In the Australian's Bed: The Passion Price / The Australian's Convenient Bride / The Australian's Marriage Demand. Miranda Lee
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She laughed. ‘Am I supposed to believe that?’
‘You sure are. I’m a lot of things but I’m no liar.’
‘Such as what? What are you, Jake Winters, that I should worry about before daring to go to lunch with you?’
‘You don’t honestly expect me to put myself down, do you? I’m no saint but I’m not one of the bad guys, either. I don’t lie and I don’t cheat. There is no other woman in my life. But I am a confirmed bachelor. And I aim to stay that way. Which should please you, since you’re not into wedding bells and baby bootees. Or did I get that wrong?’
‘No. No, you didn’t get that wrong.’
If I can’t marry you, then I don’t want to marry anyone.
The thought burst into her mind. Shocking her. Shattering her. This couldn’t be. This wasn’t fair. Not only that, but it was also crazy. He’d only been in her life a few short hours this time.
She couldn’t be in love with him again. Not really. She was being confused and corrupted by the romance of the situation. And by desire. His, as well as her own. She wasn’t sure which was the more powerful. Being wanted the way Jake said he wanted her. Or her wanting him.
Angelina still could not believe the feelings which had rampaged through her when he’d simply touched her hand.
Wilomena was probably right. She was a one-man woman.
And Jake was the man. Impossible to resist him. She could go to lunch with him next Saturday, pretending that it was a reconnaissance mission to find out what kind of man he was. But that was all it would be. A pretence.
‘Tell me about your job,’ she said, valiantly resolving to put their conversation back on to a more platonic, getting-to-know-you basis. ‘What kind of lawyer are you?’
‘A darned good one.’
‘No, I mean what kind of people do you represent?’
‘People who need a good lawyer to go in to bat for them. People who’ve been put down and put upon, usually in the corporate world. Employees who’ve been unfairly dismissed, or sexually harassed, or made to endure untenable work conditions. I have this woman client at the moment who’s in the process of suing her boss. She worked as his assistant in an un-air-conditioned office with him for years whilst he chain-smoked. She repeatedly asked him to put her in a separate office but he wouldn’t. Yet he was filthy rich. She now has terminal lung cancer and she’s only forty-two. We’re suing for millions. And we’ll win, too.’
‘But she won’t,’ Angelina said. ‘She’ll die.’
‘Yes, she’ll die. But her teenage children won’t. She told me she’d die happier if she gets enough money to provide for them till they can provide for themselves. Her husband’s an invalid as well. That’s why she had to work and why she stayed working for that bastard under such rotten conditions. Because the job was within walking distance of her house, and she didn’t have a car. She couldn’t afford one.’
‘That’s so sad. I hate hearing stories like that. Don’t tell me any more, Jake.’
‘All right,’ he said gently. ‘You always did have a soft heart, Angelina. I remember the day we found that bird with the broken wing caught in the vines. You cried till your dad promised to take it to a vet.’
He was getting to her again. ‘I only have a soft heart for poor birds with broken wings,’ she countered crisply. ‘And poor people dying through no fault of their own. Not smooth-talking lawyers who go round trying to seduce old flames just for the heck of it.’
‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘Come, now, Jake, you ran into me today by sheer accident. You haven’t given me a second thought all these years.’ Unlike herself. Even if she’d wanted to forget Jake, how could she when his eyes had been staring back at her on a daily basis for years? ‘Your dear old friend Dorothy is buying a place up here,’ she swept on. ‘You spotted me again today, liked what you saw, and thought I’d be a convenient lay during your weekends up here.’
‘That’s a pretty harsh judgement.’
‘I think it’s a pretty honest one. Please don’t try to con me, Jake. I won’t like that. Be straight with me.’
‘OK, you’re right and you’re wrong. I admit I haven’t actively thought about you for years. But that doesn’t mean I’d forgotten you. When I realised where I was going for lunch today, everything came flooding back. The way you made me feel that summer. The things that happened. I really wanted to see you again. I told myself it was just curiosity, or the wish to say sorry for being just a chump back then. But when I actually saw you, Angelina…when I saw you I—’
‘Please don’t say the world stopped,’ she cut in drily.
He laughed. ‘I won’t. It actually sped up. At least, my pulse-rate did. Do you know how beautiful you are?’ he said, his voice dropping low again. ‘How sexy?’
Don’t fall for all that bulldust. Keep your head, honey.
Angelina could almost hear those very words coming from Wilomena’s mouth.
‘You’re not the first man to tell me that, Jake,’ she said in a rather hard voice.
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘City men are amazingly inventive, especially when they’re away from home. The Ambrosia Estate has become a popular venue for conferences,’ she elaborated. ‘Lots of them pass through all the time.’
‘You sound as if you’ve been burnt a few times.’
‘Who hasn’t in this day and age?’ came her offhand reply. If he thought she’d jumped into bed with her fair share of such men, then all well and good. No way did she want him thinking he was the only man she’d ever known.
‘I’m sorry but I really must go, Jake. I was in the middle of something important when you called. I’ll see you on Saturday at the expo. I’m sure you can manage to find the right booth. Shall we say twelve-thirty?’
‘Noon would be better.’
‘Noon it is, then. Bye for now.’ And she hung up.
Jake was grinning as he replaced his receiver.
Alex, old man, he thought elatedly, come next weekend, you’re going to be history!
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANGELINA couldn’t stop titivating herself. If she’d checked her make-up and hair once, she’d checked it a hundred times.
Not for the first time this morning, she hurried into the hotel bathroom so that she could stand in front of the cheval mirror that hung on the back of the door.
The dress she was wearing was not casual. But she knew she looked good in it, which was the most important thing to her right at that moment.
Light and silky, the sleeveless sheath skimmed her curvy figure, making her look slim yet shapely at the same time. Its scooped neckline stopped just short of showing any cleavage, the wide, softly frilled collar very feminine. The hem finished well above her knee on one side and dipped down almost to mid-calf on the other, as was the fashion this year. The print on the pale cream material was floral, the flowers small and well-spaced, their colours ranging from the palest pink to a deep plum, her favourite colour. She’d matched the dress with open-toed cream high heels and a plum handbag. Her lipstick and nail-polish were plum as well. Strong colours suited her, with her olive skin and dark hair and eyes.
Her hair—which had been up and down several times so far this morning—was finally down, its natural wave and curl having been tamed somewhat with a ruthless blowdrying, but it still kicked up on the ends. Shoulder-blade-length, it was parted on one side and looped behind her ears