Her Wealthy Husband. Margaret MayoЧитать онлайн книгу.
put you off men?’
‘Who says I’m off them?’ Her shoulders stiffened automatically. He was too perceptive by far.
Well-shaped dark brows rose and disappeared into the thatch of hair that fell across his brow. ‘You’re giving a very good performance of not liking them. Unless it’s me you resent? Am I missing something? Have you heard something bad about me?’
‘I didn’t even know you existed until a few seconds ago,’ she answered tartly, and he’d have done her a favour if he hadn’t turned up. There was something about Bryce Kellerman that Lara instinctively distrusted. She felt that he was the sort of man who would use women for his own purpose and then toss them to one side without a thought for their feelings.
The way he’d deliberately set his sights on her proved it. She was a newcomer, she was blonde and good-looking—she’d been told that enough times even though her mirror suggested otherwise. Her brow was too high, her eyes too big, her mouth too wide, and compliments that she knew were untrue didn’t please her.
‘And now that you know I exist?’ Brows rose laconically, smoky eyes showed dangerous interest.
‘I think I’ll steer clear,’ she answered decisively, and looked deliberately away. ‘There’s someone else I want to speak to. If you’ll excuse me…’
But Bryce Kellerman was not ready to let her go. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’
Lara frowned meaningfully down at his hand on her arm and then looked straight into his face, not speaking until he let her go. ‘Thank you,’ she said with exaggerated politeness. ‘What do you mean, not finished? I wasn’t aware that we’d started anything.’
‘Helen wants us to become friends.’ His smile was slow and confident. ‘It would be rude to disappoint her.’
It was Lara’s turn to lift her brows. ‘My aunt can want all she likes. I choose my own friends. She had no right discussing me.’
‘She didn’t.’
‘Then, how—?’
‘Your aunt is of the opinion that it’s time I found myself a wife.’
‘And I somehow suspect that she thinks I should find another husband,’ added Lara wryly.
All of a sudden they both burst out laughing.
‘I think we should at least pretend that we like each other,’ said Bryce in a wickedly loud whisper.
‘It will make Helen’s night,’ she agreed.
‘We don’t have to go on with it afterwards.’
‘Just for tonight?’
Bryce nodded. ‘Shall we take a walk in the garden?’ He held out his hand and after a second’s hesitation Lara slipped hers into it. Glancing back towards the house she saw Helen watching them, saw her aunt give a nod of approval, and after that they were out of sight. They were two souls together in the blackness of the night. They could hear the music and voices and laughter but could see no one, and no one could see them.
Without warning Bryce took her into his arms, and to Lara’s horror she felt an immediate response. Since the breakdown of her marriage she’d avoided men like the plague, so why this sudden reaction? Why this tingling in her limbs? Why were her pulses pounding? It had to be because she felt flattered. What woman wouldn’t feel a stirring of her senses when a man as magnetic as Bryce Kellerman sought her out?
But he was mistaken if he thought she would let him kiss her. It might be a magical, moonlit night. It might be warm, sensually warm, an evening made for love, but it was not for her. ‘Is this a typical Australian greeting?’ she asked, wrenching free. ‘I hadn’t realised I was supposed to fall into the arms of every man I met.’
‘My apologies.’ He gave a curt little nod. ‘Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me about this guy who’s ruined your life?’ He steered her towards a bench a few feet away.
‘I thought you said my aunt hadn’t told tales,’ she retorted sharply.
His broad shoulders lifted. ‘Helen is the soul of discretion. It’s nothing more than a calculated guess, but an accurate one judging by your reaction. He can’t be much of a man to let go a beautiful woman like you.’
More flattery! Lara felt like kicking him. ‘As a matter of fact, I left him,’ she informed Bryce tightly. Far below, on the opposite bank of the river, house lights twinkled like giant stars. The sky was a deep midnight purple, there was hardly a sound except for the murmur of voices coming from the veranda. It was an idyllic spot and she didn’t want this man messing up her mind with talk about Roger.
‘How long were you married?’
‘Three years.’
‘What was he like?’
Lara gave him a hard stare. ‘What’s it to do with you?’
‘It’s therapeutic to talk about your problems.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘I don’t have a problem. Except that you’re being a nuisance asking questions I don’t want to answer.’
A faint smile softened the hard lines of his face, made him look more understanding and approachable. ‘That’s the trouble, Lara, you’re bottling up your hurt. It does help to talk. How long’s it been since your divorce?
‘Nearly four months.’
‘So the wound’s still raw?’
Lara nodded. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see any compassion in his eyes; she was thinking back to the day she’d declared to her school friends that it was her ambition to marry a rich man.
The youngest of five children, brought up by a single parent, Lara had sworn that she was never going to get into that same situation. She had known what poverty was like, how her mother had struggled to make ends meets. It wasn’t for her.
She’d stayed on at school to get her A levels then had found a job with a PR company, and it was here that she had set her sights on Roger Lennox.
Roger had owned the company. He’d had pots of money and wasn’t bad-looking either. The trouble was, he’d known it. He’d had every nubile female employee drooling over him, and he’d lapped it up. Lara had known that she would have to do something outstanding to make him notice her.
Her opportunity had come one day when she’d been crossing the car park and had seen her employer sitting in his low-slung silver convertible. ‘Goodnight, Mr Lennox,’ she called cheerfully.
‘Oh, er, goodnight.’ He looked up abstractedly. His car, for some reason, didn’t want to start. He was both embarrassed and angry—and so would she have been if she’d bought such an expensive car and it failed her.
She turned back to him. ‘Can I help?’
Roger had blond hair and blue eyes and was slightly overweight, but his charm made people forget it. He was like a Greek god, some of the girls claimed. Those blue eyes looked at her now scornfully. ‘You’re a woman.’
‘It doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about engines.’ Lara tossed back. Being the only girl in a family of boys she had spent a good part of her life watching them pull cars apart and put them back together, helping whenever they’d let her. She knew as much as any man about the way a car’s engine worked.
Roger Lennox frowned. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course I am. Open your bonnet.’ She didn’t dare to think that he would, but amazingly he did as she asked, although his frown deepened and she could see that he wasn’t sure it was wise.
And when he got out to inspect what she was doing, when one thigh brushed against hers, Lara felt the full impact of his sexuality. It was what every girl in the building fantasised over. ‘You sure you know what