Bundle of Brides

by Kay Thorpe

  ‘So…keep out of your way?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Got it in one.’

  It said much that he left the apartment soon after and didn’t return until late afternoon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LIANNE fixed one ear-stud, then dealt with the other.

  The gown she’d chosen to wear was champagne silk chiffon with a fitted beaded top, spaghetti straps and a skirt that fell in soft folds to her feet. A matching silk beaded wrap added an elegant finishing touch, together with stiletto-heeled pumps.

  The length of her hair was caught into a smooth chignon, and her make-up was understated with emphasis on her eyes.

  Her nervousness had little to do with a lack of self-esteem or low self-confidence. Nor did the prospect of joining Michael Sloane senior and his son as their invited guest at the evening’s charity benefit.

  A glittering fund-raiser, the guest list had to be impressive, with society matrons endeavouring to outdo each other whilst adopting the personae of maintaining pseudo friendships, and men in splendid tailoring portraying practised conviviality.

  It wasn’t the event or the guests, she admittedly wryly. Just one guest, invited to share the same table and with whom she’d be expected to indulge in polite conversation during the evening.

  Lianne took a deep breath and slowly released it, then she caught up her evening purse and made her way to the lounge. 62

  Tyler was standing at the wide expanse of plate glass, seemingly intent on observing the view.

  He turned as she entered the room and she was struck by the look of him, his impeccable tailoring and the sheer power he exuded.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he complimented, and she summoned a dazzling smile as she inclined her head.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Act. It really wasn’t too hard. Just smile a lot and laugh occasionally.

  ‘I think we should arrive separately at the hotel venue,’ Lianne declared and incurred his musing smile.

  ‘Your reason being?’

  ‘You’re the auspicious client and honoured guest,’ she managed solemnly. ‘I’m part of the firm.’

  ‘That makes a difference…because?’

  A slight frown creased her forehead. ‘If we appear together it might give the wrong impression.’

  Tyler moved towards her. ‘And that would be such a bad thing?’

  She affected him as no other woman had…or could, he admitted silently. She was his light, his life, everything. If he could turn back the clock…

  He’d thought what they shared was strong enough to withstand any interference. It didn’t sit well having to admit he’d miscalculated the effect Mette’s devious meddling would have, or that Lianne had imagined her only option was to flee.

  ‘I’m sure, in the interests of Sloane, Everton, Shell and Associates, it would be preferable for the staff to maintain a professional relationship with the clientele.’

  A faint smile tugged the corners of his mouth. ‘The exception being if one of the staff happens to be married to one of the clientele?’

  He watched her eyes widen and begin to cloud. ‘We’re separated. Estranged,’ she qualified. ‘I’m filing for divorce.’

  Tyler lifted a hand and brushed gentle fingers across her cheek. ‘So adamant.’ He wanted, needed to make love to her until every last vestige of doubt in her mind was removed.

  Except trust required time to repair and restore. And he had all the time in the world. He’d made sure of it.

  He dropped his hand and caught up his keys. ‘Shall we leave?’

  ‘I’m taking my car.’

  ‘If that’s what you prefer.’

  ‘You can take yours.’

  He shot her a steady look. ‘We go together.’

  ‘What if we each want to leave the venue at different times?’

  ‘We compromise.’

  ‘With different partners,’ Lianne persisted, just for the hell of it, and saw his eyes narrow.

  ‘You want to argue?’ His drawled query was dangerously silky.

  ‘Endorse my independence,’ she qualified as she moved towards the door.

  ‘Proving?’

  She gained the bank of lifts and pressed the call button, aware he was only a step behind her. ‘That I can,’ she managed sweetly, and heard his soft laughter as he followed her into the lift.

  They took the Porsche with Tyler at the wheel, obtained valet parking at the hotel venue, and entered the foyer together.

  The grand ballroom was situated on the first floor, surrounded by balconies, reached by a wide curving staircase, and a quick glance revealed that numerous guests were already assembled on the spacious balconies.

  Smile-time, Lianne accorded silently as she gained the upper floor and accepted a flute of champagne from one of several hovering waiters.

  It was mildly amusing to witness the interest Tyler’s presence achieved. While some of it was covert, a number of women displayed a marked lack of reticence, whilst two of the city’s well-known society doyennes…the noted Pamela Whitcroft and her arch enemy, Eleanora Postlewaite…conducted a mental race as to whom would claim him first.

  ‘It’s your fatal charm,’ Lianne accorded several minutes later when both women melted back into the crowd. ‘Be assured your name will now appear on all the most prestigious guest lists in town.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  She offered him a winsome smile. ‘You doubt it?’

  ‘I lend my support to numerous charities.’

  ‘Watch and observe. Before night’s end, your little black book will be filled.’

  He leaned in close. ‘What little black book?’

  ‘The one you’ll need to keep track.’

  ‘Maybe you should consider acquiring one of your own.’

  ‘Why?’

  His smile deepened. ‘I’ll require a partner.’

  ‘It won’t be me.’

  ‘Count on it.’

  ‘Tyler,’ a familiar male voice intruded. ‘I see you’ve caught up with Lianne.’

  Lianne turned towards Michael Sloane senior and offered a polite greeting, while Tyler inclined his head.

  ‘You must allow me to introduce you to a few friends and associates.’

  Prominent members of the city’s social echelon, she perceived, recognising a few people who regularly graced the social pages of newspapers and trade magazines.

  Six-thirty for eight allowed more than an hour to mix and mingle with fellow guests, sip a glass or two or three of champagne and nibble on canapés.

  She’d had plenty of practice playing the social game during her year in New York as Tyler’s wife. The beautiful people who judged and were judged by the size of their home, its location, the cars they owned, how often they travelled and where, the wife’s jewellery, complement of servants, homes abroad, and the size of their wallets.

  By comparison, tonight’s soirée should be a cinch.

  ‘My apologies,’ Michael junior declared as he joined them. ‘I was unavoidably detained.’

  Michael senior effected the introduction, then turned towards her. ‘Lianne. You’ll excuse us?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So that’s wonder-boy,’ Michael junior commented quietly as soon as Tyler moved away with his father. ‘What’s your reaction?’

  Oh, my. You really don’t want to know! ‘Tyler Benedict?’

  ‘Who else?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re prevaricating. Why?’

  ‘Too rich, too attractive. Too much,’ Lianne accorded with deliberate indolence. ‘Will that do?’

  He looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm. Got to you, didn’t he?’

  She arched one eyebrow and incurred his cynical smile.

  ‘Too many toos,’ he relayed, deadpan.

  ‘Perhaps we should mingle. It’s expected, don’t you think?’

  ‘Walk the talk? Why not?’ He flashed her a brilliant smile. ‘We’ll begin with my mother.’

  The woman behind the man? Subservient or societ
y matron?

  Society, definitely, Lianne perceived. Old money, well versed in the social graces, and a mother who demanded only the very best for her son.

  It was oh so carefully done, with gentle queries, expressed warmth…but Lianne had the impression she was being analysed, dissected and probed with a view to her suitability to consort with the junior male Sloane.

  ‘Incredible, isn’t she?’ Michael junior murmured as they moved away.

  ‘I’d have said formidable.’

  His quiet laughter appeared genuine. ‘What do I have to do to keep you in my life?’

  ‘Please take note…I’m not in your life.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Do you ever give up?’

  ‘I’m known for my tenacity,’ he declared solemnly and draped a friendly arm around her waist. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  ‘What works in the courtroom isn’t necessarily effective out of it.’

  ‘Wisdom is such an admirable trait.’

  She offered him a stunning smile and stepped away. ‘Isn’t it just?’

  At that moment she had the unnerving sensation she was being watched. With care she idly skimmed the crowd, pausing when she sighted a familiar dark head.

  Tyler, whose indolent dark gaze speared hers for a few heart-stopping seconds before he returned his attention to the man at his side.

  Lianne’s stomach executed a slow curl, settled fractionally, and it was perhaps as well the wide double doors leading in to the ballroom swung open and staff began encouraging the guests to take their seats.

  Round tables, white linen, sparkling silver and glassware, elegant table decorations and piped background music.

  ‘Second table to the right, centre upfront,’ Michael junior instructed as he urged her to precede him.

  The tickets had to be expensive. Make that very expensive, she mused as she noted prominent Australian wines gracing the tables.

  Michael Sloane senior had nominated himself in charge of seating arrangements, and Lianne found herself manoeuvred neatly between Tyler and Michael junior.

  It was crazy to be conscious of every breath she took, aware, as if her body recognised Tyler on a base level.

  Oh, who was she kidding?

  Just go with the flow. Sip some wine, eat a little. Converse. How hard could it be?

  ‘You have a conquest,’ Tyler commented quietly, and she cast him a steady look.

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Don’t milk it.’

  She offered a polite smile. ‘Now why would I do that?’

  ‘To irritate me?’

  The smile widened. ‘Is it working?’

  ‘Just remember I get to take you home.’

  Lianne turned her attention to the wine steward tending their table, and when he was done she reached for her water glass.

  ‘Is our honoured guest hitting on you?’

  She met Michael junior’s steady gaze and her mouth curved a little. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Because you’re hot. And he’s interested.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be overwhelmed?’

  His eyes speared hers. ‘Are you?’

  You don’t know the half of it! ‘I’ve no desire to have a man complicate my life,’ she responded lightly, and took a sip from her glass.

  ‘Maybe I can change your mind.’

  Not in a million years, Lianne assured silently as she offered a suitably innocuous smile. Been there, done that, and don’t aim to do it again.

  It was a relief as the lights dimmed and the charity chairperson took the podium, enlightening the guests on the fund-raiser’s purpose, and requesting they give generously for a worthy cause.

  After which the MC announced the evening’s entertainment and a line of waiters began serving the starter.

  Social conversation was an acquired skill and Lianne’s fellow table guests were well-versed in the art.

  Tyler’s presence proved a distraction, and Lianne dealt with the fine body heat simmering beneath the surface, acutely conscious of his close proximity, the faint aroma of his cologne…her favoured Cerruti, which caused her to wonder if it had been a deliberate choice.

  It revived memories of similar events in another city on the other side of the world. Occasions when the only cloud on her horizon had been Mette’s intrusion and the model’s subtle taunts that she was Lianne’s predecessor in Tyler’s bed. One of many, Mette had implied, not averse to hinting that Tyler still sought her on occasion, delighting in her revelations causing Lianne emotional pain.

  ‘Lianne. More wine?’

  She dispensed the image and met Tyler’s dark enigmatic gaze. ‘No. Thanks,’ she added with a polite smile, and felt her pulse quicken to a faster beat.

  Had he sensed her train of thought? It was an uncanny ability he’d acquired early in their relationship, and had rarely ceased to surprise her.

  Did he know tonight’s social affair was the first she’d attended since she left New York? And to appear with him presented her with a sensation of déjàvu?

  It wasn’t something she wanted, for she’d put the past behind her and moved on. Hadn’t she?

  A tiny bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat. As if.

  There was an entertainment segment between courses and the food presentation was a masterpiece in culinary expertise.

  Although Lianne’s tastebuds appeared to have gone on strike as she forked minute morsels into her mouth between alternate sips of water and wine.

  Throughout the evening she conversed with every guest at the table, smiled until her facial muscles began to ache and, without meaning to, gave Michael junior more attention than was warranted.

  Tyler found it easy to maintain an expected façade. He was adept at projecting an image and sufficiently knowledgeable to discuss any topic a fellow guest chose to explore.

  It was interesting to watch the social play, to speculate what lay beneath the surface of each and every guest seated at the table.

  Michael Sloane senior portrayed a certain degree of satisfaction that he’d scored a high profile client as a guest, while his wife was a society doyenne par excellence.

  Michael junior showed too much interest in Lianne.

  Something which alternately amused and irritated him. Lianne hadn’t dated, that much was clear from weekly reports despatched to his New York office.

  If there was anything between them it had been confined to work hours. And possibly one-sided. The thought it might not be caused his stomach muscles to tighten.

  Only for the sensation to relax and move lower and settle uncomfortably in the region of his groin.

  The way she’d responded to him hadn’t been contrived. No one could accelerate their own heartbeat or fake sensual heat. When he’d kissed her she’d been there with him all the way. His for the taking. And he almost had…except it wouldn’t have resolved anything other than sexual lust.

  He wasn’t fool enough to think otherwise.

  Countless times he’d damned Mette’s obsessive behaviour. God knew he hadn’t given her any cause to think there was anything other than friendship between them.

  He, who imagined he knew women, hadn’t sensed that Mette might have assumed another persona…one that bordered close to delusion. He could deal with anything directed at himself. Lianne was something else.

  A muscle bunched momentarily at the edge of his jaw. To have Lianne choose to abandon the marriage and retreat had surprised and angered him.

  Afterwards he’d cursed fate for the hand it played him. His father’s accidental death. Family responsibilities, priorities. Mette’s illness.

  It had taken valuable time. Too much, he perceived wryly. Lianne’s letter to him in New York citing her intention to file for divorce had reached him via email within hours of his arrival in Melbourne.

  Fear and anger had meshed into something he’d fought to control. It was then he had changed his mind about booking into a hotel. Instead he’d taken a cab to Lianne’s apart
ment and claimed temporary residence.

  This time she wouldn’t escape. He’d make sure of it. ‘Tyler,’ a soft feminine voice intruded, accompanied by a light laugh. ‘A business deal, or is it a woman?’

  He had to think to recall her name as he turned towards the woman seated opposite him. Becky? Belinda?

  ‘Does it have to be one or the other?’

  Her eyes sparkled with an open invitation. ‘Perhaps I can help make up your mind?’

  His tone was gentle. ‘I doubt my wife would approve.’

  The luscious mouth formed a pretty pout. ‘Does she have to know?’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘But not interested.’

  He merely smiled.

  The evening was winding down, coffee had been served, the speeches were done, the entertainment programme complete, Lianne noted with a sense of relief.

  ‘Want to go on to a nightclub?’

  Michael junior, ready and eager to party. The thought of a noisy crowd, loud music and standing room only didn’t appeal. ‘Can I take a raincheck?’ It was a cop-out, yet more kind than an outright refusal.

  His hand brushed her shoulder. ‘Do you need a ride home?’

  ‘Thanks, but I have it covered.’

  It was several minutes before Michael Sloane senior and his wife took their leave, which prompted fellow guests at the table to do likewise.

  Lianne breathed a mental sigh of relief that the evening was almost at an end. All she had to do was maintain a pleasant smile, murmur a few gracious words as she joined the general exodus from the grand ballroom…and keep a few steps ahead of Tyler.

  A fruitless exercise, given he was there at her side, his tall frame almost protecting her own as they threaded their way through the crowd.

  It was ridiculous to fall prey to a sense of helpless rage. Just as it was foolish to attempt to pretend a wholly professional relationship. What did it matter if it appeared they’d struck a mutual chord?

  Who cared?

  Except she did. And it had everything to do with the need to maintain a distance from the man who’d caused her so much emotional turmoil.

  Valet parking provided a delay as uniformed attendants efficiently delivered patrons’ vehicles. As fate would have it the Sloanes were positioned behind Tyler in the waiting queue, and Lianne could almost sense their speculation as she slipped into the passenger seat of Tyler’s Porsche.