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

RUTHLESS
BILLIONAIRE,
FORBIDDEN BABY

BY

EMMA DARCY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE, FORBIDDEN BABY

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.’

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.

She was the last to arrive.

And walked straight in on Kirsty saying, ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you at our hens’ party last night, Celine. Your brother’s coming to the wedding.’

‘Fletcher?’

The shock in Celine’s voice was mirrored on her face as she swivelled around in her chair to question Kirsty…and caught sight of Tammy, her feet stopped dead at the reception desk as she desperately tried to keep her expression blank.

‘Tam…’ Celine grimaced. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘What?’ she asked, pretending ignorance, hoping the wild pumping of her heart would not shoot a tell-tale flush up her neck.

The rest of the gang was already in the salon. They all looked at her, watching for her reaction. Were they remembering her connection with Fletcher at Celine’s wedding? Had they guessed that he was the reason for her lack of any enthusiastic interest in other guys in recent times? Tammy squirmed inside as she waited what seemed like aeons for Celine to answer.

It was Kirsty who finally broke the news. ‘Fletcher asked Max if he could come to the wedding.’

Celine turned to her, stunned anew. ‘He asked him?’

‘E-mailed the request on Thursday,’ Kirsty explained.

‘How extraordinary!’ Celine shook her head in disbelief. ‘I didn’t know he was home. Mum didn’t tell me.’

‘Max said he’d be flying in this morning,’ Kirsty went on.

‘Pushing himself in when he hasn’t been invited. That’s not like Fletcher,’ Celine remarked, frowning.

Kirsty shrugged dismissively. ‘An extra guest doesn’t matter. It’s only finger food at the reception, no set tables.’

Celine shot a concerned glance at Tammy who was being ushered to the chair beside Jennifer’s, then questioned Kirsty further. ‘Did Max say why he wanted to come?’

‘Not that I know of. He called Paul, made the request, and Paul passed it on to me. Just said Fletcher was flying in this morning and wanted to attend the wedding.’

Jennifer grinned at Tammy as she sat down next to her, eyes twinkling teasingly. ‘You might get another chance at him, Tam. He was quite put out when you disappeared on him last time, asking around for you.’

‘That was half a year ago,’ Tammy reminded her, trying to ignore the sudden kick to her heart. ‘And I gave him the flick, remember?’

‘He was interested in you, though,’ Lucy argued. ‘He might have mellowed since then, not be so arrogant. I hate to see such a gorgeous hunk go to waste.’

‘Oh, stop it, Lucy!’ Celine shot at her. ‘Fletcher runs through women like there’s an endless supply of them. Chasing after him would be the worst thing Tam could do.’

Lucy, irrepressible as always, rolled her eyes in sexy suggestiveness. ‘Not if she catches him. I reckon he’d be worth crawling into bed with.’

Hannah backed her up. ‘I thought he was hot, too. If he looked my way, I’d be seriously tempted.’

Having had enough time to recover some equilibrium, Tammy drily stated, ‘I’m sure he only looked my way because I was dolled up for Celine’s wedding.’

‘Well, you’re going to be dolled up again today for mine,’ Kirsty pointed out.

‘So why not make the most of it?’ Lucy pressed. ‘If I had that gorgeous hunk panting over me, I’d ignore the brain above the belt and engage the one below it.’

‘And what would that get me?’ Tam sliced at her. ‘He lives overseas.’

‘Quite possibly a climactic moment of pleasure you could treasure forever.’ Lucy slanted her a quizzical look. ‘Ever had one, Tam? A really mind-blowing one? You never talk about your sex life. You just listen to us.’

‘Guess I find yours more interesting. And yes, I have had a few mind-blowing moments.’

With Fletcher Stanton when he danced the waltz with me.

It wasn’t what Lucy meant, but that was still the highlight of Tammy’s sex life. She’d never been able to adopt the free and easy attitude her friends had towards what they considered a natural connection between a man and a woman. To her, physical intimacy had to go hand in hand with love. She didn’t want to give herself for less.

‘Well, that’s a relief!’ Lucy declared. ‘I always thought you never let your hair down enough.’

‘It’s down right now,’ Tammy retorted, waving to the hairstylist who was standing behind her chair and running the long black tresses through her fingers. ‘How do you want it done, Kirsty?’

The subject of Fletcher was dropped in favour of the more important and immediate aim to get everything right for the wedding. Kirsty wanted Tammy’s hair swept around to one side of her face and curled down over her shoulder. Very feminine, but was it sexy, Tammy wondered, secretly hoping Fletcher would be attracted to her again, wanting close contact, needing to test her feelings towards him.

The bridesmaids’ dresses were in a sort of Grecian style. Made in pure silk satin chiffon, the rouched bodice and soft princess-line skirt were constructed in different shades of blue from sky to royal, and the dress was virtually backless, plunging to below the waistline. That was definitely sexy, baring the whole curve of her spine.

Did Fletcher’s impulse to attend the wedding have anything to do with her?

He had to know she’d be one of Kirsty’s bridesmaids, given his informed comment on ‘the famous gang of six’ at Celine’s wedding.

Did he remember her as strongly as she remembered him?

In Tammy’s nerve-twittering state, the hours until the wedding seemed endless. From the hair-dressing salon they moved on to Beautiful Nails for the perfect manicure and pedicure, then to Kirsty’s parents’ house at Bellevue Hill for a late lunch and the rest of the preparations.

A make-up artist was booked to come in and do their faces, and surveying the brilliant job done on her own, Tammy wryly reflected that Fletcher would be seeing her at her superficial best again. Would he have found her attractive au naturelle? She felt their connection had gone more than skin deep, but wasn’t so sure of that on his side.

At last the cars arrived to take them to the wedding venue. Kirsty had chosen to be married in the national park, right on the South Head of the Harbour, the open-air ceremony to be held as the sun was lowering in the sky, shedding a golden light over the great arch of the bridge, the opera house and the long stretch of the harbour with its myriad coves and bays—a spectacular backdrop. A heritage house, situated in the park, had been turned into a function centre where the reception would take place.

It wasn’t a long drive from Bellevue Hill. Tammy was too choked up with tense anticipation to chat with her friends. She mentally ticked off the landmarks they passed—the Vaucluse Yacht Club, Fisherman’s Wharf, Camp Cove, Lady Bay Beach which was famous for being one of the earliest nudists’ beaches in Sydney—each one bringing her closer to Fletcher Stanton and her chance to make contact with him.

Her heart quickened to a wild flutter as the cars pulled up on a long driveway which ran in front of the two-storeyed brick house and above the landscaped terrace where guests were milling amongst the rows of chairs set out for the ceremony. There were too many people for her to spot Fletcher straight away, and she didn’t have time to give more than a cursory glance at the crowd. Her friends were piling out of the car and she had to follow, carry through her bridesmaid role for Kirsty who looked wonderful in her own Grecian style gown.

A flight of stone steps led down to the terrace. The harpist Kirsty had hired for the ceremony was positioned at the head of them and the guests settled as he started playing his magnificent gold concert harp, instantly creating a romantic atmosphere for the wedding. The five bridesmaids lined up beside him, ready for the walk down the steps.

Celine was behind Tammy, and she leaned forward and muttered, ‘Fletcher did come. I can hardly believe it. But there he is, standing beside Andrew at the back of the seated guests and he’s staring straight at you.’

Tammy’s head instantly swivelled to where Celine had directed, her pulse racing in excitement at this possible evidence that Fletcher might still be interested in her.

Her swinging gaze caught his and for several electric moments, Tammy was transfixed by a bolting sense of joy. He didn’t look away. The distance between them was too great for her to see the expression in his eyes but she felt their laser-like strength of purpose, probing for a response from her. Yes, yes, yes, flew wildly round her mind. She should have smiled, she thought afterwards, given a positive physical signal, but before her mind could come down from its high to reason sensibly, Celine poked her in the back and hissed, ‘Move!’

Her attention jerked back to performing her bridesmaid role. Hannah was already on the third step down, Lucy on the top one. She had to move forward, keep two steps between each bridesmaid. And watch her footing. The stone slabs dipped a bit in the middle, worn down by innumerable people treading on them during the long naval history of this place. There would be time for Fletcher later.

The wedding procession rounded the stone fountain in the middle of the lower terrace, then turned to walk down the makeshift aisle to the right of it, heading for where the groom and his men were lined up beside the celebrant. Tammy could barely stop her feet from dancing. Walking at a measured pace was an act of stern discipline. But it was easy to smile. In fact, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face for the entire ceremony.

She was still smiling when Fletcher made his way to her as other guests crowded around the bride and groom to congratulate them. Her heart was pounding with nervous excitement as she watched him deliberately target her and home in.

‘Tamalyn…’

Her name sounded like a drum-roll coming from deep within his throat. His dark eyes seemed to burn into her soul. A wave of heat rushed through her. She clutched her bouquet tightly as though it was the only support system she had to hold herself together. It was important to stay alert, to assess where Fletcher was coming from and what he wanted of her.

‘Hi!’ she said in warm welcome. ‘I didn’t think weddings were your thing, Fletcher. What are you doing here?’

‘Fate took a hand in this one with Kirsty marrying Max’s brother,’ he answered smoothly, smiling over the coincidence, not mentioning how he’d used it. ‘And may I say it was worth coming, just to see you again.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she said lightly, wary of actually believing that seeing her was his only purpose behind this visit. He might have business with Max Hathaway after the wedding.

‘I mean it,’ he insisted in his deep sexy voice. ‘Each time we meet your beauty hits me like a thunderbolt.’

The words gave her a queazy, defensive feeling. Beauty had no holding power. Her mother’s life proved that. And how Fletcher had seen her at both weddings was very temporary, manufactured for the occasion. She didn’t want it to be her main attraction for him, instinctively bridling against it.

‘Ah! But the strike is like a flash in the pan, Fletcher,’ she said with an ironic twist. ‘You recover and move on.’

‘I carry the memory with me. And the scars.’

‘Scars?’ She arched quizzical eyebrows, wanting to know if she really had deeply affected him.

‘Battle wounds.’ He made a wry grimace. ‘I came off losing with you last time.’

Tammy eyed him warily. Was this approach to her an ego thing? ‘Does that mean that you’re out to win today?’ she asked.

‘Do I have a chance?’

‘That probably depends on how much you offend me.’

‘I’ve learnt my lesson,’ he said with mock gravity. ‘No comments on your friends’ marriages.’

‘You can say good things,’ she suggested, wishing for a change of attitude on his part.

‘I’d rather concentrate on you.’ His eyes burned into hers with an intensity of purpose that would not accept any evasion. ‘Are you connected to anyone, Tamalyn?’

A man, he meant. Tammy instantly seized the opportunity to clear that deck both ways.

‘No. Are you?’

He smiled, the intensity relaxing into a simmer of satisfaction. ‘I came alone. I hoped to have the pleasure of your company this evening.’

The pleasure of her company…

A flood of warmth invaded her heart, soothing the troubled need to be a person he valued for more than her physical attraction. It emboldened her enough to tease him. ‘Pleasure, Fletcher? You must be a masochist, since you carry wounds from our previous encounter.’

He laughed, delight in her response lighting up his face. ‘I find the battle with you envigorating.’

‘Then I’ll try to be at my challenging best whenever you seek me out.’

‘As soon as you’re finished with your bridesmaid’s duties, I’ll be at your side.’

‘Eager for the lash of my smart tongue?’

The provocative comment ignited a blaze of desire in his eyes. ‘It’s an addictive taste,’ he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

He meant to kiss her tonight. No doubt about that. And she wanted him to, wanted him to so badly that her body signalled a wild urge to let it happen. Her breasts tingled, her nipples tightening into hard buds, her heart thumped into a gallop, her stomach contracted and every nerve in her body buzzed. She was too choked up to speak.

Jennifer’s call broke the tension-filled moment. ‘Tammy, photographs.’

‘Got to go.’

The words came out in a guttural jerk. She swallowed hard, needing to work some moisture down her throat.

His gaze flicked up. ‘I’ll patiently watch you perform for the camera,’ he drawled, a sensual promise in the slow movement of his mouth.

‘Don’t miss the background view,’ she tossed at him. ‘It might remind you there’s more spectacular beauty right here on Sydney Harbour than anywhere else in the world.’

And she wanted him to be homesick for it, wanted him to be sick with yearning for her, too. As she walked over to her friends, she fiercely hoped that whatever pleasures they shared tonight would burn into Fletcher Stanton’s heart so deeply, she’d be the only woman he wanted in his life.

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