A Kiss To Remember

‘Gees, girl, you’re a glutton for punishment!’

‘You can say that again. What Lance can do for a dinner suit is criminal.’

‘Why on earth did you go?’

Angie expelled a weary sigh. ‘Curiosity, I guess. I wanted to see the woman who’d snared him. Besides, the whole family had been invited, including Mum and Dad. I really couldn’t get out of it without having to answer some darned awkward questions.’

‘And?’

‘Sheer perfection, the bride was. Like a Dresden doll and just as expensive. I hated her on sight and worshipped Lance all the more. It was the worst day of my life.’

‘What about your family in all this? Didn’t they notice anything? Didn’t they see you’d broken your heart over this heartless Don Juan?’

‘I’m sure Mum was beginning to wonder. And I think Bud had guessed some time back. Perhaps as far back as the night of his and Lance’s graduation. He’d made such a point of letting me know about Lance’s reputation where the opposite sex was concerned. Even at the wedding he said he’d make a fortune if he took bets on Lance’s marriage lasting. He said Lance was a great guy but that he wasn’t cut out for monogamy. He added, rather pointedly, I thought, that it wasn’t always his fault. That a lot of the times silly girls—this said looking straight at me—threw themselves at him.’

‘Pretty lame excuse, if you ask me. Hard to rape a guy, I say. Did you speak to lover-boy himself at the wedding?’

‘I tried not to, but Lance seemed to deliberately seek me out. Lord knows why. Maybe he was finally suffering from a guilty conscience. He gave me this ghastly kiss on the cheek, then told me rather stiffly that he hoped life would bring me everything I’d ever hoped for, that he thought I was the nicest girl he’d ever met and that he wished the world could be full of people like the Browns.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Vanessa sighed. ‘Hardly the thing to say to turn you off him, was it?’

Angie swallowed the lump that had suddenly filled her throat. ‘No,’ she confessed. ‘Not quite…’

Vanessa was frowning at her. ‘You’re not still in love with him, are you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she returned impatiently, standing up abruptly to carry her empty mug over to the sink. ‘That was donkey’s years ago. Don’t be silly.’

Vanessa joined her at the sink. ‘I hope you’re telling the truth, for it would be silly of you to still be in love with him. It’s also silly for you to keep knocking back other men because of the way some rich creep once made you feel. Get your head out of the clouds, Angie, and get real. You’re not getting any younger, you know. One day you’ll wake up and you won’t see a cross between Elle MacPherson and Sophia Loren in the mirror, and then it’ll all be too late!’

Angie had to laugh. Vanessa had a turn of phrase which could be highly amusing. A cross between Elle MacPherson and Sophia Loren, indeed!

‘You’re going to your brother’s birthday party tonight, aren’t you?’ Vanessa went on, with a devious gleam in her eye.

‘Yes…’

‘Is it a big party or just a small gathering?’

‘Bud’s parties are always huge.’

‘What’s your brother do for a crust?’

‘Well, he did a business degree, majoring in computer studies and marketing. But he went into advertising and he’s been surprisingly successful.’

‘Then his party should be full of eminently suitable candidates, shouldn’t it?’

‘Candidates for what?’

‘Your first lover.’

Angie was about to protest when she stopped herself, all those maudlin memories of Lance sparking an uncharacteristic surge of recklessness. Maybe Vanessa was right. Maybe even Debbie had been right this afternoon. Life was meant to be lived. To remain ignorant and inexperienced just because she was clinging to a crazy dream was indeed silly.

‘At least go with an open mind,’ Vanessa urged. ‘Promise me that if a suitable candidate shows up, whom you’re genuinely attracted to, you’ll think about giving him a chance.’

‘All right,’ she said, suddenly making up her mind to do just that. ‘I promise.’

‘Now you’re being sensible.’

Which was what Lance had said about her more than once that summer. How sensible she was.

Well, she was sick of sensible! Her resolve to follow Vanessa’s suggestion deepened. She would find herself a real lover as opposed to a fantasy one. It was time. Yes, it was definitely time!

‘I’m going to make sure I look smashing tonight,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘Attagirl!’ Vanessa crowed. ‘Go for it, sweetheart. You only live once!’

Ten o’clock that evening found Angie regretting the trouble she had gone to over her appearance. She received enough male attention at parties at the best of times. Done up as she was tonight, and smothered in perfume, she seemed to have reduced potential candidates to panting pursuers, thereby ensuring her revulsion. She hated men who came on too strong, who delivered obvious lines then expected her to melt instantly at their feet. If one more intoxicated fool said ‘your place or mine’, she was going to scream.

There again, she supposed it was her own stupid fault if they all thought she was on the make. She should never have curled her long auburn hair and worn it provocatively over one shoulder. Or let Vanessa talk her into borrowing her outrageous gold and crystal earrings, which were five inches long and looked incredibly sexy.

On top of that, she hadn’t been able to wear a bra under the petticoat-style party dress she’d bought specially for the occasion, and her naked nipples were patently obvious under the silky material. She should have bought the black one she’d first tried on, but the salesgirl had talked her into the green, saying it matched her eyes and complemented her auburn hair.

If she’d tried the dress on instead of just holding it up against her, she’d have known that the green didn’t camouflage her body as well as the black. Angie began to worry that from the back she might look totally naked under the dress, despite wearing tights with built-in knickers.

Spotting a glassy-eyed chap making a beeline straight for her across Bud’s crowded living-room, Angie whirled and made a dash for safety, gripping her glass of wine firmly in both hands lest she spill it all down her front. She found a temporary sanctuary in the kitchen, where Bud’s wife, Loretta, was happily refilling serving dishes with all sorts of party snacks.

‘Oh, hi, Angie. My, but you do look slinkily glamorous tonight. Bud said you had all his workmates drooling. Now I can see why. You had a jacket on when you first arrived, didn’t you? Darn, there goes the front doorbell again. Could you get it for me, love?’

‘Sure.’ Angie didn’t mind at all. It was better than going back into that room with all those heavy-breathing yuppies.

She sipped her wine as she made her way along the downstairs hall towards the front door, thinking as she went that Bud had really done very well for himself for a country boy from Wilga. A thriving career as an advertising executive, a lovely home in the leafy North Shore suburb of Turramurra, a very pretty wife and a delightful little boy, named Morris after their father. All this, and only thirty today. Remarkable.

Angie opened the door and promptly froze.

The man standing on the front porch, with his hands deep in his trouser pockets and an overnight bag at his feet, had his back to her. But she knew immediately who that well-shaped fair head belonged to. She’d have known him from any angle.

It was Lance.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_97fa61e1-bd8b-5313-913d-6944b2fcd12a)

HE TURNED slowly at the sound of the door, moving with that lazy, indolent grace which she remembered oh, so well. There was no man who could mount a horse like Lance. There was no man who looked like him, either.

Even at thirty-one, Lance was still breathtakingly handsome. The lines around his eyes and mouth did not detract from the brilliance of those beautiful blue eyes, or the sensual appeal of that perfectly sculptured mouth. If anything, they added a very attractive maturity, which Angie preferred to his once almost pretty-boy look.

His body hadn’t changed, though. Perhaps it would have been better if it had. A few pounds of flab to mar its male perfection might have provided some protection from the way it had always affected her.

How was it, she wondered caustically as her eyes travelled with an almost resigned fascination over him, that he could look so sexy in an ordinary pair of grey trousers and a simple white shirt?

A bitter taste invaded her mouth as she recalled the occasion of that unexpected meeting in Sydney, when she’d been flustered and tongue-tied. Angie vowed that this would not be a repeat performance, despite the way her heart was instantly racing.