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Tammy closed the door and leaned back against it, staying out of the firing line of the volatile aggression pouring from Fletcher as he stalked around, checking out her living space, even poking his head into her bedroom and bathroom.
‘This place is a shoebox, Tamalyn,’ he shot at her.
Her chin rose defensively. ‘I’ve managed here quite happily for the past seven years.’
‘It meets a single person’s needs. It will not do for you and the baby,’ he stated emphatically, his gazing dropping to her stomach again.
He scooped up her door key, and the handbag she had laid on the kitchenette counter when she’d grabbed for the telephone.
‘Let’s move,’ he said, with an air of unassailable decision, striding back to her and gathering her in to his side as he reopened the door.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, alarm at being swept out of the security of her own home kicking her heart out of its numb state.
‘I’m taking you to what will be our place.’
Initially a French/English teacher, Emma Darcy changed careers to computer programming before the happy demands of marriage and motherhood. Very much a people person, and always interested in relationships, she finds the world of romance fiction a thrilling one, and the challenge of creating her own cast of characters very addictive.
Recent titles by the same author:
RUTHLESSLY BEDDED BY THE ITALIAN BILLIONAIRE
BOUGHT FOR REVENGE, BEDDED FOR PLEASURE
THE BILLIONAIRE’S CAPTIVE BRIDE
THE BILLIONAIRE’S SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE
BY
EMMA DARCY
CHAPTER ONE
The First Wedding
‘I’M SORRY you’re going to be loaded with Fletch as your partner, Tammy, but we had to make him a groomsman. He is my brother and it was safer to include him in the wedding party than try seating him anywhere else at the reception. Being such an arrogant pig he’s bound to offend whatever guests shared his table. Stuck at the end of ours, he shouldn’t upset anyone, and since you’ll be at the other end, you won’t have to put up with much of him for long.’
Celine’s apologetic, semi-pleading speech was doing a rerun through Tammy Haynes’s mind as the limousine carrying the five bridesmaids set off for the church. Although they’d all been friends with Celine since the beginning of high school, none of them had ever met Fletcher Stanton. He’d always been referred to as ‘my brother, the brain,’ doing ‘his thing’ overseas, and largely absent from his younger sister’s life.
Having flown home to Sydney only yesterday, he’d begged off the wedding rehearsal, pleading jet lag, making Celine gnash her teeth over his lack of caring for her wish for everything to go perfectly on her big day. ‘No consideration. Thinks he can just waltz through anything and get it right,’ had been her vexed mutter. ‘He could have come a day earlier, but I bet he thought it was beneath his intelligence to rehearse anything.’
His formidable intelligence clearly did not win any brownie points from his sister, though it did have to make him a stand-out kind of guy, Tammy thought, her curiosity piqued despite Celine’s criticisms of her brother. There weren’t too many people in the world who’d achieved what Fletcher Stanton had.
Quite recently there’d been an article about him in Time Magazine, headlined Technological Wizard of the Year, detailing how remarkable he was. From an early age he’d been a superstar of mathematics, winning international competitions even before his teens, doing university maths when other boys his age were still finishing primary school, graduating from Sydney University with an honours science degree at sixteen, then being invited to do a Ph.D at Princeton in the USA, which he’d gained at the amazing age of twenty-one.
He’d walked straight out of academic life and become the driving force behind creating a highly advanced computer system that could track any form of transport anywhere in the world, and he and his team of colleagues were currently making billions of dollars out of it, selling it to governments and Internet companies. None of which changed Celine’s sour view of her brother.
‘He’s even more arrogant since he’s made all that obscene wealth,’ she had commented in her warning speech to Tammy. ‘Everyone kowtowing to him and a heap of gold-digging women feeding his ego to get what he can give them. Don’t let him turn your head with his billions, Tammy. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to live with him.’
The warning wasn’t needed. No way was Tammy going to get hooked into the life of a rich man. She’d seen her mother go down that track all her life, trading on her beauty to snag wealthy husbands who’d ditched her when the desire she’d stirred was replaced by desire for someone else who looked more attractive to them. There’d been no real love in any of those marriages, nor in the affairs that had failed to make it to a wedding. It sickened Tammy to see her mother growing more and more anxious about her looks, becoming a gym junkie to keep slim and fit and resorting to cosmetic surgery to maintain a youthful desirability, as though she wasn’t worth anything if she didn’t have that.
Being a rich man’s brief possession was certainly not on Tammy’s life agenda. If she ever did marry, it would be because she truly loved the man and he truly loved her back. Like Celine and Andrew. She decided to view Fletcher Stanton simply as a curiosity, letting any arrogance from him flow right past her, refusing to let anything spoil this special day—the first wedding of one of the gang of six from school.
They’d shared so much together, counting on each other to be there at times of stress, making the joy of any great occasions so much more fun. For Tammy, the bond of their friendship had made up for the emptiness of her home life, giving her teen years a sparkle and warmth that dispelled much of the loneliness of having no family, apart from a mother who preferred her daughter not to be hanging around her neck. Even though the six of them had taken different paths into their twenties, the friendship was still as strong as ever, and Tammy hoped it always would be.
Celine, of course, was in the following limousine with her parents, but the rest of them were here—Kirsty, Hannah, Lucy, Jennifer and herself, thrilled to be fulfilling the pact they’d made years ago, standing shoulder to shoulder as bridesmaids whenever one of them became a bride.
The girls were chatting excitedly and Tammy joined in the animated conversation, putting the problematic groomsman out of her mind. Hannah was thrilled with the copper streaks in her brown hair, done especially to match up with Lucy’s naturally auburn colour. Lined up at the altar there would be two blondes—Celine and Kirsty—two redheads, then two brunettes—Jennifer’s hair being dark brown and Tammy’s almost black. The dresses were lovely; soft, floaty organza with frills around the neckline and hem. Kirsty was in pink, Hannah in lemon, Lucy green, Jennifer blue, and Tammy mauve, all of which definitely created a romantic, rainbow bridal party.
Delighted with everything, they piled out of the limousine at the church, grinned at Celine as she emerged from her car, joked with her father who was beaming with pride in his daughter, ensured that their bride looked absolutely perfect: veil falling properly, bouquet held just right. Once in the foyer, they checked each other over before lining up for the procession down the aisle, determined on doing their friend proud on this, her day of days.
Tammy felt a flutter of nerves when the music started. She was leading off and was suddenly frightened of stepping out of beat.
‘Go!’ Jennifer hissed from behind her.
Everyone in the church had turned to look. She made her feet move, concentrating fiercely on how it had been done in rehearsal. Smile, she told herself, seeing the grin on Andrew’s face at the other end of the aisle—a happy man, waiting for his bride. Her gaze skated down the line of groomsmen beside him. The last one would be Celine’s brother, probably a nerdy-looking guy wearing horn-rimmed glasses, and with a caved-in chest and round shoulders from all that work at a computer.
Except he wasn’t one bit like that!
The jolt to her heart was so hard and unexpected, her forward progress almost faltered. Some magical automatic pilot kicked in and kept her going as a wild excitement erupted through her, scrambling her usually sensible mind and staging the dance of the bumble bees in her stomach. Fletcher Stanton was gorgeous. Drop-dead gorgeous. She completely forgot his much-vaunted brain. And his billions. On a purely physical level he was dreamboat material.
He had a hard, masculine, handsome face: strong nose, strong chin, strong cheekbones, straight black brows over thickly lashed dark chocolate eyes, a firmly carved mouth with very sensual lips, hair as black as her own, a cowlick at the side part making it dip attractively over his high, broad forehead. He was the tallest man in the line-up but there was nothing remotely weedy about his body. Every man looked good in a formal dress suit, but his perfectly proportioned physique filled it with superb class.
Her smile must have still been fixed on her face because he smiled at her, revealing a flash of straight white teeth. And was that a sparkle of interest in his eyes? Did he find her attractive? Was he pleased she was his partner for the wedding? Her mind was giddy with hopeful anticipation as she reached the end of the aisle and turned to take her place as the fifth bridesmaid at the side of the altar.
She was definitely looking her best today. Normally she paid very little attention to her appearance apart from being clean and neat, having determined not to let it be of any critical importance to her. Today was different because it was important to fit in with Celine’s vision for her wedding.
A beautician had been hired to do everyone’s makeup, and Tammy had hardly recognised her own rather ordinary face when she’d finished. Subtle highlighting had made her pansy-violet eyes appear more vivid. Different shades of blusher had lessened the roundness of her cheeks and given colour to her fair skin. Her mouth looked positively lush and dewy—temptingly kissable?—from expertly applied lipstick. As for her slightly tip-tilted nose which had caught the sun all her life, its sprinkle of freckles had been miraculously creamed into non-existence. On top of this, her long hair, usually straight, had been curled into a sexy cascade of loose ringlets by the stylist who’d done all their hair.
She actually felt pretty—a strangely new and pleasurable experience, which gave her some inkling of why her mother was obsessed with needing to feel beautiful. And this incredible rush of excitement at having a man as spectacularly handsome as Fletcher Stanton view her with interest…yes, she could see why it might be worth all the trouble. Though it was terribly superficial, she reminded herself, trying not to feel so…unhinged…by the prospect of having this connection with him.
In real terms it was an enforced connection—bridesmaid and groomsman. It wasn’t a matter of choice for Fletcher. With his looks and billions, he would have to be accustomed to really beautiful women vying for his attention. Pretty probably made their partnering for his sister’s wedding more acceptable than if he’d been loaded with someone he found totally unattractive. And she shouldn’t forget that Celine had called him an arrogant pig, undoubtedly with good reason.
Was it because of his brain or being spoilt for choice where the opposite sex was concerned? Both factors would have to contribute to a sense of superiority compared to the rest of the human race.
Tammy decided not to worry about any of that. He was hers for the rest of the day and she was going to make the most of having his company, happily feeding any spark of interest he showed in her. After all, having expected nothing from him, she had nothing to lose. At the very least she would have the novel experience of having the most gorgeous guy here at her side, as well as satisfying her curiosity about him.
The wedding ceremony started and she forced her mind to pay attention to it. Celine deserved her full support—the first of her friends to get married. Maybe I’ll be next, she thought, imagining Fletcher in the role of groom. ‘To have and to hold from this day forth…’ but that was definitely a wild flight of fantasy. She didn’t even know the man yet.
Soon…
Celine and Andrew were finally declared husband and wife. The marriage certificate was signed. The organist started playing a triumphant march, and the bride and groom headed the parade back down the aisle, their attendants linking up in turn to follow them. At last Tammy came face-to-face with Fletcher Stanton, and close up he was even more breathtaking. The sheer impact of him made her rush into speech to stiffen up her melting knees.
‘Hi! I’m Tammy Haynes.’
He tucked her arm around his and inclined his tall head to a more intimate angle. ‘I know,’ he said in a low sexy voice. ‘Celine worded me up on you.’
‘Uh-oh!’ She rolled her eyes, her heart sinking at the many and varied descriptions Celine might have employed in summing her up for her brother—hopefully not the female equivalent of arrogant pig. ‘What words did she use?’
He looked amused by her wary tone. ‘I was warned that you’re a precious friend and I’m to treat you kindly.’
‘Well…that’s nice.’ Relief poured into a smile.
‘And I’d better watch what I say to you because in the famous gang of six, you have the smartest mouth.’
Her mouth dropped open in surprise at this, and his gaze slid down to her glistening lips. ‘Such a luscious mouth and wit, too,’ he drawled teasingly. ‘I’m looking forward to getting acquainted with it.’
Tammy scooped in a quick breath and turned her gaze straight ahead while she regained her wits. Fletcher Stanton was scattering them to the winds. All she could think of was how much she wanted to get acquainted with his mouth. They’d drawn level with the last pew in the church before she managed a curious thought that had nothing to do with being kissed by him.
‘How did you come by the name of Fletcher? It’s quite uncommon.’
And rhymed with lecher. Which demonstrated her mind was still stuck in a sexy groove. Being consumed by lust was a terrible thing. Embarrassing, too, if he was only playing with her.
‘My mother was smitten by Marlon Brando’s portrayal of Fletcher Christian in the movie of Mutiny on the Bounty. She actually loaded me with both names, just as Celine copped Celine Dion after the singer. What parents inflict on their children out of some personal fancy…’ His grimace was loaded with nasty memories. ‘Why don’t they think of what other kids are going to make out of them?’
A stab of shame hit her. She’d just been thinking lecher and no doubt he’d been subjected to that at school. ‘What would you name your children?’ popped out of her mouth. ‘If you had them,’ she hastily added, not wanting him to think she was fancying the idea of being their mother.
‘Paul, Steven, John…’ he reeled out with a shrug.
She slid him an arch look. ‘No girls’ names in there. Aren’t they important, too?’
His eyes glittered a challenge. ‘Do you like yours?’
Her turn to shrug. ‘It’s okay. It hasn’t brought me any grief.’
One disbelieving eyebrow lifted. ‘Wasn’t there a TV teen called Tammy who was like an ultra-cute Pollyanna? Your name alone made me think I’d be partnering a bubbly blonde.’
‘You’ll just have to hang tough if you’re disappointed.’
It surprised a short laugh out of him—a laugh that ended in a dazzling grin. ‘I’m hanging quite happily, thank you.’
She bet he was well hung, too.
Tammy struggled to lift her mind off how he might look naked.
‘Actually my name is Tamalyn, though most people call me Tam or Tammy,’ she said off-handedly.
‘Ah! Now that does suit you. It has an exotic ring to it.’
Exotic? Her heart fluttered. Was that his impression of her? It had to be the mass of curls giving her a different look. If he saw her tomorrow when her hair would be straight again… But today was today and she wasn’t about to belittle what impact she had made on this man. In fact, she seized on the exotic theme and ran with it.
‘Tama is the Native-American word for thunderbolt,’ she informed him with a flirty little smile. ‘My mother added Lyn to feminise it.’
‘Thunderbolt…’ His mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Am I in danger of being struck down?’
‘Only if you don’t treat me kindly.’
He laughed.
Bubbles of exhilaration bounced around her brain as they emerged from the church. Fletcher was enjoying her company. He thought her exotic. Life was beautiful. The sun was not only shining on the bride but also on her fifth bridesmaid.
There was virtually no chance of any further personal conversation while the wedding photographer kept posing them on the church steps, demanding they move here and there for different group shots, though she didn’t mind when he insisted they press closer and Fletcher’s arm curled around her waist, drawing her into standing against him.
She’d always considered herself of average height, yet he was so tall, her head only reached the top of his shoulder. It gave her a lovely, warm sense of having a big strong man to look after her, which, of course, was what women had wanted in primitive societies. Fletcher Stanton was definitely striking lots of primitive chords in her.
‘Mmm…exotic perfume, too,’ he murmured close to her ear, making it tingle with the waft of his breath.
‘White Diamonds,’ she told him, glad that Jennifer had insisted on dabbing some of the expensive scent on her.
His eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘Sounds cold. Should be called Purple Passion.’
She giggled. Couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t stop.
Jennifer shot her a quizzical look. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing,’ Tammy spluttered, shaking her head as she tried to regain control of her behaviour.
‘Come on, give,’ her friend urged, casting a curious look at Fletcher.
‘I think Tamalyn is having a purple day,’ he said with mock gravity.
‘Tamalyn?’ Jennifer’s eyes widened incredulously at the rarely spoken name.
‘No, no, it’s a golden day. Pure gold,’ Tammy rattled out, bursting into giggles again.
Fletcher squeezed her waist. She hoped it meant happy agreement with her correction and not an act of exasperation with her hilarity, which had probably destroyed her exotic mystique. But Purple Passion was too over the top and golden described this situation perfectly, as long as Fletcher had a sense of humour.
‘You can tell us the joke in the limo,’ Jennifer said, eyes flashing insistently. ‘We’re moving on now.’
So they were, Celine and Andrew heading down the church steps to their car, guests throwing rice at them. The bridesmaids were to return to the limousine which had brought them to the church, the groomsmen travelling separately in theirs to Boronia House which had been booked for the reception. Having sobered up from her fit of giggles, she flashed Fletcher a smile as she reluctantly stepped out of his hold.
‘See you at the next stop.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he replied, his eyes simmering with the promise of more fun and games with her.
Tammy floated on a cloud of delight as she followed her friends down the steps. She and Fletcher were definitely connecting. The attraction was mutual. There had been no sign at all of him being an arrogant pig and she couldn’t imagine why Celine had described him in such terms. Maybe it was a sibling thing—little sister overshadowed by older brother who was outstandingly successful in his field.
But Celine had also said he offended people and she surely wouldn’t be wrong about that, given their long family history together. It was possible, because it was his sister’s wedding, he had taken her warning to treat his partner kindly to heart and was going out of his way not to offend. Whatever…it was too soon for Tammy to make any judgement on this. Besides, the buoyant happiness she was feeling was too good to question right now.
Go with it, girl, she told herself, and was grinning her pleasure in the situation as she piled into the bridesmaids’ limousine with her friends. They were no sooner on their way than they all turned their focus on her.
‘Wow! Did you get the prize!’ Kirsty started. ‘I’m with the best man but he sure isn’t the best!’
‘Yeah…lucky you, Tam!’ Hannah chimed in with blatant envy. ‘Never mind the billions he’s made, that guy is hot, hot, hot!’
‘How come Celine never told us her brother was such a fabulous hunk, always calling him the brain?’ Lucy complained.
‘He can’t be too nerdy in the brain department because he was making Tammy laugh her head off,’ Jennifer informed them before quizzing her directly. ‘What was he saying to you? And why did he call you Tamalyn? Were you being uppity with him?’
‘He thinks I’m exotic, so I was giving him exotic,’ she answered.
They all hooted at this description of her.
‘Don’t knock it!’ she commanded. ‘It’s not every day I look like this, or smell like this, thank you, Jennifer—so I might as well take advantage of it.’
‘Go for it, girl!’ they chorussed, echoing what she’d told herself.
They’d always encouraged each other with that phrase. It was characteristic of the camaraderie they shared. Tammy thought how lucky she had been to have such good friends over the years, and hoped their closeness would not get too eroded by other relationships. Now that Celine had Andrew, she wasn’t so available to them anymore, which was natural enough. As each of them got married—if they did—the degree of separation would inevitably become greater. Life moved on. She just hoped it wouldn’t move them too far apart.
Fletcher’s world revolved around the serious hubs of power overseas, a whole ocean away from Sydney and the life she had mapped out for herself. It was a point she would do well to remember, not get too carried away by an attraction that had little chance of going any further than today.
Yet who knew what the future held?
Right now it held Fletcher Stanton at the next stop, and all she wanted to do was bask in that wonderfully tantalising thought.
CHAPTER TWO
THE grounds of Boronia House were picture perfect: wonderful old pine trees shading glorious banks of azaleas in full bloom. The house itself was a lovely backdrop, built in the old colonial style with verandahs running around both storeys, tall French doors opening onto them, white columns interspersing the intricately patterned white iron lace that ran around the eaves and the upper balcony. In the centre of the manicured lawn was a magnolia tree, laden with its purple and pink flowers, the grass around it strewn with fallen petals. The photographer had just posed the bride and groom in front of it when Fletcher Stanton started tarnishing his golden image.
‘That looks so romantic!’ Tammy enthused with a happy sigh.
‘Yes. I’d have to give Celine top marks for picking great staging,’ he agreed amiably. ‘But I can’t help questioning if the romance of a wedding has clouded her brain.’