‘OK. Let me know if you need anything organised.’
He probably needed some reassurance that it wasn’t going to go wrong, she thought. ‘You can come and have a sneak peek at the dress, if you want,’ she said.
‘Isn’t that meant to be bad luck?’
‘Only if you’re the bridegroom. Remember that the dress needs pressing, so you won’t be seeing it at its best,’ she warned, ‘but it will be perfect by the time Ash puts it on.’
* * *
Sean looked at Claire. Her sunhat was absolutely horrible, a khaki-coloured cap with a peak to shade her eyes; but he supposed it was more sensible than going out bareheaded in the strong mid-morning sun and risking sunstroke.
He wondered if she’d guessed that he wanted reassurance that nothing else was going to go wrong with the dress—just as she’d clearly noticed that moment when the might-have-beens had shaken his composure. She’d been a bit clumsy about it, but she hadn’t pushed him to talk and share his feelings. She’d been kind, he realised now, and that wasn’t something he associated with Claire Stewart. It made him feel weird.
But, if she could make the effort, then so could he. ‘Thanks. I would appreciate that.’
‘Let’s go, then,’ she said.
He followed her up to her room. Everywhere was neat and tidy. Funny, he’d expected the room to be as messy and chaotic as Claire’s life seemed to be—even though her shop had been tidy. But then he supposed the shop would have to be tidy or it would put off potential clients.
She put the dress box on the bed. ‘Right—how much do I owe you for that flight?’
‘We’ve already discussed that,’ he said, feeling awkward.
‘No, we haven’t, and I don’t want to be beholden to you.’
‘Ashleigh is my sister,’ he reminded her.
‘I know, and she’s my best friend—but I still don’t want to be beholden to you.’
He frowned. ‘Now you’re being stubborn.’
‘Pots and kettles,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me how much I owe you.’
Actually, he liked the fact that she was so insistent on paying her fair share. It showed she had integrity. Maybe he’d been wrong to tar her with the same brush as her awful boyfriends. Just because she had a dreadful taste in men, it didn’t necessarily mean that she was as selfish as they were—did it? ‘OK.’ He told her a sum that was roughly half, guessing that she’d have no idea how much helicopter transfers would cost.
‘Fine. Obviously I don’t have the cash on me right at this very second,’ she said, ‘but I can either do a bank transfer if you give me your account details, or give you the cash in person when we’re back in England.’
‘No rush. I’ll give you my bank details, but making the transfer when you get back to England will be fine,’ he said.
‘Good. Thank you.’ She opened the box, unpacked the dress, and put it on a hanger.
The organza skirt was creased but Sean could already see how stunning the ivory dress was. It had a strapless sweetheart neckline, the bodice was made of what he suspected might be handmade lace, and it looked as if hundreds of tiny pearls had been sewn into it. It was worthy of something produced by any of the big-name designers.
And Claire had designed this for his little sister. She’d made it all by hand.
Now he understood why she’d called her business that ridiculous name, because she was delivering exactly what her client wanted—a dream of a dress.
Clearly his lack of response rattled her, because she folded her arms. ‘If you hate it, fine—but remember that this is what Ash wanted. And I’m giving you fair warning, if you tell Ash you hate it before she puts it on, so she feels like the ugliest bride in the world instead of like a princess, then you’re so getting the rusty spoon treatment.’
‘I don’t hate it, actually. I’m just a bit stunned, because I wasn’t expecting it to be that good,’ he admitted.
She dropped into a sarcastic curtsey. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir, for the backhanded compliment.’
‘I didn’t mean it quite like that,’ he said. ‘I don’t know much about dresses, but that looks as if it involved a lot of work.’
‘It did. But she’s worth every second.’
‘Yeah.’ For a moment, he almost turned to her and hugged her.
But this was Claire ‘Follow Your Heart’ Stewart, the mistress of chaos. Their worlds didn’t mix. A hug would be a bad, bad idea. ‘Thanks for letting me see the dress,’ he said. ‘I’d better let you get on.’