Читать книгу Marriage Material - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake, Ally Blake - Страница 11

‘I THINK the best thing for me is to get back on the horse,’ Sebastian said.

Romy’s mouth hung ajar and her eyes were round and bright as dollar coins. ‘Get…back…on…the…horse?’

Her face was crimson and absolutely delightful. He’d heard of women who were beautiful when they were angry but had thought it just a myth. But here was one woman for whom the saying could have been written.

‘OK. So that was a bad analogy. Though you obviously don’t see it yet, I will make someone a good husband,’ he said, taking to the plan the more he fumbled his way through it. ‘And, as you are a self-professed expert on the subject—’

‘I am nothing so worthy as an expert, Mr Fox.’

‘But you yourself are engaged, are you not?’ he asked.

Her mouth snapped shut like a threatened clam and surprise flickered across her vibrant eyes. But she neither agreed nor denied the claim. He wondered if Tom was right and it was a fallacy she had created as a hands-off signal.

A cute young thing like her, spending every day with newly single male clients would surely have an excuse to create such a rumour. But Sebastian decided it was more likely the truth. Half the reason he fancied she was perfect for the job was the likelihood she was taken. It meant he had a good reason not to fall into the trap of seeing her as someone to ease his loneliness short-term when he needed to refocus on the big picture.

The steady disapproval in her magnetic blue eyes was unmistakable. But welcome. It was exactly that spirit that he needed to tap. And all the better that her heat remain directed against him not toward him. She was spoken for and she didn’t much like him. Perfect.

‘I’ve rung around and heard good things about your divorcees group,’ he said.

‘Mr Fox, I assure you there is no way that I am going to launch you upon that unassuming group of people. They are serious and they are damaged, whereas you…you act as if it is all just a game!’

Aah, so that was why she was so offended; she did not get to be the shoulder to cry on. She did not get to be the fix-it woman. Well, if that was what she needed to be…

‘I assure you, Romy, it was no game. I am serious. I am damaged.’ He held out his arms and even gave her his best go at a pout. She glared at him in disbelief but he thought he saw the first real flicker of interest.

With visible effort her face relaxed. Her tongue shot out to briefly wet her lips and she managed a fragile smile. ‘I would not even know where to begin.’

‘Well, that’s the beauty. I’m a not only a willing and able participant but I also have a bevy of ideas. I just need your help to implement them. Besides, I am very certain you have researched my background so thoroughly you now know more about me than I do. So mould me. Shape me. Make me the kind of man any good woman would want to marry.’

Her eyes positively glowed and he knew it had nothing to do with recent exercise. She was once more lit with that inner fire, that spirit that so caught at him. He had finally found the right button to push to bring her on to his side. She was intrigued despite herself.

‘I’ve done some homework and have heard about how hands-on your clients expect you to be. And I want that from you.’

Sebastian knew from the firm line of Romy’s mouth the only hands-on approach she would be willing to give him right then was a right hook.

‘I can’t do it. I have other clients counting on me.’

‘For the moment they can count on someone else.’

‘I can refuse you as a client.’

‘I will bring so much work your firm’s way you will not have a choice.’

He stood, stretching like a sleepy cat, knowing it would only rile her more, and the fists clenching on her desk showed him it worked. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to prepare my file.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

He glanced over her barely dressed form and, since he was way beyond right-hook distance, he could not stop himself from saying, ‘I’ll see more of you soon.’

Then he left.

Once outside the city building, Sebastian took a deep breath of the still foggy morning air. But the grey sky could not dampen his mood. She was such a spitfire, yet so certain. If he had any chance of finding his footing again it would be at her side.

He couldn’t believe that only the day before, after years of knowing he wanted a family of his own more than anything, his experience with Janet had made him think he had hit a point when it really might not happen for him. He saw the future on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage, but he knew it was real and just waiting for the right moment to slip into focus.

He took off up the street, whistling and smiling at strangers. One of those strangers turned out to be a familiar dark-haired pixie.

‘Gloria! Good morning!’

She glared at him, her big eyes narrowing to slits as her perceptive gaze slid past him to her building beyond. ‘Mr Fox. What brings you to this part of town?’

No point in pretending. She would know soon enough. ‘I had a proposition to put forward that could not be refused.’

‘And what was that?’

‘Your boss is going to make a husband out of me.’

Gloria’s eyebrows raised a good inch. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, since she turns out to be not just a divorce perpetrator but also a marriage aficionado, I have signed on for her to teach me what being a good husband means, so that I will be ready when I meet the woman of my dreams.’

‘Well, well, well. That I didn’t see coming.’

‘Unique, don’t you agree?’

Gloria’s mouth twitched. ‘So unique that if I have a bad day at work today I’ll know who to blame.’

Sebastian burst out laughing. ‘Yet still I am not deterred. I made a good decision this morning, a decision to change my life, and I am sticking by it.’

‘Then good for you.’ Was that a smile that finally tickled at the corner of her mouth?

‘If it turns out that my decision has…consequences, I’ll make it up to you. What do you want? A case of wine? Wrestling tickets? My head on a stick? What would it take to have you on my side?’

The smile was finally in place. No teeth but definite lifts to the corners of her mouth. ‘You want me on your side?’

Sebastian nodded. He had the distinct feeling Gloria could make it difficult for him otherwise.

‘Then be on Romy’s side,’ Gloria said, melting enough to give him a chummy pat on the arm before she headed to work. And Sebastian watched her go with the feeling she may have been on to something even more inspired than he.

By the time Gloria arrived for work Romy had showered and changed into a much more appropriate little black dress with killer stiletto mules and had worked herself up into a right temper. She paced back and forth as Gloria took pages of notes about the meetings they would hold that day.

‘When’s my first appointment?’ Romy asked.

‘She’s here. Mrs Libby Gold. She’s fresh meat so be gentle. She looks nervous as an ant at an anteater convention.’ Gloria drew a broad concluding line under her notes. ‘You had Pilates this morning, did you not?’

‘I did.’

‘Aren’t you taking the classes for stress release?’

‘I am.’

‘And do you think you are getting your money’s worth?’

Romy stopped pacing and turned to her assistant, who was staring cross-eyed at portions of her short, spiky fringe which she was systematically pinching between her fingertips.

Romy sat deliberately on the corner of her desk and clasped her taut hands together in her lap. ‘I had a visitor after class who undid all the instructor’s fine work.’

‘That doesn’t seem fair. Maybe you should get Mr Fox to reimburse you.’

Romy could do nothing but stare. ‘Well, maybe I should. What he suggested was just plain ridiculous.’

‘I thought the makeover idea was whacko at first but it has kind of grown on me.’

Romy blinked. ‘Nothing gets by you does it, Gloria?’

‘Not a thing. And for that you should be thankful. But you will do it anyway, won’t you?’ Gloria asked.

‘Of course I darned well will. He practically dared me and you know I can’t refuse a challenge.’

And the guy was a clean slate. Malleable. If she could find Sebastian Fox, of all men, a woman with whom he would really settle down then it would prove that marriage could still work today. What a coup that would be.

And what an affirmation.

‘Though how you noticed his challenge when that fine butt of his was walking by I have no idea.’

This coming from the woman who the previous week had told all and sundry that all men were chief purveyors of low self-esteem in women. ‘I can’t believe you noticed his butt when that fine ego of his was walking by.’

Gloria shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s more to him than the dossier suggested.’

‘You do realise you are talking about a man, do you not?’

‘And what a man—’

Romy pointed to her office door. ‘Out.’

Gloria peeled her diminutive frame from the large chair. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Romy shot one more look at her clock. ‘Send in Libby Gold and then as soon as she’s gone patch me through to Alan Campbell.’

Gloria turned at the door and shot Romy a cheeky grin. ‘Mr Fox’s lawyer?’

‘He just so happens to be.’

Gloria winked. ‘Shall do, boss.’

Romy spent the next fifty minutes with Libby Gold, who for fifteen years had been the wife of a man who had made a fortune in toothpaste. She was sweet, she was matronly and she had no idea how she had found herself in a lawyer’s office talking divorce.

Privately Romy was glad Libby had come to her as she knew she would take extra-special care of her. Taking her through the process slowly and surely. And taking her philandering husband to the cleaners.

‘But what does that make the last fifteen years of my life?’ Libby asked. ‘A waste? I cannot handle the thought.’

‘You can handle it, Libby, because it has not been a waste. It has been a grand lesson. For you both. He will pay for his mistake and you will come out of it with knowledge and experience and a tidy fortune to tide you over.’

‘What good is money if I don’t have Jeffrey? I can’t bake a favourite meal for money. I can’t rest my head on money’s shoulder while watching a movie. People are what counts. People are what makes your life a life. Money has no memory.’

What could Romy say to that? The poor woman’s mind was settled, for today anyway. Romy would win her around to the knowledge that the future was out there for the taking. That the man for her was still out there. And Romy had not lost a client back to their spouse once. Not ever. And she was not willing to start now.

Romy stood and patted her client on the shoulder. ‘See Gloria on your way out and she’ll tee you up for our next session.’

Once Libby was gone, Romy buzzed Gloria’s intercom. ‘Can you get Alan for me, Gloria?’

‘I don’t think now’s the right time,’ her voice mumbled through the black box on Romy’s desk. ‘We’ve had quite a spate of correspondence since you’ve been busy.’

She nibbled at a little fingernail. ‘Well, are you going to tell me what the correspondence says?’

‘Oh. Sure.’

Romy heard the squeak of Gloria’s chair and she ambled into the office with a fresh cup of chamomile tea and bundle of faxes in her hands.

‘What have you got there, my sweet?’ Romy asked.

‘Faxes.’

Romy took a deep calming breath. ‘Saying?’

‘The first came from Alan saying Mr Golf Pro has ceased services with his firm and to send any further correspondence to his new firm. And confirming usual drinks tonight at Fables?’ Gloria looked up with questioning eyebrows.

Romy nodded vigorously. ‘Sure. Go on.’

‘Next came one from Mr Golf Pro saying that he is coming on board with us. The header showed that fax was sent to all the partners as well.’

‘Of course it was,’ Romy groaned, feeling herself sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand that surrounded Sebastian Fox.

‘Aah. Alan must have found out who Sebastian’s new law firm is. A few rude words in this one. I might keep a photocopy for the Christmas party.’ Gloria looked up at Romy, a big grin spread across her pixie face. ‘But this latest from Mr Golf Pro is something else again, for your eyes only. And it reads like…a recipe for the perfect woman.’

‘Give me that!’ Romy spat out.

Gloria kept a tight hold of the sheet of paper.

‘What does it say?’ Romy asked. ‘It says:

Dear Ms Bridgeport,

Further to our discussion I thought I would give you a running head start on our mission. In formulating the plans for my renovation, please keep in mind that I must in the end be capable of drawing an individual with the following non-negotiable criteria:

Easy on the eye

Able to string a sentence together

Must at least reach my chin when not in heels (old back injury means I cannot bend my neck for prolonged periods of time)

Employed

Hope that gives you somewhere to start.

Cheers, Sebastian.’

Well. He’d said he was willing and able with a bevy of ideas and it looked as though this could be the first. How helpful. What had she got herself into?

Gloria slumped into the guest chair, her eyes brimming with tears of laughter. ‘Is he for real?’

‘I’m afraid I really could not tell you.’

‘If you had to make a list outlining the perfect man, what would it be?’

‘Are you for real?’

Gloria pursed her lips and Romy knew it was either answer or be badgered for…forever.

‘If I had to reduce someone to a list, my perfect partner would be serious, committed, optimistic, thoughtful and kind. He would remember my parents’ birthdays and give up his window seat in a plane.’

Gloria grimaced. ‘Sounds more like the qualities of a good priest than a good husband. But unfortunately I can picture who you are describing without even thinking about it.’

So could Romy and for that she was infinitely thankful. ‘At least it’s a tad more specific than that rubbish. How about you?’

‘Did you not hear me regale you concerning Mr Fox’s glorious butt an hour ago? And now I see there is a devious mind to go with it. Your Mr Fox is someone I’d happily bump into in a dark alley.’

If only the girl was not the most astute assistant she had ever worked with…

‘Don’t get ideas, Gloria. He’s not my Mr Fox.’

‘But now he’s our client?’

‘Looks that way.’

‘Fantastic.’

Romy expected Gloria, who refused to wear skirts or high heels, claiming they were a form of bondage imposed by men to put women at a disadvantage, of all people to be outright offended by Sebastian’s ridiculous list. But alas, she seemed to have quickly succumbed to the man’s more flagrant charms.

Gloria leapt from her chair and practically skipped to the door. ‘I’d be happy to take dictation for every one of your meetings with that one.’

Romy held her arms out, palms upwards in submission. ‘If it will make your day.’

‘Romy, that would make my year.’

Sebastian sat back in a dark leather chair in the office he kept in a cottage in the back yard of his Hawthorn home. He’d been in there all afternoon, catching up on correspondence, including forwarding the paperwork necessary to clear up his change of legal representation.

Now moonlight from the large bay windows streamed into the small room, spilling across glass cases filled with his sporting trophies, medals and pennants. Having them on display, even in this private room had been Melinda’s choice. Sebastian would have put them in storage but Melinda insisted he keep them as a reminder of his wonderful successes.

All they did was remind him that he no longer professionally played the game he loved. A back injury sustained long ago had cut short his promising career before he had even hit his stride.

But he still preferred that cosy room to all others. His big house was too big. Too quiet. Too lonely. It had been built to house a large family and as such had never realised its potential.

Rather than submit to the usual claustrophobia creeping up on him, to gain a much-needed boost of human contact, he dialled his sister’s phone number.

‘Hey, Melinda.’

‘Hi, Seb. What’s up?’

Sebastian heard the clank of cooking pans and pictured Melinda in the kitchen with the phone tucked between her chin and her shoulder.

‘Just calling to say hi.’

‘Hi.’ She paused. ‘What is it? Come on, it’s dinner time. Hurry up.’

Sebastian had rung to let her in on his project. She wanted him to get a project and he had obeyed. But how on earth would he tell her his project involved the babe moulding him for marriage? If he was in the same room he just knew that Melinda would scuff him about the ears and accuse him of making a play for the woman. Which he most certainly wasn’t. The thing was, he needed Romy. He needed her passion, her energy, her faith in a happily ever after.

Though Melinda would do anything for him, she could not do this. She just would not understand. She had gone straight from home into Tom’s arms and had lived ten solid years with her wonderful family.

‘Put Chris on.’

‘He’s doing his homework.’

‘Come on. Put my nephew on or I’ll call you Mindy forever and ever.’

‘Fine. Chris!’ she shouted out so that even the neighbours would hear. ‘Uncle Seb’s on the phone!’

Sebastian heard the muffled noise of footsteps thundering down the carpeted stairs.

‘Here he is.’

‘Thanks, Mindy.’

‘You little—’

‘Hey, Uncle Seb! Mum said you’re taking us out Sunday. Where are you taking us?’

‘I was thinking the zoo.’

‘Yeah? Cool!’

Sebastian felt all his cares slip far, far away as he slumped back into his soft chair and listened to the excited babble of his young nephew.