In Need Of A Wife

The blue eyes blazed incredulity. ‘You’re still living with a guy who didn’t bother to marry you when you had his child?’

‘It does happen these days,’ she flared at him, painfully aware of the mistakes she had made.

‘Why isn’t he with you?’

‘Because...’ It was none of his business, but somehow his eyes pinned her to a reply. ‘Because I left him,’ she finished defiantly. ‘He wasn’t good to me, and he wasn’t good to Bonnie.’

‘There you are. Same problem I had,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘We’d both be better served if we worked out a sensible contract. Set out what we’re prepared to give to the marriage, and what we can expect from each other.’

‘You’re talking about a marriage of convenience.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘What about love?’

‘Definitely out. It causes havoc and creates chaos. Turns sensible people into raving lunatics. The Greeks had it right. They called it Eros. The eighteen months of madness before passion cools and reality sets in.’

‘Well, you might not think it’s worth having, but I do,’ Sasha said emphatically.

She grabbed her holdall and stuffed Bonnie’s play blocks into it. Her dreams might have been tarnished by her experience with Tyler, but she was not about to give them up and become as cynical as Nathan Parnell.

‘What did love do for you?’ came the sardonic challenge. ‘How long did it take you to find out your lover was a dead loss when it came to commitment and responsibility?’

She faced him with grim determination. ‘It wasn’t love. Not real, deep-down love. And I’m not going to settle for anything less next time around. If there is a next time. I’d rather manage on my own than compromise myself again.’

‘How will you know this real, deep-down love?’ he asked sceptically.

‘I’ll know.’

She wasn’t at all sure of that but she stood up in disdain of any more of his arguments, then bent to lift Bonnie over her arm and brush the sand from her legs. She was conscious of Nathan Parnell swinging himself into a sitting position but he didn’t rise to his feet.

‘It’s pie-in-the-sky,’ he stated mockingly.

‘You can hardly say your attitude is normal,’ she retorted.

‘Normality is a fantasy. People aspire to it because they’re so frightened of being themselves.’

‘Well, now I’m free to be myself,’ Sasha tossed at him.

‘If you married me, you’d be even more free to be yourself.’

‘Free?’ She cocked a scornful eyebrow at him. ‘Wouldn’t I have to share your bed?’

‘Minimally. Marriage isn’t legal without consummation. Would once in a lifetime be asking too much of you?’

‘Once! What kind of marriage is that?’

His eyes danced over her from head to toe, openly admiring the shining fall of her long black hair, the curves of her figure which were faithfully outlined by her T-shirt and jeans, the shapeliness of her long legs.

‘Perhaps I could manage more if you really wanted me to,’ he suggested, flashing her a smile that had the kick of a mule. His eyes held a definite glint of earthy wickedness as he added, ‘You have lovely skin. Smooth and creamy. Must be like satin to touch.’

Sasha could feel the cream burning into fire-engine red as she remembered wanting to know how it would feel to be touched by him. Her gaze dropped to his hands, lightly resting on his knees, and she had a moment of lustful speculation that was totally unlike her.

Fortunately, Bonnie recalled her to her senses by squirming and crowing her eagerness to be returned to her playmate. Sasha hoisted her daughter up against her shoulder, holding her more securely, defensively.

‘This is getting beyond the pale,’ she said, her eyes flashing contempt for his concept of a convenient marriage. ‘Where do you get such ideas from?’

He shrugged. ‘They popped into my head.’

‘So you ask the first woman you meet, or happen to be with, to be your...’ Words failed her.

He grinned, totally unabashed. ‘There is a certain zest to it, springing into the unknown. It could be a glorious adventure for both of us.’

‘Or a trip to hell and perdition,’ she reminded him with waspish intent, hoping he felt the sting in the tail. ‘Don’t forget that,’ she added for good measure.

‘Doesn’t apply. No love involved.’

‘Which is where I opt out. Thanks for the offer but it has no appeal to me.’

She leaned down to pick up her bag, telling herself she was crazy to have listened to him for so long, crazier still to feel tempted into listening some more. Sex-appeal was a trap. It faded fast once one got down to the nitty-gritty of making a relationship work. Tyler had conclusively proved to her that a relationship without love had no hope of bringing any real or lasting happiness.

‘Can’t I play with the baby any more?’

‘I don’t think the baby’s mother wants to stay, Matt, and we have to respect other people’s wishes.’

It was a gentle answer. Sasha saw an arm reach out and gather the little boy into a comforting closeness with his father, a loving touch that put an ache of yearning in Sasha’s stomach. If Tyler had been like that with Bonnie... But he hadn’t, and any last hope of him ever changing had died the night she saw him shaking their child as though she were nothing but a rag doll.

As she straightened, the bag firmly clutched in her hand, Sasha tried her best to project proud independence in turning away from the disturbing influence of Nathan Parnell’s presence. But her heart caught at the mournful look in his small son’s eyes.

She was well acquainted with the loneliness of being an only child. But Matt did have the love of his father. And Bonnie had her love. The last thing children needed was to be caught in the warfare of a relationship that wasn’t based on love.

Reassured that she had done the right thing in leaving Tyler, and was doing the right thing in leaving Nathan Parnell, Sasha stiffened her spine and bestowed a warm smile on the little boy.

‘Thank you for playing with Bonnie.’

‘Can we play again another time?’ he asked.

‘I’m afraid not.’ She saw the disappointment in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added, then turned quickly and walked away, wondering how different their lives might have become if she could have given another answer.

In her abstraction she did not see the figure striding across the park on an intercepting course.

‘Sasha!’ he called.

She heard the strident anger in the voice. It arrested her mid-step. She turned towards the source, knowing already what she was about to see, knowing she was about to be involved in another confrontation, this one much more serious than the minor skirmish she had just played out with Nathan Parnell.

She knew the owner of the voice.

It belonged to Tyler Cullum.