Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby. Emma Darcy
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my name is Tamalyn, though most people call me Tam or Tammy,’ she said off-handedly.
‘Ah! Now that does suit you. It has an exotic ring to it.’
Exotic? Her heart fluttered. Was that his impression of her? It had to be the mass of curls giving her a different look. If he saw her tomorrow when her hair would be straight again… But today was today and she wasn’t about to belittle what impact she had made on this man. In fact, she seized on the exotic theme and ran with it.
‘Tama is the Native-American word for thunderbolt,’ she informed him with a flirty little smile. ‘My mother added Lyn to feminise it.’
‘Thunderbolt…’ His mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Am I in danger of being struck down?’
‘Only if you don’t treat me kindly.’
He laughed.
Bubbles of exhilaration bounced around her brain as they emerged from the church. Fletcher was enjoying her company. He thought her exotic. Life was beautiful. The sun was not only shining on the bride but also on her fifth bridesmaid.
There was virtually no chance of any further personal conversation while the wedding photographer kept posing them on the church steps, demanding they move here and there for different group shots, though she didn’t mind when he insisted they press closer and Fletcher’s arm curled around her waist, drawing her into standing against him.
She’d always considered herself of average height, yet he was so tall, her head only reached the top of his shoulder. It gave her a lovely, warm sense of having a big strong man to look after her, which, of course, was what women had wanted in primitive societies. Fletcher Stanton was definitely striking lots of primitive chords in her.
‘Mmm…exotic perfume, too,’ he murmured close to her ear, making it tingle with the waft of his breath.
‘White Diamonds,’ she told him, glad that Jennifer had insisted on dabbing some of the expensive scent on her.
His eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘Sounds cold. Should be called Purple Passion.’
She giggled. Couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t stop.
Jennifer shot her a quizzical look. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing,’ Tammy spluttered, shaking her head as she tried to regain control of her behaviour.
‘Come on, give,’ her friend urged, casting a curious look at Fletcher.
‘I think Tamalyn is having a purple day,’ he said with mock gravity.
‘Tamalyn?’ Jennifer’s eyes widened incredulously at the rarely spoken name.
‘No, no, it’s a golden day. Pure gold,’ Tammy rattled out, bursting into giggles again.
Fletcher squeezed her waist. She hoped it meant happy agreement with her correction and not an act of exasperation with her hilarity, which had probably destroyed her exotic mystique. But Purple Passion was too over the top and golden described this situation perfectly, as long as Fletcher had a sense of humour.
‘You can tell us the joke in the limo,’ Jennifer said, eyes flashing insistently. ‘We’re moving on now.’
So they were, Celine and Andrew heading down the church steps to their car, guests throwing rice at them. The bridesmaids were to return to the limousine which had brought them to the church, the groomsmen travelling separately in theirs to Boronia House which had been booked for the reception. Having sobered up from her fit of giggles, she flashed Fletcher a smile as she reluctantly stepped out of his hold.
‘See you at the next stop.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he replied, his eyes simmering with the promise of more fun and games with her.
Tammy floated on a cloud of delight as she followed her friends down the steps. She and Fletcher were definitely connecting. The attraction was mutual. There had been no sign at all of him being an arrogant pig and she couldn’t imagine why Celine had described him in such terms. Maybe it was a sibling thing—little sister overshadowed by older brother who was outstandingly successful in his field.
But Celine had also said he offended people and she surely wouldn’t be wrong about that, given their long family history together. It was possible, because it was his sister’s wedding, he had taken her warning to treat his partner kindly to heart and was going out of his way not to offend. Whatever…it was too soon for Tammy to make any judgement on this. Besides, the buoyant happiness she was feeling was too good to question right now.
Go with it, girl, she told herself, and was grinning her pleasure in the situation as she piled into the bridesmaids’ limousine with her friends. They were no sooner on their way than they all turned their focus on her.
‘Wow! Did you get the prize!’ Kirsty started. ‘I’m with the best man but he sure isn’t the best!’
‘Yeah…lucky you, Tam!’ Hannah chimed in with blatant envy. ‘Never mind the billions he’s made, that guy is hot, hot, hot!’
‘How come Celine never told us her brother was such a fabulous hunk, always calling him the brain?’ Lucy complained.
‘He can’t be too nerdy in the brain department because he was making Tammy laugh her head off,’ Jennifer informed them before quizzing her directly. ‘What was he saying to you? And why did he call you Tamalyn? Were you being uppity with him?’
‘He thinks I’m exotic, so I was giving him exotic,’ she answered.
They all hooted at this description of her.
‘Don’t knock it!’ she commanded. ‘It’s not every day I look like this, or smell like this, thank you, Jennifer—so I might as well take advantage of it.’
‘Go for it, girl!’ they chorussed, echoing what she’d told herself.
They’d always encouraged each other with that phrase. It was characteristic of the camaraderie they shared. Tammy thought how lucky she had been to have such good friends over the years, and hoped their closeness would not get too eroded by other relationships. Now that Celine had Andrew, she wasn’t so available to them anymore, which was natural enough. As each of them got married—if they did—the degree of separation would inevitably become greater. Life moved on. She just hoped it wouldn’t move them too far apart.
Fletcher’s world revolved around the serious hubs of power overseas, a whole ocean away from Sydney and the life she had mapped out for herself. It was a point she would do well to remember, not get too carried away by an attraction that had little chance of going any further than today.
Yet who knew what the future held?
Right now it held Fletcher Stanton at the next stop, and all she wanted to do was bask in that wonderfully tantalising thought.
CHAPTER TWO
THE grounds of Boronia House were picture perfect: wonderful old pine trees shading glorious banks of azaleas in full bloom. The house itself was a lovely backdrop, built in the old colonial style with verandahs running around both storeys, tall French doors opening onto them, white columns interspersing the intricately patterned white iron lace that ran around the eaves and the upper balcony. In the centre of the manicured lawn was a magnolia tree, laden with its purple and pink flowers, the grass around it strewn with fallen petals. The photographer had just posed the bride and groom in front of it when Fletcher Stanton started tarnishing his golden image.
‘That looks so romantic!’ Tammy enthused with a happy sigh.
‘Yes. I’d have to give Celine top marks for picking great staging,’ he agreed amiably. ‘But I can’t help questioning if the romance of a wedding has clouded her brain.’
They were alone together, waiting in the shade of a giant pine tree for the next group photo-call. The others had trooped off to the house to refresh themselves while they were free to do so.