‘I’m not sure,’ Guy told her. ‘And the name is Guy.’

‘You’re not seriously thinking of doing the Anna/Barret party?’

‘I’d need help.’

‘A party?’ Lorna intercepted, bright-eyed. ‘What sort of party?’

‘Anna and Barret’s wedding.’

‘Anna and Barret…’ Lorna paused, confused, and then confusion gave way to awe. ‘You don’t mean Anna and Barret?’

‘I mean Anna and Barret.’

‘They’re getting married? Here?’

‘If we can cater. If your daughter-in-law will come back as a member of my staff.’

‘Jenny,’ Lorna said, eyes shining. ‘How wonderful.’

‘It’s not,’ Jenny said. ‘He won’t do Kylie’s wedding.’

‘We can do Kylie’s wedding,’ Guy said.

She eyed him with disbelief. ‘As a Carver Wedding?’

‘I don’t think-’

‘Ha!’

‘She wouldn’t like my style of wedding.’

‘Anna wants pink tulle. Surely you give the clients what they want?’

‘If it fits into my-’

‘That is such an arrogant-’

‘Will you two stop it?’ Lorna said, stuttering in an attempt to get this sorted. ‘Jenny, you need to help him.’

‘I don’t.’

‘As a matter of interest,’ Guy said calmly, ‘could you help me if you wanted to?’

‘Do what?’ she said, trying to disguise a child-like glower. But he saw it and his lips twitched. No wonder the glossies described him in glowing terms, Jenny thought. Until now she’d wondered how the head of what was essentially a catering company had become someone that the gossip columnists described as hot property. Now she knew. Guy would just have to look at you with those eyes, that held laughter…

The man was seriously sexy.

‘Do you have the resources to run a wedding for three hundred on Christmas Day?’ he asked, and she had to make a sharp attempt to haul her hormones into line. ‘Are we arguing about something that’s an impossibility?’

‘It’s not impossible,’ she said, and then thought maybe she shouldn’t have admitted it.