Marriage Material

Her mouth snapped shut like a threatened clam and surprise flickered across her vibrant eyes. But she neither agreed nor denied the claim. He wondered if Tom was right and it was a fallacy she had created as a hands-off signal.

A cute young thing like her, spending every day with newly single male clients would surely have an excuse to create such a rumour. But Sebastian decided it was more likely the truth. Half the reason he fancied she was perfect for the job was the likelihood she was taken. It meant he had a good reason not to fall into the trap of seeing her as someone to ease his loneliness short-term when he needed to refocus on the big picture.

The steady disapproval in her magnetic blue eyes was unmistakable. But welcome. It was exactly that spirit that he needed to tap. And all the better that her heat remain directed against him not toward him. She was spoken for and she didn’t much like him. Perfect.

‘I’ve rung around and heard good things about your divorcees group,’ he said.

‘Mr Fox, I assure you there is no way that I am going to launch you upon that unassuming group of people. They are serious and they are damaged, whereas you…you act as if it is all just a game!’

Aah, so that was why she was so offended; she did not get to be the shoulder to cry on. She did not get to be the fix-it woman. Well, if that was what she needed to be…

‘I assure you, Romy, it was no game. I am serious. I am damaged.’ He held out his arms and even gave her his best go at a pout. She glared at him in disbelief but he thought he saw the first real flicker of interest.

With visible effort her face relaxed. Her tongue shot out to briefly wet her lips and she managed a fragile smile. ‘I would not even know where to begin.’

‘Well, that’s the beauty. I’m a not only a willing and able participant but I also have a bevy of ideas. I just need your help to implement them. Besides, I am very certain you have researched my background so thoroughly you now know more about me than I do. So mould me. Shape me. Make me the kind of man any good woman would want to marry.’

Her eyes positively glowed and he knew it had nothing to do with recent exercise. She was once more lit with that inner fire, that spirit that so caught at him. He had finally found the right button to push to bring her on to his side. She was intrigued despite herself.

‘I’ve done some homework and have heard about how hands-on your clients expect you to be. And I want that from you.’

Sebastian knew from the firm line of Romy’s mouth the only hands-on approach she would be willing to give him right then was a right hook.

‘I can’t do it. I have other clients counting on me.’

‘For the moment they can count on someone else.’

‘I can refuse you as a client.’

‘I will bring so much work your firm’s way you will not have a choice.’

He stood, stretching like a sleepy cat, knowing it would only rile her more, and the fists clenching on her desk showed him it worked. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to prepare my file.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

He glanced over her barely dressed form and, since he was way beyond right-hook distance, he could not stop himself from saying, ‘I’ll see more of you soon.’

Then he left.

Once outside the city building, Sebastian took a deep breath of the still foggy morning air. But the grey sky could not dampen his mood. She was such a spitfire, yet so certain. If he had any chance of finding his footing again it would be at her side.

He couldn’t believe that only the day before, after years of knowing he wanted a family of his own more than anything, his experience with Janet had made him think he had hit a point when it really might not happen for him. He saw the future on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage, but he knew it was real and just waiting for the right moment to slip into focus.

He took off up the street, whistling and smiling at strangers. One of those strangers turned out to be a familiar dark-haired pixie.

‘Gloria! Good morning!’

She glared at him, her big eyes narrowing to slits as her perceptive gaze slid past him to her building beyond. ‘Mr Fox. What brings you to this part of town?’

No point in pretending. She would know soon enough. ‘I had a proposition to put forward that could not be refused.’

‘And what was that?’

‘Your boss is going to make a husband out of me.’

Gloria’s eyebrows raised a good inch. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, since she turns out to be not just a divorce perpetrator but also a marriage aficionado, I have signed on for her to teach me what being a good husband means, so that I will be ready when I meet the woman of my dreams.’

‘Well, well, well. That I didn’t see coming.’

‘Unique, don’t you agree?’

Gloria’s mouth twitched. ‘So unique that if I have a bad day at work today I’ll know who to blame.’

Sebastian burst out laughing. ‘Yet still I am not deterred. I made a good decision this morning, a decision to change my life, and I am sticking by it.’

‘Then good for you.’ Was that a smile that finally tickled at the corner of her mouth?

‘If it turns out that my decision has…consequences, I’ll make it up to you. What do you want? A case of wine? Wrestling tickets? My head on a stick? What would it take to have you on my side?’

The smile was finally in place. No teeth but definite lifts to the corners of her mouth. ‘You want me on your side?’

Sebastian nodded. He had the distinct feeling Gloria could make it difficult for him otherwise.

‘Then be on Romy’s side,’ Gloria said, melting enough to give him a chummy pat on the arm before she headed to work. And Sebastian watched her go with the feeling she may have been on to something even more inspired than he.

By the time Gloria arrived for work Romy had showered and changed into a much more appropriate little black dress with killer stiletto mules and had worked herself up into a right temper. She paced back and forth as Gloria took pages of notes about the meetings they would hold that day.

‘When’s my first appointment?’ Romy asked.

‘She’s here. Mrs Libby Gold. She’s fresh meat so be gentle. She looks nervous as an ant at an anteater convention.’ Gloria drew a broad concluding line under her notes. ‘You had Pilates this morning, did you not?’

‘I did.’

‘Aren’t you taking the classes for stress release?’

‘I am.’

‘And do you think you are getting your money’s worth?’

Romy stopped pacing and turned to her assistant, who was staring cross-eyed at portions of her short, spiky fringe which she was systematically pinching between her fingertips.

Romy sat deliberately on the corner of her desk and clasped her taut hands together in her lap. ‘I had a visitor after class who undid all the instructor’s fine work.’

‘That doesn’t seem fair. Maybe you should get Mr Fox to reimburse you.’

Romy could do nothing but stare. ‘Well, maybe I should. What he suggested was just plain ridiculous.’

‘I thought the makeover idea was whacko at first but it has kind of grown on me.’

Romy blinked. ‘Nothing gets by you does it, Gloria?’

‘Not a thing. And for that you should be thankful. But you will do it anyway, won’t you?’ Gloria asked.

‘Of course I darned well will. He practically dared me and you know I can’t refuse a challenge.’

And the guy was a clean slate. Malleable. If she could find Sebastian Fox, of all men, a woman with whom he would really settle down then it would prove that marriage could still work today. What a coup that would be.

And what an affirmation.

‘Though how you noticed his challenge when that fine butt of his was walking by I have no idea.’

This coming from the woman who the previous week had told all and sundry that all men were chief purveyors of low self-esteem in women. ‘I can’t believe you noticed his butt when that fine ego of his was walking by.’

Gloria shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s more to him than the dossier suggested.’

‘You do realise you are talking about a man, do you not?’

‘And what a man—’

Romy pointed to her office door. ‘Out.’

Gloria peeled her diminutive frame from the large chair. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Romy shot one more look at her clock. ‘Send in Libby Gold and then as soon as she’s gone patch me through to Alan Campbell.’

Gloria turned at the door and shot Romy a cheeky grin. ‘Mr Fox’s lawyer?’

‘He just so happens to be.’

Gloria winked. ‘Shall do, boss.’

Romy spent the next fifty minutes with Libby Gold, who for fifteen years had been the wife of a man who had made a fortune in toothpaste. She was sweet, she was matronly and she had no idea how she had found herself in a lawyer’s office talking divorce.

Privately Romy was glad Libby had come to her as she knew she would take extra-special care of her. Taking her through the process slowly and surely. And taking her philandering husband to the cleaners.

‘But what does that make the last fifteen years of my life?’ Libby asked. ‘A waste? I cannot handle the thought.’

‘You can handle it, Libby, because it has not been a waste. It has been a grand lesson. For you both. He will pay for his mistake and you will come out of it with knowledge and experience and a tidy fortune to tide you over.’

‘What good is money if I don’t have Jeffrey? I can’t bake a favourite meal for money. I can’t rest my head on money’s shoulder while watching a movie. People are what counts. People are what makes your life a life. Money has no memory.’

What could Romy say to that? The poor woman’s mind was settled, for today anyway. Romy would win her around to the knowledge that the future was out there for the taking. That the man for her was still out there. And Romy had not lost a client back to their spouse once. Not ever. And she was not willing to start now.

Romy stood and patted her client on the shoulder. ‘See Gloria on your way out and she’ll tee you up for our next session.’

Once Libby was gone, Romy buzzed Gloria’s intercom. ‘Can you get Alan for me, Gloria?’

‘I don’t think now’s the right time,’ her voice mumbled through the black box on Romy’s desk. ‘We’ve had quite a spate of correspondence since you’ve been busy.’

She nibbled at a little fingernail. ‘Well, are you going to tell me what the correspondence says?’

‘Oh. Sure.’

Romy heard the squeak of Gloria’s chair and she ambled into the office with a fresh cup of chamomile tea and bundle of faxes in her hands.

‘What have you got there, my sweet?’ Romy asked.

‘Faxes.’

Romy took a deep calming breath. ‘Saying?’

‘The first came from Alan saying Mr Golf Pro has ceased services with his firm and to send any further correspondence to his new firm. And confirming usual drinks tonight at Fables?’ Gloria looked up with questioning eyebrows.

Romy nodded vigorously. ‘Sure. Go on.’

‘Next came one from Mr Golf Pro saying that he is coming on board with us. The header showed that fax was sent to all the partners as well.’

‘Of course it was,’ Romy groaned, feeling herself sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand that surrounded Sebastian Fox.

‘Aah. Alan must have found out who Sebastian’s new law firm is. A few rude words in this one. I might keep a photocopy for the Christmas party.’ Gloria looked up at Romy, a big grin spread across her pixie face. ‘But this latest from Mr Golf Pro is something else again, for your eyes only. And it reads like…a recipe for the perfect woman.’

‘Give me that!’ Romy spat out.

Gloria kept a tight hold of the sheet of paper.

‘What does it say?’ Romy asked. ‘It says:

Dear Ms Bridgeport,

Further to our discussion I thought I would give you a running head start on our mission. In formulating the plans for my renovation, please keep in mind that I must in the end be capable of drawing an individual with the following non-negotiable criteria:

Easy on the eye

Able to string a sentence together

Must at least reach my chin when not in heels (old back injury means I cannot bend my neck for prolonged periods of time)

Employed

Hope that gives you somewhere to start.

Cheers, Sebastian.’

Well. He’d said he was willing and able with a bevy of ideas and it looked as though this could be the first. How helpful. What had she got herself into?

Gloria slumped into the guest chair, her eyes brimming with tears of laughter. ‘Is he for real?’

‘I’m afraid I really could not tell you.’

‘If you had to make a list outlining the perfect man, what would it be?’

‘Are you for real?’

Gloria pursed her lips and Romy knew it was either answer or be badgered for…forever.

‘If I had to reduce someone to a list, my perfect partner would be serious, committed, optimistic, thoughtful and kind. He would remember my parents’ birthdays and give up his window seat in a plane.’

Gloria grimaced. ‘Sounds more like the qualities of a good priest than a good husband. But unfortunately I can picture who you are describing without even thinking about it.’

So could Romy and for that she was infinitely thankful. ‘At least it’s a tad more specific than that rubbish. How about you?’

‘Did you not hear me regale you concerning Mr Fox’s glorious butt an hour ago? And now I see there is a devious mind to go with it. Your Mr Fox is someone I’d happily bump into in a dark alley.’

If only the girl was not the most astute assistant she had ever worked with…

‘Don’t get ideas, Gloria. He’s not my Mr Fox.’

‘But now he’s our client?’

‘Looks that way.’

‘Fantastic.’

Romy expected Gloria, who refused to wear skirts or high heels, claiming they were a form of bondage imposed by men to put women at a disadvantage, of all people to be outright offended by Sebastian’s ridiculous list. But alas, she seemed to have quickly succumbed to the man’s more flagrant charms.

Gloria leapt from her chair and practically skipped to the door. ‘I’d be happy to take dictation for every one of your meetings with that one.’

Romy held her arms out, palms upwards in submission. ‘If it will make your day.’

‘Romy, that would make my year.’

Sebastian sat back in a dark leather chair in the office he kept in a cottage in the back yard of his Hawthorn home. He’d been in there all afternoon, catching up on correspondence, including forwarding the paperwork necessary to clear up his change of legal representation.

Now moonlight from the large bay windows streamed into the small room, spilling across glass cases filled with his sporting trophies, medals and pennants. Having them on display, even in this private room had been Melinda’s choice. Sebastian would have put them in storage but Melinda insisted he keep them as a reminder of his wonderful successes.

All they did was remind him that he no longer professionally played the game he loved. A back injury sustained long ago had cut short his promising career before he had even hit his stride.

But he still preferred that cosy room to all others. His big house was too big. Too quiet. Too lonely. It had been built to house a large family and as such had never realised its potential.

Rather than submit to the usual claustrophobia creeping up on him, to gain a much-needed boost of human contact, he dialled his sister’s phone number.

‘Hey, Melinda.’

‘Hi, Seb. What’s up?’

Sebastian heard the clank of cooking pans and pictured Melinda in the kitchen with the phone tucked between her chin and her shoulder.

‘Just calling to say hi.’

‘Hi.’ She paused. ‘What is it? Come on, it’s dinner time. Hurry up.’

Sebastian had rung to let her in on his project. She wanted him to get a project and he had obeyed. But how on earth would he tell her his project involved the babe moulding him for marriage? If he was in the same room he just knew that Melinda would scuff him about the ears and accuse him of making a play for the woman. Which he most certainly wasn’t. The thing was, he needed Romy. He needed her passion, her energy, her faith in a happily ever after.

Though Melinda would do anything for him, she could not do this. She just would not understand. She had gone straight from home into Tom’s arms and had lived ten solid years with her wonderful family.

‘Put Chris on.’

‘He’s doing his homework.’

‘Come on. Put my nephew on or I’ll call you Mindy forever and ever.’

‘Fine. Chris!’ she shouted out so that even the neighbours would hear. ‘Uncle Seb’s on the phone!’

Sebastian heard the muffled noise of footsteps thundering down the carpeted stairs.

‘Here he is.’

‘Thanks, Mindy.’

‘You little—’

‘Hey, Uncle Seb! Mum said you’re taking us out Sunday. Where are you taking us?’

‘I was thinking the zoo.’

‘Yeah? Cool!’

Sebastian felt all his cares slip far, far away as he slumped back into his soft chair and listened to the excited babble of his young nephew.

CHAPTER FOUR

AROUND eight o’clock that night Romy and Gloria tumbled into Fables on Flinders in a mass of coats and scarves. The bar, with its wood panelling, burgundy leather seating and lawyerly clientele, may as well have been a law firm with a liquor licence.

Romy ordered a glass of white wine. ‘You need more colour in your life, Gloria,’ she said as Gloria sipped on her Black Russian through a straw.

They soon spotted Alan with a few of his cronies. He waved them over. They were like clones of every other man in the place, the men Romy associated with on a daily basis. They were young and successful in their tailored suits and handmade shoes but, considering their profession, these attributes were tempered by male-pattern baldness and premature pessimism.

‘We hear you have stolen Alan’s meal ticket,’ one of the guys said.

‘Jealous?’ Gloria asked.

The guy shrugged and said nothing and received a good ribbing from the others.

‘I am sorry, Alan,’ Romy said. ‘He didn’t get any encouragement from me.’

‘Don’t worry, Romy,’ Alan said. ‘I’ve had a day to get over it. And I’m sure I will be able to put food on the table this winter. So is he giving you any trouble?’

She shrugged. ‘Nah.’ But that was the worst part. Since his recipe fax she had jumped every time her intercom had beeped or her phone had rung. She had expected him to come back, or send another fax or at least call. And since he had not, her nerves were shot.

‘He’s a big pussycat,’ Gloria said.

‘It’s the big cats that you have to watch,’ Alan said. ‘They’re smooth, they’re quick and they’re lethal.’

‘Thank you, Alan. I’ll be sure to remember that.’

Beside her, Gloria drew in a sharp breath and Romy saw her eyes widen. Romy followed their direction to find her very own tomcat standing by the table, with a Cheshire grin spread across his face.

‘Evening, Alan,’ Sebastian said. ‘Hi, boys.’

The men all gave him hearty handshakes. Even after having dumped their firm he was still obviously a very popular bloke. A man’s man.

His attention turned to Romy and her stomach flipped. With his hair slicked back, face freshly shaven, wearing an immaculate charcoal-grey suit with a matching overcoat he was a knockout. She could sense Gloria all but batting her mascara-loaded lashes beside her.

Who was she kidding? He was a woman’s man if he was anything. Though decked out in similar garb to those around him, Romy recognised that he was like a lion amongst the surrounding pack of hyenas. Ideas and plans bubbled excitedly to the surface just looking at him. Plans about their plans, of course.

‘Were you looking for me, Sebastian?’ she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

‘That I was. Thought tonight was as good a night as any to get started on our project.’

Romy flinched. Her gaze swung around the table and she found several pairs of desperately eager eyes turned her way. If they knew that she, Romy Bridgeport, hard-nosed divorce lawyer, thought she could help Sebastian Fox, renowned playboy, land himself a wife for life there would be no living it down. But of course if she kept such a high-profile, lucrative client happy by succeeding in the task, then she would be lauded as the most innovative and hands-on divorce lawyer in town. Even partnership material?

So before any incriminating questions could be asked, she slithered out of the seat. ‘Of course. No time like the present.’

Gloria plonked down her drink and made to follow. Romy all but shoved her back into her place as she shot her a warning glance. ‘Stay, Gloria. Have one for me.’ And keep your mouth shut!

She grabbed a hold of Sebastian by the elbow and all but dragged him from the table. Her friends waved their goodbyes amidst some barely hidden jokes and catcalls.

‘What was that all about?’

‘You just happened to be the topic of conversation before you arrived. They warned me you could be trouble.’

‘What with?’ He paused and then it seemed to dawn on him. ‘With you?’

Romy’s face burned in an instant, one of the pitfalls of having such pale skin. ‘I hardly think that is what they meant.’

He appraised her face as he led her out the front door. ‘They had cause to think as much. But you know what? You must be the first attractive woman for whom I have not had one thought of marrying.’

‘Lucky me.’ She had no idea whether to feel relieved or offended. She shot him a look as she slipped by and searched his face for any sign of the same intense reaction her body suffered in his presence. He smiled blandly back and she decided it was a one-way street.

Well, that was all the better. Physical attraction was a fickle thing. It came and it went and so long as one of them was completely unaffected it would slip away, unspoken. And nobody would be left a blithering, humiliated mess, which was the best one could hope for in a situation like that.

‘But since you are already engaged I guess that lets us both off the hook,’ Sebastian said.

She glared at him. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you won’t be looking to me as some sort of available suitor to take you away from all your worries.’

‘And what worries would those be?’ she asked between clenched teeth.

‘You tell me.’

‘The only worry that comes directly to mind is the fact that my time has been annexed by one client who I believe will be wasting said time. Anything you could do to sort that out for me would be much appreciated.’

‘Alas, that’s the one thing I cannot do.’

He grinned, her chest tightened and she could have slapped him for it.

‘But at least we can focus on our project knowing we are both safe from each other’s clutches.’

She tried to convince herself that the idea of being in his clutches could not have been less appealing. ‘Well, that’s just excellent. I always feel so much more comfortable with a new client once I am sure they feel safe from my clutches.’

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