Hitched! by Jessica Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

sat beside me and stretched out his long legs.
    He lifted his glass. ‘Cheers.’
    ‘Cheers,’ I mumbled, edging surreptitiously away.
    I really resented the way George made me nervous. I wasn’t the
type to lose my head over a handsome face. I’d done that once before, and I was
never going to make that mistake again. I believed that integrity and humour and
intelligence were far more attractive than looks, and yet the moment my gaze
caught the lean line of his jaw or the creases around his eyes or that telltale
dent in his cheek, which deepened when he was trying not to smile, my heart
would stumble and a warmth would uncoil unnervingly inside me. It was all very
unsettling.
    To distract myself, I brushed the peanut crumbs from my
fingers, pushed my hair behind my ears, and picked up my pen. ‘SAFFRON’S PARTY,’
I wrote neatly at the top of the page. ‘1. Invitations. 2. Costumes. 3.
Caterers.’
    ‘You’re very organised,’ said George.
    ‘I’m going to manage this like any other project,’ I said,
pausing to pop a few more peanuts in my mouth. ‘That means have a clear plan,
and setting SMART goals.’
    ‘Sounds efficient.’ He lounged beside me, his solid thigh only
inches from mine. ‘What’s a smart goal when it’s at home?’
    ‘Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic and Time-bound.’ I
ticked them off on my fingers.
    That dent in his cheek deepened. ‘It’s a party, Frith. There’s
only one goal for a party, and that’s for everyone to have a good time.’
    ‘That’s all you know.’ I clicked my teeth pityingly. ‘This
party is about a lot more than that. It’s about impressing all Saffron’s friends
and boosting her reputation. People only get to have a good time once that’s
achieved, and that means I’m going to have to do more than shove some white wine
in a bucket of ice and put out a few bowls of crisps.
    ‘That’s where the goals come in,’ I told him, tapping my pen
against my list. ‘You’ve got to be specific about what needs to be done. Take
the dinner.’ I had managed to talk Saffron out of a full-scale ball and we had
agreed a formal dinner for a maximum of thirty guests in the state dining room.
‘I can barely manage cheese on toast,’ I admitted, ‘so I’m going to have to find
some local caterers who can produce a spectacular Edwardian banquet.’
    ‘Why don’t you ask Mrs Simms?’ said George.
    ‘I thought she was the housekeeper?’
    ‘She is, but she’s a brilliant cook too. She’d need some help,
of course, but she’s got various nieces in the village, and extra work is always
welcome.’
    ‘OK, that sounds good.’ I drew a neat arrow next to ‘Caterers’
and wrote ‘Contact Mrs Simms.’ ‘Excellent.’ I tapped the pen thoughtfully
against my teeth, then added ‘Menu, Accommodation, Decoration, Games???’ to my
list before noticing that George wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at my
knees instead, and I wriggled a bit so that I could tug my skirt down.
    ‘Do you run your whole life like this?’ he asked, sounding
distracted.
    ‘All the time,’ I said.
    ‘What about relationships?’
    ‘What about them?’
    ‘You can’t plan a relationship.’
    ‘I disagree,’ I said. ‘I don’t have time for a serious
relationship in my current-five year plan, but that will definitely figure in my
next one. I’ll be thirty-three by then, and it might be time to think about
settling down.’
    George was staring at me. ‘You’re kidding? You actually have a
five-year plan? Like a totalitarian regime?’ He laughed. ‘Do you give yourself
quotas and send in the secret police if you don’t make them?’
    Colour crept up my throat. ‘It’s well established that clear
goals are the key to a successful career,’ I said stiffly.
    ‘So what’s your plan for finding that serious relationship?’
George picked up his beer and eyed me over the rim of his glass. ‘Do you have a
smart goal for that too?’
    He obviously thought I