Her Wealthy Husband

‘It’s not that,’ she protested. Why, oh why, had she opened her mouth? ‘I do want to be friends with you, Bryce. I guess I’m on edge because Roger phoned my mother yesterday.’

‘Your ex?’ The news brought his head up with a jerk.

Lara nodded, grimacing as she did so, letting him see how unhappy she was.

‘What did he want?’

‘For us to get back together.’

There was a sudden stillness about him. ‘And?’

A tiny shrug lifted her slender shoulders. ‘I was supposed to phone my mother back this morning. I can’t believe I forgot.’ She could only blame the excitement of getting ready to spend a day with Bryce! And it was true, she had been excited. She’d dithered for ages about what to wear, trying on outfit after outfit, finally settling on navy cotton shorts and a navy and white top. Helen had said she looked very nautical.

He glanced at his watch. ‘She’ll be in bed now. I’ll remind you when we get home. Did she tell him where you are? Will he make a nuisance of himself?’

Lara hadn’t even thought along those lines. Now she frowned contemplatively. ‘I shouldn’t think so.’

‘What makes him think there’s a chance that you’d go back to him?’ His voice was harsh and disapproving. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me?’

Lara turned her mouth down at the corners, not wanting to discuss Roger with this man. It was none of his business. But she had to say something. ‘He didn’t want the divorce, to tell you the truth. He couldn’t understand why I felt as I did. He couldn’t see anything wrong in his behaviour.’

‘There’s none so blind as those who don’t want to see,’ he said scathingly.

‘You’re telling me,’ she declared fiercely. ‘He seemed to think that because he bought me nice things, because we had a comfortable home, because we entertained his friends on a fairly regular basis, that I had a good and fulfilling life. He didn’t realise that I’d have liked my own friends around me, that I’d have liked a say in some things. He had no idea how stifled I felt.’

‘It’s a shame he’s spoilt your holiday,’ said Bryce. ‘Last night you began to relax. Today you’re as uptight as when I first met you. You’ve rebuilt the wall. I’m an outsider.’

Lara gave a rueful smile. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen. I appreciate the trouble you’ve gone to on my behalf. I’m enjoying today.’

A dark eyebrow quirked upwards. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely.’ She had only herself to blame for the tension that had settled over them like a thundercloud.

‘Are you ready for lunch?’

Lara looked around at all the water surrounding them. ‘Where are you suggesting we eat?’

‘You have two choices,’ he said, his smile warmer now. ‘We could go to Doyles at Watsons Bay—you’ve heard of our famous fish-and-chip restaurant? Or we could drop anchor and eat right here. I have a hamper in the cabin.’

‘I think I’d like the picnic,’ Lara decided. She no longer wanted to be surrounded by other people. She was enjoying Bryce’s company too much.

‘You’re not afraid of me any more?’ he asked, eyes narrowed.

‘It was silly of me to be wary,’ she said with a wry, apologetic smile. ‘I should have known differently.’

And so out came the cool-box filled with thick slices of ham and chunky chicken portions, with salads and cheeses, with bread rolls and wine, and for dessert a mango already sliced, glossy plums and finger bananas, as well as several different flavoured yoghurts. Far too much for them, but all utterly, utterly delicious.

‘This is wonderful,’ she said more than once. ‘You’re certainly doing me proud today.’

‘I would always do you proud if you were mine,’ he said seriously. ‘I would never treat you like a possession.’ Although his eyes were grave they managed to send sensual messages at the same time. Her skin grew warm; her fingers clenched around the wineglass, and so that she didn’t need to look at him she swallowed what was left in one gulp.

Immediately he refilled her glass, his own too, and they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Other craft moved past them, their occupants either waving or calling out a greeting—he seemed to know many people—but they didn’t intrude on their privacy.

‘You’re not thinking of going back to Roger?’ he asked at length.

‘Goodness, no!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s the last thing I want.’

‘Sometimes men like your ex wield a power that a woman finds hard to resist.’

Lara shook her head. ‘Getting away from that marriage was the best thing I ever did.’

Eventually Bryce said it was time they moved and he pulled up the anchor, but when he turned the key nothing happened. The engine groaned but refused to start. He swore beneath his breath.

Was a boat engine like a car engine? Lara wondered, and then cursed. Dammit, she hadn’t wanted to think about Roger again. Why did he keep intruding into her thoughts? It was the phone call, of course, one she could have easily done without. And until she rang her mother she wouldn’t know exactly what he had said—and he would continue to plague her.

She watched as Bryce lifted the engine cover and fiddled with leads and wires before he tried it again. Still no joy. But at least he looked as though he knew what he was doing. When the engine finally sprang into life he gave a grunt of satisfaction.

‘What was wrong?’ she asked.

‘I suspect the fuel pump. It’s not the first time it’s done this on me. In fact…’ He let his voice trail away.

‘In fact what?’ she asked with a frown.

‘I think I should pull into shore and check it out. Better to be safe than sorry.’

All Lara could see on the shoreline were private houses, large exclusive mansions worth millions of dollars with steeply terraced gardens leading down to the water’s edge. She’d been studying them as they’d eaten their lunch, wondering what sort of people lived there.

‘I can’t see anywhere you can tie up.’

‘That’s simple. I live there.’ He pointed to one of the elegant properties.

Lara frowned. ‘What do you mean, you live there?’ Dread filled her. He would need to be fantastically rich to live in one of those houses. And if this was the case why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t Helen told her? Bryce had convinced her that he was a man she could trust; she had begun to relax with him, feel happy in his company—and now this!

Bryce saw her changing expressions and laughed. ‘I live in a converted loft above that boathouse.’

Lara followed his pointing finger. And there, poking out from behind a fancy cruiser, she saw it. ‘You mean you—rent the loft?’

‘Actually it comes free with the job,’ he admitted, sounding a trifle self-conscious.

‘It must be some job,’ she said, her eyes widening with surprise at the same time as relief washed over her. ‘What are you, a permanent handyman there?’

‘In a manner of speaking, but I also tinker about with boats. They’re my driving passion. This guy owns a fleet. He keeps me pretty busy.’

‘For the moment, you mean,’ she said with a laugh, realising how wrong she had been to mistrust him. ‘Until something else takes your fancy.’

‘How well you’re getting to know me,’ he answered, with a laugh of his own.

‘Your boss must be fabulously wealthy to live in a place like that.’ It was easily the largest house in the area. She wondered what he was like, this man Bryce did so much work for. Had wealth gone to his head, made him feel he was better than anyone else?

Bryce’s boat looked like a poor second cousin as he tied up beside the handsome cruiser. Perhaps it wasn’t even his. Perhaps it too belonged to the owner of the house. And he certainly couldn’t be too much of an ogre if he let Bryce live here rent-free.

He helped her out and as their hands locked Lara felt a surge of desire flood through her. She tried to ignore it, didn’t even snatch away, although she was tempted. Instead she kept her eyes down and prayed Bryce hadn’t noticed her reaction. She suspected that he wouldn’t need much encouragement.

When he let her go she drew in a painful breath of relief, annoyed with herself for letting such feelings surface. And yet, how could she have stopped them when she hadn’t known they existed? Nothing had happened today to stimulate such desire. Bryce had been the perfect gentleman. So where had these feelings come from?

She was given no time to dwell on it. Bryce led the way up some steep wooden steps to the converted loft space. The main house itself was on the hillside above them and couldn’t be seen.

‘What a lovely spot,’ she declared enthusiastically. ‘You’re so lucky.’ And she deliberately pushed all other thoughts out of her head.

‘It suits my purpose,’ he agreed.

‘It would suit me, too,’ she informed him. ‘I’d never look for anywhere else to live.’ The walls and ceiling were timber lined; the floor was wooden too with scattered rugs. A counter unit divided the huge living area from the kitchen, and an open staircase led to an apexed, galleried bedroom with a bathroom leading off. Only the bathroom had any privacy. But for one man on his own it was perfect.

It was definitely a man’s place: simple, clean, uncluttered lines; solid, practical furniture. Everything had its use; nothing was allowed in that didn’t serve a purpose.

‘Help yourself to a drink while I see to the boat. I shouldn’t be long.’

‘Maybe I could help?’ she suggested hopefully.

‘And get those beautiful hands dirty. I don’t think so. This is men’s work.’

Lara stuck her hands on her hips and looked at him fiercely. ‘Is that chauvinism? You’re forgetting my brothers. I was one of them or I was out. I can do anything a man can do.’

‘Really?’ Her outburst sent his lips curving in amusement. ‘I’ll remember that one of these days. For the moment, though, sit down and look beautiful. I shouldn’t be long.’

But Lara couldn’t relax; she stepped out onto the veranda that ran the width of the loft and looked down at Bryce. Her breath caught in her throat. He’d stripped off his shirt and as he leaned over the engine powerful muscles flexed beneath darkly tanned skin. His shoulders were wide, his hips narrow, and she saw a power and strength that she’d only guessed at. It did strange things to her, knotting muscles and quickening pulses, and it became increasingly clear that Bryce Kellerman was beginning to creep beneath her skin. She turned back into the room, needing to escape while she could still breathe.

It was a perfect place to live. Why would anyone want to buy a huge house full of rooms that were rarely used? This was spacious enough to entertain and yet small enough to look after with the minimum of fuss.

Even in the kitchen there was everything to make life easy, a huge fridge and freezer standing side by side, a dishwasher, washing machine, microwave, a double oven with separate hob. It was a dream kitchen. I could work in here, she thought, and never want for anything.

So engrossed was Lara that she didn’t hear Bryce come up the stairs and enter the apartment, wasn’t even aware of his presence until she turned around—and cannoned into him.

Instinctively she put her hands out to steady herself and felt firsthand those powerful muscles, felt the hardness and warmth of his body. And again desire flared through her—hot, instant desire. It ripped through her body like an exploding firework.

Involuntarily she looked up into Bryce’s face—and saw her own raw need mirrored there. Move, before it’s too late, she ordered, before something happens that you’ll regret, but she was incapable even of speaking, much less retreating.

It felt like for ever that she stood there touching him, her palms burning, her heartbeats racing, her eyes locked into his. And even when she heard him groan, saw his head bow down towards her, she could do nothing about it except wait for the inevitable.

When, with another groan, one sounding like despair this time, he backed away from her, shot away in fact, it came as a distinct shock. ‘Why did you have to do that?’ he asked harshly.

Lara felt bemused all of a sudden and shook her head. ‘Do what?’

‘Touch me like that, dammit.’

Bryce’s belly was on fire, his pulses jerked uncontrollably, and it had taken every ounce of his not inconsiderable will-power to back out of the situation that had begun to look so promising.

He knew that Lara would have hated him for it afterwards. She might not have been able to help herself in that instant—it was one of those moments of madness that crept up on most people at some time or another—but she’d made her feelings crystal clear.

If he dared go beyond the bounds of friendship he would lose her altogether. Much as he might want to make love to her, hold her in his arms and feel that wonderfully sexy body against his, he had to be patient. Even if it meant a long, ice-cold shower every time he left her.

‘I wasn’t touching you.’ She spat the words back. ‘Not in the way you mean. I was simply steadying myself. You’re a fool to yourself if you took it to mean anything else.’

She looked beautiful, blue eyes flashing, cheeks an angry red, her whole body pulsating. She would never have admitted it, he knew, but that moment of contact had disturbed her as much as it had him. If he’d given in to temptation she would have returned his kiss with the passion she was strongly trying to deny.

He tried to control his deepened breathing, tried to take his eyes away from her, but it was like attempting to stem a tidal flow. ‘You took long enough about moving.’ He grunted. ‘It looked to me like an invitation.’ It wasn’t true, but it was his best form of defence. ‘If that’s the type of relationship you want, why don’t you be honest with yourself and admit it?’

Lara shook her head angrily and turned her back on him, hands splayed on the counter top, not even deigning to answer. She was rigid from head to foot—and it was entirely his fault! He cursed himself for his stupidity. He should have backed away the instant she fell against him; he should never have allowed time for desire to erupt—except that it had been so instant he could have done nothing about it.

‘Is the boat ready?’ she asked raggedly.

She’d had enough of his company! She wanted to go home! She probably never wanted to see him again! He pulled a wry face, fists clenched at his side. ‘Almost. I came up for a drink. Would you like one?’ Trying to appear normal, almost impossible considering the state of his hormones, Bryce opened the fridge and took out an ice-cold can.

‘No, thanks.’ It was a tight, tiny voice, still shutting him out, still telling him in no uncertain terms that she disapproved of his behaviour.

‘Well, there’s one here if you want it.’ He left the room; he couldn’t remain there watching her hating him. The whole day had started wrongly and he blamed it on Roger. If the damn man hadn’t upset her none of this would have happened.

Why on earth would he go through with a divorce and then want her back? It didn’t make sense. And how much of the truth was he ever likely to learn? Lara could have been exaggerating. He might be a very nice guy. It might be that she hadn’t been ready for marriage and had felt the constraints, had regretted losing her carefree, single status. It did happen.

He gulped down the drink and threw the can in the bin, then tried to concentrate on what he was doing. He hadn’t really needed to go upstairs to get a drink when there was one in the cool-box. But he had sensed Lara looking down at him and it had created urges. Urges he could do nothing about, but at least he could be near her.

It was a ridiculous state of affairs. He was treading on dangerous ground. He wasn’t even being perfectly honest with her. Yet she was getting beneath his skin like no other woman ever had, and time spent apart was like being under the surgeon’s knife with no anaesthetic.

He worked feverishly, trying to shut her out of his mind, but it was impossible. The merest thought sent his testosterone levels rising. The best thing he could do would be to take her back to Helen’s and then forget her. There was no hope for him. This friendship thing wasn’t working. She was too dangerously attractive.

He’d tried—he hadn’t given it very long, admittedly—but this latest incident had proved how unattainable such a friendship was. Why he’d suggested it in the first place he didn’t know. He’d wanted her from the second he’d clapped eyes on her. How could he have even contemplated settling for anything less?

As soon as the new fuel pump was connected and all was running sweetly he washed his hands beneath the outside tap before running up to the loft apartment, this time taking care to let her know he was coming.

Lara was reading a magazine. A man’s magazine! Or maybe she was pretending to read it. She looked up as he entered, her expression cool and disinterested. ‘Ready?’

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