Quentin and he did eventually return, she was
going to have explain that, under the circumstances, he couldn�t
possibly continue working for her. Bad enough that it would feel
like kicking a puppy, but Quentin was a real asset and losing him
was going to hurt. He had a real gift for calming neurotic women.
He was also thoroughly decent. It would never occur to him to
go to a tribunal for unfair dismissal.
Maybe it was calming Candy�s pre-wedding nerves�she had
gone into shopping overdrive in those last few weeks�that broad
sympathetic shoulder of his, that had got him into so much
trouble in the first place.
Tom McFarlane, however, having fired off this last salvo, had
returned to the folder in front of him and was flicking through
the invoices, stopping to glance at one occasionally, his face
utterly devoid of expression.
Sylvie didn�t say a word. She just waited, holding her breath.
Watching his long fingers as they turned the pages. She could no
longer see his eyes. Just the edge of his jaw. The shadowy cleft
of his chin. A corner of that hard mouth�
The only sound in the office was the slow turning of paper