Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby

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.

CHAPTER FOUR

FLETCHER zeroed in on her again the moment the photographic session was over, with one of the waiters in tow, ensuring she had her choice from a tray of canapes and handing her a glass of champagne.

‘Shall we find a quiet spot where we can enjoy the view together?’ he suggested, his eyes transmitting pleasure in her— warm, blood-tingling pleasure.

The groomsman partnering her had a girlfriend amongst the guests so she felt no social obligation to remain with him. Nor was she needed for any further bridesmaid duty until much later this evening. Free to please herself, Tammy had no hesitation in agreeing to Fletcher’s plan. She wanted to be alone with him, wanted to explore what he made her feel.

‘Lead the way,’ she invited.

He curled a protective arm around her waist as he negotiated their way through the crowd and Tammy found herself once again revelling in the sense of dominant strength keeping her safe, taking care of her. The male-female connection felt very intense, as though they were locked in step together, moving in a capsule of space that was uniquely theirs—a capsule permeated with acute sexual awareness.

He took her down a short flight of stone steps to a lower terrace where several park benches were placed to catch the long-range vista of the harbour. His arm dropped away from her as he saw her seated. He hooked it on the back of the bench, seating himself beside her in a half-turn position, watching her instead of the scenic view in front of them.

Tammy hoped he couldn’t see any visible sign of the physical meltdown going on inside her. As it was, she struggled for enough mental strength to engage him in conversation. ‘You must have travelled to many places, Fletcher. Is there anywhere more beautiful than this?’ she asked, wanting to know more about his life, which was so separate to hers.

‘Not like this. Many places have a unique beauty. It’s impossible to compare one to the other because they’re so different and have an appeal of their own. I prefer more-primitive places than cityscapes. The glaciers in Alaska, Hualong Bay in Vietnam, the huge herds of wildebeest roaming the Serengeti Plains in Kenya…. Have you ever been outside Australia, Tamalyn?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve never earned enough money to go.’

‘Nursing isn’t a well-paid profession,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Have you graduated to being a fully qualified midwife now?’

‘Almost.’ She smiled, pleased that he recollected their conversation at Celine’s wedding. ‘You remembered that about me?’

‘Tamalyn of the stormy black hair and violet eyes, the lightning-fast tongue, the natural rhythm of a sensual siren, the heart of an earth-mother…there’s nothing I don’t remember about you.’ He rolled this out as though she was vividly entrenched in his mind.

It was so seductively flattering, Tammy was speechless with surprise and pleasure. It took her several moments to recover her voice and then it was to blurt out, ‘I wasn’t even nice to you.’

‘Nice…’ He laughed. ‘I get lots of nice from women. I prefer spice to nice. Tell me…do you still find the baby business rewarding?’

‘Yes. Though it’s hard when…’ An ungovernable rush of emotion brought tears to her eyes. She’d thought she’d dealt with the tragedy, put it in reasonable perspective, but being with him had somehow undermined the wall of containment she had erected. ‘We lost a baby this week,’ she said baldly. ‘A much-wanted boy. The grief of the parents…’ She shook her head as she fought not to completely choke up. ‘It was hard.’

‘Losing him…it wasn’t your fault?’

The concern in his voice, the implied caring for her, squeezed her heart. ‘No. There were physical defects. He didn’t really have a chance, poor little mite.’

‘I’m sure you did all you could for him, Tamalyn.’

‘Yes. It’s just that sometimes it’s not enough, and it hurts that I can’t change that because I want to so badly.’ She blinked hard to erase the moisture in her eyes, then looked up at him with a wry little smile. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s not what you want from me, is it?’

No fun, she thought. No sharp wit, no spice, totally unsexy. And he was put off by her emotional outpouring, not the slightest gleam of desire left for her in his eyes. They were totally dark, intensely dark, boring into hers as though transfixed by the heart she had just laid bare. When he finally spoke, it was in a strained tone.

‘Life and death…you’re intimately involved with it on a daily basis, while I—’ he grimaced ‘—I work with numbers, removed from the humanity that touches you all the time.’ His hand lifted, featherlight fingers brushing her cheek in a kind of tender salute. ‘You shred my pride, Tamalyn.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to carry on. You should have tremendous pride in what you’ve done, Fletcher. It’s so beyond most people’s capabilities and…’

His fingers moved to her lips, silencing the anxious rush to give him the importance he deserved.

‘I’m the one who should apologise,’ he said gruffly. ‘Calling what you do “the baby business” was crass. I didn’t realise, didn’t stop to think there could be pain as well as pleasure in your work. Last time we met, you spoke so happily about becoming a midwife.’

‘Mostly it is happy,’ she assured him.

‘Good!’

He smiled, and it was like sunshine bursting upon her after rain. She hadn’t dampened his interest in her, hadn’t spoiled anything. He cared about her and it was wonderful to bask in his caring.

‘Tell me about your work,’ she pressed eagerly, wanting him to share his world with her.

It was so much bigger, very high-level and political, though he was now in an advisory role on the system he and his team had created, passing what he’d called hack work to others. ‘My time is more my own. I can choose what I do,’ he explained.

Tammy hoped he would choose to spend a lot of it with her.

They stayed on the terrace together, watching the lights come on around the harbour as the twilight darkened, then followed the other guests into the house.

It wasn’t a formal reception, more like a cocktail party with drinks and gourmet finger food being regularly circulated. Tammy had never thought of eating being sexy. Somehow Fletcher made it so, watching her mouth when she bit into puff pastry or spooned in the yummy mornay scallops served on shells. He used a drop of sauce falling on her chin to wipe it off with his finger and put it in his own mouth with a slow sensuality that seemed terribly erotic. She found herself licking her lips and it wasn’t in appreciation of the fine food. She wanted to taste him, wanted to experience everything about the man he was.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.