Plus One Is a Lucky Number Read online

  Plus One is a Lucky Number

  Teresa F. Morgan

  A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  Contents

  Teresa F. Morgan

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Bonus Material

  About HarperImpulse

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Teresa F. Morgan

  I live in sunny Weston-super-Mare, trying to hold onto my Surrey accent where I was born and bred.

  For years I persevered with boring jobs, until my two boys joined my nest. In an attempt to find something to work around them, and to ensure I never endured full time boredom again, I found writing.

  I am at my happiest baking cakes, putting proper home cooked dinners on the table (whether the kids eat them or not), reading a good romance, or creating a touch of escapism with heroes readers will fall in love with.

  This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Charles (aka Junkfoodmonkey who writes professionally as Becky Black) and Star Ostgard (aka Shadowwalker). Without their encouragement I would never have started my writing journey. They’ve been tough on me at times, to the point of tears, but they have taught me so much and thickened my skin for the real writing world. Without them I would not have created this book.

  And rather than miss out names and upset anyone, I would also like to thank all my good friends and family who have put up with me … I mean supported me in fulfilling my dream of becoming an author – you know who you are!

  Thank you x

  Chapter One

  Sophie Trewyn needed an excuse. A good one. A week to go and she was still no closer to a decision. She hated being a coward, but she couldn’t face this alone.

  “Sophie, what’s up? You’re quiet tonight.” James frowned at her as he drank his pint.

  Roused momentarily from her reverie, Sophie picked up her wine glass. “It’s nothing. I’m tired.” She plastered on a smile.

  They were sitting in the garden at The White Lion, where everyone – from Accounts to the techies on the factory floor – went on Fridays for a drink after work. Luckily, it was a warm, July evening, so they could sit comfortably outside. Otherwise the small pub, with its low ceilings and wooden beams, would be swelling under the strain of its increased patrons.

  “Who’s keeping you up at night? Someone I know?” James nudged her playfully.

  “You know I’m not seeing anyone.” She sipped her Chardonnay and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.

  “Yeah, I mean, who’d want to go out with you? Pretty, intelligent –”

  “Oh, please.” Sophie blushed.

  “Okay – forget the intelligent bit.”

  Used to his teasing, she laughed. James and Sophie were design engineers, specialising in robotics. When she’d started at the company ten months ago, he’d taken her under his wing, becoming the older brother she never had and even introduced her to his girlfriend, Kate.

  “Does Kate know you think I’m pretty?”

  “Kate thinks you’re pretty! She wants to set you up with one of her boring accountant types.” Then, grinning, showing off boyish dimples, he added, “I keep telling her they’ll be too outgoing, even for you.”

  She jokingly slapped him on the arm, finished her drink and excused herself, heading for the ladies. When Sophie pushed open the door she found a stunning young woman, cursing into the mirror whilst delicately dabbing the corner of her eyes with tissues. Sophie meekly smiled and hurried into a cubicle. Having enough worries of her own, Sophie didn’t need someone else’s problems, too. The woman continued her tearful rant to herself in front of the mirror. “Commitment-phobic bastard. You can do better than that arsehole, Bella. Adam arsehole Reid’s loss, not yours!”

  Sophie knew that name. Relief washed over her as she heard the door swish and Bella leave, and hoped she wouldn’t be upset for too long. Men these days were not worth it.

  With the amenities to herself, Sophie tidied her ponytail and reapplied some lip-gloss. Working in a male-dominated office, she preferred to keep a low profile, hair worn back, minimalist make-up. Sophie wanted to be noticed for her work, not the skirt she wore.

  She stared into the mirror as Bella had just done, her head clouded with excuses to make to her best friend Cassie, and how she’d deal with Cassie’s anger – albeit over the phone.

  Coward.

  If only it had been Kate who had set Sophie up with one of her friends …

  Or maybe she could feign a terrible illness?

  God, why’d she let it go this far?

  Because I thought I wouldn’t be going home alone. She’d had months to find someone, and she hadn’t thought it would come around so quickly.

  She sighed heavily. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t stand in a pub loo worrying all evening, James would wonder where she was.

  Walking towards the picnic bench, Sophie noticed fresh drinks on the table and someone sitting in her seat. The man – with mouth-watering good looks – had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, laughing with James.

  Adam Reid – Bella obviously long forgotten.

  His name often came up when James discussed his weekend jaunts with his mates. How could such good friends be the opposite ends of the spectrum? Unlike his friend, James wasn’t a naturally smart dresser. Adam looked sophisticated with his crisp, white shirt, a contrast to James’ faded dark blue polo shirt that hadn’t ever seen an iron.

  Adam glanced at her as she approached. He had short, sandy blond hair, expensively cut. She’d heard some of the women in the office talk about him being a real head turner. They weren’t wrong. Poor Bella.

  Poor Bella? More like poor Sophie.

  Oh, please don’t have a trail of loo paper stuck to my shoe like some Andrex puppy trailing tissue behind it.

  She subtly tried checking her blouse was tucked into her trousers, and quickly brushed a hand over her hair. Why hadn’t she untied it? She could understand why Bella had been upset. This man was a catch.

  “Sophie, this is Adam Reid.”

  She nodded and smiled. “I know.” She’d attended a couple of meetings which he’d been at, and could count – on one hand – how many words she’d spoken to him.

  “Oh, sorry, I’m in your seat.” Adam stood up, and Sophie had to look up into his blue eyes. They shook hands. He had a firm, professional handshake. She could feel the warmth from his palm in her own.

  She shuffled along the bench as some of their colleagues moved from the table, and she gestured to Adam to sit. As he did, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and heat instantly rushed up her neck.

  “Adam’s an account manager in Sales and Marketing,” James said. Hence, he looked smart and she and James didn’t. Working in the design department allowed them a more casual dress code. He must think we’re a right pair.

  “I know that, too,
” she said, placing her handbag on the table. Some said he was the best in the marketing department supporting the company’s biggest clients. Sophie wasn’t going to forget his cool, confident attitude in a hurry. Adam Reid had dominated the meetings she’d sat in a couple of times. His smooth, deep voice, combined with his good looks, had made it very hard for her to concentrate on what he’d been saying. James once told her Adam had started on the factory floor. She doubted he ever got his hands dirty now, but it hadn’t stopped her watching his strong, masculine hands, and picturing what they could do.

  He rubbed his thumb along the condensation on his pint glass.

  Stop looking at his hands.

  “Sophie works with me,” James said to Adam.

  “I’d worked that one out, James.” Adam winked at her. “Aren’t you lucky working with such a bright spark?”

  “Someone has to work with him. I drew the short straw,” she said, nervously smiling back, finding it very hard to meet his eyes and not blush. The bottom of her wine glass was easier to look at. “I’ve managed to put up with him for almost a year.” Adam chuckled.

  “Hey, you two!” James laughed and reached for his pint, but knocked Sophie’s full wine glass over, spilling the contents on her handbag.

  All three of them jumped to their feet. Cheers and laughter came from a neighbouring table. James righted the glass.

  “Oh, hell, sorry.”

  “James,” she huffed, as she scrambled to empty her bag onto a dry part of the table and shake it out. Some of the contents fell through the gaps of the picnic table and onto the ground. She mumbled a curse. Luckily her bag had got most of it, not her clothes - the last thing she needed, especially in front of Adam.

  Adam reacted quickly, grabbing clean paper napkins from another table and soaked up the wine.

  “What’s this?” James picked up a card, battered and now soggy, from underneath the table. Sophie tried to snatch it, but he held it away from her.

  “A wedding invitation.” James looked at Sophie, then Adam, his eyebrows raised. “For next weekend.”

  “James, please give it to me.” She tried reaching for it again, but he raised it so she couldn’t grab the card.

  Sod him for being so tall.

  Lowering his arm, he read further. “‘To Sophie Trewyn and guest’. You never said anything about this.”

  Sophie wanted the ground to swallow her up.. Please don’t let this be happening. Not here.

  “No, because I’m not going,” she said coolly.

  “Why? Aren’t weddings supposed to be fun? All that free food and drink.” He playfully grinned. “Isn’t that right, Adam?”

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Adam shrugged. “I’ll go get Sophie another drink.”

  James nodded, and before she could say not to bother, Adam had walked off.

  “So?” James sat down, giving Sophie an interrogating look.

  Sophie, relieved that Adam had gone to the bar, rolled her eyes and sat back down at their table. She pulled tissues from her jacket pocket and started wiping her bag. “I have a mountain of stuff to do and I can’t afford to take the time off from work either.”

  “Rubbish!”

  “And well, they’re not really close friends or anything.”

  Who are you kidding?

  “It’s an all day invitation, so you must mean something to them,” James said.

  Sophie looked down, unable to meet James’ gaze. It galled her to admit this, even to James. “I'm not sure I can face going on my own.”

  “Oh.” James’ smile dropped. “You don’t have an ‘and guest’, do you?”

  “You know I don’t,” she hissed.

  “Well, you should still go. Might find yourself a nice man.”

  Sophie cringed, but hoped her expression didn’t show. “James, I’m too busy with work.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bollocks.”

  Sophie let out a sigh, glancing around the pub garden. Could anyone hear? “It’s complicated.” Then she lowered her voice, “I don’t know if I can handle the ‘why is a pretty girl like you still single?’ speeches.”

  She remembered the family gathering last Christmas, all tucked around the dinner table about to tuck into the turkey. Her Aunt Veronica, with too much sherry inside her, started harping on at her. ‘Isn’t it time you found yourself a boyfriend, rather than follow that career of yours?’ She hadn’t let it rest all day. Her insides turned cold, even now. Not to mention the endless ‘So how’s your love life these days Soph?’ from a variety of younger, male cousins. ‘Still single, eh?’

  Irritated, she snatched the wedding invitation from an unsuspecting James. She didn’t exactly date much, but she couldn’t admit that, could she? It wasn’t that she was shy. In fact she used to be much more outgoing … and why she had thought that she might have found someone to go with her. The months had whizzed by and her only social outlet was The White Lion on a Friday night. It was her own fault. She should have gone out more, accepted James and Kate’s invitations.

  "I'd go with you, for the champagne and food of course!” James said, smiling. Sophie clicked her tongue. “But as you know I’m going –”

  “Yes, to that bloody meeting in Manchester.” Most of her colleagues were going next Friday and tonight they’d been talking about extending it to the weekend. Sophie wished she was attending. It would be the perfect excuse. But she’d actually booked the time off ages ago in preparation for the wedding. Months ago she’d psyched herself up, telling herself that she could attend it. Now it came to actually going, her confidence had gone. “Besides, I don’t think Kate would appreciate you going away with me for a weekend.”

  “True. She likes you a lot, Sophie. But even Kate might find that difficult to swallow.” He laughed. “But what if Kate went with you?”

  Sophie smiled, understanding James’ offer, though not particularly enamoured he was still pressing the matter. “You’re sweet. Thank you, but it’s not really a case –”

  “Soph, come on. Would you go if you had someone to go with?”

  “Um … ” Yes, she would. But did it sound pathetic? She frowned. Adam walked towards them carrying a glass of wine and a greying dishcloth.

  “Sorry, queue at the bar,” he said, handing Sophie her glass. She wasn’t sure if it were true, yet was glad he’d taken his time.

  James suddenly beamed. “Adam, you’ll go with Sophie, won’t you?”

  Sophie nearly spat out her wine.

  “What?” He stared at James, shocked – or horrified even? – stopping mid-wipe with the cloth.

  Sophie waved her hands in protest. “Seriously, it’s not that big a deal. I’ll cancel.” She took a gulp of her wine, Dutch courage was really required now.

  “No, no, no.” James placed his hand on hers and squeezed it. Once he had an idea in his head, he didn’t stop or even listen. “Adam, you’ll do it, won’t you?”

  Sophie glanced around again, hoping no one would take any notice. Good job they weren’t in the office otherwise she’d be the talk of the whole building. She imagined the sniggers.

  “Just go along so she doesn’t get all those awkward and annoying questions, you know, like ‘why aren’t you married yet? You’re working too hard at that office.’ ”

  Sophie laughed, and even Adam couldn’t hold back a smile. James sounded exactly like an old lady, not dissimilar to her Aunt Veronica.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” Adam stammered. Unable to look Sophie in the eye, he picked up his pint.

  Sophie sobered. Maybe he’d do it for someone prettier. And smarter. She hardly compared to Bella. Automatically Sophie brushed her hands down her trousers. She couldn’t blame him. Adam was well out of her league. He played Premiership; she was way down in second division.

  “Adam, honestly, don’t listen to him,” Sophie said, pointlessly dabbing the cloth over the table. “You don’t have to. I’ll say I’m not going.”

  “Rubbi
sh!” James interrupted. Sophie quickly glared at him.

  “James –”

  “Go on,” James cut in, ignoring her. “You’ll charm the socks off the wedding guests.” He grinned.

  “Sophie looks quite capable of standing on her own two feet,” Adam said, giving her a smile. It wasn’t huge, but enough to make her heart flutter. He’d just made her feel like a million dollars. Maybe she should wear more makeup into the office after all.

  Stop it.

  Adam was right though, what was James suggesting? She didn’t know Adam from … Adam. Oh, God.

  “You’ll be helping a lady in distress.”

  “I’m not in distress!” Sophie slapped her hand down on the table.

  “Ah, James, shall we go get another pint?” Adam said, giving James a stern look, then his expression softened. “Sophie, would you like anything else?”

  She shook out her bag and started putting the contents back into it. “Um, no, thanks.”

  ***

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Adam scowled at James. He’d never heard of anything so ludicrous in all his life. They both ducked the low doorframe as they entered the pub. The warmth hit them, dry and stuffy compared to outside. “Not only did you just put me in a very awkward situation, the poor girl’s embarrassed.”