The Billionaire Bridegroom

He shook his head over the irony of that being delivered to him by a pet groomer who’d descended on him out of nowhere. Damned if he could even remember the name she had given! Michelle had been printed on the van she drove but he was sure it wasn’t that.

And it still niggled him that he had seen her before somewhere. Though it seemed highly unlikely, given her job and location on the Central Coast. Sydney was his usual stamping ground. Besides, how could he forget that pert mouth and even perter bottom? Both of them were challenges he rather fancied coming to grips with.

He smiled self-mockingly at this last thought.

The hangover from last night’s party was obviously affecting his brain. What could he possibly have in common with a pet groomer, except the welfare of Cleo for the duration of Angelina’s overseas trip? Better get his mind geared to deal with Justine who was turning into a royal pain over his sister’s beloved Cleo. Worse than that, in fact. There was a cruel streak in her treatment of the dog and Nic didn’t like it. He wouldn’t invite her here again.

He frowned over the memory of her laughing as she’d tossed her hapless victim onto the slippery dip yesterday. ‘Here’s company for you, Nic!’ A great joke, laughing at the dog’s frantic attempts to fight its way back up to the spa level against the inevitable skid into the pool. Unkind laughter.

He’d been annoyed by the whole episode, especially the painful scratches which had led him to transfer his annoyance to Cleo. Wrong! He could see that now. The pet groomer had straightened him out on quite a few areas that needed his attention. For one thing, dog-minding was not a breeze. It obviously required some expertise he didn’t have.

Having resolved to take more positive action on that front, he went inside to face the problem he now had with Justine. She was in the kitchen, watching coffee brew in the percolator. While her attention was still engaged on getting a shot of caffeine, he viewed her with more critically assessing eyes.

Did he want their affair to continue? They’d been reasonably compatible both sexually and socially, but the relationship had been more about superficial fun than deep and meaningful. He had the very definite feeling that the fun had just run out.

She turned around, probably having heard the front door shut and looking to check where he was. ‘Ah! You’ve seen them off,’ she said, rolling her eyes at the fuss of it all. ‘Blissful peace for a while!’

‘Cleo will be returned at one o’clock,’ he informed her as he strolled into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. A couple of glasses of iced water should help clear the hangover.

‘It is ridiculous to have our lives ruled by a dog!’ Justine declared in exasperation. ‘Why don’t you put her in one of those boarding kennels, Nic? It would save all this aggravation and you’d be free to…’

‘Out of the question,’ he cut her off.

She swung on him, hands on hips. ‘Why is it out of the question?’

‘I promised Angelina I’d take care of Cleo.’

‘Boarding kennels are better equipped to look after that dog than you are.’

She was probably right, but that wasn’t the point, Nic thought as he downed the first glass of water. Besides, he intended to learn how to handle Cleo better.

‘Your sister need never know,’ Justine argued.

‘I would know. A promise is a promise.’

‘What people don’t know won’t hurt them.’

He cocked a mocking eyebrow at her as he reached for the jug again. ‘One of the principles by which you live?’

‘It avoids trouble.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Seems to me you get double the trouble when people find out what you’ve tried to hide from them.’ He poured more water from the jug and drank again, wondering how many deceptions Justine had played with him.

She threw out her hands in frustrated appeal. ‘You can’t want to be tied to that cantankerous little bitch for the next two months.’

‘I’ll learn to get along with Cleo,’ he answered blandly.

‘Well, I won’t!’ she hurled at him, eyes flashing fury at his stubborn resistance to her plan. ‘I’m not spending another night with that damned dog yapping its head off.’

‘Then I suggest you pack up and leave, Justine, because the dog will be staying. With me.’

She looked gob-smacked.

He set the empty glass down on the kitchen bench. ‘Best be gone before one o’clock,’ he advised coldly. ‘Please excuse me while I clean up the mess in the laundry which doesn’t happen to have a doggy door for Cleo to go outside.’

He was at the doorway to the mud room before Justine caught her breath. ‘You want me to go?’ It was an incredulous squawk.

He paused to look back at her, feeling not one whit of warmth to soften his decision. ‘What we have here, Justine, is an incompatible situation.’

‘You’d put that miserable little dog ahead of me?’

‘Perhaps the dog will be less miserable with you gone.’

‘Oh!’ She stamped her foot.

Nic sensed a wild tantrum teetering on the edge of exploding from her. He didn’t wait for it. If she followed him to the laundry, he’d hand her a bucket and suggest she clean up the result of her action in carelessly shutting Cleo in an inescapable place. That would undoubtedly send her packing in no time flat.

The pet groomer would have no problem with it but Justine…no way would she get down on her knees for a dog. Nor get her hands dirty. In fact, she obviously wanted to be treated like a pampered pet herself. Nic decided he didn’t really care for that in a woman, certainly not in any long-term sense.

He wasn’t followed.

By the time he had the laundry back in a tidy and pristine state, Justine had dressed, packed, and gone without favouring him with a farewell. The front door had been slammed shut on her way out, transmitting her pique at coming off second best to Cleo, and the engine of her SAAB convertible had roared down the driveway, punctuating her departure and displeasure.

Nic poured himself a coffee from the brew that had been left simmering and reflected that he could have appealed for understanding, maybe shifted Justine’s attitude a little. Cleo wasn’t just a pet to Angelina, more a surrogate child on whom she poured out all the frustrated love she couldn’t give to a baby.

After years of trying to get pregnant, it had been a terrible grief to her when medical tests had revealed her husband’s sperm count was so low it would be a miracle if she ever conceived. Poor Ward had been devastated, too, even going so far as to offer Angelina a divorce, knowing how set she was on having a family.

That wasn’t an option to his sister. She and Ward really did love each other. Their marriage seemed to have grown even stronger since the pressure to have a child had been erased. Ward had brought home the puppy for Angelina, a loveable little bundle of silky fur, and they both treated it like the queen of Egypt, nothing too good for their adored Cleo.

To put it in an impersonal boarding kennel… Nic shook his head. Angelina would never forgive him. And she’d know about it. Cleo was booked into the pet grooming salon every Monday morning. He’d forgotten about that earlier today but he knew it was written on Angelina’s list of instructions. If the appointments weren’t kept, no doubt Michelle would reveal that fact to his sister on her return.

Besides, as he’d told Justine, a promise was a promise. If she couldn’t respect that, he was definitely better off having no further involvement with her, even if it meant being celibate for a couple of months. He couldn’t overlook the cruel streak in her, either. The thought of it dampened any desire for more of Justine Knox. Good riddance, he thought, downing the last of the coffee.

A shower, a shave, a couple of hours’ work in the room he’d designated as his office for the duration of his stay here, and he’d feel much more on top of everything when the pet groomer returned with Cleo at one o’clock.

‘Aren’t you beautiful now!’ Michelle crowed indulgently as she ruffled Cleo’s silver-grey silky hair with her fingers while giving it a last blast from the dryer. ‘You look good, you smell good and you feel good.’

The dog’s big brown eyes clung soulfully to Michelle who invariably talked nonstop to each pet as she gave them whatever treatment was scheduled. Cleo had been given the lot this morning; nail trim, hair-clip, ears and eyes cleaned, shampoo, conditioner and blow-dry.

Serena reflected this was very little different to a hairdressing salon. Michelle even played background music, always soft romantic tracks to soothe any savage hearts, and she charged similar fees. Of course, it wasn’t as upmarket, no stylish fittings or decorator items, just plain workbenches, open shelves, and a tiled floor that made cleaning easy.

The best thing about it, Serena decided, was the pets didn’t talk back, dumping all their problems or complaints on the stylist who was expected to dish out unlimited sympathy even when it was obvious there were two sides to be considered. Not that that was the case with Cleo who was clearly an innocent victim, yet the darling little silky terrier hadn’t even raised a bark since Serena had rescued her from the dark brute and his evil witch-woman.

‘You can put on her pink ribbon, Serena,’ Michelle instructed, having finished with Cleo and about to pick up another dog waiting for his turn to be pampered, a Maltese terrier who’d sat tamely in line like all the other pets in the salon, content to watch Michelle do her thing.

‘I’m not sure Nic Moretti is going to appreciate the pink ribbon,’ Serena dryly commented as she cut off an appropriate length from the roll Michelle kept on a shelf.

It earned the look of unshakeable authority. ‘No pet leaves this salon without wearing a ribbon. It’s the finishing touch. Cleo knows it and expects it. She’ll be upset if you don’t give it to her. You can tell Angelina’s brother that from me. He has to consider the dog’s sense of rightness or he’s going to have a traumatised pet on his hands.’