Marriage On Command

Guilt also because she was never able to remain unmoved by that speculative study. Even if she managed to hide it, her pulses always started to hammer, mental images of the two of them together plagued her, and it required an almost superhuman effort not to look all hot and bothered.

Then there had been the stage when she’d been sure she’d fallen in love with him, only to have to disabuse herself of the theory—which she had, she assured herself!—because there had never been a glimmer of a similar emotion in him. Sure, he did occasionally look right through her clothes, but only in that speculative way. And how could you go on fancying yourself in love with a man who had proposed a purely platonic marriage?

She grimaced unwittingly. She might try to take a light approach in her thoughts, but underneath there was still a painful little scar to do with Damien Moore. True, the acquisition of Plover Park had helped to take her mind away from him…but now this!

‘Suspicious how?’ he asked at last.

She looked frustrated. ‘I…I don’t know. It’s just too neat and natty.’

‘I am only proposing that we share the same roof, not the same bed, if that’s your concern,’ he drawled.

She shot him a fiery glance and wondered what he’d do if he knew just why that offended her.

Then she flinched visibly as, almost as if he had read her thoughts, he added, ‘Well, not necessarily the same bed—unless you’d like to rethink that bit?’

‘No way, José!’ were the words that sprang to her lips.

He laughed softly, but said, ‘I do admire your pithy turn of phrase, Lee. You never leave anyone in doubt as to your emotions.’

She pinched her lips together, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You are also…’ he paused, then shrugged ‘…very refreshing at times.’ His dark gaze drifted to the waitress who had simpered over him, and became tinged with irony.

She frowned faintly as she wondered what he was thinking, then shook her head. ‘Assuming I agree to this—but there’s a very good chance I won’t!—when would you want to move in?’

‘In about two weeks.’

‘So we’d have to…do it…before then.’

‘We would have to…“do it”…before then,’ he agreed. ‘It wouldn’t be akin to going to the electric chair, however.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ She gestured helplessly. ‘I just…I need a bit of time to think about it!’

‘Is there such a lot to think about, Lee?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Have I not represented your best interests up until now?’

She stared at him uncertainly, and it crossed her mind to wonder whether he had any idea what her view of her best interests was—not to allow herself to build up dangerous dreams around this man! How much harder would that be if she was married to him, even platonically?

‘I…’ She stopped.

He looked at his watch and swore beneath his breath—but not, as it turned out, on account of her. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just so damn busy at the moment. I have to go—but do think about it, Lee.’

‘It’s not as if there isn’t enough room,’ she said, then looked shocked.

He grinned. ‘At Plover Park? True. But never let it be said I rushed you into anything.’ He stood up. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I really have to go. Why don’t you order something more to your taste? I’ll leave an imprint of my credit card with them. Please let me know your decision in due course,’ he added formally.

Lee stared up at him. ‘OK. Bye!’

He hesitated for a moment, then, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Lee Westwood. Goodbye.’ He turned away.

She watched his retreating back. It would be fair to say, she thought darkly, that he cut a swathe through the female population of the café—and the waitress he had eyed earlier tripped over her feet in her eagerness to be the one to deal with his bill.

It would also be fair to say he had it all: an aura of power and wealth, a hint of arrogance, a touch of damning uninterest in the ripples he was creating in many a womanly heart. But it was, curiously, no consolation, she brooded, to know that she was not alone in finding Damien Moore irresistible.

She reached for her coffee cup, then jumped as a voice beside her said, ‘Having lunch with him now and then is not going to do it, you know.’ And a man slid into the seat Damien had vacated.

‘Who on earth are you and what do you mean?’ she asked haughtily.

‘And good day to you too, Miss Westwood,’ he returned. ‘I happen to be Cyril Delaney’s brother—Cosmo.’

‘What?’ Lee’s eyes nearly popped out on stalks, then she realised there was a definite resemblance, although this man’s blue eyes were unpleasantly shifty and knowing. ‘You’re the one who’s contesting the will?’

‘The same,’ he agreed.

She gasped. ‘Are you having me followed? Is that why you’re here?’

‘Not at all,’ he denied. ‘This is pure coincidence. I recognised Damien Moore and put two and two together. I also thought it might be a timely opportunity to make it known to you that I intend to fight the bequest my brother was conned into making to you and Moore every inch of the way.’ He bared his teeth unpleasantly.

‘Conned! You’re out of your mind!’

‘Am I? He promised me Plover Park, so as I see it, between the two of you, you must have pitched him some kind of a con to get the place out of him. I certainly see no evidence that you two are the loving couple he hoped you would be!’

Lee stood up and said dramatically, ‘Do your best, Cosmo Delaney. Or should I say your worst?’ And she stalked away.

She was halfway to her car when she began to calm down and think more rationally. Then she fumbled for her mobile phone in her string bag and punched in the number of Moore & Moore. But it took a frustrating five minutes of dealing with receptionists and an over-zealous secretary before she got Damien.

He said coolly, ‘This had better be good, Lee.’

She made a frustrated sound in her throat. ‘It is! I need to talk to you!’

‘I can’t talk now, I’m in a conference. If it’s that urgent we’ll have to meet after work. Damn,’ he added immediately, ‘I’ve been invited to a party tonight, and I’m going to have to work late anyway, so—’

‘Excellent!’ Lee broke in. ‘I’ll come to the party with you—if you’re not taking someone else?’

There was dead silence down the line, then, ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I said I’ll come with you if—are you taking someone else?’

‘No, but…’

‘Could this party stand an extra guest at short notice?’ she queried.

‘Uh…well it’s not a sit-down dinner, it’s an al fresco buffet with dancing, so—’

‘Even better!’ Lee pronounced. ‘Sounds like my kind of party. The only thing is I need somewhere to park myself in the meantime. Any chance of using your apartment?’

Another silence.

‘Damien?’