Strategy For Marriage

“My dear girl they’ve changed the locks.” His black gaze fell on her lovely face, desire lapping in his blood.

“Then I suggest you try 121 Shelly Beach Road.”

He lowered the partition window to give instructions to the chauffeur.

“I feel ashamed of myself,” Christy confessed after a few unhappy minutes of studying the stars. “Really ashamed.”

“Perhaps you ought to be put in prison,” he suggested in a mocking voice.

“It wasn’t that serious, was it?” She looked back at him. Why was she with this man?

“You do this for a living, gatecrashing receptions?”

“I couldn’t face seeing Josh marry your cousin. How petite she is! Doll-size.”

“Up until recently I thought she had a woman-sized brain. As for you, you have to get on with your life.” He didn’t want her mourning Deakin. Not for one minute.

“I don’t want to even think about it for at least forty-eight hours. I had maybe one too many glasses of champagne,” she apologised.

“That’s perfectly understandable. It’s also the reason why I hired the limousine. I couldn’t drive you myself. Not only do I not keep a car in the city but I’m well over the limit. Three glasses of anything is surely not enough to celebrate a wedding? Even an insufferable one.”

“I should have known better.” Christy gave a bruised sigh.

“Indeed you should.” His tone used up a lot of censure.

“You’ve never made a mistake in your life I suppose?” Christy pressed back exhaustedly against the plush upholstery.

“I think I hate the way you say that. All my ex-girlfriends speak to me.”

“I bet you gave them a hard time,” Christy answered. He wouldn’t lie to them. If anything he was too much upfront. “I know some women go in for excitement and danger. It must make them feel more alive. It’s my professional judgment that you’re a dangerous man.”

“All it might take is a little getting to know me.” He flung out an arm and drew her close to him. His desire for her was blocking out his usual tight control. And he wanted to comfort her. All of a sudden she seemed very vulnerable.

Christy allowed her head to come to rest against his shoulder. “You know you’re not my keeper.” But he was very masterful.

“I am for this evening.” He brushed a few glinting golden strands of hair from her cheek. “To be honest, I’m concerned you might go after them.”

She came upright in despair. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I sincerely hope so.” He didn’t sound impressed. “Your ex-boyfriend and my cousin have only this very evening exchanged their marriage vows.”

“And good luck to them,” Christy exclaimed disjointedly. She felt so overwrought she couldn’t even begin to describe her emotions. “I do know one thing. I wouldn’t want to marry a man like you.” She withdrew the ruffled hem of her short skirt away from his trousered knee.

“I hope you weren’t counting on my asking you?” He didn’t bother to control the mockery. Who the hell did she think she was? A goddess?

“Getting married is the last thing I want to do,” Christy said with the sombre gravity of the betrayed. “Marriages in most cases don’t seem to work out. I know any number of couples who have split up.”

“Not counting you and Josh?” He smiled grimly.

“When I think of you a word comes to mind,” Christy said in exasperation. Didn’t he know she was badly hurt?

“Please don’t say it,” he joked. “I detest hearing rough words on a woman’s tongue. As it happens, I’m not a great one for marriage either. It’s something men have to do to get heirs.”

She felt the shock. “What a rotten thing to say.”

He was silent for a while. “Being betrayed isn’t just a woman’s area. Wives and mothers have been known to abandon the marital home leaving devastation behind them. Women don’t have a great deal of difficulty stamping on a man’s heart.”

Christy was taken aback by the degree of passion in his voice. “You’re beginning to sound like a misogynist.”

“Sometimes I think I am.” He revealed a white twisted smile. “A reflection of my background perhaps. But to get back to you, Christy Parker, you could be a whole lot unhappier as an old maid.”

“Don’t use that term,” she protested. “I’m a feminist, I don’t like it. I’m sick of all the words men have thought up to label women.”

“You don’t think they deserve a lot of them?” he asked with strong sarcasm.

“Women don’t need men,” Christy said, sexual antagonism thick between them. “I suppose they might need them for an occasional bout of sex.”

To her complete surprise given the tension between them, he burst out laughing. It was a very engaging sound. There were some things about him she managed to find wildly attractive. In desperation, not knowing what else to do in the presence of this complex man, Christy closed her eyes. Men of his type were new to her. He was too physically and verbally powerful. She was having such difficulty adjusting to everything that was happening. In a few short hours she’d gone from jilted woman and gatecrasher, to the new woman in Ashe McKinnon the cattle baron’s life.

But then it was only play-acting.

Thank God.

“Wakey, wakey,” a man’s voice breathed seductively in her ear.

“Wh-a-at?” Christy started to say dazedly. “I surely didn’t doze off?” She felt such confusion, disorientation, staring up into his fathomless dark eyes.

“You must have. You didn’t notice when I kissed you.”

“You didn’t kiss me.” She was absolutely certain she would have registered it. On the Richter scale. She understood already, miserable as she was, Ashe McKinnon was that sort of man.

“No, I didn’t,” he drawled. “I imagined I kissed you.”

“Oh…” She was reduced to silence.

Seemingly like magic they were outside her apartment block, the surrounding well-kept gardens giving off the scent of gardenia and frangipani. Above her head the Southern Cross was a dazzling presence. It appeared to be right over the spot where she was standing. A billion stars gleamed. It was a heavenly night, velvety and fragrant. It made her feel very very sad. She even yawned. Ashe McKinnon and the chauffeur, however, had their two heads bent together.

What were they planning? Whatever Ashe said the chauffeur threw back his head and laughed. Men! They bonded in minutes. A moment more and the chauffeur got back behind the wheel, saluted briefly before he pulled away from the kerb, then did a U-turn back in the direction of the city.

“Well which is it?” Ashe joined her, so tall he towered over her. “The penthouse?” He tilted his dark head back, staring up at the twenty floors of the high-rise building.

“Don’t be stupid. I can’t afford the penthouse,” she said feeling a rush of something like panic, “neither do I recall asking you in.”

“But my dear Miss Parker, it’s totally expected under these circumstances. You need someone to look after you.”

“Not you, Mr. McKinnon. I’m in no doubt of that. Most decidedly not you.”

“That’s okay.” He answered casually as if he wanted no part of that agenda either. “As it turns out I have plenty of women fighting over me.”