The Marriage Risk

‘Absolutely! When I’m hot I literally sizzle with high octane energy. You want me to sizzle?’

‘I want you to burn him up. And Josh, wear that gorgeous metallic waistcoast and the blue silk tie.’

‘A touch of flamboyance with the formal suit?’

‘Shining is the order of the night.’

‘Lucy love, I shall glitter for you.’

‘Not too much,’ she warned. ‘You’re not to let anyone guess you’re gay.’

‘Totally straight behaviour, I promise.’

She heaved a sigh to relieve all the horrid pent-up feelings James Hancock had left her with today. ‘I need to get that guy, Josh.’

‘In more ways than one I gather.’

She eyed him wryly. ‘Hopeless case, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, little miracles can happen.’ He grinned, gleeful mischief twinkling in his eyes. ‘Trust me. We’ll make the man see you in a different light tonight.’

‘I’ll still be me, Josh.’

‘And so you should be. It’s his vision at fault, Lucy love, not you,’ he assured her. ‘Now go and put your glitter gear on and practice some sultry looks in the mirror. If I sizzle and you simmer…’

Despite the dejection that had suddenly overtaken her anger, she laughed at the picture he painted. ‘I’m not exactly a sex-pot and he’ll be with one. Buffy Tanner, the swimsuit model with the overflowing D-cup.’

Josh gestured an airy dismissal. ‘You’re fixated on big boobs. Superficial padding.’

‘Padding or not, I wish mine were bigger.’

‘Sexy is more in the attitude than the equipment,’ came the knowing advice. ‘And one other thing. Best to turn up late.’

‘I’m never late. I don’t like being late,’ she protested.

Sheer wickedness sparkled back at her. ‘But I’m hot stuff, Lucy love, and you just couldn’t resist having me. Punctuality shot to hell!’

She couldn’t help laughing again. ‘I doubt he’d even notice, Josh.’

‘Oh, he’ll notice all right.’ He waggled his eyebrows as he elaborated. ‘His predictable little secretary suddenly not fitting the frame he’s put her in. Believe me. He’ll notice.’

‘Well, I don’t actually need to be there on time,’ she argued to her obsession for punctuality. ‘He did say the tickets were free, no work-strings attached.’

‘There you are then,’ Josh asserted triumphantly. ‘Off you go. I’ll bring you a gin cocktail at seven-thirty. Some Mother’s Ruin to put you in the right party mood.’

They should be leaving at seven-thirty, her time-keeping brain dictated. It would take half an hour to get from Bellevue Hill to Darling Harbour, park Josh’s car, walk to the Sydney Convention Centre where the fund-raising ball was being held in the main auditorium. Cocktails in the foyer from eight o’clock the tickets read.

But so what if she had a cocktail here? The world would not come to an end if she didn’t turn up on the dot of eight o’clock. Why not be unpredictable for once?

‘Okay. And thanks, Josh.’ She flashed him an appreciative smile. ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed.’

The very best of friends, she thought warmly as she left him and let herself into her own apartment. Even this place, which was now hers—with a hefty mortgage—Josh had advised her was a good buy, if she could scrape up the money. The previous owners, now a divorced couple, had wanted a quick sale, and Lucy had stepped into a bargain, considering the real estate values in this location, midway between the inner city and Bondi Beach.

Walking into her very own space always gave her spirits a lift. James Hancock could call her a money-grubber as much as he liked. At least she didn’t have to depend on a man to provide her with the security of a home, which wasn’t secure at all if there was a divorce. Her careful savings over the years had added up to a solid down payment on this apartment. She was now a woman of property and she’d achieved it by herself.

Her mother was definitely right.

Being sensible did bring its own rewards.

Yet as Lucy headed for her bedroom, she wished she had splashed out and bought a glamorous gown for tonight. Although her one little black dress was perfectly adequate for any evening engagement, it was…boring. Not that it really mattered, she told herself. It was still a classy dress, bought cheaply from a secondhand designer boutique, and it would do…once again. She couldn’t compete with Buffy Tanner anyway. No point in trying. And the money saved would go towards buying the furniture she wanted.

All the same, she felt vaguely disgruntled with her basic common sense as she set about getting ready for the charity ball. It would undoubtedly give her considerable satisfaction to flaunt a flamboyant Josh as her partner tonight, hopefully delivering a metaphorical slap in the face to James Hancock and his opinion of her private life. But the truth was she never did do anything wildly exciting. Perhaps she was overly careful in her weighing up of whether a step was worth taking or not.

The worthy Miss Worthington…

The words stung.

The urge to act in a totally unworthy and outrageous way suddenly held a highly tempting attraction. Especially in front of James Hancock. Free tickets meant free from any responsibility. She could play as fast and as loose as she liked with Josh, knowing there’d be no nasty consequences from him, and if she was going to hand in her notice and find another job, why not do and say anything that came into her head. Puncturing James Hancock’s complacent judgement of her would go a long way towards salving her pride. And hurt.

Lawless Lucy…

She chuckled over the name that had slid into her mind.

Why not?

She stopped burning and started simmering. Attitude, Josh had said. Never mind her clothes or anything else. It was all in the attitude.

It wasn’t like Lucy to be late.

James Hancock couldn’t stop himself from glancing at his Rolex watch yet again. Another few minutes and the crowd of guests enjoying cocktails in the foyer would be moving into the auditorium. She should have been here at least half an hour ago. While he’d been waiting for her to arrive, he’d greeted an endless stream of the beautiful people and he could feel his smile getting very stiff. Damn the woman! Where was she?

His buoyant anticipation had slid through a frazzle of frustration at her continued non-appearance and was now descending into nagging worry. Had there been an accident? Lucy didn’t drive, didn’t own a car—too penny-pinching to buy one—but he knew nothing about this Josh Rogan who was bringing her here tonight. If he was hot stuff behind a wheel and had involved Lucy in a smash…no, surely she was too level-headed to go out with a speed-jerk.

But what was keeping her?

‘Wow! Who is that?’ Buffy breathed, her sexual interest obviously stirred.

James snapped out of his introspection, his male ego somewhat piqued. While Buffy might still be a bit miffed about his lack of appreciation for how long it took to look her fabulous best for him, drooling over other men was hardly designed to win his favour. It was as rude as unpunctuality, another black mark against continuing the relationship.

With a jaundiced eye, he looked where she was looking and was instantly jolted into electric attention. Lucy! Hanging onto the arm of a guy who could be cast as the romantic lead in a movie, and probably was!

He had a matinee idol face framed by a riot of black curls, a smile a dentist would be proud of, and he certainly didn’t mind drawing attention to what was obviously a gym-toned body, wearing a flashy waistcoat with an over-lustrous coloured tie which mocked the regular black bow-ties most of the other male guests, including himself, had automatically used.

A young trendy show-off, James was telling himself, just as Buffy heaved a sigh that undoubtedly set her opulent breasts aquiver for the approaching sex symbol to notice. His teeth grated together as he switched his attention to Lucy, who, he was suddenly pleased to see looked her normal self—hair neatly tucked up, glasses on, the same little black cocktail dress she invariably wore when called upon to attend an evening function.

Except there was something different about her—a jaunty self-satisfied sway to her hips—which struck him as decidedly un-prim. Her mouth, too, seemed to have a more sensual purse to her lips as she gazed up at the self-styled hot stuff, who was apparently amusing her with his playboy patter.

In fact, James began to feel that Lucy’s prim facade was more innately provocative than Buffy’s in-your-face femininity. It was certainly tantalising, posed next to the party guy who was parading her towards the group in which James and Buffy stood, waiting to be joined by these two last table companions.

Waiting, James thought irritably, able to dismiss his concern over Lucy’s absence now. No doubt it was the star act she had in tow who had kept them waiting. He struggled to adopt an affable manner for performing introductions, hoping Buffy would stop ogling and have the decency to remember who her escort was.

‘Ah!’ he drawled with a bright, welcoming smile. ‘Here you are! We’re about to go into the auditorium,’ he couldn’t resist adding to point out their lateness.

‘But there’s time for introductions,’ Buffy pressed eagerly, positively jiggling with eagerness.

‘Lucy…’ James invited, keeping his teeth clamped in a smile.

‘James Hancock, Josh Rogan,’ Lucy obliged with commendable economy.

James braced himself to return a macho handshake but apparently the younger man felt no need to prove himself stronger than Lucy’s employer. He simply radiated self-assurance, his dark eyes twinkling the kind of focused interest that made people feel at ease and pleased by the interest. James recognised the ploy. He used it himself. Josh Rogan was clearly an accomplished salesman.

‘A pleasure, having you with us,’ James rolled out, containing his curiosity while he did the honours. With a sweep of his hand encompassing the group around him, he went on, ‘I think you’re all acquainted with my punctilious secretary, Lucy Worthington.’ Although she had certainly not been punctilious tonight! ‘Josh, this is Buffy Tanner…’

Buffy leaned over as she took Josh Rogan’s hand, giving him an eyeful, but unlike most men who would find the view irresistible, Josh smiled into her face and repeated her name with a happy lilt that could have been applied to a Matilda or a Beatrice. If he was receiving Buffy’s signals, he had no intention of answering them.

The other three couples in their group were given the same treatment by Josh Rogan as he was introduced to them. James could find no fault in his manner. The response to him was instinctively positive, an attractive person putting out pleasant vibrations and getting them back.

‘What business are you in, Josh?’ Hank Gidley, the last one to be introduced, inquired with keen interest.

‘Fine wines. Import and export,’ came the answer that allowed James to slot him into place, though it wasn’t the place he’d first imagined. However, it did explain the polished savoire-faire displayed so far. Josh Rogan was used to dealing with customers who could afford to buy fine wines and he probably charmed them into buying whatever he wanted to sell.

‘Oh, I thought you’d be in modelling like me,’ Buffy gushed.

The dark eyes twinkled at her wickedly. ‘Like everyone else, I admire external beauty, Buffy, but I’m really into tasting superb content.’ And he swung his gaze to Lucy as though she provided the taste he most relished.

She grinned at him—grinned like a Cheshire cat who’d just been fed lashings of cream—and James felt his stomach clenching with outrage. Here he’d been worrying about her, while she had been revelling in being tasted by this wine buff, no doubt with much sensual appreciation. Which explained why her hips had been swaying with that smirk of satisfaction about them.

‘Time to go in to our table,’ he announced tersely, and wrapped Buffy’s arm around his to lead off their little procession.

Nothing was going to plan this evening.

Nothing!

And he didn’t like it one bit.

CHAPTER THREE

AS THEY followed James and Buffy into the auditorium, Lucy was still laughing inside at the way Josh had complimented her content. It was all she could do not to burst out in spluttering amusement. James had been positively tight-faced about Josh preferring her to his trophy woman, and Buffy Tanner’s jaw had literally dropped at being so cavalierly dismissed in favour of Lucy Worthington.

A double blow to ego, she thought sweetly, and it served them both right—James for calling her his punctilious secretary on what was supposedly her night off, and Buffy Tanner for thinking she could vamp Josh right under Lucy’s nose.

However, her amusement didn’t last long. As they trailed after the leading couple towards their designated table, Lucy had to concede Buffy looked absolutely stunning, even the back view of her which she was swishing in front of Josh right now. The white beaded evening dress she barely wore was cut almost to her free-flowing buttocks, leaving a lovely curve of naked spine on display, and her shining mane of black ringlets dangled to just below her shoulder-blades, tempting touch.

The gleaming expanse of naked skin was without blemish, and Lucy couldn’t really bring herself to believe there was any cellulite hidden under the clingy fabric that moved so enticingly with every step forward. It was all very well to feel smugly pleased that Buffy couldn’t hook Josh with her seductive padding, but she did have James securely at her side.

With so much femininity on display and available to him, why would James even bother to look at his commonplace secretary in a different light? It wasn’t really feasible, Lucy decided, although Josh had certainly delivered a surprise impact out there in the foyer. That, in itself, was some balm to her wounded pride.

She told herself to be content with it because miracles were not about to happen on her behalf tonight. Better to concentrate on enjoying herself with Josh than burn herself up, hankering after what was never going to be with James Hancock.

The auditorium seemed vast—a sea of tables for ten set around a dance-floor. Four hundred guests were pouring in, settling around the starched white table-cloths which added the required class to the gleaming cutlery and glasses and the centre-pieces of angel candles set in clusters of perfect camellias. Countless silver stars hung from the ceiling, a reminder that this ball was being held by the Starwish Foundation to raise funds for children with cancer.

James had organised the entertainment, free of charge, and a young, up-and-coming band was on stage, enthusiastically playing a jazzy number to get everyone in a party mood. Behind the musicians on an elevated platform was a gleaming red convertible, an Alpha Spider sports car which was to be raffled tonight, a prize to promote the idea that in every heart is a hope for something special to magically happen to them.

A wish come true was the theme of the charity ball, but Lucy couldn’t, in all honesty, believe her wish that James could suddenly find her desirable had any possibility of coming true. He might wonder how a man like Josh could find her attractive, but why would that niggle of curiosity alter what he felt—or rather, didn’t feel—towards his secretary?

Sex appeal was a chemistry thing and Lucy just didn’t have the right elements to spark that kind of interest from him. Eight months of purely platonic treatment should have drummed that into her.

Ahead of them, James ushered Buffy to a chair at a table which had a direct view of centre-stage, one row back from the dance-floor. A prime position, Lucy thought, which, of course, James was adept at manoeuvring for himself.

‘You next to me, Lucy,’ he directed, nodding to his left, having already seated Buffy on his right.

Lucy was dumbstruck and instantly agitated by having to be so close to him all night. It would be sheer torture for her, almost touching, forced to hear how he spoke to Buffy, made excruciatingly aware of the contrast in his manner towards herself.

She had expected him to give his friends the more favoured places facing the stage. She was, after all, only his secretary. However, no-one protested as he organised the rest of the seating and Josh led her around to their designated chairs, murmuring in her ear, ‘Guests of honour, Lucy love. Score one to us.’

Lucy couldn’t accept that highly hopeful interpretation. It was too far out of step with the all too painful truth of what she knew. She suspected a purpose that had nothing to do with any newly noticed womanly charms. The moment James settled on the chair beside her she muttered to him, ‘Why did you put me here?’

His blue eyes sliced to her with a glittering intent that cut into her heart. ‘Why not?’

‘You said I wasn’t wanted for work tonight.’

‘You aren’t.’

‘You’ve placed me on hand, right next to you.’

One eyebrow lifted in mocking challenge. ‘Is that offensive to you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she quickly denied, although she hated—violently hated—being trapped in this position.

‘Is it beyond the realms of your imagination that I might enjoy your company outside of work?’

Lucy flushed, intensely embarrassed by a directness that hit on her own secret desires. ‘You’ve got company,’ she pointed out, nodding to Buffy who was busy eyeing Josh with rapt admiration.

‘I’m greedy,’ James replied, totally unabashed at admitting to wanting both women to entertain him. ‘It’s my table, Lucy. I’m entitled to arrange it how I like.’

‘What? Beauty on one side and brains on the other?’ she couldn’t stop herself from sniping.

His mouth curled. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

‘How would you put it?’ she challenged fiercely, completely losing her cool as resentment of his selfish decision raged through her.

His gaze flicked to Josh, then back to her. ‘Interesting to think of what caused you to be late, Lucy,’ he drawled. ‘Somehow I doubt it was intellectual conversation.’

Shock zapped her mind for several seconds. Then a wild welling of triumphant glee billowed over the shock. It had worked! Bringing Josh and being late was making James see her differently. At the very least he no longer had her pigeon-holed as his worthy secretary. She was now an interesting woman!

A smile tugged at her lips and broke into a full-blown grin. ‘It’s such a pleasure to feel free of responsibility, I just let my head go,’ she airily explained.

‘Heady stuff…wine-tasting,’ he remarked sardonically.

Another jolt as Lucy realised he was actually thinking sexual tasting. Which was hilarious in one sense, given Josh’s inclinations, yet deliciously satisfying in another, given the erotic images James was now applying to her.

She giggled. It was the wrong thing to do. She should have simmered. Josh’s advice had been spot on so far. If she was to strengthen the result that had been attained, she had to project a sexy attitude. To cover the sensuality gaffe, she snatched up the glass of champagne a circling waiter had poured and lifted it in a toast.

‘To tasting more of the best,’ she cried recklessly.

He picked up his glass and she could have sworn his eyes simmered as he said, ‘Perhaps the best is yet to come. One has to taste a range of bottles to know which gives the ultimate pleasure.’

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ she agreed, her fantasy world swiftly building a line of gorgeous men with James placing himself at the end of it, ready and willing to show her he was the best.

‘What’s true?’ Buffy interjected.

Lucy’s fevered mind snapped back to sober reality. Seeing her differently didn’t mean that James found her any more attractive. He might be intrigued by the light Josh had supposedly shed on her private life, but Buffy was his choice for his private life. She scrambled for a sensible answer to the question asked.

‘You need to sample a lot of different wines before judging which pleases the palate most,’ she eventually managed, turning to Josh for his support, wanting him to carry the conversation while she recovered some equilibrium. ‘Isn’t that so, Josh?’

‘Absolutely,’ he chimed in. ‘Though I must say the very finest do stand out, once tasted.’ He slid Lucy a mischievously intimate glance. ‘Unforgettable.’

The urge to giggle again almost made her choke on her champagne. Josh had obviously been eavesdropping on her conversation with James and was deliberately stirring the hot-pot, being wickedly suggestive. She controlled herself enough to sip the champagne, pretending nothing of any great note had been said.

‘Do you do wine-tasting too, Lucy?’ Buffy asked.

She constructed a gently dismissive smile. ‘Not really. Josh occasionally shares his experience with me.’

That should have been an end to it. However, her partner in pretence decided he’d been thrown the ball and it was his job to run with it as provocatively as he could.

‘Lucy uses me shamelessly, Buffy,’ he declared. ‘As far as she’s concerned, I’m on call to deliver—’ he paused to slide Lucy a salacious look ‘—anything she wants…when she wants it.’

Lucy kicked him under the table. He was exaggerating their relationship and making ‘the wants’ sound far from innocent.

‘And do you?’ James asked somewhat dryly.

‘If it’s humanly possible,’ came Josh’s fervent reply. ‘An invitation to be with Lucy is a gold-card guarantee of pleasure.’ He sighed and shook his head at her as he added, ‘I wish she didn’t keep herself to herself as much as she does.’

She kicked him again, forcefully warning him he was overplaying his hand, but his eyes were dancing merrily and she knew he was having too much fun to desist.

‘So Lucy calls the shots in your relationship,’ James commented.

‘Very strong-minded lady,’ Josh confided. ‘When Lucy sets her mind on a path, you either fall in with her or get off.’

‘Now come on, Josh,’ she chided, feeling she had to scale down his assertions about her. ‘I’m not that inconsiderate of you.’

His hands lifted in an eloquent gesture of appeal. ‘Lucy love, I wasn’t complaining. I wouldn’t miss falling in with you for anything!’ He laid one hand over his heart. ‘Here I am, your willing slave for the night, your pleasure my pleasure.’

‘A willing slave,’ Buffy repeated, as though that was her idea of heaven, and if only Josh would offer such slavery to her she’d snap it up.

Things were definitely getting out of control here, Lucy thought, but didn’t know what to do about it. She’d brought it upon herself, agreeing to Josh’s plan, but now she wasn’t sure it was leading to anywhere she wanted to be. If James started thinking she was using Josh as a toy-boy…

‘I didn’t know you had dominatrix tendencies, Buffy,’ James drawled, an edgy note in his voice.

‘What?’ Clearly she was attempting a mental shake as she switched her attention to him, but her big amber eyes looked empty of any understanding as they appealed for him to explain himself.

Lucy’s mind was reeling, too. A dominatrix? Was that how he was now seeing her…in tight leather gear with a whip in hand, forcing men to perform to her will? She almost died on the spot!

Buffy’s blankness forced James to speak again. ‘Never mind,’ he said bruskly. ‘What do you think of the band?’ He gestured to the musicians on stage to redirect her attention.

‘Oh!’ She obediently looked and listened. ‘They’ve got a good beat. Is this the band you think may do as well as Silverchair?’

James pursued the conversation with Buffy, much to Lucy’s relief. She needed some breathing space to assess what had happened, to get her thoughts into some kind of order for handling the rest of the night which now stretched ahead, loaded with perilous double meanings to everything!

‘He’s hooked,’ Josh whispered triumphantly.

She looked askance at him. ‘He’s taken the bait but he doesn’t like it.’

‘And doesn’t that say something? No indifference there, Lucy love. The man is wriggling beautifully.’