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‘What did you say his name was?’
‘Russell McClain. Of McClain Real Estate fame.’
‘Never heard of him. But you know me—I have absolutely no interest in business.’
An understatement. Kara’s family were old money and high society. Kara didn’t have to work, so she didn’t. Nicole could now see that her best friend’s charity-luncheon, party-going lifestyle was extremely shallow, as hers had once been. But she still loved Kara, who had a kind heart and would never deliberately hurt anyone.
Unlike other people with money…
‘This McClain guy has obviously done very well for himself,’ Kara said. ‘You did say he paid twenty million for this place, didn’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You should have been nicer to him.’
‘I was nice to him,’ Nicole protested. ‘Till he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t like me for whatever weird and wonderful reason. Oh, what am I doing, taking all these clothes with me?’ she said once they reached the walk-in wardrobe again. ‘I know I said I wasn’t going to leave a single thing behind for that man to throw away, but this is insane. It’s not as though I would wear most of them any more. Especially these,’ she said as she scooped up an armful of evening gowns.
‘I can’t understand why not,’ Kara said, taking the last few dresses down from the racks. ‘They’re all utterly gorgeous. I think you’ve gone a bit far with this new social conscience of yours, Nickie darling. You don’t have to dress like a tramp to do good in this world. And you don’t have to sell all your lovely jewellery, which arrived first thing this morning, by the way. You must know you won’t get even half what it’s worth. What you need,’ she went on as the girls made their way downstairs again, ‘is a seriously rich husband who’ll give you an unlimited credit card, then leave you alone to do whatever you like with his money.’
‘While he does whatever he likes,’ Nicole pointed out archly. ‘The last man on earth I would ever marry is a seriously rich man.’
‘Megan is.’
Nicole stopped just inside the front door to throw her friend a puzzled glance. ‘Megan who?’
‘Megan Donnelly. Surely you remember her. She was in the class below ours at school.’
Kara and Nicole had attended a private girls’ boarding-school which only the very well-heeled could afford.
‘I can’t put a face to the name,’ Nicole said, frowning.
‘She was a pretty brunette with big brown eyes. But terribly shy.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember her now. She was a good artist, wasn’t she? Used to do all the school posters.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Who’s she marrying?’
‘James Logan.’
Nicole’s eyebrows arched in surprise. James Logan was the high-profile owner of Images, Sydney’s biggest advertising and management agency. She’d met him socially a few times, and, whilst he was extremely good-looking with a highly polished persona, there was something about him which she didn’t like.
‘He’s been married before, hasn’t he?’ she said on their way down to the front steps. ‘To that model, Jackie something-or-other. Golly, I’m bad with names.’
‘Jackie Foster. Yes, they were divorced a couple of years back. He must have given her a huge settlement because she doesn’t work as a model any more. Rumour has it she bought a house in Acapulco and is living there with her new partner. Women like her are never alone for long,’ Kara finished up with a flash of uncharacteristic cynicism.
‘Or men like him,’ Nicole replied just as drily.
‘True.’
‘I wonder what he sees in Megan,’ Nicole said as she laid the evening gowns on top of the huge pile on the back seat.
‘Who knows?’ Kara replied with an airy shrug. ‘But he isn’t called the makeover man for nothing. I imagine it will be a very different Megan who swans down the aisle on Saturday afternoon. I can’t wait to see what she looks like. That’s everything, isn’t it?’ she said, and slammed the hatchback door shut.
‘I should hope so. How come you got an invitation to Megan’s wedding, by the way?’ Nicole asked. ‘I mean, it’s not as though you and she were close friends.’
‘Her mum and my mum play bridge together. Would you like to come? I know for a fact that there have been a couple of last minute drop-outs, which annoyed the bride’s mother no end. I could easily get you an invite. It’s black-tie, but that won’t be a problem for you, not with your wardrobe.’
‘I don’t think so, Kara.’
‘Don’t be silly. My whole family’s going. You’ll still be staying at our place on Saturday, won’t you?’
Nicole didn’t want to impose on Kara’s parents, or stay in Sydney any longer than necessary. But it would take time to sell her jewellery, if she wanted a fair price.
Thinking of selling her jewellery gave her another idea. Why not sell off most of her totally useless wardrobe as well? There was an up-market second-hand shop in Double Bay that bought designer clothes and accessories, especially items which hadn’t been worn, or worn hardly at all. Nicole’s mother had been a regular customer over the years, having developed the snobbish and almost obscene habit of not wearing any outfit more than twice.
‘Well?’ Kara piped up. ‘Does that face mean a yes or a no?’
‘It’s a yes,’ Nicole said. ‘If you’re sure your mum doesn’t mind.’ When she’d rung Kara this morning, it had worried her that Kara’s family might not want to have anything further to do with her, now that she was the daughter of a runaway bankrupt who’d clearly left a lot of angry people behind.
‘Will you stop being so silly? Of course Mum won’t mind. She thinks you’re terrific. That settles it, then. You’re coming with us to Megan’s wedding. If nothing else, you’ll get a good feed, which you look like you need. And who knows? You might meet some gorgeous guy who’ll sweep you off your feet and keep you in Sydney for a while. I’ve really missed you, you know, sweetie. Life hasn’t been the same without your joie de vivre.’
Nicole pulled a face. ‘I lost my joie de vivre back in June.’
‘Then it’s high time you found it again. At Megan’s wedding.’
‘I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a wedding. But I’ll go, provided you do me one favour.’
‘What’s that?’
‘After we lock up here, I want you drive to the Bondi branch of McClain Real Estate.’
‘What for?’
‘I’ve been ordered to drop off my set of house keys there. But I don’t want to go in myself. Would you do it for me? I don’t want to run the risk of seeing that man ever again!’
‘Coward,’ Kara said with a cheeky grin…
‘You needn’t have worried,’ Kara told her half an hour later. ‘He wasn’t there. He’s out playing golf. But the receptionist said she’d been instructed to text him as soon as the keys arrived.’
‘And did she?’
‘Oh, yes. Straight away.’
‘I can imagine. The man’s a natural bully. Was there any message back?’
‘I didn’t wait to find out.’
‘Oh…’
‘For a girl who didn’t want to see him again, you seem very interested in his movements.’
‘I just don’t want him getting back to me about anything.’
‘How can he, when he doesn’t have a clue where you’re staying in Sydney? You didn’t give him my name or address, did you?’
‘No.’
‘Then you don’t have to worry. The odds of your running into Mr Bully McClain again in a city of over four million people are next to zero!’
Russell read the text message without any visible reaction. But he had to make a conscious effort to relax his stomach muscles as he and Hugh walked to the next tee.
He’d been enjoying their golf game so far, finding it a pleasant distraction from thinking about the day before and his frustrating run-in with Nicole Power. He was also one shot in front, which was rare. Although a naturally talented sportsman, Russell didn’t play enough to seriously challenge Hugh, who spent more time on a golf course than he did behind his desk.
Russell wished now that he hadn’t asked Barbara to text him when those wretched keys arrived. All it had done was bring back disturbing memories—and even more disturbing desires.
Still, he’d been wise to get out of that house when he had yesterday. Even so, he’d had a dreadfully restless night, his male hormones giving him hell. Now they were back on high alert again.
Under the circumstances, he might be forced to pick up some starry-eyed female at James’s wedding this weekend. He couldn’t see himself lasting too many more nights without having some extremely satisfying sex.
Meanwhile, he had a golf game to win.
‘You do realise Jimmy-boy doesn’t love Megan,’ Hugh said just as Russell lined up for his drive on the tenth hole. ‘He’s only marrying her because she’s pregnant.’
Russell stopped his backswing in time, shooting Hugh a exasperated glance. ‘Are you trying to put me off? Because if you are, you’ve chosen the wrong tack. I already know all that.’
Russell should have anticipated Hugh’s disapproval. The three of them had been mates since school and knew each other very well. Of the trio, Hugh was by far the softest and most romantic in nature, despite having garnered a well-deserved reputation over the last decade as one of Sydney’s most notorious playboys.
‘He actually admitted it, did he?’ Hugh said, indignation in his voice.
‘No. He didn’t have to. Look, Hugh, we both know James is still hung up on Jackie. He’s marrying Megan to get what she couldn’t give him: a family.’
Russell had no problem with that. Sometimes, a man had to do what a man had to do.
‘He is overseas on business, isn’t he?’ Hugh asked with a scowl on his face. ‘He’s not still seeing that wretched woman, I hope.’
Hugh had not liked Jackie. He’d thought her a gold-digger. Hugh claimed to be able to spot members of that species at first sight, his position as only son and heir to the Parkinson Media fortune making him an expert on the subject.
‘Not that I know of,’ Russell said. But he wouldn’t put it past his friend. Since his divorce, James had developed a ruthless streak which surpassed even his.
James’s courtship of Megan had been a classic example. He’d pursued the girl with a passion which had even fooled Russell for a while. But soon after their engagement had been announced six short weeks ago—the day after Megan told him she was pregnant—James had done a flit overseas, minus his adoring and unsuspecting fiancée. He wasn’t due to return till tomorrow, the day before his wedding.
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