Hens Reunited Read Online Free Page A

subtle hint of sweet perfume lingering around her. Maria Porter, Reception Manager , it said on her name tag. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked in a pleasant voice .
    Katie felt instantly ridiculous. What was she doing here? Why had she even come in? ‘I . . .’ she began uncertainly, her face flooding with colour.
    Maria Porter sat there, looking composed as she waited for Katie to form a coherent sentence.
    ‘I don’t suppose . . .’ Katie swallowed, ‘. . . you’ve got a reservation for Katie Taylor, have you?’ Her heart thumped uncomfortably. ‘Or Steven Patrick?’ Her fingers squeezed together. She felt so embarrassed! Any second now, Maria Porter, Reception Manager was going to send her packing and she’d be back out through those fancy doors, with her tail between her legs.
    ‘Let’s see,’ said the receptionist, turning to her computer monitor and pressing a couple of buttons with her highly polished fingernails. Click, click. ‘Ahh yes, here we are,’ she said after a moment. ‘Mr Patrick is waiting for you upstairs. Your suite is on the top floor, the last door on your right as you come out of the lift. Enjoy your stay!’
    This was a dream. This wasn’t actually real. Things like this didn’t happen to her. Katie stared at Maria Porter for a full ten seconds, jaw hanging open so that all her fillings were on display, before remembering her manners. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, and she walked in a daze towards the lift. Her head was spinning. She had been so convinced that this was a wind-up, had been certain it was some elaborate trick. Apparently not.
    Oh my God, This was so exciting. The sort of thing you saw in a film, and thought, Yeah right . Like any bloke in real life would ever do that !
    But it seemed that Steve had. What was he up to? Had he been promoted, maybe, and was splashing the cash? He’d mentioned some big conference he was hoping to be asked along to, but there’d been no indication of a pay rise in the offing.
    Up she went in the mirrored lift, horrified to see how pink her cheeks were and how scruffy her hair was. And was that really a splodge of yogurt on her top? She was half surprised she hadn’t been frogmarched out of the building by now for being such a pleb.
    The door slid open again at the top floor, and she stepped out onto carpet so thick and soft, her feet didn’t make a sound as she walked along the corridor.
    She knocked at the door at the end and turned the handle, her heart thumping as she went in.
    There inside the room, sitting on an enormous double bed, looking pleased with himself and nervous all at the same time, was Steve. Katie stared at him, taking in several things at once.
    There was a bouquet of red roses on one of the bedside tables.
    There was a bottle of Moët on ice on the other.
    There was a neatly packed bag of Katie’s clothes and make-up on a chair, with her best black dress already on a hanger.
    Wow. Even better than a film. This was amazing! So romantic! So . . .
    Her blood ran cold suddenly as she noticed that Steve had his hand outstretched. And there, on his upturned palm, was a turquoise satin jewellery box. He opened it up and she saw a silver ring inside.
    Her eyes sought out his face, shocked. He was smiling. ‘Katie,’ he said, dropping to his knees and proffering the box. ‘Will you marry me?’

 
    Georgia’s Hen Night
    June 1998
    Georgia Knight stared at her reflection in the mirror, patting more face powder onto her cheeks until beige clouds puffed up around her. God, she was trashed already, and it wasn’t even midnight! They’d be peeling her off the floor when it came to kicking-out time at this rate.
    She tried to look inconspicuous as one of the All Saints girls came in and started touching up her mascara just a metre or so away. Georgia wrestled with temptation for a split second then turned resolutely back to her own reflection. No. She wouldn’t start getting into conversation with her, hoping to draw