Page 129 of Tuxedos and Tinsel
Condition Number One, that she and Dominic didn’tevertellanyoneabout the deception, seemed now like a very good idea. To hear that their engagement had been a cold-blooded business arrangement was never going to go down well with all these people wishing them well.
At last Wednesday’s family dinner, Dominic had been joyfully welcomed into the Newman family. ‘I’m glad you saw sense about how hot he was,’ her sister Bea had said, hugging her. ‘And as for that amazing rock on your finger... Does Dominic have a brother? No? Well, can you find me someone just like him, please?’
But every bit of deception was all worth it for Timothy. After the family dinner, Andie and Dominic had drawn Hannah and Paul aside. Now that Dominic was to be part of the family—or so they thought—her sister and her husband didn’t take much convincing to accept Dominic’s offer of paying all Timothy’s medical expenses.
Dominic’s only condition was that they kept him posted on their tiny son’s progress. ‘Of course we will,’ Hannah had said, ‘but Andie will keep you updated and you’ll see Timothy at family functions. You’ll always be an important part of his life.’ And the little boy had more chance of a better life, thanks to Dominic’s generosity.
Later, Hannah had hugged her sister tight. ‘You’ve got yourself a good man, Andie, a very, very good man.’
‘I know,’ said Andie, choked up and cringing inside. She was going to have to come up with an excellent reason to explain why she ‘dumped’ Dominic when his need for the fake engagement was over.
There had only been one awkward moment at the dinner. Her parents wanted to put an announcement of the engagement in the newspaper. ‘Old-fashioned, I know, but it’s the right thing to do,’ her mother had said.
She’d then wanted to know what Dominic’s middle name was for the announcement. Apparently full names were required, Andrea Jane Newman was engaged to Dominicwho?
She had looked at Dominic, eyes widened by panic. She should have known that detail about the man she was supposedly going to marry.
Dominic had quickly stepped in. ‘I’ve kept quiet about my middle name because I don’t like it very much,’ he’d said. ‘It’s Hugo. Dominic Hugo Hunt.’
Of course everyone had greeted that announcement with cries of how much they loved the name Hugo. ‘You could call your first son Hugo,’ Bea had suggested.
That was when Andie had decided it was time to go home. She felt so low at deceiving everyone, she felt she could slink out of the house at ankle level. If it wasn’t for Timothy, she would slide that outsize diamond off her finger and put an end to this whole deception.
Dominic had laughed the baby comment off—and made no further mention of it. He’d wanted a baby with his first wife—how did he feel about children now?
Her family was now expecting babies from her and Dominic. She had not anticipated having to handle that expectation. But of course, since then, the image of a dear little boy with black spiky hair and grey eyes kept popping into her mind. A little boy who would be fiercely loved and never have to face the hardships his father had endured.
She banished the bordering on insane thoughts to the area of her brain reserved for impossible dreams. Instead, she concentrated on confirming the delivery date of two hundred and ten—the ten for contingencies—small red-and-white-striped hand-knitted Christmas stockings for Dominic’s party. They would sit in the centre of each place setting and contain all the cutlery required by that person for the meal.
She had decided on a simple red-and-white theme, aimed squarely at pleasing children as well as the inner child of the adults. Tables would be set up in the ballroom for a sit-down meal served from a buffet. She wanted it to be as magical and memorable as a Christmas lunch in the home of a billionaire should be—but without being intimidating.
Gemma had planned fabulous cakes, shaped and frosted like an outsize white candle and actually containing a tea light, to be the centrepiece of each table. Whimsical Santa-themed cupcakes would sit at each place with the name of the guest piped on the top. There would be glass bowls of candy canes and masses of Australian Christmas bush with its tiny red flowers as well as bowls of fat red cherries.
Andie would have loved to handle all the decorations herself but it was too big a job. She’d hired one of her favourite stylists to coordinate all the decorations. Jeremy was highly creative and she trusted his skills implicitly. And, importantly, he’d been happy to work on Christmas Day.
She’d been careful not to discuss anything too ‘Christmassy’ with Dominic, aware of his feelings about the festive season. He still hadn’t shared with her just why he hated it so much; she wondered if he ever would. There was some deep pain there, going right back to his childhood, she suspected.
The alarm on her computer flashed a warning at her the same time the alarm on her watch buzzed. Not that she needed any prompts to alert her that she was seeing Dominic this evening.
He had been in meetings with Walter Burton all afternoon. Andie was to join them for dinner. At her suggestion, the meal was to be at Dominic’s house. Andie felt that a man like Walter might prefer to experience home-style hospitality; he must be sick of hotels and restaurants. Not that Dominic’s house was exactly the epitome of cosy, but it was elegant and beautiful and completely lacking in any brash, vulgar display of wealth.
A table set on the terrace at the front of the house facing the harbour. A chef to prepare the meal. A skilled waiter to serve them. All organised by Party Queens with a menu devised by Gemma. Eliza had, as a matter of course, checked with Walter’s personal assistant as to the tycoon’s personal dietary requirements.
Then there would be Andie, on her best fiancée behaviour. After all, Mr Burton’s preference for doing business with a married man was the reason behind the fake engagement.
Not that she had any problem pretending to be an attentive fiancée. That part of the role came only too easily. Her heartbeat accelerated just at the thought of seeing Dominic this evening. He’d been away in different states on business and she’d only seen him a few times since the family dinner. She checked her watch again. There was plenty of time to get home to Newtown and then over to Vaucluse before the guest of honour arrived.
Dominic had been in Queensland on business and only flown back into Sydney last night. He’d met Walter Burton from a very early flight from the US this morning. After an afternoon of satisfactory meetings, Dominic had taken him back to his hotel. The American businessman would then make his own way to Vaucluse for the crucial dinner with Dominic and Andie.
As soon as he let himself in through the front door of the house Dominic sensed a difference. There was a subtle air of expectation, of warmth. The chef and his assistant were in the kitchen and, if enticing aromas had anything to do with it, dinner was under way. Arrangements of exotic orchids were discreetly arranged throughout the house. That was thanks to Andie.
It was all thanks to Andie. He would have felt uncomfortable hosting Walter Burton in his house if it weren’t for her. He would have taken him to an upscale restaurant, which would have been nice but not the same. The older man had been very pleased at the thought of being invited to Dominic’s home.
And now here she was, heading towards him from the terrace at the eastern end of the house where they would dine. He caught his breath at how beautiful she looked in a body-hugging cream top and matching long skirt that wrapped across the front and revealed, as she walked, tantalising glimpses of long slender legs and high heeled ankle-strap sandals. Her hair was up, but tousled strands fell around her face. Her only jewellery was her engagement ring. With her simple elegance, again she looked as if she belonged in this house.
‘You’re home,’ she said in that husky voice, already so familiar.
Home.That was the difference in his house this evening.Andie’s presence made it a home.And he had not felt he’d had a real home for a long time.
