A Wedding To Remember

She shook her head. “I didn’t come to rake over old arguments.”

“Does success make me sweeter for you, Joanna?”

“No.” Her cheeks burnt even more fiercely at his insulting suggestion. “I’m not chasing after you, Rory.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Of course not. A woman of principle like yourself wouldn’t bend that far. I was the one who did the chasing after you. It was you who showed me to your mother’s door, demanding that I never darken it again.”

He let the memory simmer between them before he added, “I simply find it intriguing that you now darken mine. Do you want the money you so proudly and bitterly refused from me then?”

The sting of this reminder evoked the passionate hatred of him she had felt that night. He had come with a cheque, offering her repayment of all the money it had cost her to support him while he was trying to make a go of his fledgling business. As though money could buy back her love after he had betrayed it with Bernice!

She glared at him with stormy eyes. “I didn’t marry you for money and I didn’t divorce you for money. I came to tell you I’m getting married to someone else.”

She saw his jaw tighten, saw the taunting light fade from his eyes, leaving them empty of all expression. There was a crackle of paper as his fingers crunched her note into a tight ball in his hand. He stood up, tall and straight and suddenly formidable in the clothes of his successful thrust into the world of commerce. He stepped around his desk and pointedly dropped the screwed-up paper into a bin. Then he faced her with a viciously mocking smile.

“So what can I do for you, Joanna? Write you a reference? To whom it may concern? I have known Joanna Harding intimately for a period of...now, how long was it, exactly? As I recall, you were nineteen when I—”

“Stop it, Rory!”

“Something wrong with my memory?”

“I don’t need a reference.” She lifted her chin in disdain of his demeaning summary of their time together. “Brad thinks I’m wonderful as I am.”

“Brad...” He drawled the name as though measuring it for destruction. “Now where have I heard Brad before? Oh, yes! He was the wet-behind-the-ears hero in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, wasn’t he?”

Joanna dragged in a deep breath to calm her churning insides. Her eyes flashed scorn at the cruel injustice of Rory’s attitude. “I thought we could be civilised after all this time apart.”

He laughed at her, his eyes glittering with primitive violence. “I have never felt civilised around you, Joanna.”

“I thought we could let bygones be bygones,” she persisted, clutching at dignity as a defence against the way his eyes were stripping her bare, reminding her of the wildness he had tapped in her sexuality, the mad mating they had once revelled in without any inhibitions.

“Can you forget what we had together?” he taunted.

“I wanted to wish you well, Rory,” she forced out in determination to have done with this chaotically disturbing scene.

“How magnanimous of you! Is it better with Brad?”

The cheap shot goaded her into retaliating. “There’s more to life than sex, Rory Grayson. It’s a pity you haven’t found that out. It means that whatever relationships you have will always fail.”

His expression changed, a bleak fatigue drawing older lines on his face. “Wrong, Joanna,” he said flatly. “I happen to be very good at relationships. Genuine relationships. Not ones that are screwed up by expectations that can’t always be met when you want them met.”

Shock turned into anger as Joanna digested Rory’s perception of what had gone wrong in their marriage. He was blaming her for its failure, as though he hadn’t contributed a hundredfold to the breakdown of any healing communication between them.

“Have you fathered any children I don’t know about?” she fired at him with bitter venom. “Or do all your casual bed mates have convenient miscarriages?”

“Does your mother still ride a broomstick?” he shot back at her. “Force-feed you with poison pellets of hatred for me?”

“Leave my mother out of this!”

“Then leave my alleged affairs out, as well!”

“Right! Pardon me for mentioning them. They have long since ceased to be any of my business.”

“Why don’t you admit your real reason for coming, Joanna? Have a bit of self-honesty for once.”

“I’ve already told you,” she snapped.

He shook his head. “Hypocritical nonsense. You came to see if you were free of me. Because you weren’t sure. And you had to know. A last throw of the dice before you married Brad. So let me clear your mind for you.”

“How?” The word slipped out before she realised it was an admission.

Rory seized the opening, a look of dangerous dev-ilment replacing the derisive challenge of a few moments ago. He started walking towards her, unshakeable purpose in every step. “A kiss for the bride-to-be,” he said with a smile that torpedoed her stand of indifference to him.

“No.” Her hand fluttered up to her throat as she frantically fought a rush of panic.

“A wish-you-well kiss from your ex-husband,” Rory went on. “Make of it what you will, but kissed you certainly shall be.”

She took a defensive step backwards.

“What have you to fear if you’re free of me, Joanna?” he taunted. “Call it a gesture of final release. A graceful goodbye, demonstrating that bygones really are bygones and there’s not a thing left between us. Not a jot. Not a speck. Not a molecule of feeling. Prove it to me that there’s nothing left.”

He was using her own words against her, all so irrefutably reasonable that it robbed her of any grounds to protest. She swallowed hard and came up with a burst of defiance. “I don’t have to prove anything to you!”

“Then prove it to yourself.”

He took the hand at her throat and placed it on his shoulder as he slid his other arm around her waist and scooped her hard against the long, lean power of his body. Joanna was shocked into passivity by a rush of warm feeling, a sense of rightness that seemed so treacherous she trembled in fear of what it meant. Long-standing familiarity, her mind screamed, fiercely rejecting any other cause for the sensation of being where she belonged.

Then his lips were on hers, gently grazing, not forcing any rough mastery over her, allowing her a choice of accepting his kiss or evading it. Rory had always been good at kissing, but his expertise in every act of love had aroused only hostility in her towards the end of their marriage. She told herself it was only curiosity that compelled her lips to move to the persuasive pressure of his, to open to the seductive caress of his tongue. She closed her eyes, needing to concentrate on examining the feelings he stirred now, to sort them out to her satisfaction, to prove...

All coherent thought was lost as Rory deepened the kiss, and Joanna’s mind flooded with vibrant sensation. It was an invasion of all her deeply nursed defences against him, a shattering of bitterly held convictions, and it ignited a wild urge to make him experience the same inner turbulence.

Her mouth claimed his with a passionate intensity that sparked a response from him that spun them both out of any semblance of control. Her fingers dug into his hair, holding his head to hers. His hand splayed over the small of her back, arching her into intimate knowledge of the desire she was stirring.

A mad wave of exultation swept through Joanna. She wanted to goad him as he had goaded her, make him burn with the memories of all there had been between them, get under his skin in a way that defeated all the clever reasoning he could come up with.

She moved her body against his in deliberate incitement, recklessly uncaring of any consequences. An animal sound growled from his throat as he wrenched his mouth from hers. She opened her eyes to meet the raw blaze of searing questions in his, and whatever he read in them brought a heave of satisfaction and fast, decisive action.

He scooped Joanna off her feet and had her hugged against his chest in a whirl of male strength that left her gasping. He was heading for the door before she could collect her wits, then to compound the shock of what was happening the door opened and a woman stood there, gaping at them.

“You’ll have to stand aside, Monique. You’re in my way,” Rory instructed.

Monique either defied him or was too stunned to obey. She was a gorgeous brunette, with a beautiful face framed by cascades of wild curls and a fantastic figure poured into a brilliant fuchsia suit. She was not the kind of woman who was used to being told to stand aside, Joanna thought, particularly by men. Her look of utter bewilderment caused Joanna’s eyes to narrow suspiciously. Where did this woman fit into Rory’s life?

It shocked Joanna to realise she felt as jealous of Rory as he must have felt about her with Brad. It had to be a hangover of possessiveness from their marriage. It couldn’t have anything to do with loving.

“What are you doing?” the brunette finally found voice enough to ask.

“I’m abducting my ex-wife. Move aside and let us pass,” came the firm command from Rory.

Monique backed out, looking dazedly at Joanna as Rory carried her from the office. “Your ex-wife,” she repeated limply, then fired herself with purpose. “What about our dinner tomorrow night?”

“My apologies. There’s no telling how long I’ll be gone. Wife-napping is a time-consuming business,” Rory tossed at her without the slightest hesitation as he set off striding past the row of computer cubicles.

Joanna felt a totally wanton sense of elation at this dismissal of the beautiful brunette’s claims on him until she noticed the commotion Rory’s progress was causing amongst his employees. Heads were popping up everywhere.

“Put me down,” she commanded, taking swift stock of her position, which was extremely ambivalent, to say the least.

He ignored her and raised his voice to all those agog with interest. “One thing I want done while I’m away, and you can all get onto it. I want that Kawowski of Matchmakers Incorporated found and pinned down to a contract. We’ve never lost a customer yet, and we’re not going to start now. Is that clear?”

There was a chorus of “yes, sir”, while Joanna writhed between guilt and embarrassment. Impossible to admit to her fabrication about Mr. Kawowski in front of all these people, yet how could she let them waste so much time in looking for someone who didn’t exist? The dilemma was too much for her to cope with, and in the overall picture it was a minor detail. They would soon find out there was no such person.

“Let me go, Rory!” she cried, trying to push out of his hold.

His arms tightened around her, clamping her against him. “You and I need to be together, Joanna.”

“You can’t kidnap me. You’ve got no right! I’m not your wife any more.”

“The divorce was your idea, not mine.”

“That’s irrelevant. I won’t let you carry me off. Call the police!” she demanded of the onlookers.

“Yes, call the police!” Rory agreed. “But give me half an hour’s head start first. I’ll give them a merry chase after that. If I can’t get the story spread across the newspapers for all the world and Brad to read, my name’s not Rory Grayson.”

Joanna had sudden visions of Brad at his conference, with all his respected peers, being severely embarrassed by sensational tabloid stories about the woman he wanted to marry. “Don’t call the police!” she yelled.

“You heard the lady. Don’t call the police,” Rory reiterated strongly.

She thumped him on the back in furious frustration. “You’re ruining my life again.”

“Well, we might as well be ruined together,” he blithely replied. “That’s only fair. Will someone please open the door for me and summon an elevator?”

With the way cleared ahead of him, he strode into the reception room with Joanna still in his captivity.

“Mr. Grayson!” the young woman behind the desk called after him, her voice on the edge of hysteria. She had never witnessed such a scene before and was totally lost as to how to act. She wrung her hands. “Your appointments, Mr. Grayson! What will I do?”

“Postpone them until further notice.”

“But what will I say?”

“Say I’m off for the dirtiest weekend that any man could hope to have. That’ll satisfy everybody.”

He swept into the waiting elevator, pressed a button and grinned with wicked satisfaction as the doors slid shut.

CHAPTER THREE

AS THE ELEVATOR hummed downwards, Joanna’s mind reeled around Rory’s outrageous presumption in hauling her off with him, the indignity he had subjected her to in doing so, the scandalous proof that he still didn’t care what anybody thought of him and the terrible truth that she had instigated the whole chain of events by not freezing him off when he kissed her.

“This won’t do you one bit of good, Rory Grayson!” she said in his ear, letting him know she was not about to fall under the spell of his wild and irrepressible nature again.

“It’s done me a power of good already,” he said cheerfully.

“I was only getting back at you with that kiss.”

“If that was revenge, Joanna, I found it very sweet. The magic is still there for us. As strong as ever.”

“I am not going to have a dirty weekend with you.”

“Tell me about Brad, and why you’re going to marry him.”

The elevator doors rolled open and Rory strode into a basement garage while Joanna whirled through another bout of confusion. She should take pleasure in telling Rory how perfect Brad was for her, but she didn’t want to. She no longer knew what she wanted. Somehow Rory had turned everything upside down, including her.

At last he set her on her feet, and Joanna found herself standing beside the passenger door of a sage-green Jaguar, almost the exact colour of her suit. Rory liked green. Always had. But since when had he been able to afford such an expensive car?

Bemused by his sudden rise to wealth, Joanna did not think of trying a getaway. Rory unlocked the door and opened it before she realised he wasn’t holding her captive anymore. He stood back from her, one hand on the door, the other gesturing an open invitation to choose her own course. He spoke quietly, seriously, his whole manner in marked contrast to all that had gone before.

“You may find this difficult to believe, Joanna, but I want you to be happy. I thought I was the man you could best be happy with. Even when things were wrong between us, I still felt we were right for each other, right in a way that I’ve never felt with anyone else.”

He paused, searching her eyes for a similar admission, some hint of vulnerability to what he was saying, but Joanna stubbornly resisted giving him any concession. If she gave Rory an inch he would take a mile. Yet his words did strike a deeply buried chord in her heart. She had believed that, too. Until he betrayed her faith in the worst possible way.

He gave her a wry smile. “I can’t go back and do things differently. If I’m not the man you can be happy with, then I want to know that Brad is. So long as I know you’ll be happy with him, Joanna, I can let bygones be bygones. But if you’re not sure about marrying him...”

“I didn’t say that,” she cut in swiftly, defensively.

“Joanna, there’s no engagement ring on your finger.”

Her eyes flashed defiance of this superficial judgement. “You didn’t give me a ring.”

“In those days I couldn’t afford what I wanted to give you. Is that the case with Brad?”

She grimaced in vexation at being pinned down. “He’s away at the moment. When he comes back...”

“So this is decision time. And you came to me for help.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Joanna.” He reached out and took her hand, his long, lean fingers curling around hers, stroking them, lightly pressing their persuasion. “Remember how we used to talk? Tell each other everything? No holding back?”

“That was before,” she protested, her eyes flashing with the pain he had given her. Yet she didn’t tug her hand out of his. Somehow it triggered good memories, of when her love for Rory had been young and innocent and full of joy.

“I have no wish to rake over old arguments, either,” he said softly. “We’ll talk about the future. Your future. How you want it to be. How you see it with Brad. As you say, you don’t have to prove anything to me, Joanna, but come with me now and prove whatever you need to prove to yourself. Conclusively. That is what you want, isn’t it?”

She stared at their linked hands, feeling his warmth and his strength and desperately wanting what he was offering. Could she trust him to do what he said? She lifted her gaze, meeting his in fearful uncertainty. “You’ll let me go free whenever I want to, Rory?”

“Whenever you want to,” he promised, the steady blaze of his blue eyes giving her the assurance she needed.

She heaved a sigh to relieve her pent-up turmoil. The voice of hard-learnt cynicism told her it was still a risk to go with him. He undoubtedly meant to take advantage of her compliance, one way or another. Nevertheless, he had to know that force wouldn’t get him any lasting advantage. He had already changed tack on that score. So what harm could it do to spend an hour or two with him? If it clarified her feelings, it would be time well spent.

“All right. I’ll come with you. For a while,” she said warily.

He smiled, a happy, lilting smile that transmitted unbounded joy, the kind of smile Rory used to give her long ago, enveloping her in his pleasure. Joanna’s heart gave a kick, sending a tingle of excited anticipation through her veins as she stepped into his car and settled herself into the low-slung passenger seat. Rory closed the door and moved quickly around to the driver’s side, as though he could not contain an eager exhilaration at the prospect of being with her again.

Joanna deliberately kept her gaze averted from him as he settled himself in the seat beside her. How she could find him so compellingly attractive was deeply worrying. Reawakened sexual chemistry. That’s all it could be. The years apart had somehow corroded the hurts that had formed a protective shield around her.

She had proved she could live without Rory, although existing was probably the more accurate word to describe most of her life since she had left him. Nevertheless, it was paramount she remember these dangerously wayward feelings couldn’t be trusted. It was time she concentrated on the problem that had brought her here, whether or not she could ever give herself wholeheartedly to Brad.

Her head told her Brad Latham was a good, dependable man who would never give her the terrible pain that Rory had. She liked him very much. They had a lot of interests in common. And while liking wasn’t love, Joanna didn’t trust love anymore. Love could lead one badly astray.

But what about sharing Brad’s bed for the rest of her life? Sex with him was pleasant enough. Fine, really. She had honestly believed she would never feel passionate desire again, yet Rory still aroused it, throwing all her sensible reasoning into chaos. If she married Brad, would she always be haunted with memories of what lovemaking had been like with Rory?

She probably shouldn’t be using Rory as some kind of yardstick. To Rory, sex was one of the pleasures in life to be enjoyed whenever and wherever the urge occurred. And the urge had occurred once too often, Joanna savagely reminded herself. At the wrong time, in the wrong place and with the wrong woman. One thing she was certain of in her own mind—Brad would never be unfaithful to her.

The powerful engine of the sports car throbbed into life. Joanna watched Rory’s hands slide around the steering wheel as he directed the Jaguar out of the garage and onto the road. He obviously enjoyed the feel of power under his touch. He was a tactile person, sensitive to the tiniest vibration, attuned to responding to it. Joanna wondered if Monique knew that.

“So tell me about Brad. What’s he like? Handsome? Physically attractive?”

“Yes.”

Not in the same traffic-stopping class as Monique, but Joanna was not about to tell Rory that. Besides, Brad was handsome. While his strong, clean-cut features had none of the rakish charm of Rory’s more dramatic individuality, nor the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he was certainly good-looking. Everyone thought so.

“That’s not very forthcoming, Joanna,” Rory chided. “Tell me what he’s like.”

“He’s not a taker like you,” she shot at him in a burst of resentment. “He gives a lot of himself. He cares about people.”

“A sterling character,” Rory drawled. “What does he do for a living?”

“He’s the headmaster of—”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Rory rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t tell me this is true. Not a headmaster. Not after me. Headmasters are dull, conventional people.”

“Brad is not dull. He’s a go-getter and very progressive. Which is why he’s the headmaster of a prestigious private school.”

“Worse!” Rory groaned. “How could you even think of throwing your lot in with a stuffy, narrow-minded, elitist snob of the worst kind? To go from me to such a man...” He shook his head. “It’s not only insulting to me, it belittles you.”

“Stop the car and let me out,” Joanna commanded tersely.

“Not on this downbeat note. We haven’t got to where we’re going to yet.”

“I’m not having you criticising someone you don’t know anything about.”

“Put it down as a minor outburst of irritation and annoyance.” He threw her a smile of apologetic appeal. “I simply can’t bear to think of you putting yourself into a straitjacket for the rest of your life. That might suit your mother, Joanna, but—”

“I thought we agreed to leave my mother out of this.”

“You told me you didn’t want to live like your mother, always thinking of what others think of you.” He cast her a look of concern. “That’s how you’d have to be, married to the headmaster of a private school, Joanna. No putting a foot wrong. No letting your hair down. Dressed to the nines all the time. Like Caesar’s wife. Beyond reproach.”

“Better than being Nero’s wife, not knowing whose bed he was coming from,” she sniped.

Rory sighed deeply. “Now is that being reasonable, hitting me below the belt, unfairly, I might add, when I’m doing my best to be helpful? What happened to bygones being bygones?”

“You brought my mother into it.”

“Hard to keep her out of it when she must be promoting this match as though it was made in heaven,” came the dry reply.

In all honesty, Joanna could not deny that. She bit her lips and brooded for a few moments before her mind retrieved the claim by Rory that she had hit him below the belt unfairly with her shot about adultery. Was he still trying to deny what he’d done? While she couldn’t prove he had been unfaithful with more than one woman, one was quite enough for Joanna.

What had hurt most at that killing moment of revelation was that she herself had been trying to get pregnant for months. Not that Rory had known that. He had wanted to wait until they were financially on their feet before starting a family. Having a baby had been her decision, a desperate bid to rekindle the intimacy they had lost in endless arguments about what they should be doing and where they should be heading. For Rory to have had sex with another woman and impregnate her was a double betrayal.

Joanna could never forgive it. And she wasn’t about to forget it, either, no matter what Rory said, or did, or how he made her feel. Time did not mitigate some offences. Rory might be able to prove that Brad was the wrong man for her, but that didn’t make him the right one.

Her attention was caught by the view of beach and sea as the car turned into a street that led to them. “Where are we?” she asked, realising she had taken no notice of direction from the time they had left the office building in Chatswood.

“Dee Why,” Rory answered.

It was one of a string of beaches running north from the head of Sydney Harbour, but that was as much as Joanna knew about Dee Why. She had never been here.