by Diana Fraser
“I”—she exhaled—“sustained injuries… scars.”
He frowned as he tried to remember the side effects of rheumatic fever. Then he remembered and he looked hard at her. He licked his lips. “Your heart?”
She nodded. “The valves. Scarred.” She shrugged and looked around, obviously trying to find something to distract him. “It’s fine though.”
He reached out to her. There was no way he was going to be distracted from this. “So how come you’re doing all this physical stuff? Pushing yourself to the limit? Isn’t it dangerous?”
She shrugged. “The valves are working fine. They’re just scarred.” She shrugged and shot him a bright smile. “Anyhow, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It is what it is. And I don’t want you to mention it. Please.”
It was as if icy cold liquid had been poured down his spine, as he sat there, holding the hand of a woman who all the world saw as untouchable. She wasn’t. The world had touched her, she’d responded and he’d make sure he’d continue to touch her, as he was, now, holding her hand, willing his strength into her. Because, like it or not, she wasn’t the strong woman everyone saw. She was young, vulnerable, and scared. He could feel it in the way she curled her fingers around his hand, gripping him hard. Very scared.
“Isn’t there anything that can be done? No treatment to be had?”
“No. It’s fine.” She grimaced, awkward at opening up to him. “The tests showed scarring but nothing so bad it needed surgery. It should be fine. And, if it’s not, then I’ll deal with it then.”
“But your doctors, specialists, when you see them—”
“I don’t see them.”
“You what?”
She shrugged. “There’s no way I’m going back into hospital. What’s the point?”
“To see if there’s any change? To see if everything is okay?”
“I’m fine. I feel fine. Everything’s fine. Believe me, every day I don’t see a doctor or a hospital is a good day. All I want to do is enjoy life.” She held up her wine to him. “Cheers! Here’s to life!”
Max clinked his glass to hers. The light was bright in her eyes once more.
“So that’s my happy little story,” she continued. “Your turn now.”
There was so much more Max wanted to know, so much more he wanted to find out about this woman, who not only excited him, but had touched him in a way that stirred his most protective instincts. But now wasn’t the time. Telling him that much had been hard for her. He smiled. “What would you like to know?”
“Age?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Family?”
“Three brothers, three sisters. I had another brother, Jonny, who died a year ago. My father lives in the family home outside Akaroa, near Christchurch.”
“Wow, the Connelly family is big.”
“Yeah. And crazy, too. Most of them.”
“You don’t seem particularly crazy to me.” She gestured around. “You own a big, flash alpine resort, drive an expensive car, fly a helicopter. Sounds pretty focused to me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been doing your homework.”
She laughed. “You don’t think I’m about to marry someone without doing due diligence.”
“Due diligence,” he repeated. “I guess such an unemotional expression sums up what our marriage is about.”
“Unemotional? Fun is an emotion, excitement, fear of the unknown. That’s what I want out of this. Don’t you?”
“Sure. Perhaps less of the fear, though. But…” He hesitated. “Don’t you ever want to feel anything more than fun and excitement?”
“Like what?”
He held her gaze but couldn’t tell whether she was being deliberately obtuse or truly hadn’t thought of marriage as encompassing any other form of emotion. He looked over at the photographers who hadn’t let up their attention. He really didn’t want to see any photos of him plastered around the internet with the word ‘love’ hovering on his lips.
“How about we leave this feeding frenzy behind?”
“I don’t eat that badly, do I?” she asked with a grin.
He laughed. “You know what I mean.” He jerked his head toward the group of photographers. “Their frenzy; their feeding.”
She turned back to him with a cheeky twist of the lips. “Let’s give them something to take away first, shall we?”
“Take away? Do people always want to take something from you?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “It’s part of the job.”
“Hm.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what did you have in mind?”
She placed her napkin on the table and stood up, the figure-hugging black dress, covered in crystal beading, shimmered under the lights. Her blonde hair, longer now it was straightened, swept over one shoulder, brushing her breast. A single black jade dangly earring was revealed on the exposed earlobe. Her plum-colored lipstick and flawless complexion was offset by the still-smudged mascara. His gaze fell to those lips, curved into a delicious sensuous half-smile. His single thought was making sure the lipstick became just as smudged as the mascara by the end of the evening.
He rose and she hooked her arm into his. “Over to you on this one. I’m out of my depth here.”
“No problem,” she whispered in his ear, causing his skin to goose-bump.
She took his hand and, chatting happily, for all the world like the perfect couple, they walked toward the photographers.
“Hey guys!” she said. “I hope you’ve already eaten, because if you haven’t, you must be hungry hanging around watching us eat.”
Max had to admire her sweetness with the group. They obviously knew her well and she, them, and chatted easily. He realized why they’d kept a respectful distance. They loved her and, within the constraints of their job, did what they could to give her some space.
“Well, we’re off now. You guys have a good evening.”
“Come on, Laura!” shouted a photographer.
She turned. “Okay. Ready?” She placed her palm on one side of his cheek and turned him to face her. She rose on tiptoes until her lips met his. For a moment he didn’t respond and he saw a flicker of something like alarm flit across her features. Then he slid his finger through her hair, bunching it in his hand, and brought her face to his and kissed her in no uncertain terms. He was sure that she’d only meant a brief pressing of lips together. But that wasn’t his idea of a kiss. And certainly bore no relation to what he’d imagined doing to that lipstick all evening.
But even his idea of a kiss became lost as it intensified. As her mouth opened under his and he slid his tongue along hers he felt her gasp in his mouth. From that moment he lost any idea of time and place. It was only when he heard the not-so-discreet cough of Chelsey, followed by her instructions to the photographers to leave, that the show was over. He even heard the remonstrations from the photographers that it looked like the show was only about to begin, without any shift of focus.
It was Laura who eventually pulled away. He saw why when he opened his eyes. Kelly had effectively dragged her away.
He also saw that he’d managed to smudge that perfect lipstick, just as he’d imagined he would. Trouble was it, it only had the effect of making him want more. It wasn’t so much a mission accomplished, as a mission only just begun.
“Come on you two,” said Chelsey. “Time you took your party somewhere private.” She turned to Kelly. “Time for a quick meeting?”
“Sure,” said Kelly.
As they stepped outside into the balmy evening, Max turned to Laura, whose hand had somehow slipped into his. “Something tells me that our employees are trying to figure out how to handle us.”
“Oh, yes. They’ll come up with something.”
“You don’t mind your public life being run by someone else?”
“No.” Laura looked genuinely surprised at the suggestion.
“Just wondered.”
“Do you?”
“Chelsey doesn
’t run my life,” he said quickly. Then he reflected. “She just tries to put it in order.”
“Not surprised if you keep pulling stunts like that one.” She rubbed her finger along her lips.
He stopped walking. “Me pulling stunts? You were setting me up. I was beginning to feel like a used man.” He grinned. “I couldn’t have that.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Laura, I may respect women, I may think they’re better than me in many ways, but I still like to take control.”
It was dark, with only the stars above as light. They were around the back of the building, with no one else in sight. “And what if I don’t like you taking control?”
He cocked his head to one side. “You didn’t seem to mind too much back there.”
“I…” She faltered. She shrugged, the whites of her eyes shifting in confusion under the starlight.
He took hold of her chin and brought her gently round to face him. “Laura, admit it. For one moment you forgot to be the director of your life, forgot to control the moment, and let your body take the lead.”
“I might have done,” she said hesitantly.
“You sound unsure. Maybe I’d better show you again.”
“No—” But wherever she was going to say was robbed as he pressed his lips to hers. The sound morphed into a moan. And, as her hands snaked around his neck, her fingers pushed up into his hair, she settled against his chest and then his hips.
His body reacted instantly to her taut, lean body pressed hard against his. He could tell the moment she felt his erection. For some reason it was different to the previous night. Then she’d been on familiar territory—flirting with no thought to the future beyond a few days. But now? Now she froze for an instant before drawing back from him, her eyes naked. Gone was the bravado for the public, the laughter for the friends, instead there was uncertainty and… fear.
It took all his restraint to step away with a smile. “This is your room, I believe.” Still that look in her eye that shot to the heart of him. “Goodnight, Laura.”
It wasn’t his arousal with which he had to struggle as he turned from her, but his need to wipe away that fear and uncertainty. He hadn’t seen it in her eyes before and it shocked him. It took all his strength to walk away. Now wasn’t the time. And in that moment he realized that, even if he never saw her again after their marriage ended, he had to help her overcome the fear which she covered so well.
He waited until he heard her door open and close before entering his room. He opened the curtains and saw her light turn on and then out. He got his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It was late but his brother had always been a night owl. He tapped the screen.
“Gabe! How are you, mate?” He listened briefly and grinned. His brother knew him inside out. “You’re right. I do want something, but it’s not for me. What do you know about rheumatic fever?”
The phone rang again and Max glanced at it with irritation. He picked it up and checked the display. Another sister.
He took a deep breath and pressed a button. “Rachel!” he said with all the heartiness he could muster after having listened not only to Lizzi, but to his brothers have a go at him. Even his youngest sister, Amber, the free-and-easy, live and let live hippy, had given him an earful.
“You’re insane!” said Rachel.
“Lovely to hear from you, too!” he replied, scrolling through his emails and deleting as he went. He may as well make himself useful while he was subjected to the telling-off his sister was about to subject him to.
“I love you, Max, and I’m telling you you’re insane! Imagine what everyone else is saying.”
“I don’t care what anyone else is saying.”
“Could have fooled me! I thought that’s what this whole stunt is about—what everyone else thinks.” She paused, obviously waiting for a comeback. He decided not to give her one. “Lizzi told me that you’d told her that it’s a publicity stunt. Say she’s wrong, Max?”
He bit his lip and deleted a couple of more emails which he didn’t bother to read. He hoped they weren’t important. He pushed his chair back and rose and paced over to the window. Camera flashes ensued and he swore under his breath. He was about to close the blinds but left them. It was too late for that. He’d opened his life up to public scrutiny and he’d have to accept it.
“Lizzi isn’t wrong.”
Rachel groaned.
“Rachel, you have to understand, Laura and I aren’t like you guys. It’s just a stunt. Nothing more. It’s simply marriage. It doesn’t mean anything to either of us.”
“Then it should!” Rachel exploded. “Christ, Max! What would Mom say?”
He felt the stab of the dagger she’d thrust, deep inside. “This is between Laura and me, no one else.”
“Just you two, and the rest of the world.”
A heavy silence fell which told him more than words. It spoke of a disappointment which hurt him more than anything else she had to say.
“I have to go,” he said.
“Of course,” she said shortly. “You have a wedding to arrange.”
“No. I have a meeting to attend.”
“No doubt, the same thing.”
“No doubt,” he said, unable to suppress the irritation which rose at the fact that she was absolutely right.
“Have you spoken to Dad?”
“Dad?” He twisted around, frowning at the thought. He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Dad,” he groaned. He hadn’t thought about his father’s reaction to the news. And Rachel’s earful would be nothing to what his father’s would be. He and his father had never seen eye to eye. Not as a kid, not as an adult, and definitely not now.
“Yes, Dad. As in your father. Call him.”
Rachel finished the call before he did and he ended up listening to the discontinued tone, before tossing the phone onto the desk. He looked at it again. He should call his father. Of course he should. He was getting married in two days and he hadn’t even spoken to his father about it. He walked over and picked up the phone, weighing it in his hands, tossing it from one hand to the other.
There was a knock at the door and it opened. Chelsey’s assistant smiled brightly. “Chelsey said to tell you that we’re ready for you.”
He placed the phone deliberately on the desk. “Sure.” His father would have to wait. He had a wedding to organize.
He was glad that none of his sisters were here to witness this, he thought as he closed the door on the board room. He rarely used this formal room, keeping it for conferences and residential meetings which they organized. But here he was, seated beside Chelsey and her assistant on his other side, facing Laura, her friend and manager, Kelly.
At least Laura looked as uncomfortable as he felt. She sat like a child called into the headmaster’s office, fiddling with her phone. Obviously the romantic side of this business wasn’t called for here, in private.
“So,” said Chelsey, striding up to the whiteboard and uncapping a marker. “Kelly and I have begun organizing things. We have a wedding planner on to the gown, flowers, photos, all of that regular crap.”
Max blanched at the use of the word ‘crap’, remembering Rachel’s jibe about his mother. He felt doubly bad as he also felt responsible for Chelsey’s attitude to marriage. Some years before, Chelsey had wanted to marry him and he’d refused. It had spelled the end of their intimate relationship and, apparently, the end of Chelsey’s marriage ambitions. He suddenly realized that his spur-of-the-moment proposal was affecting more people than he’d thought. If he’d thought at all, he reflected glumly.
“The ring will have to stay on Laura’s finger,” said Kelly. “We’ll fudge that in the ceremony. And I’ve found some vows on the internet which you might like to take a look at.” She pushed a piece of paper along the table to Laura. But Laura didn’t bother looking at it. She pushed it across to Chelsey and continued pressing the buttons of her phone. “Laura!” said Kelly. “Aren’t you interested in what you�
��re going to say on your big day?”
Laura looked up with a slightly dazed expression on her face, as if she’d been miles away. “No. Why would I be?” She looked across at Max. “Are you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to say anything I don’t mean.”
Chelsey scanned the page. “You won’t. This is just general stuff. You know, respect, blah, blah.”
He crossed his legs. He was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “Sounds fine then.” How did he get himself in this situation, where he was saying the opposite to how he felt? He never did that.
“Our strategy is going to be that we make everything as flashy as possible and say as little as possible. That way you guys won’t incriminate yourself, but will do what everyone wants.”
“Put on a show for them,” said Laura under her breath, as she continued to send tweets around the world. So she was listening, then. He found it hard to reconcile the woman who sat there—allowing herself to be talked about, to be used as an object for all their businesses—with the woman he’d been with last night. But then he reflected, what she’d told him the previous night had shown a different side to her. He watched as her hair slipped over her face. She was wearing cut-off shorts and a gypsy blouse which fell from her shoulders, revealing tanned and taut muscles, and a long elegant neck. It hurt to see such beauty and such indifference. It hurt to see how scared she was and how she was hiding it from the rest of the world.
“Laura?” His voice was low and quiet but everyone stopped talking and Laura’s fingers stopped tapping the buttons on her phone. She bit her lip and looked up, her expression naked and suddenly vulnerable. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? You don’t have to, you know. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
He was rewarded when a flicker of gratitude and warmth crossed her face. “Thank you, but it’s okay.”
Kelly and Chelsey raised their eyebrows and exchanged relieved looks.
