Her Improper Affair

Book 3: Robinsons

by Shea McMaster

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

He’s about to be conquered and hasn’t a clue. . . After college, Birdie Ferguson hits London like a ray of California sunshine. She’s fresh, cheery, and positive she’s about to be the best Executive Assistant her father has ever had. But her chipper outlook is guaranteed to clash with her stuffy coworker Oswald Attenborough, who has probably never had a belly laugh in his life . . . Oswald knows he’s not good enough for the boss’s daughter. Although he’s born of aristocracy and is proving himself at Lynford International, he’s always had to play second or third fiddle to his Peers. But now he’s ready to take his talents elsewhere. Until he’s tasked with mentoring Birdie. Despite his own reluctance, he can’t help but notice life’s a lot less dreary with this West Coast beauty around . . .

Release date: November 22, 2016

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 301

Sample

 

The last notes of the organ music echoing in the vast reaches of Grace Cathedral held the congregation in thrall. Birdie sat in the front pew of the magnificent cathedral on San Francisco’s Nob Hill as her brother’s wedding began. Behind her, approximately four hundred thirty-five guests filled only half of the nave. If she understood correctly, the number would be a tight fit at the reception venue, a ballroom at the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square.

At the altar, Drew took Meilin’s hand from her father. The two had eyes only for each other. The loudest sound heard over small rustles was Mr. Wu’s footsteps as he found his seat in the pews.

Beside Birdie, her mother sniffled into a lacy handkerchief. On her mother’s left, sitting on the aisle, her father had three more hankies tucked in the pockets of his suit. They held hands and shared a smile very similar to that of the bride and groom. It hadn’t been so very long ago they’d said their vows.

Across the aisle, on the bride’s side, the first three rows were jam-packed with what she imagined Chinese mafia might look like. The older men were stern-faced and their ladies dressed very much like the royal court of London, complete with fascinator hats. Most of that group represented the closest of Meilin Wu’s family—parents, brother, sister-in-law, nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Behind them the rows were filled with more distant relatives, many friends, and scores of business associates. Many of them the old guard of Chinatown.

On the groom’s side, not quite as many pews were filled, but they held a surprisingly large number of friends and family from England. Several of whom were scheduled to attend the smaller ceremony back in Sussex in less than a week. The larger portion was local friends and business associates of her mother and grandfather. A few friends from Stanford. Not a bad showing paired with the Wu dynasty.

At the front, the bride and groom stood facing one another, absolutely absorbed in each other and the words of the priest at the altar. Birdie had heard the words so many times in the last year she nearly had them memorized.

Still, she had to admit her brother cleaned up very well. His bride, who never needed any cleaning, looked radiant. Birdie had no doubt Drew’s tux had been custom made in China; it fit too perfectly to be rented. The embroidered red silk vest, matching tie and handkerchief were also a dead giveaway. For all their marked differences, the pair were two halves of a whole. Him tall, blond with blue eyes, her small with dark hair, pearl smooth skin, and soft green, almond-shaped eyes. The expressions on their faces were identical. The two were love-struck for sure. A small part of her melted at the observation.

As beautiful as they both were, it was easy to assume animal attraction, although anyone who knew them knew it went so much deeper.

Despite being half way around the world, Meilin and her family had pulled together a beautiful and elaborate wedding. Starting with the bride herself.

Meilin wore a flowing strapless gown of white silk accented with a band of embroidered red trim on the overskirt and a three foot train of more embroidered red silk trailing from under the skirt split down the back. For her veil, she’d combined a clever mix of a supersized, heavily ornamented gold, diamond, and ruby Chinese hairclip over her hair gathered into a low knot with a long white veil flowing from it. Long, dangly gold earrings with more rubies, and the engagement ring of a large ruby surrounded by diamonds set in yellow gold completed the look.

The simple truth was the woman was gorgeous and Birdie’s brother clearly knew it. Frankly, most everyone in the church had their eyes glued to Meilin as she stared raptly at Drew. To Birdie, the droning of the priest was white noise.

Lined up on Meilin’s side of the altar, six attendants, each one dressed in ankle-length, red and gold, Mandarin styled gowns, strung out behind her. Long beaded earrings in matching red, hair ornaments of tiny red flowers, and cascading bouquets of red and white roses completed the look.

One near-miss Birdie had survived. Not that she didn’t like Meilin, and she really would have been honored to be asked to stand up with her, but the woman had what looked like a line-up from the Chinese Imperial Court on her side. Birdie would have stood out with her fair coloring and extra inches of height. She most definitely was not offended to be left out. Her presence would have thrown off the beauty of the picture.

Drew’s side was a little more mixed up. One of Meilin’s countless cousins, Jack Ling, stood as best man, while a few school mates, from both Eton and Stanford, created the line of groomsmen; they all wore red silk vests, although not embroidered like the groom’s. A line that included Oswald Attenborough.

Of course Drew would ask Ozzie. Birdie’s lip curled on its own. As luck would have it, Ozzie’s eyes flicked her way at just that moment. Amusement sparkled in his eyes from behind rimless glasses. Damn him. She gave him a glare in return, which only seemed to amuse him more. Time to rethink that tactic. Not ready to admit she might be squirming under his regard, she shifted slightly in her seat. Nope, not squirming. The pew seat was hard.

So many things had changed over the past twelve months. Drew had met Meilin a year ago, then spent a tumultuous summer trying to learn Mandarin and court a woman engaged to someone else. Then it was off to Beijing where he took over lead of the family’s office with Meilin at his side. Who, much to his great relief, also served as his interpreter. Drew’s Mandarin teacher claimed Drew hadn’t been his worst student, maybe, but darn close. Drew claimed he knew enough to make a polite greeting, say thank you, order dinner, and tell Meilin he loved her, and swore that’s all he needed to know.

Meilin was also Drew’s right hand when it came to making acquisitions for Lynford in China. Great choice on Dad’s part to hire Meilin. She could tell a dining table from a tea table, a chifforobe from a dresser, and the difference between a Chinese teapot versus Japanese. Drew could charm, wheel and deal, mind the financials, and negotiate the fine lines in the contracts, but Meilin made sure they dealt only in quality goods and didn’t get screwed over doing it. Dad considered it a major coup.

They’d made a few trips back, as Meilin still owned an interior design business in San Francisco, and they’d traveled to England for Christmas for the big family gathering. Birdie had only had her brother to herself for seven months, four of those sharing an apartment while Drew finished his International Law degree. As far as she was concerned, it hadn’t been long enough. She missed her brother when he was away. Until that Thanksgiving, just nineteen months prior, when her mother had been forced to admit Wyatt Ferguson hadn’t been Birdie’s biological father but rather the one who’d raised her for eighteen years, she’d never had a sibling. It wasn’t until she had him that she ached for what she’d missed growing up.

For a moment, her gaze once more stole away from the main attraction and drifted down the line of very well dressed groomsmen. Jack Ling grinned, very proud to be chosen for the honor of best man after introducing the couple. Next to him, Oswald stood at attention, his face carefully blank. His usual expression, especially around her. Very unlike his more carefree uncle, Larry Attenborough, sitting two rows back, who loved nothing more than to dig out the deep, dark details of everyone’s lives. He was fun to tease, unlike that stiff-necked nephew of his. Make that the very handsome and hot nephew. Oswald of the thick dark blond hair, light colored eyes behind frameless glasses, and a lean, muscular physique that layers of cloth couldn’t entirely hide. Too bad he was such a dork and killjoy. Behind Oswald were two of Drew’s friends from London, Phillip Hammond and Calvin Whetmore. It said something that they’d flown all the way here just for this event. Two more friends from California finished the lineup.

It about drove Birdie crazy the wedding was taking place in the middle of the week merely because it fell on the summer solstice. But that was Chinese superstition for you. Meilin’s mother had consulted with an elder who’d declared this the most auspicious day for Meilin to marry.

Of course part of the reason Birdie was happy to be in the audience was she had been too wrapped up in the last year of her master’s program. A sigh of relief left her, glad that was past. With this wedding out of the way, it was on to her future now.

This time next week, she’d be setting up her life in London and beginning her own career at Lynford. Eventually she’d be taking over for Dad’s retiring executive assistant, Eleanor Cuthbert. The next six months were a carefully constructed program to move her through all the divisions, working her way into the top office. The only problem with that was Oswald, currently in line with her and Drew for the day Dad decided to fully retire, had been hovering around the office, covering for Dad who’d taken more of a traveling role. Her mother described it as an extended working honeymoon. Impatience to get to London and start staking out her territory rode Birdie hard. Perhaps she’d never be named CEO of Lynford International Importers, but she’d sure have a say in the running of the company. Both Drew and Oswald had more experience with Lynford and had the required old boys’ club equipment between their legs.

Good old Oswald.

Ozzie. A little boring.

Ozinator. Intimidating.

Ozichu. Electrifying.

Ozimander. Flaming hot.

Ozmantis. Insect-like fighter. Hadn’t she heard a rumor he was big in mixed martial arts in London? Drew had said something about it once, but she hadn’t really been listening.

As if she’d said his name out loud, he turned his head just enough to look directly at her. She really hated it when he did that. It seemed like every time she tried to get a good long look without him noticing, he’d turn his head and catch her. Instead of looking away as she usually did, this time she held his gaze and lifted a brow. For just a flash, a twinkle of amusement zapped in, then out, of his eyes. In all probability it was the angle of the candle flames reflecting off his glasses. Or he was laughing at her. Having never heard him really laugh, she didn’t believe he knew how.

The hell with that. Narrowing her eyes at him, she gave him a good glare. Laugh at her, would he?

Not for long.

School was over and done, and she was on her way to London.

They’d see who got the last laugh.

The priest pronounced Drew and Meilin husband and wife. Didn’t even get out the words telling Drew to kiss his bride before he had her tipped back nearly to the floor, much to the amusement of everyone present. Bet the photographers loved it.

Drew finally hauled Meilin up from the dip, lifted her into his arms, and strode down the aisle with a huge grin on his face. Meilin laughed up at him and snuggled in while Martin, the family butler, stood in the shadows at the side of the nave, hands over his face. So much for the perfect picture of the new Mr. and Mrs. walking down the aisle. Maybe they could call it their Officer and a Gentleman moment.

The attendants started pairing up and following the newlyweds. As Oswald and his bridesmaid passed, he turned his head to look straight at Birdie.

Oh damn. He smiled. At her.

And didn’t that just make him the best looking thing she’d ever seen? His smile completely transformed him from an uptight British stiff to a Hollywood handsome hunk, a little like a blond, young Pierce Brosnan, but with glasses. He certainly wore a suit as elegantly and easily as the actor. Enough to steal what little breath she had left when he was around. This time was no different, she had to admit, as her heart pounded in double time. Deep inside, something melted, akin to a nuclear meltdown. Damn the man.

The moment passed and Birdie dropped back into her seat, the stack of enameled silver bangles on her wrist joining in with the recessional music, causing her mother to turn and look at her with concern.

“Birdie?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m good.” She needed to take a powder room break, if only to get some strength back in her legs and wipe up some drool.

She wasn’t good, but she would be. Too bad she didn’t have an excuse to leave the reception early. Last thing she wanted was to find herself forced to dance with Ozzie. And knowing Drew, it would happen.

Once the participants passed down the aisle, Birdie’s parents stood and allowed Meilin’s immediate family to precede them toward the exit. Dad tucked Mom’s hand around his arm on his right and held out his left to Birdie.

“I’ll get Gran,” she told him.

The old lady sniffed from the aisle seat of the second row, but stood to her full height only a few inches shorter than Birdie and accepted her assistance, and they fell into line behind her parents, her grandfather Dailey right behind them. As elegant as any woman there, Gran maintained the slender build and blonde hair Birdie had inherited from her. The woman may have been seventy, but she easily passed for sixty. The result of good living and strong genes. Didn’t mean she was as sweet as pie. The opposite was true, in fact. Hard headed and extremely proud of the Robinsons’ vaulted position in British society, the woman’s ideals and prejudices had been a pain in Birdie’s back side from the start. And yet, they’d found enough common ground to sort of like each other. Or at least tolerate each other and get along with a veneer of civility. Most of the time.

“You next,” the old bat whispered at her.

“Not bloody likely,” she whispered back. The curse earned her a pinch on the inside of her forearm.

“Unless I miss my guess, the next to head the company will be a pair. A married pair.”

Birdie stared at her grandmother. The cranky old witch, who could never seem to find anything right about Birdie from her speech to her posture, had a positively wicked gleam in her blue eyes. It unnerved Birdie that the look was as familiar as the one in her own mirror. “You mean Drew and Meilin? Possibly.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re an evil woman,” she told her grandmother.

The woman’s laugh rang out in the church, enough to rise above the general murmur, enough that both Mom and Dad looked back over their shoulders.

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” This time she patted Birdie’s arm. It was less comforting than the pinch.

“Well, we’ve got a long time to figure it all out.”

“So the young always believe,” her grandmother said cryptically.

“Not going to let you ruin this day, crazy woman. My brother just married a beautiful, wise, and loving woman. My parents are so happy they’re nearly stupid with it, and I am done with school. The sun is shining, the sages say this is a lucky day, and I’m going to enjoy it to the max.”

“Never said you shouldn’t. And mind your manners. Respect your elders. We’ve been in your shoes. You should listen to us more than you do. And mind your language. We don’t want her family to think we’re baseborn.”

“Anything else, Your Majesty?”

This time the old woman slapped her shoulder. “Be good or I’ll sic Oswald and Larry on you.”

Now there was a threat to make her shake in her Jimmy Choo’s. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Anything I can get you, ma’am?”

“Just hush up, get me through that receiving line, and deliver me to the party.”

Sounded like a good life motto to Birdie.

Get me to the party.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy, Gran.”

Something good to focus on for the coming year or two.

Because it would be a party when she got to London. She’d make sure of it.

 

 

 

Speaking of parties, Birdie had to give Meilin and her family props for the reception. Not far from the cathedral, limos dropped the family at the Saint Francis Hotel as the sun was beginning to lean toward the west with a few hours left to sunset. They’d been ushered into a ballroom filled with forty-three round tables set for ten each. The bridal party had a long table set on the other side of a parquet dance floor, behind them an incredible view of the city beyond filmy curtains. The room sparkled with crystal, candlelight, the guests, and particularly, the newlyweds. Not that they paid much attention to anyone other than the photographer and videographer.

Which meant Martin and the wedding planner hired by the Wu family had the job of making sure things kept moving. Receiving line, first toast, various speeches, the buffet, and the cake cutting. Jack, Drew’s best man, kept the crowd in stitches with his speech. Dad nearly brought them to tears with his emotional acceptance of Meilin and her family as part of the Robinson family. Meilin’s father unbent enough to allow that he considered Drew a very good son-in-law, even if he wasn’t of Chinese descent. The crowd laughed, but Birdie didn’t think he’d been joking.

Somewhere around her third or fourth glass of champagne, the after dinner dancing started. She’d had to swipe one of Dad’s spare handkerchiefs, for there was not a dry eye in the room. Anyone watching Drew and Meilin dance felt a touch of magic as the power of their love seemed to sweep across the room like a warm breeze. Or maybe it was the influence of the wine making her overly sentimental.

A small prickle of awareness made the small hairs on the back of her neck rise. She’d piled her long blonde hair on top of her head with a small red clip Meilin had given her. Meilin had also chosen a dress for her, embroidered red Chinese silk, but styled as a simple sheath with a slit up the back, much like the dress Birdie had worn for her parents’ second wedding a year before. Western in style, but Chinese in material. It was a beautiful compromise that tied her into the wedding party. Mom’s dress was similar, but floor length and gold rather than red, to set off her red hair and make her stand out from the bridesmaids, while complementing the mother of the bride.

The prickle grew stronger, and Birdie raised her champagne glass as a cover to search for the source of her intuition, or whatever. Something woo-woo in nature.

Over the rim of her crystal flute, her gaze caught on the intense regard of Oswald. While the rest of the room watched the newlyweds, Ozzie’s eyes were on her.

A wash of heat covered Birdie, and she tossed back the remains of her drink to hide what felt like ten shades of scarlet painting her skin. Her blush intensified when she recalled the twenty she’d slipped the DJ. The agreement was that if he saw Ozzie leading her to the dance floor, he was to put on Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train.” Sophomoric on her part, but it annoyed Ozzie, which was the entire point. Anything to get that stick unstuck from his uptight backside.

She was saved by Drew coming to take her mother onto the dance floor while Meilin grabbed her father. Next up they’d swap parents, Drew dancing with her mother, while Meilin danced with his father. The plan was then for the newlyweds to dance with their grandparents and siblings. Then the dance floor would be opened to the masses. Birdie had time for another glass of bubbly. Another hand beat her to the bottle.

“I think you’ve had enough for now,” Ozzie said in her ear, then took the seat beside her as he set the bottle out of her reach. No one else at the table seemed to notice Ozzie’s invasion. Indeed, he was so close to the family they all accepted him as one of them. Gran merely nodded at Ozzie, then turned her attention back to the dance floor. Drew would dance with her next. Something sedate enough she could follow with her new hip.

“Not your call to make,” Birdie shot back, but let the bottle sit where he’d put it. For the time being. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be up at the table, or standing next to your bridesmaid waiting for your turn to dance.” Yep, the ushers and maids were lined up on the side of the dance floor in front of the head table.

“My bridesmaid, as you say, has a boyfriend. Said boyfriend made it clear I’m not to dance with her. So, he’s relieved me of groomsman duties.” Ozzie lifted her so-far-untouched water glass and took a sip.

“And the principal parties have no objection?”

They both looked toward the dance floor. Nope, they weren’t seeing anyone else but each other.

“Pictures have been taken.” Ozzie shrugged again and drained the rest of glass. “Warm day to be trussed up like a penguin.”

“My water should have helped.” Too bad it would have been rude to pour it over his head. Maybe later, if he annoyed her.

“It did, thanks.” The big grin he gave her was the one rarely seen. The panty-melter.

“So, again, what are you doing here? Have you appointed yourself as my undesired babysitter?” She leaned forward and grasped the champagne bottle once more.

Ozzie stared, but this time didn’t stop her from refilling her glass.

“What do you want, Ozzie?” she asked at his continued silence.

In a move that irritated her, he shrugged. “Seemed like a good place to sit and watch the proceedings.”

“It is at that.” She smiled at Drew when he came to escort Gran onto the dance floor. Because Meilin didn’t have grandparents here, she tugged on Grandpa’s hand. He was only too happy to follow her and then showed off his superior dancing by whirling Meilin around the room as if they danced on an enchanted cloud. It was even more entertaining when Gran caught sight of them and put her nose up in the air.

“So, what do you think, Ozzie? Planning on spending the evening dancing the night away?” She glanced toward the DJ until he caught her eye, then returned his nod.

“I can dance well enough, I suppose, but it’s not my preferred entertainment.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

He never had the chance to answer. Drew interrupted after he passed Gran to Grandpa Dailey, then came to the table for Birdie.

“Saved by the wedding traditions,” Birdie joked as her brother spun her onto the dance floor.

“Saved from Oswald?” Drew grinned down at her.

“No, you saved him from my inquisition.”

“Think I’ll hand you off to him next. You may think I’m completely mesmerized by my bride, and you’d be right, but there’s no missing the sparks between you and the young Mr. Attenborough.”

Birdie scoffed. “Oh, please. Drop that line of conversation right now. You and Meilin are off to a good start.” She nodded at the smiling faces whirling by. Mom and Dad, also in their own little world, not quite dirty dancing, but close enough.

“We are.” Completely sure of himself, his grin was smug and proud at the same time. “It will be fun watching you and Oswald work things out.”

Refusing to answer that redirect, she pinched his arm. “So, honeymoon in England? Why not somewhere more exotic?”

“Meilin thinks the country house is exotic enough. She hasn’t had enough time to absorb all the history. We’ll also do the tour up through Scotland and across to Ireland. She has a client wanting a design based on Scots and Irish manor homes.”

“Fun times. Work and a honeymoon at the same time.” Birdie shook her head.

“Meilin loves antiquing, so now I love it too.”

With a sad pout, she said, “Whipped already.”

Drew threw back his head and laughed. “You’ll see.” He glanced over his shoulder. “About time to pass you off to Oswald.”

“Not unless you want the next dance to be ‘Crazy Train.’”

That got Drew’s attention. “What?”

“I bribed the DJ to play that if I ended up dancing with Oswald.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you to Dad.”

“Or you can just drop me back at the table when the song ends.”

“Not like you to sit out during dancing.” Still, he guided her in the direction she wanted to go.

“I’m sure I’ll dance, once the obligatory nice dances are over. Later, when everyone is a little more lubed up on champagne, is when I’ll really let loose.”

Without a reply other than the shaking of his golden head, Drew stopped by the family table, then bowed as the music faded out. “Enjoy yourself. I’m only dancing with my wife from here on out.”

That’s what he thought. Birdie smiled and gave him a little wave as the maid of honor pulled him into a dance before he made it halfway to his bride. Much like she found herself being pulled onto the dance floor by Phillip, one of Drew’s friends from London, a moment later. By the time the set was nearly at the end, she was ready to slow down, or better yet, get off her feet long enough to have another glass of champagne.

She’d just smiled at her last partner, one of Meilin’s many cousins, and turned to find her seat when a strong male hand took one of hers and spun her into his arms.

Surprised, she looked up to see Oswald and his usual blank expression staring at her. “Really, Ozzie, I’m ready for a break—” He already had his right hand on her waist and her right hand captured in his left. Classic dance position of her grandfather’s generation, which oddly felt right, although when it came to slow dancing she was more used to linking her hands around her partner’s neck with both his arms around her waist. This time his touch, palm to palm, palm to waist, captured her breath while her body went into a wild form of shock. Almost like being Tasered, but instead of pain, the shock felt…erotic. Something she’d never once felt before, but oddly enough she recognized it.

“And now,” the DJ interrupted her stunning revelation, “we’re going to slow things down with a special request. This one goes out to the couples from the bride and groom.”

Expecting to hear Ozzy Osborne’s crazy laugh, Birdie glanced over her shoulder at the DJ as the opening strains of “Unchained Melody” began. The DJ shrugged and nodded toward Drew and Meilin who danced nearby. Both of them gave her wide grins. The dirty rats. They’d stolen her poke at Ozzie.

The same man who now expertly led her into the slow dance, his body guiding hers as if they’d danced this way their entire lives. It thrilled her and unsettled her all at once as their gazes locked. For the first time she noticed his eyes were more a pale blue than gray, something his glasses had hidden until now. She’d never been this close to him before. The spin he navigated her through only brought their bodies closer until they were plastered together from knee to chest. A warm flush washed her from head to toe, and she tore her gaze from his, looking over his shoulder.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “Or do cats even bother with bird tongues?”

Birdie concentrated on not looking at Ozzie. “No. I’m just a little winded from dancing.” She certainly was short of breath. And her mouth was dry. Both conditions she absolutely attributed to the previous vigorous fast dancing. Not the way he held her, like something delicate.

* * * *

Well, if Courtney didn’t want to talk, that was fine with Oswald. Although the distraction from the song would have been nice. Damn Drew and his idea of a joke. Since Oswald was pretty sure Courtney had asked the DJ to play something from Ozzy Osborne, the switch wasn’t exactly appreciated. Even something slow from the Brit rocker wouldn’t have been nearly as erotic as the Righteous Brothers.

While Courtney stared over his shoulder, he studied the rosy flush that heated her entire body, most of which was pres. . .