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Her Wealthy Husband
Margaret Mayo
It was a case of instant attraction for Australian millionaire Bryce Kellerman. Lara was so totally unlike the affected gold-diggers he had to fight off every day! Lara thought Bryce didn't have a penny to his name.Lara had grown up poor and married once before for financial security. It had been a disaster! Now, her only criteria in a husband was honesty. So how was Bryce going to reveal his secret?
“Have you ever been married?”
He didn’t want to talk about himself, he wanted to talk about her. He wanted to find out everything.
“No,” Bryce answered. “I’ve never found the right girl.”
“Really?” Her deep blue eyes widened. “I find that difficult to understand.”
Did that mean she was interested in him despite her apparent indifference? He felt a sudden hormonal surge. And then berated himself because he knew nothing about her. For all he knew she could be the same as the rest. “It’s not because I’ve been short of choice,” he said. “There’s simply been none whom I’ve wished to marry.”
“You have very exacting standards, is that it?” she asked, her fine eyebrows delicately arched.
“I suppose so.”
“And you’ve never found Miss Perfect?”
“Not yet.” But maybe today he’d got lucky….
Born in the industrial heart of England, MARGARET MAYO now lives in a Staffordshire countryside village. She became a writer by accident, after attempting to write a short story when she was almost forty, and now writing is one of the most enjoyable parts of her life. She combines her hobby of photography with her research.
Her Wealthy Husband
Margaret Mayo
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Sheila and Hank
With happy memories of a wonderful holiday
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
HE HAD the most compelling eyes Lara had ever seen—an unusual smoky grey, almost blue and yet not quite. They were the best part of his face, lashes long and thick, matching the raven blackness of his hair. His attention had immediately focussed on her and maybe she should have felt flattered, most women would, but instead it gave her an uncomfortable feeling.
She turned to her aunt, found that she was watching this man watching her, a faint, approving smile on her lips. It was Helen’s Welcome to Australia party. ‘You need to get to know people,’ she’d said, and against Lara’s wishes had invited half the neighbourhood.
‘That’s Bryce Kellerman.’ Her aunt turned and looked at her. ‘Come, let me introduce you.’ And before Lara could demur she’d taken hold of her arm.
The grey eyes never wavered as they approached. The man eased himself away from the veranda rail, straightened his back, and waited. He was casually dressed in beige moleskins and a brown open-necked shirt that hid none of his tightly muscled body. A deep tan suggested he worked outdoors most of the time.
And he was tall.
Lara hadn’t realised quite how tall until she stood in front of him. She was five-nine and he towered over her. Six-four she guessed, at least. Six feet four inches of raw, male animal. Not particularly handsome, a slightly hooked nose and a strong square jaw, and a straight mouth that needed to be more generous. It was the eyes that had it. Close up she could see the dark outline that defined them, the unusual mixture of blue and grey, and the almost brazen confidence that he could fell with one swoop any woman he set his sights on.
And she was in the firing line!
‘Lara, I’d like you to meet Bryce Kellerman, long-time friend and jack of all trades. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Bryce, this is my niece, Lara Lennox.’
‘Good to meet you, Lara.’ Grey eyes locked into hers as he extended his hand, reading her soul, instantly knowing everything about her. Lara looked away.
She glanced down at their hands instead. Hers looked pale by comparison. His fingers were square-tipped, nails neatly manicured; he had broad hands, strong hands, more used to manual labour than caressing a woman. The thought horrified her the instant it was born and she snatched away.
He gave a faint, knowing smile, as if well aware of her thoughts. As if! No man could possibly know what another person was thinking. Nevertheless it was the impression he gave. He was a woman’s man without a doubt.
But not this woman! He didn’t interest her, no man did. She’d had enough pain to last her a lifetime. Her own fault, admittedly, but it was a mistake she didn’t intend repeating. And if her aunt had it in mind to do some matchmaking she was deeply mistaken.
‘I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.’ Helen smiled widely and happily. She was in her early fifties, slim, blonde, looked about forty, had been a widow for ten years, and Lara couldn’t understand why some other man hadn’t snapped her up.
Lara had been six when Helen emigrated from England seventeen years ago and her aunt hadn’t been home since, not even when her husband died. She had no children but had many friends and loved Sydney so much that she said she’d never move away. But she’d always kept in touch with her sister, phoning almost every week, and when Helen had heard that Lara’s marriage had unhappily ended she’d immediately invited her to stay with her for as long as she liked. She’d even sent money for the plane ticket.
‘So, how are you enjoying Australia?’
Bryce Kellerman’s voice was so deep that it vibrated through Lara’s bones. It was as though her body was the string of a guitar and he’d plucked it. Feeling this man’s dynamic sexuality was something she hadn’t expected and didn’t want. Escape was uppermost in her mind.
‘Very much,’ she said with a reluctant smile, ‘although I’ve hardly had time to form a proper opinion.’
‘The heat’s not too much for you?’ He was leaning back against the veranda rail now, relaxed and utterly sure of himself, one brown-booted foot crossed over the other, thumbs hooked into a wide leather belt. ‘You’ll need to take care.’
Lara nodded. ‘I’m doing that.’ Because of her fair skin she ladled on lashings of sun screen whenever she went out and always wore a wide-brimmed hat. It was something her aunt had instilled into her the moment she’d arrived.
‘English roses, that’s what your skin reminds me of.’
‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she retorted sharply. Such compliments annoyed her. They were so glib, so practised; Roger had been a past master at it.
‘Only if it happens to be true—which it is in your case,’ he said softly, brushing the back of one finger across her cheek. A gentle touch and yet Lara felt as though he was branding her and she turned her head swiftly away.
‘You don’t like me touching you?’ He sounded as though he wasn’t used to this sort of reaction.
‘No, I don’t, as a matter of fact.’ Lara held his gaze, ignoring her quickened heartbeats.
‘I’ll try to remember that.’ But it didn’t sound as though he was going to make much of an effort. ‘Do you know that you look remarkably like your aunt?’
‘More like her than my mother actually,’ she agreed. ‘They’re sisters.’
‘The same blonde hair, the same wide-spaced blue eyes. Your mouth is a little more—generous.’ He smiled. ‘I was going to say kissable but something tells me you wouldn’t like that?’
‘You’re learning.’
‘What’s 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.
