Strategy For Marriage. Margaret Way
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the boss.” She walked back into the kitchen and popped a small jug of milk into the microwave. “I bet you’re the boss even when you’re asleep?”
“Of course I’m the boss. That’s my job. So what next, Miss Parker?” he asked, quietly surveying her.
“As in?” Wearily she rubbed the faint cleft in her chin, taking a seat opposite him.
“Plans for the future. You realise you’re going to have to cut Josh Deakin out of your life? End of story.”
“Obviously you haven’t read my character correctly.” She didn’t know how it had happened but she desperately wanted him to approve of her.
“Not every ex-girlfriend turns up uninvited at a wedding.”
“Go on, rub it in.”
“I have to. I’m excessively biased in favour of my cousin.”
“She’s a lucky girl.” Christy gave a mournful sigh.
There was a little droop to her lovely mouth. It made him want to kiss it hard. A little punishment without hurting her. “Anyway if you’re a good girl and say your prayers, Mr. Right will come along.”
“Mr. Right?” Her beautiful green eyes were distant. “What makes men Mr. Right all of a sudden? I don’t even want to talk about Mr. Right and marriage. I’m in denial.”
“I recognise that. I can even understand how you feel being burned. The fact is I’m wary of marriage myself.” He said this with considerable self-mockery.
“Pray tell why is that? You don’t look like you’d be wary of anything.”
“I’ve seen a lot of men lose their good judgment over a woman,” he remarked cynically.
“Well you couldn’t possibly say that only applies to men. Right now I’m feeling love is a four-letter word. And it definitely doesn’t last. Well it did—it does—for my parents. But they’re different.”
“You’re thinking you don’t stand a chance?” He gave a quiet, ironic laugh. “What about arranged marriages?” he asked. “Plenty of precedent for those. This head over heels bit doesn’t always come off.”
“You can’t be saying you’d seriously consider marrying a woman who doesn’t love you?” He took her breath away.
“And one I don’t love either. I’ve no time for mad primitive urges, all that sweep a woman up and carry her off sort of stuff. One can learn to love, certainly. And, of course there must be trust and respect, mutual commitment and the same goals.”
“Anything else?” She kept her eyes on him.
“Ideally she’ll be good-looking, warm, compassionate, love kids, smart and able to take on a full partnership in the McKinnon operation. At least have input. I don’t want any trophy wife.”
“And one who would never be unfaithful?”
The brilliant black eyes turned glacial. “Why did you say that?” His handsome face tautened.
She took a little rapid breath. “I see it hit a nerve? You’re certainly looking at me as though I’m not to be trusted.”
“Women as beautiful as you mightn’t make the safest wife,” he retorted.
“Really?” Colour flared into her face. “You’re a real woman hater, aren’t you?”
“I’m just very much against divorce.” He sounded deadly serious.
Christy half rose, anything but at ease with him. “More coffee?”
“No this is fine. You’re not going to cry, are you? You’ve been very emotional all night.”
“No I am not going to cry,” she told him a little fiercely. “Dammit I don’t understand men. You could have any woman you liked. That bridesmaid you were talking to? Did you happen to notice she’s madly in love with you? And there were at least a dozen others sick with disappointment you had me hanging off your arm. Is it possible beneath that formidable exterior you’re scared of women? Do you look like a panther when you’re really a puppy?”
He surveyed her coolly. “I can’t believe you said that. It’s just that I want a lot, Christy. For one so recently jilted, you have a great deal to say.”
The phone rang out, saving Christy an answer. They both jumped, so intense was the atmosphere between them. Christy went to answer it. Who could be ringing her this time of night? Her mind sprang, instantly, anxiously, to her parents. Accidents happened on farms. Nerves tightening she spoke into the mouthpiece. “Christy here.”
Silence at the other end then a man’s voice so low she would have had to ask him to speak up only the voice was too familiar. “Christy, Christy, don’t hang up.”
Her heart contracted. Shock. Sick anger. Utter disbelief.
“Please…hear me out.”
“You’re kidding. You’ve got to be kidding!” The words burst from her before she could swallow them back. What sort of life form was he?
“Who is it?” Ashe McKinnon was on his feet. “Deakin?” His voice was hard.
She hung up immediately. “Don’t be ludicrous. Wrong number. They were after a woman named Paderewski or Popadiamantris or someone.”
He clicked his tongue disgustedly. “I can think of a few other things you might be but a good liar isn’t one of them. We all know who Paderewski was and Papadiamantris to the best of my knowledge was a Greek writer. That was Deakin. Where in hell is he speaking from, the hotel? I’ll go round.”
That thoroughly panicked her. “I tell you, it was a wrong number.”
The phone rang again but Ashe saved her the trouble of answering it. “McKinnon,” he thundered. Straight from the Oval Office.
The very last thing Josh would have been counting on, Christy thought, secretly thrilled. Ashe McKinnon in her apartment. If McKinnon hadn’t looked like he wanted to lynch someone she might have been able to laugh.
He hung up, obviously having frightened the caller off. “If Deakin were here right now he’d have to be hospitalised. It was him, wasn’t it?” He drilled her with his brilliant stare.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Christy found herself imploring. Usually the people she dealt with were easy to handle. Not the cattle baron. No way. “It was the wrong number. I get lots of them.”
He stared at her without a flicker of belief. “As an attempt at protecting your ex-boyfriend that was pitiful.”
So it was, but the whole situation was highly explosive. And she was the cause of it. She should never have gatecrashed the wedding, no matter how badly Josh had treated her. “All right, then, I’m protecting Callista.” She refused point-blank to be intimidated. “From you as much as him. Do you want to get back into town and punch him out? For all your talk of cool, common sense, you’re a passionate man.” She put out a hand and tentatively touched him. Much as a brave or alternatively stupid person would attempt to soothe a big cat. “Please relax. Settle down.” But settling down didn’t appear to be on the agenda.
“They’re supposed to be on their goddamn honeymoon and he’s ringing you?” he retorted in amazement. “It’s enough to make anyone reel.”
“It’s been done before.” She borrowed some of his own cynicism. “Men ringing their mistresses and old girlfriends from the honeymoon suite. A crime of the heart. But it happens. The thing is you haven’t got the right impression of me.”
“So educate me,” he challenged, looking down that fine, straight nose at her.
“I can scarcely expect you to listen, you’re so judgmental, but I don’t, repeat, don’t, fool around with married men. As far as I’m concerned,