Читать книгу Her Wealthy Husband - Маргарет Майо - Страница 8

HE HAD the most compelling eyes Lara had ever seen—an unusual smoky grey, almost blue and yet not quite. They were the best part of his face, lashes long and thick, matching the raven blackness of his hair. His attention had immediately focussed on her and maybe she should have felt flattered, most women would, but instead it gave her an uncomfortable feeling.

She turned to her aunt, found that she was watching this man watching her, a faint, approving smile on her lips. It was Helen’s Welcome to Australia party. ‘You need to get to know people,’ she’d said, and against Lara’s wishes had invited half the neighbourhood.

‘That’s Bryce Kellerman.’ Her aunt turned and looked at her. ‘Come, let me introduce you.’ And before Lara could demur she’d taken hold of her arm.

The grey eyes never wavered as they approached. The man eased himself away from the veranda rail, straightened his back, and waited. He was casually dressed in beige moleskins and a brown open-necked shirt that hid none of his tightly muscled body. A deep tan suggested he worked outdoors most of the time.

And he was tall.

Lara hadn’t realised quite how tall until she stood in front of him. She was five-nine and he towered over her. Six-four she guessed, at least. Six feet four inches of raw, male animal. Not particularly handsome, a slightly hooked nose and a strong square jaw, and a straight mouth that needed to be more generous. It was the eyes that had it. Close up she could see the dark outline that defined them, the unusual mixture of blue and grey, and the almost brazen confidence that he could fell with one swoop any woman he set his sights on.

And she was in the firing line!

‘Lara, I’d like you to meet Bryce Kellerman, long-time friend and jack of all trades. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Bryce, this is my niece, Lara Lennox.’

‘Good to meet you, Lara.’ Grey eyes locked into hers as he extended his hand, reading her soul, instantly knowing everything about her. Lara looked away.

She glanced down at their hands instead. Hers looked pale by comparison. His fingers were square-tipped, nails neatly manicured; he had broad hands, strong hands, more used to manual labour than caressing a woman. The thought horrified her the instant it was born and she snatched away.

He gave a faint, knowing smile, as if well aware of her thoughts. As if! No man could possibly know what another person was thinking. Nevertheless it was the impression he gave. He was a woman’s man without a doubt.

But not this woman! He didn’t interest her, no man did. She’d had enough pain to last her a lifetime. Her own fault, admittedly, but it was a mistake she didn’t intend repeating. And if her aunt had it in mind to do some matchmaking she was deeply mistaken.

‘I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.’ Helen smiled widely and happily. She was in her early fifties, slim, blonde, looked about forty, had been a widow for ten years, and Lara couldn’t understand why some other man hadn’t snapped her up.

Lara had been six when Helen emigrated from England seventeen years ago and her aunt hadn’t been home since, not even when her husband died. She had no children but had many friends and loved Sydney so much that she said she’d never move away. But she’d always kept in touch with her sister, phoning almost every week, and when Helen had heard that Lara’s marriage had unhappily ended she’d immediately invited her to stay with her for as long as she liked. She’d even sent money for the plane ticket.

‘So, how are you enjoying Australia?’

Bryce Kellerman’s voice was so deep that it vibrated through Lara’s bones. It was as though her body was the string of a guitar and he’d plucked it. Feeling this man’s dynamic sexuality was something she hadn’t expected and didn’t want. Escape was uppermost in her mind.

‘Very much,’ she said with a reluctant smile, ‘although I’ve hardly had time to form a proper opinion.’

‘The heat’s not too much for you?’ He was leaning back against the veranda rail now, relaxed and utterly sure of himself, one brown-booted foot crossed over the other, thumbs hooked into a wide leather belt. ‘You’ll need to take care.’

Lara nodded. ‘I’m doing that.’ Because of her fair skin she ladled on lashings of sun screen whenever she went out and always wore a wide-brimmed hat. It was something her aunt had instilled into her the moment she’d arrived.

‘English roses, that’s what your skin reminds me of.’

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she retorted sharply. Such compliments annoyed her. They were so glib, so practised; Roger had been a past master at it.

‘Only if it happens to be true—which it is in your case,’ he said softly, brushing the back of one finger across her cheek. A gentle touch and yet Lara felt as though he was branding her and she turned her head swiftly away.

‘You don’t like me touching you?’ He sounded as though he wasn’t used to this sort of reaction.

‘No, I don’t, as a matter of fact.’ Lara held his gaze, ignoring her quickened heartbeats.

‘I’ll try to remember that.’ But it didn’t sound as though he was going to make much of an effort. ‘Do you know that you look remarkably like your aunt?’

‘More like her than my mother actually,’ she agreed. ‘They’re sisters.’

‘The same blonde hair, the same wide-spaced blue eyes. Your mouth is a little more—generous.’ He smiled. ‘I was going to say kissable but something tells me you wouldn’t like that?’

‘You’re learning.’

‘What’s put you off men?’

‘Who says I’m off them?’ Her shoulders stiffened automatically. He was too perceptive by far.

Well-shaped dark brows rose and disappeared into the thatch of hair that fell across his brow. ‘You’re giving a very good performance of not liking them. Unless it’s me you resent? Am I missing something? Have you heard something bad about me?’

‘I didn’t even know you existed until a few seconds ago,’ she answered tartly, and he’d have done her a favour if he hadn’t turned up. There was something about Bryce Kellerman that Lara instinctively distrusted. She felt that he was the sort of man who would use women for his own purpose and then toss them to one side without a thought for their feelings.

The way he’d deliberately set his sights on her proved it. She was a newcomer, she was blonde and good-looking—she’d been told that enough times even though her mirror suggested otherwise. Her brow was too high, her eyes too big, her mouth too wide, and compliments that she knew were untrue didn’t please her.

‘And now that you know I exist?’ Brows rose laconically, smoky eyes showed dangerous interest.

‘I think I’ll steer clear,’ she answered decisively, and looked deliberately away. ‘There’s someone else I want to speak to. If you’ll excuse me…’

But Bryce Kellerman was not ready to let her go. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’

Lara frowned meaningfully down at his hand on her arm and then looked straight into his face, not speaking until he let her go. ‘Thank you,’ she said with exaggerated politeness. ‘What do you mean, not finished? I wasn’t aware that we’d started anything.’

‘Helen wants us to become friends.’ His smile was slow and confident. ‘It would be rude to disappoint her.’

It was Lara’s turn to lift her brows. ‘My aunt can want all she likes. I choose my own friends. She had no right discussing me.’

‘She didn’t.’

‘Then, how—?’

‘Your aunt is of the opinion that it’s time I found myself a wife.’

‘And I somehow suspect that she thinks I should find another husband,’ added Lara wryly.

All of a sudden they both burst out laughing.

‘I think we should at least pretend that we like each other,’ said Bryce in a wickedly loud whisper.

‘It will make Helen’s night,’ she agreed.

‘We don’t have to go on with it afterwards.’

‘Just for tonight?’

Bryce nodded. ‘Shall we take a walk in the garden?’ He held out his hand and after a second’s hesitation Lara slipped hers into it. Glancing back towards the house she saw Helen watching them, saw her aunt give a nod of approval, and after that they were out of sight. They were two souls together in the blackness of the night. They could hear the music and voices and laughter but could see no one, and no one could see them.

Without warning Bryce took her into his arms, and to Lara’s horror she felt an immediate response. Since the breakdown of her marriage she’d avoided men like the plague, so why this sudden reaction? Why this tingling in her limbs? Why were her pulses pounding? It had to be because she felt flattered. What woman wouldn’t feel a stirring of her senses when a man as magnetic as Bryce Kellerman sought her out?

But he was mistaken if he thought she would let him kiss her. It might be a magical, moonlit night. It might be warm, sensually warm, an evening made for love, but it was not for her. ‘Is this a typical Australian greeting?’ she asked, wrenching free. ‘I hadn’t realised I was supposed to fall into the arms of every man I met.’

‘My apologies.’ He gave a curt little nod. ‘Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me about this guy who’s ruined your life?’ He steered her towards a bench a few feet away.

‘I thought you said my aunt hadn’t told tales,’ she retorted sharply.

His broad shoulders lifted. ‘Helen is the soul of discretion. It’s nothing more than a calculated guess, but an accurate one judging by your reaction. He can’t be much of a man to let go a beautiful woman like you.’

More flattery! Lara felt like kicking him. ‘As a matter of fact, I left him,’ she informed Bryce tightly. Far below, on the opposite bank of the river, house lights twinkled like giant stars. The sky was a deep midnight purple, there was hardly a sound except for the murmur of voices coming from the veranda. It was an idyllic spot and she didn’t want this man messing up her mind with talk about Roger.

‘How long were you married?’

‘Three years.’

‘What was he like?’

Lara gave him a hard stare. ‘What’s it to do with you?’

‘It’s therapeutic to talk about your problems.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘I don’t have a problem. Except that you’re being a nuisance asking questions I don’t want to answer.’

A faint smile softened the hard lines of his face, made him look more understanding and approachable. ‘That’s the trouble, Lara, you’re bottling up your hurt. It does help to talk. How long’s it been since your divorce?

‘Nearly four months.’

‘So the wound’s still raw?’

Lara nodded. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see any compassion in his eyes; she was thinking back to the day she’d declared to her school friends that it was her ambition to marry a rich man.

The youngest of five children, brought up by a single parent, Lara had sworn that she was never going to get into that same situation. She had known what poverty was like, how her mother had struggled to make ends meets. It wasn’t for her.

She’d stayed on at school to get her A levels then had found a job with a PR company, and it was here that she had set her sights on Roger Lennox.

Roger had owned the company. He’d had pots of money and wasn’t bad-looking either. The trouble was, he’d known it. He’d had every nubile female employee drooling over him, and he’d lapped it up. Lara had known that she would have to do something outstanding to make him notice her.

Her opportunity had come one day when she’d been crossing the car park and had seen her employer sitting in his low-slung silver convertible. ‘Goodnight, Mr Lennox,’ she called cheerfully.

‘Oh, er, goodnight.’ He looked up abstractedly. His car, for some reason, didn’t want to start. He was both embarrassed and angry—and so would she have been if she’d bought such an expensive car and it failed her.

She turned back to him. ‘Can I help?’

Roger had blond hair and blue eyes and was slightly overweight, but his charm made people forget it. He was like a Greek god, some of the girls claimed. Those blue eyes looked at her now scornfully. ‘You’re a woman.’

‘It doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about engines.’ Lara tossed back. Being the only girl in a family of boys she had spent a good part of her life watching them pull cars apart and put them back together, helping whenever they’d let her. She knew as much as any man about the way a car’s engine worked.

Roger Lennox frowned. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Of course I am. Open your bonnet.’ She didn’t dare to think that he would, but amazingly he did as she asked, although his frown deepened and she could see that he wasn’t sure it was wise.

And when he got out to inspect what she was doing, when one thigh brushed against hers, Lara felt the full impact of his sexuality. It was what every girl in the building fantasised over. ‘You sure you know what you’re doing?’ he asked.

‘I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.’ She tried to sound nonchalant but it was difficult. He was attractive without a doubt, and he did quicken her heartbeats, but more importantly he was part of her strategy and her hands trembled as she checked that everything was as it should be. ‘Would you like to try it again?’ she asked huskily, mentally crossing her fingers that it would start. She wanted to make an impression, not a fool of herself.

The engine sprang into life at the first turn of the key. Roger Lennox looked at her disbelievingly as she appeared from behind the bonnet. ‘What did you do?’ It was clear he had never tinkered with a car engine in his life.

Lara shrugged. ‘The distributor lead had worked loose.’

‘I’m impressed. I didn’t know women knew about these things. Let me give you a lift home, it’s the least I can do.’

Triumph welled in her. She couldn’t have orchestrated this any better if she’d tried. She dropped the bonnet, wiped her hands on a tissue, and slid into the seat beside him.

‘Where are you?’ Bryce Kellerman’s deep voice broke into her thoughts.

Sitting beside another man. Ruining my life.

Roger Lennox had sent her flowers the next day, causing a furore in the office. It had been good manners, or so she told herself, to go and thank him. One thing had led to another. Before long he’d asked her out. They got married eight weeks later.

She had achieved her dream.

‘I was thinking about Roger,’ she said quietly, ‘about the day I met him.’

‘Ah!’ It was as though he saw everything.

‘I thought I’d met the man of my dreams.’

‘Love at first sight?’

Hardly, when it was Roger’s bank balance she’d been interested in, but she wasn’t admitting that. It was too embarrassing by far. She’d heard the saying that money didn’t buy happiness, hadn’t believed it, but now knew it was true. She’d made a foolish mistake. ‘I thought so,’ she answered weakly.

‘So what went wrong?’

Still more questions. If she wasn’t careful he’d end up hearing her life story. She’d never met a man who showed this much interest. She lifted her shoulders. ‘This and that. Actually he was a control freak.’ And that was putting it mildly. Roger had ruled her life.

‘And I can see that you’re not the type of girl who likes to be controlled,’ he said with a measured smile. ‘In my opinion no one should have their spirits repressed. I would never do that, especially to a woman. I like them feisty.’

And Lara Lennox was most definitely feisty. Bryce loved the way her eyes shot daggers, the proud tilt of her beautiful face, the way her tantalising body stiffened and rejected him.

He wanted to break through those defences; he wanted to show her that not all men were the same. At least her husband hadn’t repressed her altogether. She’d had enough strength to get out of a marriage that wasn’t working.

When Helen had invited him to this party he hadn’t been sure that he’d wanted to meet her niece. Helen was an inveterate matchmaker: she’d been trying for years to find him a wife, and he was tired of her game.

If and when he ever married he wanted the girl to be of his own choosing. He wanted to make quite sure that she wasn’t interested in him for all the wrong reasons. He’d had a few near misses; he’d allowed himself to be fooled by a pretty face and a willing body; he’d even almost married on one occasion, only finding out in the nick of time what she was like. He was beginning to wonder whether all women were the same: whether a rich, successful husband was their prime target in life.

This girl sitting beside him was the most intriguing he’d met in a long time. Maybe it was because she was so anti-men that he found her challenging. Maybe because she was so hauntingly beautiful. And he hadn’t been lying when he’d said her skin was like the petals of an English rose.

He wanted to touch, to stroke, to feel its silken, velvety texture. The sun had never burnt it; it had never felt the incredible heat that could do so much damage here in Australia.

‘Tell me,’ she said now, ‘have you ever been married?’

He didn’t want to talk about himself; he wanted to talk about her. He wanted to find out everything. Helen had been vague, and even Lara seemed disinclined to give much away. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I’ve never found the right girl.’

‘Really?’ Her deep blue eyes widened. ‘I find that difficult to understand.’

Did that mean she was interested in him, despite her apparent indifference? He felt a sudden hormonal surge. And then berated himself because he knew nothing about her. For all he knew she could be the same as the rest. ‘It’s not because I’ve been short of choice,’ he said shortly. ‘There’s simply been none whom I’ve wished to marry.’

‘You have very exacting standards, is that it?’ she asked, her fine eyebrows delicately arched.

‘I suppose so.’

‘And you’ve never found Miss Perfect?’

‘Not yet.’ But maybe today he’d got lucky. If she took after her aunt then he’d have no complaints. Helen was a wonderful, caring woman. Money didn’t mean anything to her. She always said that it was a person’s mind and attitude that counted.

‘This is a beautiful spot,’ said Lara. ‘So different to what I’m used to. I live in a town with no river or lake for miles. Water is so relaxing, don’t you think?’

If you sat and looked at it, yes, he supposed. But not when you had an exciting girl by your side. ‘Some people find it that way,’ he agreed.

‘But you don’t?’

‘You know what they say about familiarity.’

‘I’d never get fed up of this. Nor Darling Harbour. My aunt took me there the other day. I don’t know where it got its name, but it’s very apt. I didn’t want to come away.’

‘I’m glad you like it. One of our early governors, Sir Ralph Darling, renamed it after himself. The Aborigines called it Tumbalong.’ He would have liked to take her there but knew it was too soon. She was being nice for her aunt’s sake, but after tonight—would she want to see him again?

For the first time in his life Bryce Kellerman felt unsure of himself.