Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby

Tammy decided not to worry about any of that. He was hers for the rest of the day and she was going to make the most of having his company, happily feeding any spark of interest he showed in her. After all, having expected nothing from him, she had nothing to lose. At the very least she would have the novel experience of having the most gorgeous guy here at her side, as well as satisfying her curiosity about him.

The wedding ceremony started and she forced her mind to pay attention to it. Celine deserved her full support—the first of her friends to get married. Maybe I’ll be next, she thought, imagining Fletcher in the role of groom. ‘To have and to hold from this day forth…’ but that was definitely a wild flight of fantasy. She didn’t even know the man yet.

Soon…

Celine and Andrew were finally declared husband and wife. The marriage certificate was signed. The organist started playing a triumphant march, and the bride and groom headed the parade back down the aisle, their attendants linking up in turn to follow them. At last Tammy came face-to-face with Fletcher Stanton, and close up he was even more breathtaking. The sheer impact of him made her rush into speech to stiffen up her melting knees.

‘Hi! I’m Tammy Haynes.’

He tucked her arm around his and inclined his tall head to a more intimate angle. ‘I know,’ he said in a low sexy voice. ‘Celine worded me up on you.’

‘Uh-oh!’ She rolled her eyes, her heart sinking at the many and varied descriptions Celine might have employed in summing her up for her brother—hopefully not the female equivalent of arrogant pig. ‘What words did she use?’

He looked amused by her wary tone. ‘I was warned that you’re a precious friend and I’m to treat you kindly.’

‘Well…that’s nice.’ Relief poured into a smile.

‘And I’d better watch what I say to you because in the famous gang of six, you have the smartest mouth.’

Her mouth dropped open in surprise at this, and his gaze slid down to her glistening lips. ‘Such a luscious mouth and wit, too,’ he drawled teasingly. ‘I’m looking forward to getting acquainted with it.’

Tammy scooped in a quick breath and turned her gaze straight ahead while she regained her wits. Fletcher Stanton was scattering them to the winds. All she could think of was how much she wanted to get acquainted with his mouth. They’d drawn level with the last pew in the church before she managed a curious thought that had nothing to do with being kissed by him.

‘How did you come by the name of Fletcher? It’s quite uncommon.’

And rhymed with lecher. Which demonstrated her mind was still stuck in a sexy groove. Being consumed by lust was a terrible thing. Embarrassing, too, if he was only playing with her.

‘My mother was smitten by Marlon Brando’s portrayal of Fletcher Christian in the movie of Mutiny on the Bounty. She actually loaded me with both names, just as Celine copped Celine Dion after the singer. What parents inflict on their children out of some personal fancy…’ His grimace was loaded with nasty memories. ‘Why don’t they think of what other kids are going to make out of them?’

A stab of shame hit her. She’d just been thinking lecher and no doubt he’d been subjected to that at school. ‘What would you name your children?’ popped out of her mouth. ‘If you had them,’ she hastily added, not wanting him to think she was fancying the idea of being their mother.

‘Paul, Steven, John…’ he reeled out with a shrug.

She slid him an arch look. ‘No girls’ names in there. Aren’t they important, too?’

His eyes glittered a challenge. ‘Do you like yours?’

Her turn to shrug. ‘It’s okay. It hasn’t brought me any grief.’

One disbelieving eyebrow lifted. ‘Wasn’t there a TV teen called Tammy who was like an ultra-cute Pollyanna? Your name alone made me think I’d be partnering a bubbly blonde.’

‘You’ll just have to hang tough if you’re disappointed.’

It surprised a short laugh out of him—a laugh that ended in a dazzling grin. ‘I’m hanging quite happily, thank you.’

She bet he was well hung, too.

Tammy struggled to lift her mind off how he might look naked.

‘Actually my name is Tamalyn, though most people call me Tam or Tammy,’ she said off-handedly.

‘Ah! Now that does suit you. It has an exotic ring to it.’

Exotic? Her heart fluttered. Was that his impression of her? It had to be the mass of curls giving her a different look. If he saw her tomorrow when her hair would be straight again… But today was today and she wasn’t about to belittle what impact she had made on this man. In fact, she seized on the exotic theme and ran with it.

‘Tama is the Native-American word for thunderbolt,’ she informed him with a flirty little smile. ‘My mother added Lyn to feminise it.’

‘Thunderbolt…’ His mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Am I in danger of being struck down?’

‘Only if you don’t treat me kindly.’

He laughed.

Bubbles of exhilaration bounced around her brain as they emerged from the church. Fletcher was enjoying her company. He thought her exotic. Life was beautiful. The sun was not only shining on the bride but also on her fifth bridesmaid.

There was virtually no chance of any further personal conversation while the wedding photographer kept posing them on the church steps, demanding they move here and there for different group shots, though she didn’t mind when he insisted they press closer and Fletcher’s arm curled around her waist, drawing her into standing against him.

She’d always considered herself of average height, yet he was so tall, her head only reached the top of his shoulder. It gave her a lovely, warm sense of having a big strong man to look after her, which, of course, was what women had wanted in primitive societies. Fletcher Stanton was definitely striking lots of primitive chords in her.

‘Mmm…exotic perfume, too,’ he murmured close to her ear, making it tingle with the waft of his breath.

‘White Diamonds,’ she told him, glad that Jennifer had insisted on dabbing some of the expensive scent on her.

His eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘Sounds cold. Should be called Purple Passion.’

She giggled. Couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t stop.

Jennifer shot her a quizzical look. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing,’ Tammy spluttered, shaking her head as she tried to regain control of her behaviour.

‘Come on, give,’ her friend urged, casting a curious look at Fletcher.

‘I think Tamalyn is having a purple day,’ he said with mock gravity.

‘Tamalyn?’ Jennifer’s eyes widened incredulously at the rarely spoken name.

‘No, no, it’s a golden day. Pure gold,’ Tammy rattled out, bursting into giggles again.

Fletcher squeezed her waist. She hoped it meant happy agreement with her correction and not an act of exasperation with her hilarity, which had probably destroyed her exotic mystique. But Purple Passion was too over the top and golden described this situation perfectly, as long as Fletcher had a sense of humour.

‘You can tell us the joke in the limo,’ Jennifer said, eyes flashing insistently. ‘We’re moving on now.’

So they were, Celine and Andrew heading down the church steps to their car, guests throwing rice at them. The bridesmaids were to return to the limousine which had brought them to the church, the groomsmen travelling separately in theirs to Boronia House which had been booked for the reception. Having sobered up from her fit of giggles, she flashed Fletcher a smile as she reluctantly stepped out of his hold.

‘See you at the next stop.’

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he replied, his eyes simmering with the promise of more fun and games with her.