The dinner proved to be a considerably larger affair than Sally had envisaged, with no fewer than twenty guests, and together they occupied two large tables in a secluded corner of one of Sydney's exclusive restaurants.
A tiny thrill of pleasure whispered down Sally's spine as she allowed her gaze to settle on her husband's superbly-tailored frame. He looked undeniably attractive—arresting, she amended silently. He was too rugged to be considered handsome, possessing a well-sculptured nose and the broad facial bone structure typical of his heritage. His mouth was wide, the lips sensuously moulded as they curved slightly at the corners. Added to which was the stamp of arrogance, an assurance, wealth invariably provided, making the total effect one of dynamic masculinity.
Sally gleaned from their conversation that most of the men were business acquaintances. It was apparent that news of Luke's marriage had travelled swiftly, and she was aware of the speculation, the thinly-veiled curiosity from many of the women present. As the evening progressed she began to feel oddly vulnerable —rather like a lamb among the lions!
'You seem quiet,' Luke mused, leaning towards her. 'What is going on inside that head of yours?'
Sally gave him a wry smile. 'From the number of looks I've been receiving, you must have led a pretty intriguing sort of social existence!'
His expression assumed that of cynical amusement. 'All work and no play...' he drawled mockingly.
'Of course—a self-professed rake! The cause of so much conjecture can obviously be attributed to the fact that I don't possess the sophisticated panache associated with your usual—er—escorts.'
'Eat your dessert, Sally,' he bade dryly, and Sally bestowed him a singularly beguiling smile.
'Why, darling—am I not sweet enough?'
'You, amante, are playing a very dangerous game,' he cautioned softy.
'And I should desist?' she queried with seeming innocence.
'Really, Luke!' a voice chided in mild reproof. 'Are old friends to be denied your attention?'
Sally glanced across the table and met the openly mocking gaze of a woman whose name for the moment escaped her. Unusual and faintly exotic—Carmela, that was it. Dark-haired, with olive skin, an hour-glass figure that bordered on voluptuousness, the woman had been making an obvious play for Luke's attention throughout the evening.
'Carmela, forgive me,' Luke drawled quizzically. 'I find my wife quite irresistible.' He leant out a hand and let it trail lightly down Sally's cheek. 'Dance with me, cara,' he commanded softly, and his eyes assumed a definite gleam as he glimpsed her barely concealed indignation. With seeming indolence he stood to his feet and caught hold of her hand.
Sally allowed herself to be led on to the dance floor, and as Luke gathered her into his arms she demanded furiously, 'Must you hold me so close?' Then she became utterly enraged when he bent low and kissed her mouth. It was a seal of possession, albeit brief, that rankled long after they had circled the floor.
'I think you're a perfect fiend!' she whispered fiercely when he showed no inclination to return to their table.
'This gown of yours is deceptive,' he observed musingly, and Sally wriggled a little as his hand moved in lazy exploration over her bare back. 'Are you wearing anything at all underneath it?'
'Of course,' she admitted, giving him a bewitching smile. 'My skin.'
Luke's subdued chuckle was her undoing, and she lifted her head to gaze angrily up at him.
'Steady, cara,' he warned softy. 'Whatever will my friends think if you display your childish temper?'
'I didn't know I possessed a temper until I met you!' she hissed furiously. 'As to your friends—most of those women would wish me dead!'
'Ah, piccina, could it be that you are jealous?'
'No,' she denied huskily, and she struggled in his arms only to find they had become steel bands holding her prisoner. 'I'd like to go home,' she pleaded evenly. 'I'm becoming tired of all the curious speculative glances——'
'My dear Sally, you are exaggerating,' he drawled, and she felt helplessly inadequate.
It was close on midnight when they did leave—and after almost two hours of smiling and participating in polite conversation Sally felt as if her face would crack! Once they were in the car, she sat close to the door, as far away from her hateful husband as the vehicle's interior would allow. Not once did she attempt to speak, and the entire twenty-minute journey was completed in silence.
Inside the house, she ran up the two flights of stairs with the intention of escaping, but it was a foolhardy exercise as Luke entered the bedroom brief seconds after, and his expression was anything but sympathetic.
'You are behaving like a spoilt child in need of a spanking,' he began hardly. 'A part of your education your father appears to have sadly neglected.'
'Oh, go to hell!'
For one terrible minute Sally thought he meant to strike her, and she flinched involuntarily from the cold anger emanating from his grim countenance. It was sure folly to clash with him, but she was goaded by heaven knew what. Some devil within wanted to rage and storm, driving her on against all sane reason.
'Dio santo!' Luke swore softy, pulling her resisting body close to his. One arm held her immobile from her shoulder down the length of her spine, while the other hand crept up to hold fast her head.
His mouth crushed hers, punishing until she thought she couldn't stand it another minute, then at last he put her at arm's length. There were tears shimmering diamond-bright making her eyes appear huge pools of blue in a face that had become startlingly pale. Her lips felt bruised and swollen, and she could taste blood where he'd heartlessly ground the soft inner tissue against her teeth.
'I refuse to be judged by the vagaries of your vivid imagination,' he drawled ruthlessly.
'I—don't care if you've slept with a hundred different women,' Sally stammered painfully, running the tip of her tongue over lips that were trembling.
'You, sweet idiot, are more child than woman,' he murmured with wry exasperation.
'I wish I were!'
His smile was faint. 'So that you might sleep alone and dream sweet dreams? Ah, cara, would you have me believe you do not enjoy being a woman in my arms?' he mocked with deliberate cynicism.
Sally lifted her head erect, meeting his gaze. 'It proves precisely nothing—other than that you're accomplished in the art of seduction.'
Luke leant out an idle finger and touched the base of her throat. 'And this racing pulse-beat—what of it?'
Like a nervous filly, she jerked away from his scorching touch. 'Oh, why can't you leave me alone?' she implored. 'Haven't you punished me enough?'
His eyes narrowed fractionally, then he caught hold of her chin and held it firm. Gently he touched her lower lip, pulling it down despite her efforts to evade him. His barely audible oath confused her, for it was clearly self-derisory.
'That was unfair of me,' he offered quietly as he released her, and he trailed gentle fingers over the ravage he had caused. 'You have an incredibly soft mouth.' His lips touched hers, moving slightly so that her own quivered and parted a little, then began a gentle exploration that was deliberately evocative, so that when he drew away she experienced a feeling of regret.
For a moment Luke surveyed her bemused expression, then he gave a soft laugh and swung her up into his arms to carry her with effortless ease towards the bed.
'You have no objection if we give an informal dinner for a few friends this evening?'
Sally looked across the breakfast table and met Luke's faintly quizzical glance. Her eyes widened with genuine surprise. 'No, of course not. How many do you have in mind?'
'Six, including ourselves. It is not too short notice?'
'I'm a professional cook, remember?' she reminded him lightly. 'Do you want anything in particular on the menu, or am I allowed carte blanche?'
'I am not your employer, Sally,' Luke chided wryly. 'Decide, and give Carlo a list of what you need. I will be home at six, and I shall direct our guests to arri
ve at seven.'
As soon as Luke departed for the city Sally began planning the food. Informal, he had decreed, but she instinctively felt she would be on trial as far as his guests were concerned, and therefore the dinner must be something special.
After much thought she decided on scallops au gratin, filet mignon as the main course, with tulipe glacée for dessert. She made out a list, checked the contents of the downstairs wine cellar, then despatched Carlo into the city for the items she required.
There was something infinitely appealing about preparing food for her own dinner party, as hitherto she had cooked for her father or in a professional capacity at 'Claude's', and the time seemed to slip by with an amazing speed. Carlo proved a willing ally, and she felt completely at ease accepting his help with the preparations. It was agreed that he would serve the meal so that she would be free to entertain the guests.
Sally decided to wear the red gown Luke had bought in Auckland, and as she slipped it on she couldn't help wondering who the four guests would be. Luke hadn't mentioned any names, and she was naturally curious. The mirror revealed a reflection that was definitely eye-catching, and she stood back well pleased with the effect. Her make-up complete, she toyed with the decision of putting her hair up, or leaving it loose. She wanted to look as sophisticated as possible—in a knot at her nape, perhaps, with a few tendrils escaping in wispy curls beside her ears, or a soignée french pleat?
'Leave it loose, cara—you look too much the schoolmarm with it pulled back.'
Sally turned slightly and caught Luke's amused expression as he crossed the room to her side. He had exchanged his business suit for suede trousers and a navy shirt, and he looked compellingly rugged. A tiny shiver iced its way down her spine as he bent and laid his lips against the back of her neck, and she experienced the most incredible desire to turn round and lift her face for his kiss. She didn't even like him, so why should she want his embrace? She had to be temporarily mad to entertain such a thought!
'Who is coming tonight?' she queried a trifle breathlessly, and missed his slight smile as she moved away on the pretext of selecting shoes.
'Peter Hampshire, who is a colleague of mine, and his wife Elaine,' Luke told her smoothly. 'Carmela Ortega, and Rolf Unger. You've already met Carmela, I think?'
Oh yes—who could forget such an exotic beauty as Carmela? Inwardly her heart sank a little. There wasn't much point in attempting to appear sophisticated with Carmela present, for the other woman reduced her to schoolgirlish inadequacy at a glance!
'You look very beautiful, piccina,' Luke drawled, and she was stung into retorting rather peevishly,
'Why must you call me that? I feel nervous enough without being referred to as a child!'
'Ah, cara, it is only a teasing nickname, nothing more.' He chuckled huskily and leant out a hand to wind a strand of long blonde hair round his finger. 'I assure you I think of you as anything but infantile.' He gave a gentle tug, turning her round to face him, and she searched his expression for something behind the amused indulgence.
'I think I'll have a glass of sherry.' She gave a light laugh, and endeavoured to smile. 'I'm suffering from a mild case of nerves.'
'Then let us go down to the lounge,' Luke directed, taking hold of her elbow.
Afterwards, Sally was glad that she had chosen to wear the red gown, for Carmela's black gown was anything but the 'little basic black' one kept for any occasion, and it enhanced her generous curves to perfection.
'Carlo has excelled himself,' Carmela complimented as the main course was removed and dessert placed on the table. She lifted her glass and took a generous sip of wine. 'Only in a restaurant have I sampled filet mignon such as that.'
Luke directed Sally a warm smile. 'You must compliment my wife.'
At once Carmela's eyebrows arched in disbelief. 'Sally? Good heavens, my dear,' she murmured, 'you are indeed fortunate in acquiring a wife who can cook as well as look so incredibly'—she paused fractionally to smile at Sally—'young.'
Elaine Hampshire cast Sally a sympathetic glance, and Sally inwardly seethed as Luke gave a subdued chuckle of amusement.
'Darling,' she managed with deliberate emphasis, 'may I have some more wine?' She didn't really want her glass refilled, but she needed something to cool her temper! Carmela Ortega was a positive cat!
Shortly afterwards they retired to the lounge for coffee, and Sally couldn't help noticing that Carmela declined to stand with Elaine, preferring instead to join the three men.
'Do you have any children?' Sally queried of Elaine, and the other woman gave an amused smile.
'Two young teenagers, who alternately delight and despair. Keeping up with them takes most of my energy.'
'Have you and Peter known Luke very long?'
'Seven years,' Elaine told her. 'Peter works with Luke.'
Sally swallowed slightly, feeling momentarily embarrassed. 'I didn't know, I'm sorry.'
'My dear, there's no need to apologise. Rolf also is employed by your husband—Carmela, too, although more indirectly.'
'Oh, I see.'
The other smiled kindly. 'You haven't been married very long. I imagine informing you about his business associates hasn't been uppermost in Luke's mind.'
It was a successful evening overall, although Sally would have felt more at ease without Carmela's presence. It irked her considerably that Luke appeared not to notice Carmela's deliberate attempts to gain his attention, and by the time their guests left, she was a quietly seething ball of fury.
'Grazie, mia sposa, for providing an excellent dinner.'
Sally gave Luke a singularly sweet smile before turning to precede him up the first flight of stairs. 'I am pleased to be of some use,' she threw over her shoulder, her voice heavy with emphasis.
Luke entered the bedroom and closed the door. 'My dear Sally,' he drawled musingly, 'sarcasm does not become you.' He began walking towards her, and she darted towards the bathroom with the intention of evading him.
'Go, piccina,' he mocked gently. 'If you are not in bed within ten minutes, I shall come and fetch you.'
'Oh, is that all you can think about?' she flung angrily, and saw his eyes gleam with sardonic amusement.
'Would you rather I did not desire you, cara?' he taunted softly, and she closed the bathroom door with a decisive snap.
It was becoming difficult to win any battles against him, and what was more, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
The following day Sally met her father for lunch, after first ringing him at work and inveigling the invitation.
She felt vaguely guilty as she slipped into the chair held out for her by a hovering waiter, and the look she directed across the table drew raised eyebrows.
'You look like a schoolgirl who's hidden the teacher's chalk and about to be found out,' Joe Ballinger declared. 'Want to confess?'
Sally smiled, then made a wry grimace. 'I've spent rather a lot of my husband's money—a new evening gown, to be precise. And shoes,' she concluded.
'Luke appears to be an indulgent husband. Why should he mind?' Joe questioned mildly.
Because I didn't really need a new gown, she declared silently. It was one of those wild spur-of-the- moment spending sprees that she was now beginning to regret. The sane, logical part of her was appalled at having spent more than a month's salary on one gown. Aloud, she prevaricated, 'Luke presented me with some credit cards this morning. We're spending Christmas with his sister and her family, and he likes to play the benevolent uncle. I've been supplied with a list as long as my arm outlining what gifts to buy, and for whom.' She looked at her father and experienced a feeling of sadness. 'What will you do over Christmas, Daddy? It won't be the same without you.'
'Sally!' he chided laughingly. 'Your place is with your husband, not your father.' He leant across the table and took hold of her hand. 'I shall go to my Club for a few hours—they put on a very good Christmas dinner, so I'm told. There'll be other Christmases,' he added briskly. 'Now, tell me what yo
u thought of New Zealand—or, in the style of true honeymooners, didn't you see very much of anything, except each other?'
Oh God, what could she say in answer to that? 'What do you think?' she queried, and even managed a light laugh.
'You are happy, aren't you, Sally?'
This was even worse than she imagined! 'There would be something wrong with me if I weren't,' she assured him evenly. 'What more could I ask for?'
'I must admit I was rather anxious when you sprang the marriage on me,' her father reflected. 'It was impossible not to be sceptical. Although, once I'd given it some thought, I could see why you were both attracted to each other. And after all, there was no reason to have a long engagement. Besides,' he paused humorously, 'Luke has a reputation for getting what he wants. I don't think you fully appreciate his business acumen, Sally. Your husband is a very clever, astute man.'
'I wrote to Mummy,' Sally ventured. 'You'd better be prepared to receive a trans-Atlantic call in about three days' time.' She gave him an impish grin. 'She'll want to reassure herself that her daughter hasn't done anything foolish. I gave her my telephone number as well—otherwise she might think it necessary to catch the next flight to Sydney!'
Joe burst into unrestrained laughter. 'Knowing Emily, she'll do just that, anyway!' He withdrew a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. 'Oh, my dear. One of us really should warn Luke about your darling mother!'
'What say we let her surprise him?' she suggested wryly. 'She may not come at all—especially if she's satisfied with the answers she receives over the telephone.'
'Most unlikely, don't you think?'
'Quite,' Sally agreed.
'Well, dear girl,' Joe said regretfully, glancing at his watch, 'I must get back to work. Two new contracts have fallen into our lap, and the estimates must be gone over with a fine toothcomb before I submit them for Luke's approval.'
'Luke?' she queried, sipping the last of her coffee.
Joe nodded. 'Didn't you know? He's bought into the company. I supervise the workmen and materials, and Luke handles the financial side. The profits are to be divided proportionately, and I receive a managerial salary.'
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