Anticipation
Page 28
He hadn’t looked once, even though there’d been moments there when she’d been almost naked.
Mr. Honorable to the end.
She turned toward the station, annoyed with herself. It wasn’t as though she’d wanted him to look. He was Elizabeth’s fiancé, for God’s sake.
And yet....
There was something so...controlled about him. From the moment she’d first met him she’d felt it—a sort of determination to prove he was worthy. Or something like that.
Suddenly it struck her that in many ways he was the male version of Elizabeth, who was also a master of the art of self control and people pleasing. Two peas in a perfect, tidy little pod.
Two people playing a part that ought to come naturally but doesn’t. Two people who don’t really know each other. Not in the ways that count.
Maybe that was why she was disappointed Martin hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid as she’d stripped in the back of his car—it would have at least made him human. Would have given her hope that underneath all that old-before-his-time fuddy-duddiness was a real person with flaws and faults and feelings.
She descended below street level, her high heels clattering against the stone steps. The smell of urine hit her as she made her way through the tiled tunnel. A train was pulling up to the platform as she arrived and she stepped straight into it. The carriage was barely a quarter full and she found a seat by herself and crossed her legs, adjusting her long coat so her legs were protected from the cold. The announcer told everyone to “mind the gap” before the train pulled away. Violet stared out the window, thinking about Elizabeth and Martin and their upcoming wedding.
It was a mistake, of course. Even though she was thirty years old, Elizabeth had barely lived. She needed a man who would challenge and stretch and inspire her, not someone who wanted to wrap her in cotton wool and admire her from a distance.
As for Martin, she had no idea what he needed—apart from a ton of TNT jammed up his tightly clenched backside.
She stirred, looking away from the darkness outside the train. She hated to see her friend settle. Hated watching her be buried beneath obligation and expectation. Orphaned at a young age, Elizabeth had spent her life pleasing her elderly grandparents—her payment of sorts for their kindness in taking her in. From where Violet sat, Elizabeth was living the life they wanted for her, not the one she might choose for herself, should she ever have the option.
And foolish E is going along for the ride. All the way down the aisle.
For a moment Violet was filled with an ineffable sadness. Standing by and watching Elizabeth make such a huge mistake was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. But she would do it, because she loved E more than anything, and E was convinced that Martin would make her happy.
Violet hoped like hell that her friend had the right of it.
And if she was wrong... Well, Violet would be there to help her pick up the pieces, as Elizabeth had done for her many, many times in the past.
Martin tugged his tie loose as he pulled away from the curb. If he glanced in the rear view mirror, he could watch Violet grow smaller and smaller until she disappeared altogether into the distance.
He didn’t. He didn’t want to dwell on her, he was simply glad she was gone.
Like a burr under his skin, she’d irritated him all night with her too loud laugh and her bold red hair and look-at-me dress. For the life of him he couldn’t understand what Elizabeth saw in the woman.
“Thanks for doing that,” Elizabeth said quietly.
He glanced at her as he stopped for a red light. As usual, she looked graceful and poised. “She’s your friend.”
“She is. But I know you rub each other the wrong way.”
He didn’t respond. What could he say, after all? He’d long since reconciled himself to tolerating Violet for Elizabeth’s sake.
“She hates those fundraisers. I think it reminds her of her family too much. Her step-mother was always entertaining.”
Again, he didn’t say anything as he turned into his street and then again into the mews behind the converted Victorian mansion that housed his apartment. He’d picked up enough hints from Elizabeth over the years to understand that Violet’s childhood had not been a happy one. Neither had his, but he didn’t use it as an excuse to be outrageous and self-indulgent at every turn.
“Did you change your mind about going to the bar?” Elizabeth asked as he pulled into his allocated parking spot.
“I thought we could walk. It’s just around the corner.”
“Oh. Good idea.”
He helped her out of the car, sliding his arm around her shoulders as they walked.
“You know, it’s exactly eight weeks to the big day now,” he said as they left the mews and entered the street.
There was a small pause before Elizabeth responded.
“It is, isn’t it? It’s all gone so quickly. Amazing, really. When you proposed, I thought six months was plenty of time to plan a wedding. Shows what I knew.”
Beneath his arm, her shoulders were stiff with tension. She’d been tense a lot lately. A little distant, too. It had been nearly three weeks since she’d stayed a night at his place—not an ice-age, but a sign, if a person was looking for it, that all was not as it should be. Especially with a wedding on the horizon.
“Everything is going okay? There’s nothing more I can do?” he asked.
It wasn’t what he wanted to ask, but Elizabeth was hard to pin down sometimes. She tended to keep things to herself and puzzle them out on her own. Since it was something he did himself, he could hardly criticize her for it—but that didn’t stop him from being frustrated when she kept him at arm’s length.
“Everything is pretty much taken care of. Violet has been a rock. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t kept pointing me in the right direction.”
He was aware that Violet had put herself at Elizabeth’s disposal in the lead up to the wedding. He couldn’t fault Violet for that—she’d been incredibly generous with her time and energy.
One point in her favor.
“It looks a little crowded,” Elizabeth said as they approached the bar.
She shot him a doubtful look. She knew he wasn’t overly fond of noisy bars and clubs. On the other hand, this had been Elizabeth’s suggestion, and Violet’s words were still ringing in his ears.
You should sneak out of here, too, and take E somewhere fun. Reward her for being such a stoic.
He didn’t like the idea that Elizabeth had simply been enduring the fundraiser and not enjoying herself. True, he hadn’t been having a ball himself, but that was beside the point.
“I’m sure we can negotiate ourselves a corner somewhere,” he said.
Elizabeth smiled and he knew he’d said the right thing. He held the door open and they walked into a dim space with a low ceiling. As luck would have it, two women were vacating stools at the bar as he and Elizabeth wove their way through the crowd and they were able to secure seats immediately.
“Perfect,” Elizabeth said, glancing around with bright, interested eyes.
“Champagne? Brandy?” he asked.
“I’ll have a Frangelico on the rocks, please.” She swiveled in her seat and stood. “I won’t be a moment.”
She headed for the restrooms. Martin caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a Scotch for himself and Elizabeth’s Frangelico. He settled into his seat, glancing around the bar with the mildest of curiosity. He knew without asking that he had nothing in common with these people. Almost to a person they were under thirty, fashionably dressed and out for a good time. They’d probably never gone hungry in their lives. Certainly they’d never had to work two jobs to put themselves through University. Like Violet, they probably took all of life’s gifts for granted.
He frowned, irritated with himself for thinking about her again. He was fully aware that she enjoyed provoking him—hence the strip routine in the back of his car. He refused to spare her anoth
er moment’s thought, since it seemed to him that that was what she wanted—any and all attention she could garner for herself. Everyone’s eyes on her. Why else would she wear such short skirts and such high heels? Why else would she have gone to a party tonight in a tiny black top made of silk so sheer that anyone could see at a glance that her small, rounded breasts were unhindered by a bra, her nipples clearly outlined by the soft fabric?
He reached for his drink and glanced over his shoulder toward the restrooms, willing Elizabeth to return. His shoulders dropped with relief as she exited the door marked with a silhouette of a woman. She met his eyes across the bar and the tight, irritated feeling in his gut and chest eased. He could tolerate a million Violets if it meant having Elizabeth in his life.
She was the important thing. Nothing else.
Want to know what happens next? Her Best Worst Mistake is available now.
Other contemporary romances available by Sarah Mayberry:
Satisfaction (Book 1 Brothers Ink)
Her Best Worst Mistake
Can’t Get Enough
Cruise Control
Take On Me (Book 1 Secret Lives of Daytime Divas)
All Over You (Book 2 Secret Lives of Daytime Divas)
Hot For Him (Book 3 Secret Lives of Daytime Divas)
Burning Up
Amorous Liaisons
Below The Belt
She’s Got It Bad
Her Secret Fling
Hot Island Nights * Prequel to Her Best Worst Mistake
A Natural Father
Her Best Friend
The Best Laid Plans
One Good Reason
More Than One Night
Within Reach
Suddenly You
The Other Side of Us
Her Favorite Temptation
Her Favorite Rival
Her Kind of Trouble
About the Author
Sarah Mayberry was born in Melbourne, Australia and is the middle of three children. Before she was published, she worked as a magazine editor as well as a storyliner/story editor in both Australia and New Zealand. These days she splits her time between writing books and scripts. She has published more than 30 novels with Harlequin and firmly believes she has the best job on earth. Satisfaction is her second self-published work. She lives by the bay in Melbourne with her husband and a small furry dog called Max, and when she isn't writing enjoys reading, cooking, shoe shopping and spending time with her loved ones.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Author's Note
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 Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Her Best Worst Mistake: an excerpt
Other Contemporary Romances by Shara Mayberry
About the Author