A Wish and a Wedding Read Online Free PDF Page B

on the bandwagon had to be one of the most stupid things she had ever done. But she had been so caught up in it, it was near impossible to get off.
    It was only halfway through the evening, yet already she was fed up. What was wrong with her all of a sudden? The truth was, she wasn’t really a party girl—though she didn’t expect anyone to believe her. You could say an accident of birth—being an heiress and all—had brought her to a place where she didn’t really belong. What she really wanted… really wanted…
    Time you grew up, Tori. You ain’t gonna get it.
    God, that music was loud. She felt like finding her hosts and lodging a complaint. She could feel her head pounding. The evening had been doomed from the start.
    She looked towards the spacious entrance hall.
    â€œVicki—a dance?”
    This was an offer she could well refuse. “No, thanks, Tim.”
    â€œCome on, babe, I insist!’ Tim, the airhead son of one of the state’s biggest developers, clicked his fingers energetically.
    â€œNot now.” She waved Tim off, ducking and weaving through the crush of people. There had to be at least a thousand!
    A moment more and she came to a dead halt. Shock poured into her. At first she thought she might be hallucinating. It wasn’t possible. Maybe she was dazed by the events of the day? Before the shelter she had attended a very boring charity breakfast and fashion parade, then she had talked with Trish Harvey, the editor of a top magazine, who was trying to persuade her into a fashion shoot. Hallucinating was ruled out! She kept religiously to her vow never to touch drugs when dope was all around her. She had, however, tossed back a couple of non-lethal cocktails when she’d arrived, just to get in the mood. The rest of the time she had drunk club soda. She felt stone-cold sober, yet she was in the middle of a surreal experience.
    She blinked hard. The vision didn’t go away. It became even clearer.
    Across the jam-packed room, filled with laughing, drinking, gyrating partygoers, was Haddo—in the flesh. It didn’t seem possible. How could he possibly be here? Yet there he was, standing head and shoulders above everyone else, a man who instantly commanded attention. Mimi Holland the pop star was trying to hit on him—what girl wouldn’t?—but his astonishing blue gaze was moving like a searchlight over the crowd. She knew who he was looking for.
    Her.
    Would you believe it? She nearly lay down and cried. There was only one explanation. Nan must have sent for him. She hadto do something. Like scream! Only screaming was too tame an option, considering how agitated she felt. Hastily she tugged at the hem of her silver mini-skirt. Wrong place. Wrong clothes. It would always be that way with Haddo. She tried to lose herself in the swirling crowd, flopping one side of her long hair over her eye. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, like her Goth, but it would have to do.
    â€œCome on, Vicki, dance with me?” Another guy surged towards her, looking half stoned, but she briskly waved him off, wedging herself up against a soaring indoor plant. To no avail.
    â€œTori!”
    Instantly she was thrown back to her old weakness. Haddo was there, looking down at her, his blue eyes taking in the hair-style—she had had her riotous mane straightened for the night—the itsy-bitsy sparkly dress, the silver stilettos. “It wasn’t at all hard to spot you,” he said dryly, then, as adroitly as if he were cutting out a cute little poddy calf, he manoeuvred her into a relatively quiet nook.
    â€œHaddo!” she retorted with feigned delight, regardless of her gut-churning emotions.
    It hurt to see him. Really hurt. Once she would have walked on her hands for Haddo. He looked great. Right up there with the all-time hunks, and a very snappy dresser even when casual. His black tee was top quality, so were the black jeans, and the