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They were alone together, waiting in the shade of a giant pine tree for the next group photo-call. The others had trooped off to the house to refresh themselves while they were free to do so. Tammy had not been inclined to leave Fletcher’s side, eager to share every moment she could with him, and he had remained with her, apparently just as pleased to have her company.
However, the cynical twist of his last comment was not to her liking. She turned to him with a frown. ‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged. ‘Celine is only twenty-three, not even set in a career. It’s stupid to get married this young.’ His eyes challenged hers, cutting through the shock of his statement. ‘Would you do it?’
‘If I loved a man to distraction, as Celine does Andrew, and he loved me just as deeply, yes, I would,’ she answered vehemently.
One black eyebrow arched. ‘You’d tie yourself to a relationship before you’ve even begun to explore all you’re capable of? Before you find out what else you might want in your life?’
It came over loud and clear that he was not about to tie himself to a relationship that might cramp his life style.
‘I don’t see why marriage has to stop anything,’ she argued. ‘It should complement things. Make them even better with sharing.’
‘How often does marriage live up to that ideal?’ he mocked.
Never when it’s entered into for the wrong reasons, Tammy thought.
‘The statistics tell another story,’ Fletcher ran on, arrogantly confident of his argument. ‘Especially where young marriages are concerned.’
Young…old… Tammy had seen absolute devotion to each other in all sorts of couples during her time in different hospital wards, training to be a nurse. Marriage could and did work if there was real caring between the persons involved.
‘I happen to think that letting statistics rule your life is even more stupid,’ she retorted hotly, delivering a scathing look before refixing her gaze on Celine and Andrew, who were looking adoringly at each other for the camera. Though it wasn’t just for the camera, Tammy assured herself. Their feelings were real, not manufactured for this moment.
‘There are always exceptions to any rule,’ she added to drive the point home, wanting the best for her friend. The very best. And it was offensive for Fletcher to be airing these opinions at his own sister’s wedding. He should try having a bit more faith in Celine’s judgement. Soul-mates were difficult to find and age had nothing to do with it.
Regrettably, Fletcher Stanton was taking himself out of the running to be her soul-mate. Vexation and disappointment tore at Tammy’s heart. He’d looked so good, felt so good, sounded good until a minute ago.
‘That’s true,’ he conceded, re-animating her interest in him.
There was nothing too arrogant about a man who would stand corrected. She could deal with a reasonable human being. The rigidity in her spine softened. Her ears tingled with anticipation for what more he might say, preferably something she could hug warmly to her heart.
‘I do hope this marriage doesn’t turn into a mistake. I want Celine to be happy in it.’
The sincerity in his voice was lovely to hear, and Tammy was deeply in tune with these sentiments. ‘I’ve never seen her so happy,’ she said, smiling dreamily at the newly joined couple.
‘What about you, Tamalyn? Are you happy with your life?’
She turned the smile to him. ‘Yes, I am.’ As long as she didn’t count not being in love with anyone. Though a wild hope whispered that could change by the end of the evening. ‘I’m now a fully qualified nurse, and this year I’m training to be a midwife which is what I want to be.’
‘A midwife…’ He eyed her curiously. ‘Why?’
‘Because there’s nothing more exciting than helping to deliver a new life. I love working in the maternity ward.’
He looked bemused. ‘You don’t mind squawling babies?’
‘They only cry when something’s not right for them. I like making things right. It’s very rewarding.’
‘I guess that’s relatively easy to do when their needs are so basic,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Needs get much more complex as people get older.’
‘How complex are yours?’
The quick shot surprised him. He broke into a peal of laughter, his eyes dancing wickedly as he eventually answered, ‘Oh, mine are very basic right now. Not the least bit complex.’
Her toes curled.
Lust was looking at her straight in the face. Lust was rushing through her own body. He was so devilishly handsome, so very desirable, it was madly exhilarating to have him desiring her, too. But a hardy strain of common sense reminded her he would probably be flying back to the other side of the world after the wedding and he could be viewing her as a handy one-night stand, whereas she would want a night of intimacy between them to be the beginning of a relationship that had more going for it than just sex.
She wondered if she could be a midwife in other countries.
Or whether he might settle back here. After all, today’s technology made everything and everyone readily accessible. The magazine article had mentioned that one of his team of wizards lived in Canberra. Surely Fletcher could base himself in Sydney if he wanted to.
‘What are you working on now?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘Basically hackwork. Making adjustments to the system to satisfy our clients’ requirements.’
‘You sound bored by it.’
‘Like changing babies’ nappies,’ he tossed at her with a teasing grin. ‘I enjoy being in on the creative process, just as you do. The birth of new ideas, new ways of attacking problems, is very exciting. But the run-of-the-mill stuff—a repetitive task that has to be done—it doesn’t raise a tingle in the mind, does it?’
Clever…linking it to her life. Was he patronising her? Would a genius really be interested in a nurse, apart from on a physical level?
‘Do you have any females on your technology team?’
He shook his head. ‘All men.’
‘No meeting of minds with a woman,’ she muttered, then flushed at having spoken such a revealing thought out loud.
‘On the contrary, I’m finding considerable pleasure in meeting yours. And connecting with it.’
Her flush deepened as heat raced around her bloodstream. Did he mean it or was he playing with her?
‘Tammy!’
Celine’s call distracted her from pursuing the question. She turned to her friend who was beckoning action.
‘Bring Fletcher over here and let the photographer pose you two in front of the magnolia. It should be a marvellous shot with your mauve dress. We can get it done before the others come back.’
‘Must oblige the bride,’ Fletcher murmured, instantly hooking her arm around his and leading her over to be posed with him.
Tammy couldn’t help revelling in being close to him again, measuring her own slight but very feminine figure against his powerful male physique as the photographer pressed them together, feeling the warmth of Fletcher’s arm around her waist, wondering what it would be like to have both his arms around her. There was to be dancing after the reception dinner. She would know then.
The wedding group returned in force and there was little opportunity for more really personal conversation during the rest of the photo shoot. Her friends were full of chatter, and their partners claimed Fletcher’s attention. The wedding guests arrived and were ushered out onto the top balcony of the house where they were served drinks and canapes as they socialised and watched the action in the grounds below, applauding the more novel poses, like the one of the five bridesmaids circling the bride with hands linked.
‘Very pretty,’ Fletcher remarked on that particular arrangement, his mouth quirking as he added, ‘Though I’ve never thought of Celine as a maypole.’
Tammy rolled her eyes at this ridiculous interpretation before setting him straight. ‘Today she is the star of our gang of six, and the rest of us were paying homage to her.’
‘Homage…because she got married?’ He looked incredulous. ‘Is that the ultimate peak of ambition for you and your friends?’
The hint of scorn in his voice stung her into a sharp reply. ‘Marriage is generally considered a huge milestone in one’s life, like birth and death…’
‘And divorce,’ he slid in.
‘Do you have to be so negative?’ she snapped.
‘I’m a realist.’ One black eyebrow lifted in challenge. ‘I thought you would be, too. Nursing might be a noble profession but it can’t leave you with too many illusions about people.’
‘You’re right. You see the best and the worst and everything in between, which gives me all the more reason to respect the best, to pay homage to it and celebrate it.’
So, criticise that at your peril! she mentally shot at him.
‘You think Celine now has the best…something you aspire to?’ he shot back at her.
He made it sound as though she and her friends were a bunch of empty-headed girls whose only goal in life was to get married. Okay, they might hope for it, wish for it, dream about it, but none of them thought it an ultimate ambition. It would only be good if they met the right guy, and Celine was certain Andrew was the one.
‘She believes it’s the best for her and I’m not about to put that down.’
It was a warning for him to stop doing it.
He didn’t, coming straight back with ‘How on earth could Celine know what’s best for her when she’s only twenty-three?’
Harping on her age again…being so superior with his older experience!
Tammy eyed him disdainfully. ‘What does knowledge have to do with it? Choosing a mate is more about instinct. Maybe all that brain work you do has choked off your instincts. You think too much and don’t trust natural feelings.’
He smirked. ‘If you’re talking about biological urges…’
He had them all right, and Tammy knew they were directed at her, but she wasn’t feeling so thrilled about that right now. In fact, she was downright offended that he had reduced her argument to nothing more than lust. ‘Instinct covers more ground than basic biological urges,’ she stated bitingly.
‘It starts with chemistry,’ he insisted.
He wasn’t taking her view onboard, wasn’t even giving it respect.
‘Well, let me tell you chemistry can be very swiftly switched off by other out-of-tune elements.’
He grinned. ‘Celine was right. You do have a smart mouth.’
‘She was right about you, too. You are arrogant, thinking you know better than everyone else.’
And before she could regret delivering that knock-out blow with her smart mouth, she tossed her head in the air and turned her back on him, walking off to place herself in the company of her like-minded friends. Where she stayed, for the rest of the time before the reception dinner, pointedly ignoring him, feeling strongly it was a matter of loyalty. She would not side with him against her friends, even if he was drop-dead gorgeous. The hormones he had stimulated could gallop as much as they liked. They were heading nowhere.
It was a relief when they finally sat down at the long wedding-party table and he was at the other end of it, out of sight and out of any possible contact—physical and verbal. Nevertheless, she found it difficult to get him out of her mind, despite chatting almost feverishly with her fellow bridesmaids. They, of course, wanted to know how it was going with Fletcher, but she dismissed that very firmly.
‘Forget it! The brain took over from the body and it wasn’t to my liking. Hunk is not everything!’
They ruefully agreed with this declaration and the subject was dropped. There was so much else to comment on: the wedding decor, the dressing of the guests, the food, the speeches—which Tammy privately decided Fletcher would consider a whole lot of sentimental claptrap, but which she thought were beautifully heartfelt and heart touching.
She smiled, clapped, laughed in all the right places, though no matter how hard she tried to enjoy herself, there was this weird leaden weight on her heart—something she’d never felt before, not over a man. Fletcher had stirred a lot of new feelings in her today. Had she been too hasty in taking such decisive umbrage against him? Was this the weight of disappointment because he wasn’t how she’d wanted him to be, or of regret for cutting herself off before exploring the experience further?
Fortunately, when the bridal party all trooped off to the powder room before the cutting of the cake, Celine cleared up some of the turmoil in Tammy’s mind.
‘Did I detect something going on between you and my brother, Tammy?’ she asked with a little frown of concern.
‘Just a bit of flirtation. You didn’t tell me he was so handsome.’
Celine grimaced. ‘Alpha male at its best and worst—that’s Fletcher. Didn’t he put you off with his supposedly superior intellect?’
Tammy shrugged. ‘I had to cut him down a few times.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not completely bowled over by him. Fletcher is only into very casual relationships, and I mean casual. No woman is good enough to keep his interest. Besides which he flies back to London on Monday. He’ll be out of your life before you even begin to know him properly.’
‘No problem,’ Tammy answered airily and concentrated on renewing her lipstick, telling herself to stop maundering over what might have been with Fletcher Stanton. He was definitely not the right man for her.
Her body, however, staged a highly unsettling rebellion against that edict when she had to dance with him.
The bridal waltz followed the cutting of the cake. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were scheduled to join in after Celine’s and Andrew’s showpiece solo performance. There was no avoiding it. As the fifth bridesmaid, Tammy had to line up with the fifth groomsman. They stood together, waiting for their turn to step onto the floor, Tammy looking studiously ahead, acutely aware that her pulse was racing and her female hormones were zinging into a merry dance of their own at the prospect of physical connection with the man beside her.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She glanced up and caught a devilish twinkle in his dark eyes. ‘I hope you can waltz,’ she answered, trying to dampen the rush of heat through her bloodstream.
‘Counting one, two, three, is not beyond me’ was his sardonic reply.
‘Mathematical skill does not guarantee a natural rhythm,’ she instantly countered, bristling at his arrogance again. ‘Some people have it. Some don’t.’
‘Do you have it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we should move well together,’ he said with such sexy satisfaction, Tammy told herself to keep her smart mouth shut because it was only giving him ammunition to light a fire she had to put out.
This attraction was going nowhere.
She was not going to be a casual, meaningless one-night stand for Fletcher Stanton. Pride forbade it. She deserved more from a man than to be left to herself after an intimate connection.
‘Our turn now,’ he said, and swept her onto the dance floor, one arm clamping her lower body to his, his powerful thighs pushing hers into the slow sensual rhythm of ‘Moon River,’ the jazz waltz Celine had chosen.
He held her so closely, her breasts pressed to his chest, she had to put her arm up around his neck, and he didn’t just hold her other hand. He intertwined their fingers, fueling the hot sense he was claiming possession of her and had no intention of letting go. Tammy couldn’t stop herself from virtually melting into him. He danced divinely. Never had she had such a masterful partner. The question started raging through her mind—what would he be like in bed?
Mercifully the music stopped and she pulled herself back from the brink of floating into dangerous places with Fletcher Stanton. ‘I have to go and serve cake now,’ she said, demanding release.
‘It can wait. The other guests have just been invited to join us on the dance floor,’ he argued, his eyes simmering with temptations that had to be denied or she might end up where she was determined not to be.
‘Many of them won’t. It’s the bridesmaids’ duty to take around trays of cake,’ she stated categorically.
‘How many more duties do you have to perform tonight?’
‘This is the last one,’ she had to admit.
‘Good! Then I’ll catch up with you after it’s done.’
He slowly untwined his hand from hers and removed his arm from around her waist, his dark gaze holding hers with an intensity of purpose that sent little shivers down her spine. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to make a fighting stand.
‘This was a duty dance, you know. I don’t have to do anything more with you.’
‘But we have such perfect rhythm together. Why deny the pleasure of pursuing it further?’
Because it was a straight-out case of dancing with the devil. But Tammy couldn’t say that since it would reveal how tempted she was.
‘What’s your favourite dance?’ he pressed.
‘The salsa,’ she answered, half hoping he couldn’t do it, half wanting him to be brilliant at it because she loved it so much.
He grinned with wicked confidence. ‘I’ll salsa you off your feet.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ she said archly, trying her utmost to stay cool. ‘Please excuse me. Duty calls.’
She could feel his eyes burning into her back as she walked away. He was a terribly sexy beast. Could she risk the excitement of doing the salsa with him? Better not. No doubt it would tease more lustful desires, and she might not feel strong enough to resist them.
As it turned out she found the best possible excuse to escape any pursuit from Fletcher for the rest of the evening. Celine’s ten-year-old cousin, Ryan, had disgraced himself, surreptitiously drinking alcohol, throwing up and feeling wretched. Tammy offered to sit with him on the downstairs verandah so his parents could continue enjoying their niece’s wedding reception. Knowing she was a qualified nurse, they were happily relieved to let her take care of him.
Ryan curled up on her lap and dropped off to sleep. Tammy was grateful for the cool night air. It helped dispel the feverish physical yearning that had almost pulled her down a very stupid course. Hadn’t she learnt from her mother’s life that rich arrogant men didn’t stick around after they’d got what they wanted? Fletcher Stanton wouldn’t be any different. His own sister had spelled that out. If she let her deeply set principles be swept aside by his powerful attraction, she’d be disgusted with herself when he flew away on Monday.
Attraction for men like him was a very temporary thing. If she hadn’t looked exotic today, would he have shown any interest in her, felt any desire for her? Tammy doubted it. She didn’t understand why she’d felt such a strong connection to him. The feeling couldn’t be trusted, anyway. Better to set it aside than risk her heart on a man who had such a cynical view of love and marriage—a man who wasn’t looking for anything more than casual sex with a woman.
Ryan’s parents came to collect him when the bride was about to leave. Tammy joined the other bridesmaids just in time for the throwing of the bouquet. Kirsty caught it. They all laughingly trailed after the bride and groom, making their exit from Boronia House. Fletcher caught up with her outside where the limousines were lined up, ready to transport their designated passengers.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded, frustrated at having his desires thwarted by her absence.
‘Looking after a sick guest,’ she answered, thrusting out a hand to him for a coolly formal farewell. ‘Goodbye, Fletcher. I hope you have a smooth flight back to London on Monday.’
The finality in her voice triggered a savage glitter of mockery in his eyes. ‘I take it you’re on duty again tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly.
He wasn’t used to rejection, didn’t like it, but it was clearly beneath him to fight it. He cloaked himself with an unprickable air of arrogance as he took her hand, enveloping it in the heat and strength of his, making it feel small and fragile—too little for him—everything she was…too little to take him on.
‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Tamalyn,’ he rolled out with the same cool politeness she had dealt to him, then surprised her by sardonically adding, ‘Thunderbolts don’t come my way very often.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to say he probably needed more of them to puncture his arrogance on a regular basis. She clamped down on the comment, not wanting to be provocative at this point. He was going away. There was no future for her with Celine’s brother. His life was elsewhere. But despite all her sensible reasoning, the leaden weight was back on her heart.
‘Another time. Another place. Who knows? We might strike each other again,’ she replied, determinedly wriggling her hand free so she could leave.
His eyes bored into hers, striking hard right now. ‘It’s a waste…not using the present.’
‘Nothing’s a waste…if you learn from it,’ she said back. ‘Life is one long experience and meeting you today has been part of it. Thank you and goodbye, Fletcher.’
She turned away before regret at not having the experience of going to bed with him could tear at her conviction that it would be wrong for her.
She was only twenty-three.
The promise of one night with Fletcher Stanton was not enough to compromise her ideals on how a relationship between a man and woman should work.
CHAPTER THREE
The Second Wedding
WAS Fletcher Stanton going to be there?
The question was like a squirrel on a treadmill running through Tammy’s mind. Had been for months. Ever since Kirsty had announced her engagement to Paul Hathaway and it came out in conversation that Paul’s brother, Max, was the mathematical super-brain in Canberra who was an integral member of Fletcher’s high-tech team. Which was one of those coincidences in life that seemed to make the world very small.
A close professional connection didn’t mean a social one, Tammy had told herself a hundred times. Even if Fletcher and Max Hathaway were friends as well as colleagues, Paul was based in Sydney, an IT specialist for an international bank with his own circle of friends to invite to the wedding. It was highly unlikely that a brother’s friend who lived and worked overseas would be invited to the wedding.
Of course, the question could have been settled once and for all if she’d simply asked Kirsty if Fletcher’s name was on the Hathaways’ confirmed guest list, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. There was something really pathetic about showing an interest in a man who had not pursued any interest in her beyond the one encounter at Celine’s wedding, and that had been six months ago.
Though she had rejected him.
Very pointedly.
What man would pursue a woman after that?
He probably hadn’t even returned to Australia since then.
Sometimes she cursed having met Fletcher Stanton at all. Regardless of everything that had been wrong about him, he’d made too big an impact on her to forget. The memory of the sexual chemistry which had sizzled between them still bothered her. Other men she’d dated over the years—nice men, good guys—had never lit that spark in her. Nor had she ever felt challenged by them in any vital way.
She wanted to meet Fletcher again, needed to settle this crazy sense of missing out on something only he could supply. Just a bit of personal contact could stop this endless torment. If he didn’t stir her hormones with the same wild excitement, if he was too rudely arrogant to bother with…maybe then she would stop the stupid habit of taking out the photograph of the two of them together in front of the magnolia tree at Celine’s wedding and fretting over what might have been a bad decision to close the door on him.
She felt almost sick with nervous tension, the morning of the wedding. As she travelled in the city train across the harbour to the eastern suburbs where the others all lived, she told herself to stop thinking of him, focus on her friends, be happy for Kirsty. The gang was to meet at a hairdressing salon in Bondi Junction and she had to be as high-spirited as the rest of them were bound to be. It was a big day—the second wedding—and Fletcher should not be a factor in that.