A book in the Bride for All Seasons series, 2008

SYLVIE SMITH checked the time. Her appointment had been for two o’clock. The time on her laptop now read two forty-five-because she hadn’t just sat there in the luxurious reception of Tom McFarlane’s penthouse office suite twiddling her thumbs and drinking coffee.

Chance would have been a fine thing.

The message couldn’t have been plainer.

She was the enemy and so she’d been left to twiddle her thumbs without the courtesy of a cup of coffee to help fill the time.

Not a problem. Her nerves were already in shreds without adding a surfeit of caffeine to the mix. And she hadn’t twiddled her thumbs either. She didn’t have time to waste thumb-twiddling. Didn’t have time to waste, full stop.

Instead she’d occupied herself finalising the details of an Indian-style wedding she was coordinating for a supermodel. She’d even managed to track down an elephant that was for hire by the day.

She’d also soothed the nerves of a fading pop diva who was hoping to revive her career with a spectacular launch party for her new album.

All of which had helped to keep her from dwelling upon the approaching meeting. When-if-it ever happened.

She knew she was the last person in the world Tom McFarlane wanted to see. Understood why he’d want to put off the moment for as long as was humanly possible. The feeling was mutual.

The only thing she didn’t understand was why, when he’d been so obviously avoiding her for the last six months, he was putting them both through this now.

She checked the time again. Ten to three. Enough was enough. Her patience might be limitless-it was that, and her attention to detail, that made her one of the most sought-after event planners in London-but her time was not.