by Lee, Miranda
Fiona bristled. ‘You don’t like the way I look?’
‘Does it matter what I like? My mother thinks you’re the ant’s pants. That must give you great satisfaction.’
‘It does, actually.’
‘Then that’s all that matters. She’s the one you’ll be working with most of the time. The groom has very little to do with wedding preparations.’
‘True.’ She’d never agree otherwise.
‘Of course I am a little curious as to how you achieved this stunning transformation, and how you came to be a partner in a highly successful business. The last I heard of you, you were married to some truck driver.’
Fiona’s mouth dropped open. ‘How...how did you know about that?’
His mouth smiled, but his eyes remained a mystery behind those increasingly irritating sunglasses. Yet, at the same time, she was grateful for her own.
‘Curiosity sent me looking for you after I finished university,’ he explained. ‘I didn’t find you but I did find your father. He seemed happy to tell me about your marriage to a trucking mate of his, a man named Kevin Kirby. That’s why I called you Mrs Kirby when we were introduced just now. But you soon put me straight about that! Since you’re a little young to be a widow, I gather there was a divorce?’
‘You gather right.’
‘Your decision again, Fiona?’
‘It was, actually.’
‘What went wrong?’ he asked. ‘You certainly couldn’t say you were from two different worlds on that occasion.’
‘No. I certainly couldn’t,’ she returned, her voice as hard as her heart. ‘The bare truth is that Kevin wanted me to stay home and have children, and I didn’t. Our divorce was quite amicable. He’s now married again with a couple of kids.’
‘And you’re on your way to your first million,’ he mocked.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ she snapped.
‘Nothing, I guess. If that’s all you want out of life. Is that all you want nowadays, Fiona? Money?’
‘A little respect goes down well. But money’s good. The money I earn for myself, that is.’
‘Ahh. A truly independent woman. Very admirable. I dare say you live alone these days?’
‘I do.’
‘But you date, of course. Celibacy would not be your strong point.’
‘Nor yours, Philip,’ she shot back at him.
He laughed. ‘Touché. So, are you sleeping with this business partner of yours? What was his name? Owen something or other?’
‘I have no intention of answering any questions about my personal life,’ came her cool reply.
‘You’re not asking Fiona impertinent questions, are you, son?’ Kathryn said wearily as she seemed to materialise beside Fiona’s shoulder, bending to slide a tray onto the table. It held an elegant white coffee pot with three equally elegant white coffee mugs surrounding it. A matching jug held cream, no doubt, and the crystal sugar bowl sparkled in the sun.
‘Don’t take any notice of him, dear,’ Kathryn went on as she sat down between them. ‘Once a lawyer, always a lawyer. They like giving people the third degree, even innocent ones. I sometimes feel sorry for the witnesses Philip cross-examines.’
‘You’re a criminal lawyer?’ Fiona exclaimed, taken aback. She’d presumed he’d gone into corporate law, in his father’s company. That had certainly been his father’s plan for him.
‘Philip’s beginning to make a name for himself in court, aren’t you, dear?’ his mother said proudly.
‘I’ve had some modest successes recently.’
Kathryn laughed softly. ‘Now who’s being modest? How do you take your coffee, Fiona?’
‘Oh... um... white, with one sugar, please,’ she answered, a little distractedly, almost adding ‘the same as Philip.’ Goodness, she was a mess!
‘Just to put your mind at rest, Mother,’ Philip said casually while Kathryn was pouring the coffee. ‘It’s perfectly all right by me for Fiona to do the wedding. Now that I’ve had a chance to talk to her, I’m more than impressed with her credentials, but especially her professional attitude. I recognise a high achiever when I hear one. I’m sure she’ll do a top job. As for her fee, and the contract, I’ll take care of that personally. You live too far out of town to be bothered with that. I presume you have an office somewhere in the city, Fiona? Perhaps a business card as well?’
Fiona hated the thought of him dropping in to the office, but what could she do? She could hardly say as much in front of his mother. ‘Not in the city exactly,’ she told him, ‘but not far out. We rent a suite of rooms above a couple of shops at St Leonard’s, along the Pacific Highway. And, yes, of course I have a business card.’
‘Of course,’ he murmured, and she shot him a savage glance, which, unfortunately, he couldn’t really see. But she was about to remedy that!
Taking off her sunglasses, she scooped up her handbag from where she’d dropped it beside her chair, snapped it open and dropped the glasses inside. Then she opened the side pocket where she kept her business cards and took out three, handing one to Kathryn and two to Philip.
‘Perhaps you could give one to your fiancée,’ she suggested with a sickly-sweet smile. ‘Which reminds me, Kathryn, you said something earlier about the wedding date only being ten weeks away, and the bride going to be absent overseas for a lot of that time? Is that right?’
‘Yes, Corinne does voluntary work for one of those world charities for children. Her best friend is employed by them as a nurse. Unfortunately, Corinne organised this trip to Indonesia before Philip asked her to marry him, and she doesn’t want to let her friend down.’
‘How very commendable,’ Fiona remarked, while privately thinking it was still an odd time to be going away. ‘Well, if that’s the case, then there’s no time to waste, is there? I should meet with the bride very soon and find out exactly what she wants. It doesn’t give us much time.’
‘I’ll get Corinne to ring you tonight,’ Philip offered. ‘On which number? Your mobile?’
‘No. I have a firm rule never to use my mobile on a Sunday unless I have a wedding on. Otherwise I never have any peace. Here, give me the card back and I’ll jot down my home number.’ She extracted a pen from her bag and added her personal number to the two already on the card.
‘What time would be best for you?’ Philip asked after she’d handed the card back to him.
‘Any time before eight-thirty.’
‘Going out, are you?’
Actually, Fiona rarely went out on a Sunday night. She liked to curl up on front of the telly and watch one of the Sunday night movies which always started at eight-thirty. During the ads she did her nails and got her clothes ready for the working week ahead. Today she’d already done her manicure, and tonight they were re-running one of her all-time favourite films.
The slightly mocking tone in Philip’s voice, however, stung her into lying.
‘Yes, I am, actually,’ she said, and found another of those sweet smiles for him.
‘Anywhere special?’
‘Not really. Just visiting a friend.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘I think Mark’s a little old to be called a boyfriend.’
‘How old is he?’ Philip persisted.
‘Late thirties.’
‘What does he do?’
‘Philip, really!’ his mother exclaimed, and threw Fiona a look of helpless exasperation. ‘See what I mean? Lawyers! They can’t help themselves.’
‘I’m just making conversation,’ Philip said, sounding innocent. But Fiona knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was deliberately trying to goad her. And he’d succeeded.
But no way was he going to know that.
‘It’s perfectly all right, Kathryn,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘I don’t mind. Mark’s a doctor,’ she directed, straight at Philip. ‘A surgeon. We met at a dinner party...oh, about six months ago. We’ve been dating ever since.’
Actually, it had only been three months. It just
seemed like six. Mark had all the superficial qualities she found attractive in a man, being tall, dark-haired and good-looking, as well as well-read and intelligent. He was also more than adequate in bed.
But his vanity was beginning to grate and, even worse, he was starting to hint that it was time he settled down and passed on his ‘perfect’ genes. She’d been going to break with him this week, but now revised that decision. Mark was best kept around till Philip was safely married and out of her life once more.
Fiona felt confident she no longer loved Philip, but there was still an unfortunate chemistry there between them. She could feel it sparking away every time she looked at him. She suspected Philip could feel it too, and resented it as bitterly as she did. That was why he was taking pot-shots at her personal life.
‘So where did you meet Corinne?’ Fiona asked, deflecting the conversation away from her personal life and back onto Philip’s.
‘I can’t rightly remember. At some charity do she organised, I think.’
‘It sounds like she does a lot of charity work.’
‘She does.’
Which meant she didn’t have a real job. A rich man’s daughter, obviously. Well, what had she expected? Philip moved in those kinds of circles.
‘How old is she?’
‘Twenty-four.’
Just as she’d thought. Young. ‘Blonde?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Again, just as she’d thought. Philip had told her once how much he liked blonde hair.
‘Pretty, I’ve no doubt.’
‘Very.’
‘She’ll make a lovely bride,’ Kathryn joined in warmly. ‘It’s a pity her mother isn’t alive to see her. I went to school with her mother, would you believe? But she died when Corinne was a little girl. Corinne’s father is George Latham. He’s a state senator You might have heard of him?’
Who hadn’t? George Latham was not a shrinking violet, either in size or personality. He was also filthy rich. Or his family was. Yep, Fiona had this wedding tagged correctly. It would be society though and through Owen would be so pleased.
A sudden beeping had Philip standing up and fishing an extraordinarily small mobile phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and, flipping it open, placed it to his ear. ‘Philip Forsythe,’ he said as he walked off to one side.
Both women picked up their coffee cups and began to sip, but Fiona could still hear Philip’s side of the conversation quite clearly.
‘That’s great... No, no, I wouldn’t mind at all, actually... All right, Corinne... See you soon, my darling.’
He walked swiftly back to the table, but stayed standing while he snapped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.
‘That was Corinne,’ he said. ‘She’s feeling a bit better and wants me to come over and babysit. I couldn’t really say no, given she’s leaving in a week or so. Sorry about lunch, Mother, but you and Fiona will still have a lovely time together, planning the wedding of the year.’
‘We certainly will, won’t we?’ Kathryn agreed, and smiled over at Fiona.
Fiona tried to smile back, but it wasn’t easy. She was still reeling with shock over how she’d reacted to Philip calling his fiancée ‘my darling.’ The warmly said endearment had speared straight to her heart, evoking the memory of when he’d first made love to her and first called her his darling—his only darling, his most precious darling.
And now, now he was running off to his new darling, no doubt taking her to bed for the rest of the afternoon in one of those long, leisurely lovemaking sessions which he was so expert at. It had been after one of those romantic afternoons in bed ten years ago that he’d confessed to her that one of the condoms he’d used had broken, and her life had been irrevocably ruined.
Fiona’s stomach suddenly clenched down hard, then swirled. A clamminess claimed her and her head began to spin. She wasn’t sure if she was going to faint, or be sick. Shakily, she got to her feet, scraping the chair back on the flagstones.
Kathryn’s eyes flew upwards, alarmed. ‘Are you all right, Fiona? You’ve gone a terrible colour.’
‘I... I...’
She didn’t speak another word. She barely had time to blink before a blackness swept over her.
Afterwards, Fiona would wonder over the abruptness of her unconscious state. She’d never fainted before, and had always imagined one sort of drifted into it. But it wasn’t like that at all. One minute she was awake, then the next... nothing!
She was totally unaware of Philip scooping her up into his arms to safety, before her head could hit the flagstones, or the look of pain which filled his face as he gathered her close and carried her swiftly into the house. She saw and felt nothing till she came to, lying on a large sofa, Philip’s handsome face looming over her.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘ARE you all right?’ he asked worriedly.
She stared up into his beautiful blue eyes, her first woozy thought being that she was glad he’d taken those rotten sunglasses off. For one mad, delusional moment she wallowed in his concerned expression and the gentle tone of his question.
But then she came back to reality. And rationality.
A frown slowly settled on her forehead as she realised what had happened.
‘I fainted,’ she said disbelievingly.
Philip sat back on his heels and smiled a wry little smile. ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ he murmured. ‘You’re human, after all.’
His return to sarcasm sped her recovery, both emotionally and physically. Fancy getting all upset and fainting like that! What a foolish female thing to do! Futile, too.
Angry at herself, she sat up abruptly and swung her feet over the side of the sofa, Philip having to hurriedly get out of her way.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ he said, scrambling to his feet and glaring down at her. ‘You should stay lying down for a while. Mother’s ringing her doctor.’
‘I’m perfectly all right!’ Fiona protested, and to prove it she stood up.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite all right, and swayed dangerously. Philip took her by the shoulders and forced her back down into a sitting position.
‘For pity’s sake, Fiona, do as you’re told and just sit!’ He plonked down in a nearby armchair and shook his head at her as though she were an idiot. ‘You fainted dead at our feet, woman. You can’t expect us to ignore that fact. We have to check it out.’
‘I’m perfectly all right, I tell you,’ she insisted. ‘It was a simple faint.’
‘You just intimated you’ve never fainted before.’
‘Well, I...I’ve never skipped breakfast before!’ she argued.
‘Huh! By the feel of you, you skip breakfast a lot.’
She glared over at him. ‘Are you saying I’m too thin?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not getting into an argument over a woman’s weight. I’m just saying you could do with a few more pounds.’
‘Oh, really? I suppose you preferred me when I was fat!’
‘You were never fat. Nicely rounded, maybe, but not fat.’
‘Then you were the only one in your family who thought so,’ she snapped.
He went to open his mouth, but when his mother came into the room, carrying a glass of water and looking worried, he shut it again. ‘The doctor’s not at home,’ Kathryn said as she hurried over. She handed Fiona the water, then sat next to her on the sofa and peered anxiously into her face. ‘You still look pale. Would you like Philip to take you to one of those twenty-four-hour medical centres?’
‘Certainly not. I’m perfectly all right,’ Fiona repeated, and took a sip of the water. ‘I was just confessing to Philip that I forgot to have breakfast. I’ll be all right once I eat something.’
‘Oh, dear, I wish you’d said something,’ Kathryn said. ‘I would have brought some food with the coffee instead of waiting for lunch. I’ll go and make you a sandwich straight away. Brenda prepared us some lovely ham and salad. Just sit right there, dear, and don’t move.’
She bustled off again, rather annoying Fiona with her solicitude. This new warm, caring Kathryn took some getting used to!
‘You don’t have to look so put out,’ Philip said sharply. ‘She’s only being kind.’
Fiona sighed. ‘I know. I know. It’s just that...’
‘You never thought she was capable of kindness?’
Fiona nodded, and Philip sighed.
‘I have to admit she was once on the selfish side. And quite a snob. She’d been very spoiled, by her own father and then by mine. Dad adored her. He was a slave to her wishes. But she’s changed quite a bit since you last met. She’s been through a lot over the past few years. I suppose you heard about Dad dying? It was in all the papers.’
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
‘It wasn’t quite as it said in the papers. Dad didn’t die peacefully at all. His fight with cancer was very prolonged, and very painful.’
Fiona’s heart turned over. Philip’s father had been a fair and decent man. He hadn’t deserved a long, lingering death. He’d never judged her, like Kathryn had, or made her feel cheap. It was telling, she thought, that Philip called his mother ‘Mother’ and his father ‘Dad.’
Philip seemed lost in his memories of his father for a few moments, as she was. But then he cleared his throat. ‘I guess the death of a loved one changes a person,’ he said abruptly. ‘Not that Mother’s totally changed. She’s still a stickler for manners and appearances, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’
‘I presume Corinne passed the manners and appearance test,’ Fiona said a little tartly.
Philip winced. ‘Oh, hell! Corinne! I’d forgotten all about her. I’d better give her a ring, tell her I’ll be late.’
‘Better still,’ Fiona said swiftly, before he could flip open his mobile, ‘why don’t you just go, Philip? There’s nothing more you can do here today.’
He hesitated, his handsome face strangely torn-
Fiona could not imagine over what. Surely he’d want to absent himself from her company as quickly as possible.
‘If you’re still worried about my fainting,’ she said, ‘then please don’t. Neither my health—nor me—are your responsibility. Not till you sign me up for your wedding, that is. After that, you might like to keep me out of bed.’
