Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby. Emma Darcy
them together in front of the magnolia tree at Celine’s wedding and fretting over what might have been a bad decision to close the door on him.
She felt almost sick with nervous tension, the morning of the wedding. As she travelled in the city train across the harbour to the eastern suburbs where the others all lived, she told herself to stop thinking of him, focus on her friends, be happy for Kirsty. The gang was to meet at a hairdressing salon in Bondi Junction and she had to be as high-spirited as the rest of them were bound to be. It was a big day—the second wedding—and Fletcher should not be a factor in that.
She was the last to arrive.
And walked straight in on Kirsty saying, ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you at our hens’ party last night, Celine. Your brother’s coming to the wedding.’
‘Fletcher?’
The shock in Celine’s voice was mirrored on her face as she swivelled around in her chair to question Kirsty…and caught sight of Tammy, her feet stopped dead at the reception desk as she desperately tried to keep her expression blank.
‘Tam…’ Celine grimaced. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘What?’ she asked, pretending ignorance, hoping the wild pumping of her heart would not shoot a tell-tale flush up her neck.
The rest of the gang was already in the salon. They all looked at her, watching for her reaction. Were they remembering her connection with Fletcher at Celine’s wedding? Had they guessed that he was the reason for her lack of any enthusiastic interest in other guys in recent times? Tammy squirmed inside as she waited what seemed like aeons for Celine to answer.
It was Kirsty who finally broke the news. ‘Fletcher asked Max if he could come to the wedding.’
Celine turned to her, stunned anew. ‘He asked him?’
‘E-mailed the request on Thursday,’ Kirsty explained.
‘How extraordinary!’ Celine shook her head in disbelief. ‘I didn’t know he was home. Mum didn’t tell me.’
‘Max said he’d be flying in this morning,’ Kirsty went on.
‘Pushing himself in when he hasn’t been invited. That’s not like Fletcher,’ Celine remarked, frowning.
Kirsty shrugged dismissively. ‘An extra guest doesn’t matter. It’s only finger food at the reception, no set tables.’
Celine shot a concerned glance at Tammy who was being ushered to the chair beside Jennifer’s, then questioned Kirsty further. ‘Did Max say why he wanted to come?’
‘Not that I know of. He called Paul, made the request, and Paul passed it on to me. Just said Fletcher was flying in this morning and wanted to attend the wedding.’
Jennifer grinned at Tammy as she sat down next to her, eyes twinkling teasingly. ‘You might get another chance at him, Tam. He was quite put out when you disappeared on him last time, asking around for you.’
‘That was half a year ago,’ Tammy reminded her, trying to ignore the sudden kick to her heart. ‘And I gave him the flick, remember?’
‘He was interested in you, though,’ Lucy argued. ‘He might have mellowed since then, not be so arrogant. I hate to see such a gorgeous hunk go to waste.’
‘Oh, stop it, Lucy!’ Celine shot at her. ‘Fletcher runs through women like there’s an endless supply of them. Chasing after him would be the worst thing Tam could do.’
Lucy, irrepressible as always, rolled her eyes in sexy suggestiveness. ‘Not if she catches him. I reckon he’d be worth crawling into bed with.’
Hannah backed her up. ‘I thought he was hot, too. If he looked my way, I’d be seriously tempted.’
Having had enough time to recover some equilibrium, Tammy drily stated, ‘I’m sure he only looked my way because I was dolled up for Celine’s wedding.’
‘Well, you’re going to be dolled up again today for mine,’ Kirsty pointed out.
‘So why not make the most of it?’ Lucy pressed. ‘If I had that gorgeous hunk panting over me, I’d ignore the brain above the belt and engage the one below it.’
‘And what would that get me?’ Tam sliced at her. ‘He lives overseas.’
‘Quite possibly a climactic moment of pleasure you could treasure forever.’ Lucy slanted her a quizzical look. ‘Ever had one, Tam? A really mind-blowing one? You never talk about your sex life. You just listen to us.’
‘Guess I find yours more interesting. And yes, I have had a few mind-blowing moments.’
With Fletcher Stanton when he danced the waltz with me.
It wasn’t what Lucy meant, but that was still the highlight of Tammy’s sex life. She’d never been able to adopt the free and easy attitude her friends had towards what they considered a natural connection between a man and a woman. To her, physical intimacy had to go hand in hand with love. She didn’t want to give herself for less.
‘Well, that’s a relief!’ Lucy declared. ‘I always thought you never let your hair down enough.’
‘It’s down right now,’ Tammy retorted, waving to the hairstylist who was standing behind her chair and running the long black tresses through her fingers. ‘How do you want it done, Kirsty?’
The subject of Fletcher was dropped in favour of the more important and immediate aim to get everything right for the wedding. Kirsty wanted Tammy’s hair swept around to one side of her face and curled down over her shoulder. Very feminine, but was it sexy, Tammy wondered, secretly hoping Fletcher would be attracted to her again, wanting close contact, needing to test her feelings towards him.
The bridesmaids’ dresses were in a sort of Grecian style. Made in pure silk satin chiffon, the rouched bodice and soft princess-line skirt were constructed in different shades of blue from sky to royal, and the dress was virtually backless, plunging to below the waistline. That was definitely sexy, baring the whole curve of her spine.
Did Fletcher’s impulse to attend the wedding have anything to do with her?
He had to know she’d be one of Kirsty’s bridesmaids, given his informed comment on ‘the famous gang of six’ at Celine’s wedding.
Did he remember her as strongly as she remembered him?
In Tammy’s nerve-twittering state, the hours until the wedding seemed endless. From the hair-dressing salon they moved on to Beautiful Nails for the perfect manicure and pedicure, then to Kirsty’s parents’ house at Bellevue Hill for a late lunch and the rest of the preparations.
A make-up artist was booked to come in and do their faces, and surveying the brilliant job done on her own, Tammy wryly reflected that Fletcher would be seeing her at her superficial best again. Would he have found her attractive au naturelle? She felt their connection had gone more than skin deep, but wasn’t so sure of that on his side.
At last the cars arrived to take them to the wedding venue. Kirsty had chosen to be married in the national park, right on the South Head of the Harbour, the open-air ceremony to be held as the sun was lowering in the sky, shedding a golden light over the great arch of the bridge, the opera house and the long stretch of the harbour with its myriad coves and bays—a spectacular backdrop. A heritage house, situated in the park, had been turned into a function centre where the reception would take place.
It wasn’t a long drive from Bellevue Hill. Tammy was too choked up with tense anticipation to chat with her friends. She mentally ticked off the landmarks they passed—the Vaucluse Yacht Club, Fisherman’s Wharf, Camp Cove, Lady Bay Beach which was famous for being one of the earliest nudists’ beaches in Sydney—each one bringing her closer to Fletcher Stanton and her chance to make contact with him.
Her heart quickened to a wild flutter as the cars pulled up on a long driveway