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The Man Every Woman Wants
Miranda Lee
To most women Ryan Armstrong is irresistible – just the way he likes it!But beyond business the unbelievably sexy Ryan’s only commitment is to playing the field! Laura, however, refuses to be yet another notch on Ryan’s bedpost. She has no time for arrogant men – least of all one who can see through her severe suits to the woman within.Ryan is the last man on earth Laura wants to share a bedroom with for a whole weekend – but she needs his help! Soon Ryan will make his move, and Laura’s afraid that she won’t even want to resist…



“Come here,” he commanded.
Where did she find the courage to walk almost naked towards him?
“Stop,” he commanded again, when she was within arm’s reach of him.
She stopped, her heartbeat momentarily suspended as she waited for him to reach out and touch her. When he did, a lightning rod of electricity zapped through her body, making her gasp. She teetered a little on her high heels.
She’d never felt so wicked. Or so wanton.
Her head literally spun. Was this the kind of thing he did with all his women? Stripped them not just of their clothes but of their conscience and their pride? No, no—that last bit wasn’t right. Her pride wasn’t at risk here. She didn’t feel in any way humiliated by the things he’d asked her to do. She’d seen the admiration flare in his eyes when he’d looked over her near naked body. Laura had felt perversely proud of herself at that moment—perhaps because she knew he’d looked upon more beautiful bodies than hers.
‘One night’s not going to be enough,’ he’d said.
Not enough for her either, she suspected.

About the Author
MIRANDA LEE is Australian, and lives near Sydney. Born and raised in the bush, she was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.
Recent titles by the same author:
NOT A MARRYING MAN
A NIGHT, A SECRET … A CHILD
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Man
Every Woman
Wants
Miranda Lee


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE
RYAN Armstrong never mixed business with pleasure.
His was very much a case of once bitten, a zillion times shy. Not that the word ‘shy’ fitted Ryan’s confident and outgoing personality. So cross out ‘shy’ and put ‘wary’ instead.
Ryan was wary of the complications and consequences which came from mixing business and pleasure. Very wary.
When he’d been younger and not involved in the business world there’d been no need to resist temptation when it had come to the fairer sex. If he’d been attracted to a girl, he’d never stopped to think before his male hormones had sent him off in pursuit. He was usually successful in that pursuit, Mother Nature having endowed him with the sort of tall, broad-shouldered and extremely athletic body which women lusted after and which had seen him rise to become one of the world’s most successful and well-paid goalkeepers. From the ages of twenty-three to twenty-nine, during which he’d played international soccer for several European clubs, he’d had more girlfriends than he’d saved goals.
When injury had forced early retirement at the age of thirty, and he had set up his own sports-management company back in Sydney, Ryan unfortunately had not developed the good habit of either controlling or ignoring his sexual urges. So when one of his first female clients—who was very attractive as well as a great athlete—started flirting with Ryan, it was inevitable that they would end up in bed together. Given she was nearly thirty and totally dedicated to her sports career, Ryan never imagined that she would want anything more from him than a casual fling.
By the end of their second date, however, Ryan had seen that he’d made a huge mistake. The girl had constantly sent him text messages raving about his love-making abilities, then saying how much she was going to enjoy being his wife. When he’d tried to finish things—very tactfully, he’d thought—she had gone all out to destroy his business. She’d released confidential information to the papers, plus had tried to drag his name through the mud in every possible way.
Unfortunately, by then he’d deleted all those revealing messages and it had been a case of her word against his. He’d come out the winner in the end, but it had been a close call. Ryan shuddered whenever he thought how close he’d come to losing everything he’d worked for. His business had still suffered for a while, hence his rule about mixing business with pleasure.
These days, he only dated mature, sensible women who had absolutely nothing to do with the Win-Win Sports Management Agency. He steered well clear of female clients and employees. He even trod carefully when it came to any kind of close business-colleague. His current girlfriend was a public-relations executive from a firm whose services he never used. Erica was blonde, thirty-five years old, divorced, childless and ruthlessly ambitious.
Thankfully, she was no more interested in marriage than he was. Or falling in love, for that matter. She’d been there, done that and it hadn’t worked out. She suited Ryan’s needs admirably, being attractive, intelligent and sexy. Ryan had discovered over the last few years that driven career-girls were usually hot between the sheets—and not given to huge tantrums when he wanted to move on.
Ryan moved on every few months. Occasionally, a relationship would last a little longer, but usually not. Often they ended earlier, once or twice after only a few weeks. Ryan always opted out very quickly if he thought he was becoming involved with a potential problem. He’d reached an age—he would turn thirty-eight next birthday—by which most guys had given up their bachelor days in favour of marriage and a family. He’d seen it happen time and time again. All his male friends were now married, even the ones whom he’d thought would never succumb to the urge to settle down and have children.
Ryan could well understand why members of the opposite sex saw him as a suitable target for marriage. Because he never talked about his past, what they didn’t know was that he’d decided a long time ago that he would never become a husband and father. And he hadn’t changed his mind about that.
A sharp tap-tap on the office door interrupted his thoughts and sent his eyes to the clock on his desk. Exactly three p.m.; right on time as usual, Ryan thought with illogical irritation. He actually admired punctuality. He hated wasting time waiting for people, especially when he’d made an appointment. So why didn’t he admire it at three p.m. every Friday afternoon?
‘Come in, Laura,’ he called out through clenched teeth.
She came in, looking exactly the same as she always looked: severely tailored black suit with black hair up in an equally severe French pleat. No make-up. No jewellery. No perfume.
As she crossed the room towards the chair she always occupied during their weekly meeting, Ryan looked her up and down and wondered why she did that to herself. Did she imagine that this was how a female lawyer should look—tough, hard, and totally sexless?
Anyone could see that she could be a very attractive woman if she tried. She had a good figure and an interesting face with high cheekbones and exotically shaped grey eyes. Admittedly, those eyes were usually as cold as an arctic sky, especially when they looked at him.
So Ryan was startled when their eyes met and he glimpsed not chilly indifference for once but a type of pained regret. She even stopped walking for a second to stare at him.
‘What?’ he said straight away.
‘Nothing,’ she replied, and shook her head. ‘Sorry. Let’s get straight down to business, shall we?’ She sat down, crossed her legs with her usual crisp modesty then leant forward to pick up the first of the contracts which were sitting on the edge of his desk waiting for her perusal.
It was a lucrative endorsement deal he’d personally negotiated for an up-and-coming young male tennis-player whom Win-Win had been lucky enough to sign up the previous month. A lot of Ryan’s work involved negotiating contracts of one sort or another, all of which he always had checked over by one of the best legal brains in the whole of Sydney—which Laura had.
She wasn’t an employee of Win-Win; Ryan didn’t need a lawyer to work for him full-time. His company was more of the boutique variety. She worked for Harvey, Michaels and Associates, an American-owned legal firm with a Sydney branch which was conveniently located in the same building as Ryan’s business and which boasted a stable of brilliant criminal and corporate lawyers.
When Ryan had become one of their clients several years ago, they had originally sent him a young male lawyer at Ryan’s request—a smart guy, but a very bad driver who’d wrapped his car around a tree two years back. When the firm had suggested a female replacement, Ryan had been hesitant at first, especially when he had found out she was only thirty and single. But as soon as he had met Laura Ryan had realised there was no chance of his becoming involved with her. Or vice versa.
She still wasn’t a problem in that regard. But she could be irritating all the same. Ryan wasn’t used to being treated with such patent indifference by members of the opposite sex. It irked his male ego, which was considerable. Sometimes her disinterest seemed to border on outright dislike. It crossed his mind occasionally that she might not be interested in men, but he had no real evidence of this. It seemed more likely that past experiences had turned her into a man-hater—either that or she’d never met a man capable of melting her frozen exterior.
Once, a couple of weeks ago when she’d been particularly frosty with him, he’d been taken by the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her silly, just to see if he could get a reaction out of her.
He hadn’t given in to that urge, of course. Ryan knew if he did any such thing he’d have a world of trouble on his hands faster than a world-class striker could score a goal—amazingly fast.
Besides, he had a lot more control over his testosterone these days. On the surface, that was. His mind, however, had given way to fantasies about the infernal woman all that afternoon.
A wry smile curved his lips as he recalled what he’d done to her in his head, and how avidly she’d responded.
In your dreams, Ryan!
‘What’s so funny?’
Ryan’s head snapped clear at her caustic question, his amusement replaced by surprise. It wasn’t like Laura to notice anything when she was reading through a contract. She almost never glanced up until she was finished, which she obviously wasn’t. By the look of things, she’d only reached the second page of the five-page document.
‘Nothing to do with you, Laura,’ he lied. ‘Just looking forward to the weekend. I’m going sailing with some friends tomorrow.’ Which he was. Erica was away this weekend in Melbourne, attending a conference.
Laura’s sigh also surprised him. It sounded … envious.
‘Lucky you.’
‘Want to come?’ The invitation was out of his mouth before he could snatch it back.
She blinked with shock before dropping her eyes back to the contract. ‘Sorry,’ she said brusquely. ‘I’m busy this weekend.’
Wow, he thought. That was a narrow escape. Whatever had possessed him to invite her? Still, his ego was slightly stroked by her not having said no outright. Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to his charms as she always seemed.
Ryan knew most women were attracted to him, as they were to most tall, good-looking, successful men.
No false modesty about Ryan.
He didn’t interrupt her as she finished reading the contract but his mind remained extremely active. So did his eyes.
She really did have great legs. He liked women with shapely calves and slender ankles, and feet which weren’t too big. Laura’s feet were quite daintily small for a girl of her height. Pity about those awful shoes she was wearing!
Her hair was great too: dark, thick, glossy and obviously long. It would look fabulous spread out against a pillow …
Whoops. He was doing it again: having sexual fantasies about her. He really had to stop this.
Swinging his chair round to the huge window behind him, Ryan stared out at the view of the harbour which he always found pleasurably diverting and was one of the reasons he’d rented this particular suite of rooms in this building. The other reason was that it was less than two blocks from where he lived in an apartment building which also had a wonderful view of the harbour.
When Ryan had first retired from soccer, he’d missed spending most of his life outdoors. He hated the feeling of being closed in. He liked space around him, liked to see the sky—and water, he’d discovered to his surprise. He hadn’t grown up with a love of water, mostly because it hadn’t been a part of his life; he had never even been taken to the beach as a child. He hadn’t learned to swim till he was twenty, and that had only happened because he’d been forced to train in a pool for a few weeks whilst he recovered from injury.
After his return to live in Sydney, however, he had found himself very drawn to the water, hence his buying an apartment and leasing an office that both came with harbour views. Recently, he’d developed a real love of sailing, and was considering buying a boat.
There were plenty of boats out on the harbour that afternoon, winter having finally given way to spring. The rain which had plagued Sydney for the past two months was thankfully gone; the sky was clear and blue and the water inviting.
His eyes zeroed in on one of the boats which was just moving past Bennelong Point, heading out to sea. It was a large white cruiser, an expensive toy for someone with plenty of money.
Maybe I’ll buy one of those, Ryan thought idly.
He could well afford it; Win-Win wasn’t Ryan’s only source of income. Back during his goalkeeping days, he’d had the sense to invest most of the huge salary he’d earned each year into property. By the time he had retired, he was the owner of a dozen or so units, all located in Sydney’s inner-city suburbs where the rental returns were excellent and the apartments never empty for long.
His extensive property portfolio was another thing Ryan didn’t talk about, however, knowing it wasn’t wise to broadcast one’s wealth. He’d found it didn’t do to court envy. He had a small group of friends who were successful men in their own right, though not multi-millionaires like him. He enjoyed their company and was loath to do anything to spoil their friendship. Of course, now that they’d all tied the knot, he didn’t have quite as much to do with them as he used to. But they still got together occasionally to go to the football or the races.
None of them owned a boat. The ‘friends’ Ryan was going sailing with tomorrow were not real friends. They were professional yachtsmen whom he’d met through his job and who’d been teaching him the ropes about sailing.
‘I can’t seem to find anything wrong with it,’ Laura said at last, in a troubled tone which suggested she should have been able to.
Ryan swung his chair back round to face her.
‘You’re quite sure?’ he asked. It wasn’t like Laura not to want him to change something. She often spotted potential legal loopholes which weren’t to his client’s advantage.
‘Maybe I should read through it again.’
Ryan was as surprised by her suggesting this as he’d been by the odd look she’d given him earlier. Really, she wasn’t herself today. Now that he’d stopped filling his mind with distracting images, he could see that she was the one who was distracted.
What was it that had upset her so much that her mind wasn’t on her work? It had to be something serious.
A curious Ryan decided to see if he could find out.
‘No need to do that,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it’s fine. Why don’t you have a quick whizz through the other two contracts? They’re just renewals. Then we’ll call it a day and I’ll take you down to the Opera Bar for a drink.’ If he could get her to relax, she might open up to him a bit.
She surprised him again by not saying no straight away.
Curiouser and curiouser.
But she didn’t say yes, either.
‘Look,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m not asking you out on a date. Just for a drink. Lots of work colleagues go for drinks on a Friday afternoon.’
‘I do know that,’ she said stiffly.
‘Then what’s your problem?’
Again, she hesitated.
‘Look,’ he went on determinedly, ‘I do realise that you don’t like me much. No no, Laura, don’t bother to deny it; you’ve made your feelings quite obvious over the past two years. I have to confess that I haven’t exactly warmed to you, either. But even the most indifferent and insensitive male would notice that you’re not yourself today. As unlikely as it might seem, I find myself quite worried about you. Hence my invitation to take you for a drink. I thought you might relax over a glass of wine and tell me what’s up.’
And why you gave me that odd look when you first came in, he added privately to himself.
‘Even if I tell you,’ she replied, her eyes unhappy, ‘There’s nothing you can do about it.’
‘Let me be the judge of that.’
She laughed, but it was not a happy sound. ‘You’ll probably be annoyed with me.’
‘That’s a very intriguing thing to say. Now, I simply won’t take no for an answer. You are going to come for a drink with me—right now. And you’re going to tell me what this is all about!’

CHAPTER TWO
LAURA knew it was silly of her to feel flattered by his concern—and even sillier to agree to have a drink with him at the Opera Bar, of all places.
The Opera Bar was the place to go for an after-work drink in Sydney’s CBD, conveniently located near the quay and with one of the best views in town—the Opera House on the right, Circular Quay on the left, the Harbour Bridge straight ahead, not to mention the harbour itself. Half the staff at Harvey, Michaels and Associates gathered there every Friday evening. Even non-social Laura occasionally went with them. She knew that it would cause a stir if she was seen drinking there in the company of Ryan Armstrong.
Why, then, had she agreed?
This was the question which tormented her during the short walk down to the quay.
By the time they arrived at the bar—early enough not to be spotted by any of her work colleagues yet, thank heavens—Laura was no nearer a logical answer.
Alison would have said that she was secretly attracted to him. There again, dear Alison was a hopeless romantic, addicted to those movies where the heroine hates the hero on sight but somehow falls madly in love with him before the credits go up at the end.
Laura could never buy into that plot. When she didn’t like someone, she didn’t like them—end of story. She’d never liked Ryan Armstrong and certainly wasn’t secretly attracted to him.
Okay, so he was good-looking, smart and, yes, highly successful. Ten years ago, she might have found him fascinating. These days, however, she was immune to handsome charmers who used women for their sexual satisfaction—sometimes for other rotten reasons—and gave them nothing in return but the dubious pleasure of their company. They shared nothing of themselves, either emotionally or financially. They were greedy selfish men who wanted their cake and wanted to eat it too. Laura had been involved with two such men in her life and had developed a sixth sense whenever she met a man of their ilk.
Ryan Armstrong had set off warning bells in her head from the first moment they had met, which was why she made an extra effort every Friday to down-play her looks even more than had become her habit during the last few years.
Not that she needed to worry about his making a play for her. It had been obvious from the start that he didn’t like her any more than she liked him. That was why she’d been surprised today by his suddenly being nice to her. He’d got under her guard a couple of times already and now here she was, about to have drinks with him.
It was all very perverse.
‘Let’s sit outside,’ Ryan said, and steered her out to the alfresco area where the sun was still shining, providing enough warmth to counter the freshness of the harbour breeze.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Ryan asked as he pulled out a chair for her at an empty table right by the water’s edge.
‘Bourbon and coke,’ she replied, which made him raise his eyebrows. But he made no verbal comment before turning away and returning to the bar inside to order the drinks.
Being left alone gave Laura even more time to think and to worry. Not about her virtue—no way could she ever be seduced by the likes of Ryan Armstrong—but about the confession which Ryan was seemingly intent on getting out of her.
She still could not believe she’d been stupid enough to do what she’d done. And now it had backfired on her, big time. Not that she could have foretold that the doctors would be proved wrong and that her grandmother would come out of her coma and remember every single word that her granddaughter had said as she had sat by her bedside. Laura’s intentions at the time had all been good, but what did that matter now?
A weary sigh escaped her lips. What was that old saying? ‘The road to hell was paved with good intentions.’
The sight of Ryan walking towards their table with the drinks in his hands reminded her of why she’d chosen him to lie about to her grandmother. He really was the epitome of what her grandmother would think the perfect partner for her favourite granddaughter. First there was the matter of his looks. Gran had always said that she liked a man to look like a man, advising Laura to steer clear of pretty boys whom, she’d said, invariably had no backbone and, more importantly, no muscles to speak of.
‘And they usually go bald early,’ Gran had claimed with a perfectly straight face.
Laura had never been overly impressed by her grandmother’s tendency to make superficial judgements when it came to the opposite sex. Though perhaps she should have listened, since the two men who’d broken her heart had both been pretty boys.
Ryan certainly wasn’t a pretty boy. All his facial features were large and masculine. He had a broad forehead, an aquiline nose and a strong, square jaw which wasn’t softened at all by the dimple in the middle of his chin. His hair was dark brown and would have been thick, if he ever grew it past his military-style crew cut. He certainly wasn’t in danger of going prematurely bald, with no sign of a receding hairline.
Gran also liked men with blue eyes, for some reason.
Ryan’s eyes were blue, though they were so deep-set under his thick dark brows that they sometimes looked black from a distance. Up close, however, their blue was the colour of a bright summer sky—but not nearly as warm. His eyes carried a hardness which no doubt served him well when he was negotiating a deal.
His body would have gained Gran’s tick of approval as well, being tall and broad-shouldered, with muscles in all the right places. Admittedly, Laura had never seen him dressed in anything but a business suit—the kind he was wearing today—but she had seen him jacket-less with his sleeves rolled up and there was no hiding the fact that the man was very fit, with a flat stomach and no flab anywhere.
It was no wonder that she’d chosen him as her imaginary Mr Right, she realised as she watched Ryan walk towards her. He fitted the bill perfectly. Not only did he look like a man physically, but he was financially secure, charming when he wanted to be and, yes, old enough to be experienced in life.
Gran always said that a girl should never marry a man around her own age.
‘Boys mature much later than girls, Laura,’ she’d advised her granddaughter on more than one occasion. ‘They need to experience life before they’re ready to settle down.’
Of course, when she’d been waxing lyrical about Ryan by her Gran’s hospital bed, she hadn’t mentioned just how ‘experienced’ he was, Laura thought caustically. She didn’t think her rather old-fashioned grandmother would approve of a man who’d had more women than underpants. And who changed them just as often.
Frankly, it always amazed Laura why women kept getting sucked into having a relationship with Ryan Armstrong. If you could call what he had with women ‘relationships’. They were just ships passing in the night from what she’d heard. And she’d heard plenty over the past two years.
He smiled as he placed the drinks down on the table, a wickedly sexy smile which gave her a glimpse of how dangerously attractive he could be. If one was susceptible to that kind of thing.
‘I decided to have what you’re having,’ he said as he sat down and swept up his own bourbon and coke. ‘Cheers!’
She picked up her drink, clinked it against his, then took a deep swallow. Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses. His glittered with wry amusement whilst she kept hers as cool as always. But, underneath the silk lining of her black jacket, Laura was startled to feel her heart beating a little faster.
Maybe she wasn’t as immune to the man’s charms as she imagined. But it was not enough to worry about.
Nevertheless, she glanced away at the harbour. It really was a spectacular setting for a city, especially on a warm spring afternoon. Lots of boats were out on the sparkling water, creating a visual feast for all the tourists who’d flocked to the quayside area to take holiday snaps of the bridge and the Opera House.
‘Sydney’s a truly beautiful city, isn’t it?’ Laura said with pride in her voice.
‘It surely is,’ he agreed. ‘You only have to live in other cities in other countries to know how lucky we are.’
She looked back at him. ‘You sound like you’ve lived in lots of other countries.’
Ryan shrugged. ‘Quite a few. But no more prevaricating, now,’ he said as he put down his glass. ‘Tell me what’s going on in your life which has sent you into such a spin today.’
‘I’m not in a spin,’ she said defensively.
‘Laura, you’re sitting here having a drink with me. That’s evidence enough that something has thrown you for a loop. So stop denying it. Given you’re not the sort of girl to make a professional mistake, it has to be a personal problem. And I’m involved in some weird way. Am I right about that?’
‘Yes,’ she said, seeing no point in lying. It was obvious Ryan wasn’t going to let up until he knew every depressing detail, so she took a deep breath then launched into her tale of woe.
‘It’s a bit of a long story, so please be patient with me.’
Patience, she knew, was not one of Ryan’s strong points. But he didn’t say a word, the expression on his face showing genuine interest. He might feel differently when he learned the part he’d played in her disaster, albeit unknowingly.
‘Two weeks ago, my grandmother had a bad fall down some steps and ended up in a coma in hospital. Not in a Sydney hospital—In John Hunter Hospital in Newcastle. Gran lives up in the Hunter Valley. Anyway, the family was told she wasn’t likely to pull through. In fact, the doctors didn’t even expect her to last the night. So I sat with her all that night and, because I didn’t want to go to sleep and not be with her if and when she did pass away, I kept talking to her. And, because I thought it wouldn’t matter, I told her all the things that I knew she’d always wanted to hear: that I’d finally found Mr Right and I was very, very happy.
‘Of course, it didn’t take very long to make that simple announcement, so I was forced to elaborate somewhat to fill in time. Unfortunately, I’ve never had a great imagination; creativity is not a talent of mine. So I thought of all the men I knew and worked with and came up with the one who fitted the bill of Mr Right from my grandmother’s viewpoint. Superficially, that is,’ she added with a rueful glance Ryan’s way.
‘Good God,’ he said, sitting up straight. ‘You’re talking about me, aren’t you?’
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ she admitted dryly.
He laughed, then laughed again. ‘Damn it, but that is funny, Laura. In an ironic way,’ he added. ‘I don’t think what happened to your poor grandmother is funny. I have a soft spot for grandmothers.’
Indeed, his eyes did soften with his words.
‘I must be missing something here,’ he went on, his forehead crinkling into a frown. ‘What harm did it do for you to invent a fictitious Mr Right on your grandmother’s deathbed? Frankly, I think it was rather sweet of you to do what you did.’
Laura sighed. ‘Sweet, but stupid. I should have known that Gran would pull through. She’s always been a fighter. Not only did she pull through, but somehow she remembered every single word I said when she was supposed to be unconscious. Well, perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration. But she did remember my saying that I’d finally met Mr Right and his name was Ryan Armstrong. Now she’s out of hospital and wants me to bring you home to meet her this very weekend.’
‘Naturally,’ Ryan said, then laughed again.
‘Don’t laugh—it really isn’t funny, because she’s still not at all well. The doctors found out that she’d had a small stroke, and that was probably why she fell. The family’s been warned that she could have another stroke at any time. Or even a heart attack. They did lots of tests whilst she was in hospital and things are not good, artery-wise; there are a few serious blockages. But she refuses to have a bypass or any kind of invasive treatment. Says she’s had a good life and is quite happy to go.’
‘Oh dear,’ Ryan said with some genuine sympathy in his voice. ‘You really have landed yourself in a right pickle, haven’t you?’
‘I really have. But it’s not your problem. I only told you because you insisted.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I guess I’ll delay things for as long as I can. I’ll make up some excuse for why you can’t come to meet her this weekend—a business trip, or an illness. But I can hardly keep on saying that. In the end, I’ll have to tell her the truth—though I don’t want to say that I lied about our relationship. She’d be so disappointed with me. I’ll have to say that things just didn’t work out between us after all.’
‘You can say that I didn’t want to marry you. Which is true, after all,’ he added, smiling.
‘Very funny.’
‘It is, rather, if you stop to think about it. I can’t imagine two more unlikely lovers.’
‘Well Gran doesn’t know that, does she?’ Laura snapped, piqued by his remark.
‘No, she doesn’t. Of course, there is one other solution to your problem.’
‘I can’t imagine what.’
‘Of course you can’t. You don’t have an imagination.’
Laura rolled her eyes at him. ‘Then enlighten me, oh brilliant one.’
‘I could go with you to your grandmother’s place this weekend and pretend to be your Mr Right.’
Laura almost spilled the rest of her drink, but she soon gathered her usual poise and gave Ryan the drollest look. ‘And why, pray tell, would you do something as sweetly generous, but as patently ridiculous, as that?’

CHAPTER THREE
WHY indeed? Ryan wondered as he quaffed back a good portion of his drink.
He suspected it was because the idea amused the hell out of him. He rather fancied the prospect of Laura having to act the part of his doting girlfriend.
But of course he could hardly say that. And there was another reason, one which might convince the surprisingly sentimental Laura into going along with his suggestion.
‘As I mentioned before,’ he said, ‘I have a soft spot for grandmothers. Mine was marvellous to me. I don’t know what I would have done without her.’ He certainly wouldn’t have gone on to be a success in life. She was the one who had first taken him to soccer—even though he was a little old at thirteen to take up the sport, which was why he ended up a goalkeeper. And she was the one who had made him believe that he could put the past behind him and become anything he wanted to be.
‘I’ve always regretted that she died before I could give her all the good things she deserved in life,’ he added. More than regret—remorse was more like it. He hadn’t realised until she was gone just how much she’d done for him, and how much she meant to him. He’d cried buckets when he found out she’d died, though not in front of any of his teammates. He’d been a very selfish twenty-two at the time and had just been signed to his first contract with a premier league English team. He hadn’t returned to Australia for his grandmother’s funeral, another deep regret.
He’d been touched by Laura sitting with her grandmother all night, not wanting to leave her to die alone. Clearly, the old lady meant a lot to her.
‘It’s obvious that you’re very close to your grandmother,’ he said.
‘I am,’ Laura said, her voice sounding a little choked up. ‘She raised me after my parents were killed in a plane crash.’
‘I see …’ And he did see. His grandmother had raised him after his own mother had died.
Damn it all, but he didn’t want to think about that!
‘So what do you say to my suggestion?’ he asked, not feeling quite so amused any more. But it was too late to retract his offer.
Laura’s expressive eyes showed considerable reserve. ‘I have to confess that I’m tempted. But I’m not sure we could bring it off—pretending to be lovers, that is. I mean, we don’t even like each other.’
‘True,’ he said bluntly.
‘You don’t have to agree with me so readily,’ she snapped. ‘What is it, exactly, that you don’t like about me?’
He smiled. ‘You don’t really want me to tell you that, do you?’
‘I certainly do.’
‘Okay, you asked for it. First there’s your appearance.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my appearance!’
Ryan raised an eyebrow sardonically and infuriatingly she felt herself blush. He continued, ‘Then there’s your manner.’
‘What’s wrong with my manner?’
‘Well, “ice queen” would be an understatement. Of course,’ he went on, unbowed in the face of her outrage, ‘If I could persuade you to let your hair down in more ways than one, then it’d be a breeze. Do you think you could do that?’
‘I’m not going to tart myself up for the likes of you, Ryan Armstrong,’ Laura pronounced huffily.
‘And there we have the main reason that I don’t like you: because you don’t like me.’
‘No,’ she bit out. ‘I don’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t really want me to tell you that, do you?’
He chuckled. She might not have an imagination but she did have a sharp wit. ‘Actually, I’m not so sure that I don’t like you,’ he said. ‘You are very amusing company.’
She made no comment, just gave him another of her dry looks.
‘Do you have a boyfriend, Laura?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she retorted. ‘If I had a boyfriend do you think I would be in this damned awful predicament?’
‘Having a boyfriend does not equate with your finding Mr Right. But let me rephrase that—are you sleeping with anyone at the moment?’
Her eyes grew even colder, if that were possible.
‘I’m between boyfriends at the moment,’ she said tartly.
‘Ah.’
‘And what does that mean?’ she demanded to know.
‘Ah just means ah.’
‘I very much doubt that. You think I’m not capable of getting a boyfriend, don’t you? You think I’m too cold.’
Wow, he thought, how right you are. But rather fascinatingly frosty. What he wouldn’t give to have the chance to melt some of that ice. Unfortunately, a man could get frostbite trying.
He’d have to watch himself with her this weekend.
‘What I think,’ he said after careful consideration, ‘Is that you’ve been hurt by some man in your past which has given you a jaundiced view of the male sex.’
The slight widening of her eyes showed him he was on the right track with his analysis of her character.
‘Lots of attractive women who’ve been badly treated by men subconsciously do things to make themselves less attractive so that they won’t be hit on. Some change their appearance by putting on weight. Some dress in a manner which hides their femininity. Which I think—’
The sound of his phone ringing interrupted his spiel.
‘Excuse me,’ he said to Laura as he fished the phone out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the identity of the caller.
Damn. It was Erica.

CHAPTER FOUR
LAURA welcomed the interruption. Ryan’s interpretation of her character was too close to the bone for her liking. Because of course he was right. Subconsciously, she knew why she dressed the way she did and acted the way she did. But no man had said as much to her out loud before.
She didn’t like it. It made her feel vulnerable and weak. A coward, even. Yet she wasn’t a coward—was she?
The thought tormented her. Alison was always saying that she should give the male sex another chance. But then what would Alison know? She was married to a great guy who was loving and loyal and would never hurt her. She’d never known what it felt like to have one’s heart ripped out, not just by one man, but two. Laura knew she couldn’t afford to open herself to hurt of that kind ever again because if she did, and disaster struck a third time, she suspected she would not survive.
Admittedly, sometimes she was very lonely. Sometimes, she wished her life had been different; if only she’d found someone decent when she’d been younger and still full of hope. Life’s experiences, however, had finally turned her into a hard-hearted cynic, but quite a good judge of character. Nowadays, when she met an attractive man, she quickly saw through his looks to the man beneath.
She knew exactly what sort of man Ryan Armstrong was: the sort who would break a girl’s heart and never lose a moment’s sleep over it.
But he was not totally bad, she accepted as she glanced over the rim of her glass at him. Clearly he was capable of kindness.
‘Hi,’ he said into his phone. ‘How’s things going?’
He’d turned his body away from the table to answer the phone but Laura could still hear him clearly enough. The bar was beginning to fill up but the noise wasn’t too bad, and the music hadn’t yet started.
‘That boring, huh?’ he went on. ‘No, I’m down at the Opera Bar having a drink with a friend from work.’
Laura frowned, knowing instantly that Ryan was being evasive to whomever he was talking to on the phone. His girlfriend, perhaps? He was sure to have one. He always had some girl on tap from what she’d heard. She’d forgotten about that when he’d offered to pretend to be her Mr Right this weekend.
What on earth did he plan to tell the girlfriend if she agreed to his suggestion? Laura couldn’t imagine any female enjoying their boyfriend pretending to be another woman’s boyfriend, no matter how innocent it really was.
‘I’ll ring you later tonight, sweetheart,’ she heard him saying, confirming her suspicion that he was talking to his current girlfriend. ‘Bye for now.’
He hung up and swung back to face her. ‘Now, where was I?’ he said as he put his phone away.
Laura decided to put a spanner in his works with some much-needed honesty.
‘Your girlfriend wouldn’t like you pretending to be my Mr Right,’ she said with chilly disdain in her voice. ‘Or were you thinking about not telling her?’
His eyes grew even colder than her own, if that were possible. ‘Erica does not own me, Laura. Besides, she’s in Melbourne this weekend for a conference.’
‘You mean what she doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her?’
‘Actually, I have every intention of telling Erica when I ring her back later tonight.’
‘Really.’ Laura could not keep the sarcasm out of her voice. In her experience, lying to their girlfriends was second nature to men like Ryan.
‘Yes, really. But I can see you don’t believe me.’
‘Does it matter what I believe? It’s all irrelevant anyway, because I’ve decided not to accept your kind offer.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Because it can only lead to further complications. Gran’s eightieth birthday is coming up soon. If her health improves, the family is sure to throw her a party and she’ll expect me to attend, along with my newly found Mr Right. I can’t honestly expect you to go along to that as well. By then, we’ll be asked eternal questions about when we’re getting engaged and when the wedding’s going to be. Everything will snowball and you’ll wish you hadn’t started it in the first place. Much better I go home this weekend and say we’ve already broken up.’
Ryan shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want to do. But it wouldn’t worry Erica.’
‘If you think that, Ryan, then you don’t know women very well. I think I should go now,’ she added, becoming nervous that people from her work would start arriving any minute now. ‘Thank you for the drink, and for your offer. It really was very nice of you. But not a good idea.’
She finished her drink and stood up. ‘I’ll see you next Friday at three,’ she said.
‘I tell you what,’ Ryan said before she could escape. ‘I’ll give you my private mobile-number just in case you change your mind. Do you have a biro in that bag of yours? I’ll bet you do,’ he added with a quick smile.
‘Yes, but …’
‘Just write it down, Laura,’ he said with a hint of exasperation. ‘You never know.’
‘Oh, very well,’ she said, and did what he asked, writing the number he gave her down on the back of one of her business cards.
Then she bolted for the exit, thankfully not spotting anyone she knew on the way out. Laura was out of breath by the time she made it to the quay and onto the Manly ferry for the ride home, glad to subside into a seat in a private corner, glad to be alone with her still-whirling thoughts.
But, once her head settled and her heart stopped beating like a rock-band drummer, Laura knew she’d made the right decision, knocking back Ryan’s offer. It was ridiculous to keep such a deception going, no matter how tempted she’d been.
What was that other saying, now? ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive’?
As she’d spelled out to Ryan, it would have been extremely difficult to carry off such a pretence without their dislike for each other shining through somehow. No, she’d done the right thing. The only thing. But she still winced at the thought of telling the family that she’d lied about finding Mr Right. She did have her pride.
No, she’d do what she originally said she’d do: make some excuse why Ryan couldn’t join them this weekend. Then later on, if Gran continued to recover, she could say that they’d broken up because Ryan refused to get married. That would save her pride too. If Gran didn’t recover—Laura’s heart contracted fiercely at this thought—then it wouldn’t matter. Gran would at least have died happy.

CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE time the ferry docked at the Manly wharf and Laura started off up the hill for the walk home, she’d become reconciled to her decision, except for one small regret. It would have been seriously satisfying to go home with a man like Ryan on her arm, she thought with a rather wistful sigh, just to see the looks on the faces of her aunt and uncle, both of whom never let an opportunity go by to point out what a loser she was in the dating department.
Of course the truth was that they didn’t like her. Uncle Bill had resented her from the moment she’d been brought home to her grandparents’ place to live and it had became obvious that his mother preferred her estranged daughter’s daughter to the son he and Cynthia had produced.
Laura didn’t think this should have been a surprise, since all the men in the Stone family were odious. Her grandfather especially. Jim Stone had been a male chauvinistic pig of the first order. His son and his grandson had taken after him, believing they were superior beings and that women were only put on this earth to pander to their needs. After actually living in her grandfather’s house, Laura understood fully why her mother had run away from home as soon as she was old enough and why she’d married a man like her father who, though a strong man, had been compassionate and gentle in his dealings with people, especially women. He’d been a lawyer also; Laura had adored him.
She’d disliked her grandfather intensely and hadn’t been at all sad when he had died. But even in death Jim Stone had been able to make her angry, leaving the family property to his son rather than his long-suffering wife. She’d tried to get her gran to contest the will but she wouldn’t, saying that it didn’t matter, that Bill promised to look after her until she died.
But that wasn’t good enough, in Laura’s opinion. The home which Gran had lovingly tended for over fifty years should have been hers until she died. Instead, she’d been relegated to the role of a poor relative, reliant on her son for charity. All her gran had been left was a miserable twenty-thousand dollars a year, not much more than the old-age pension. That was until Laura had had a little chat with her uncle and insisted that he bump the amount up to forty thousand at least, warning him that if he didn’t then she would use every bit of her power and influence to get his mother to contest the will.
Naturally, her firm stance hadn’t gone down too well, but he’d done what she had asked. Of course, he’d made it sound like it was all his idea. When Laura had seen how touched her grandmother had been—she probably wasn’t used to the men in her life treating her nicely—she hadn’t said a word. Several times, during the five years since her grandfather had died, Laura had tried to persuade her grandmother to come to Sydney to live with her, but to no avail. Her gran said she was a country girl and wouldn’t be happy living in the city.
Yet I have a very nice home, Laura thought as she pushed open the gate which led up the path to the three-bedroomed cottage which had belonged to her parents and which had come to her when they were so tragically killed. Her grandfather had tried to sell it after she’d gone to live with him, but her darling grandmother—who had been sole executor of her daughter’s will—had refused to give permission for the sale. So the contents had been stored and the house had been rented out until Laura had left school and moved back to Sydney to attend university, at which point she’d taken possession of it again.
She’d lived there ever since, mostly happily. Only once had the house been instrumental in bringing her unhappiness. But that hadn’t really been the house’s fault.
Laura inserted the key in the front door, knowing that as soon as she turned the lock and opened the door Rambo would come bolting down the hallway, meowing for food.
And there he was, right on cue. Putting her bag down on the hall table, she scooped him up into her arms and stroked his sleek brown fur. It was better to pick him up, she’d found, than to leave him down on the floor to trip her up.
‘How was your day, sweetie?’ she said as she made her way down to the kitchen.
His answer was some very contented purring.
Once in the kitchen she plopped Rambo down on the tiled floor and set about getting him his favourite ‘fussy cat’ food, steak mixed with chicken. She’d just filled his dish with the meat and shoved the plastic container in the garbage bin when her phone rang—not her mobile, her land line. Which meant it wasn’t Alison or any of her work colleagues. The only people who used her land line were telemarketers and family.
Laura steeled herself as she swept up the receiver from where it was attached to the kitchen wall.
‘Hello,’ she said somewhat abruptly.
‘I finally got you,’ Aunt Cynthia replied with an air of frustration. ‘I tried ringing earlier but you weren’t home.’
Laura glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was only five-thirty. She was rarely home on a Friday night before six.
‘You can always get me on my mobile,’ Laura told her. ‘I did give you the number.’
‘Bill said I wasn’t to ring people on their mobiles. He said it cost a fortune.’
Laura sighed. ‘Not these days it doesn’t, Aunt Cynthia. Anyway, what did you want me for? There’s nothing wrong with Gran, is there?’ she added with a sudden jab of worry.
‘No, no, your grandmother’s doing quite well, considering. I’m ringing because Shane asked me to.’
Shane was her vile only-son and heir who was a chip off the old Stone block. He’d tormented Laura from the day she’d gone to live with her grandparents. His family had lived nearby in a smaller house on the same property. Thankfully, when she had finished primary school, Gran had sent Laura to boarding school in Sydney, a move which she’d appreciated. Her grandfather had objected at first on the grounds of the cost but her gran had stood firm again, saying the fees could easily be covered by Laura’s inheritance. Both Laura’s parents had had excellent insurance policies which had paid out double because they’d died in an accident.
Laura had quite enjoyed her school days—not her holidays so much, which her wretched cousin had made a right misery. Admittedly, he’d improved slightly with age, mainly because he’d married a modern girl who refused to put up with his boorish behaviour. In truth, the last time they’d met, Shane had surprised Laura by being reasonably civil to her. But Laura couldn’t imagine why he would ask their mother to ring her.
‘What does he want?’ she asked warily.
‘To find out if your new boyfriend is the same Ryan Armstrong who was a famous goalkeeper a few years back. His father told him that it was highly unlikely, given he was dating you, but I promised to ask you just the same. Because Shane said, if he was, he wants to meet him.’
‘And if he wasn’t?’ Laura asked archly.
‘What?’
Laura gritted her teeth. They really were a most annoying family!
‘Yes,’ she bit out. ‘Ryan is, or was, a famous goalkeeper.’ She only knew that because she’d been told of Ryan’s international success by a sport-loving colleague of hers who’d been quite jealous about her securing Ryan as a client.
‘Heavens to Betsy!’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘I can’t believe it. Shane’s going to be so excited. You know how much he loves watching the soccer.’
Actually no, Laura didn’t know any such thing. She’d had as little to do with Shane as possible over the years.
‘I must say I’m somewhat surprised,’ her aunt rattled on, ‘That you’ve got yourself a boyfriend at all, let alone a famous one.
‘I was saying to Bill just the other week that it looked like you were going to end up an old maid. You’re not a bad-looking girl, but you do have an unfortunate way about you. You state your opinions much too strongly. Men don’t like that, you know. And the way you dress is … well, not very feminine. Still, I guess there’s someone for everyone in this world. So how old is your Mr Armstrong? I dare say he’s not all that young.’
Laura couldn’t say a word for a moment, having been rendered speechless by her aunt’s tactless commentary.
But, as she struggled to find her tongue, Laura knew that there was no way now that she was going up to that house tomorrow alone. No darned way!
‘To tell you the truth, Aunt,’ she said at last, ‘I’m not sure exactly how old Ryan is. Middle to late thirties is my best guess.’
‘You’d think you’d know your boyfriend’s age,’ her aunt said snippily. ‘How long did you say you’d been going out with him?’
‘We’ve been business acquaintances for two years. But we’ve only started dating recently.’
‘Oh, I see. So he’s not that serious about you yet.’
‘He’s very serious about me,’ she heard herself saying. ‘You don’t think he’d agree to come home with me and meet Gran if he wasn’t serious, do you?’
‘What? Oh no, no, I suppose not. So what time do you think you might arrive?’
Laura closed her eyes and prayed that Ryan would not change his mind and retract his offer when she rang him.
‘Around noon?’ she suggested.
‘Could you make it later than that?’ her aunt said. ‘Say, around three? That way I won’t have to do lunch tomorrow as well as dinner that night and lunch again the next day. That’s a lot of work, you know.’
‘But we weren’t going to stay the night,’ Laura protested.
‘Don’t be silly, of course you are. I’ve already bought the food and the wine. On top of that your grandmother is expecting you to stay for the weekend, not just for a few short hours. You wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?’
‘No, of course not,’ Laura said, but her head was spinning. How on earth was she going to keep up such a ridiculous charade for that long? And what if Ryan refused to go with her? Giving her his phone number was no guarantee he would say yes a second time.
‘We’ll see you tomorrow around three, then?’
‘All right,’ Laura agreed somewhat weakly.
‘And Laura …?’
‘Yes?’
‘Bring a dress to wear for dinner tomorrow night, will you? I don’t want to see you at the table wearing those ghastly jeans you seem to live in.’
Laura sucked in a deep breath through wildly flaring nostrils. She was about to launch into a counter-attack when she realised the line had already gone dead. She glared down at the receiver for several furious seconds before slamming it back on the hook.
If there was anyone who could get under her skin even more than her uncle, it was her aunt—stupid, self-important, insensitive woman! Laura felt sorry for her grandmother, having to live with two such impossible people. She deserved better after putting up with that wretched husband of hers for fifty-five years.
Thinking about her grandmother’s feelings put some perspective back into Laura’s growing frustrations over the weekend ahead. Okay, so she’d backed herself into a right royal corner now. Too bad. Gran was worth putting up with pretending to be Ryan Armstrong’s girlfriend for longer than a few hours. And worth having to put her pride aside to ring him back and tell him that she’d changed her mind and wanted to accept his offer. If he prevaricated, she would beg him to come with her, if she had to. Hell, she’d even bribe him if she had to. Though what with, she had no idea.
The thought of offering him sex popped into her head out of the blue. It was such a crazy idea that she threw back her head and laughed out loud. As if the prospect of sex with her would persuade a man like Ryan to do anything! It would more likely make him run in the other direction.
Shaking her head, she marched back down the hallway to where she’d left her handbag, rifling through it to retrieve the business card she’d written his number down on.
Her stomach tightened into a knot as she picked up her mobile phone and punched in the numbers. For what would she do if he refused? What could she do? Laura felt sick just thinking about it. She hit the call button and started praying.

CHAPTER SIX
‘RYAN Armstrong,’ he answered quite promptly in his very male voice.
Laura straightened her spine and squared her shoulders at the same time. ‘Ryan, it’s Laura. Laura Ferrugia.’
‘Laura!’
No doubting the surprise in his voice.
She could hear noise in the background, people laughing and talking, and live music playing. If she wasn’t mistaken he was still at the Opera Bar.
Laura decided not to waffle; she wasn’t a waffly person at the best of times. ‘Is your offer still open?’ she asked abruptly.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Thank God,’ she couldn’t help saying.
‘That sounds somewhat ominous. What’s happened to make you change your mind?’
‘My aunt happened, that’s what,’ she said sharply.
‘Sorry. Have I missed something?’
‘I’ll fill you in tomorrow during the drive up there.’
‘Up where?’
‘Didn’t I tell you? Gran lives in the Hunter Valley. So does the rest of my family. I’m sure I told you.’
‘You probably did. I remember you mentioning the John Hunter hospital.’
‘Yes, well, the John Hunter hospital is not really near the Hunter Valley. I take it you’re not familiar with the Newcastle area?’
‘No. Never been up that way at all.’
‘It’s a relatively easy drive. You just take the freeway north and turn off at the signs to the vineyards. I usually make it in just over two hours. If I leave home out of peak hour, that is.’
‘And where’s home?’
‘Manly. Do you have a nice car?’
‘That’s an odd question. Ah, yes, I get the drift. You want to impress.’
‘You have no idea,’ she said with so much feeling that he laughed.
‘In that case, you’ll be pleased to know I have a very nice car. A navy-blue BMW convertible. Will that do?’
‘Wonderful. And Ryan, I hate to tell you this, but my aunt assumed that we’d be staying the night and I simply couldn’t get out of it. Though you don’t have to worry that we’d have to share a bedroom. Gran would never tolerate that in her home.’
But it wasn’t her gran’s home any more, came the sudden thought.
Surely her aunt wouldn’t put them in the same bedroom?
Surely not?
But she just might …
Best not say anything, or Ryan might back out of the deal.
It was a worry all the same.
‘So, what’s your address?’ he asked. ‘And when do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?’
‘What?’
‘Laura, get with the programme.’
‘Sorry,’ she muttered and gave him the details he requested.
‘What clothes should I take with me?’ he asked. ‘I’m getting the feeling that your family has money. Am I right?’
‘They’re well off but not seriously rich. Still, my aunt fancies herself a social hostess, so she’ll pull out all the stops for dinner tomorrow night. But you won’t need a dinner suit or anything like that.’
‘What kind of place is it?’
‘Years ago it used to be a large stud-farm for thoroughbred horses, with hundreds of acres of prime pastureland. But when there was a downturn in the horse-racing industry my grandfather sold off all the horses and went into cattle. Then when he died a few years back and my uncle took over he sold off most of the land to a property developer and invested the money, though he did keep a few cows. Nowadays, the property’s just a small farm, really.’
‘I’ve never been to a farm.’
‘You haven’t missed much.’
‘I take it you’re not a country girl at heart.’
‘You take it correctly. There’s something else I should tell you.’
‘Shoot.’
‘I have a male cousin named Shane who’s apparently a mad soccer-fan and is sure to be at the family dinner tomorrow night. He twigged that you were once a famous goalkeeper and is dying to meet you. Are you all right with that?’
‘Won’t bother me a bit.’
‘I didn’t think it would but I thought you should know all the same.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Laura.’
‘You’re the one who’s being thoughtful. I’ll be forever grateful for you doing this.’
‘It’s my pleasure. If you must know, I’m quite looking forward to it.’
‘I don’t know why. I’m terrified.’
‘Yes, I can hear the tension in your voice. Look, don’t make me wait till tomorrow to find out what your aunt said to force you to change your mind. You have to tell me now or I won’t be able to sleep for imagining all sorts of crazy scenarios. It wasn’t just because she found out about my goalkeeping past, was it?’
‘No, nothing like that. It was what she said about me.’
‘What did she say about you?’
Laura told him—every insulting detail of her conversation with her aunt, even the bit where she implied Ryan must have been ancient to be interested in her. She could feel her temper rising as she gave vent to her feelings of hurt and humiliation.
‘Do you know she had the hide to tell me to wear a dress to dinner tomorrow night?’
‘Shocking.’
‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘Not at all,’ he denied. ‘I think your aunt was very rude.’ He paused, somehow managing to sound completely unconvincing, and Laura remembered his comment about her appearance.
She bristled. ‘I’ll have you know that I own several dresses. And quite a bit of make-up. I just don’t choose to wear either to work. Or at weekends in the country.’
‘But you will this weekend, if you’re serious about impressing your family. It’s not just me who’ll be on show, sweetheart, but us as a couple.’
‘You’re not going to call me that, are you?’
‘Call you what?’
‘Sweetheart,’ she bit out.
‘Not if you don’t like it.’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘What would you like me to call you, then?’
‘Laura.’
‘Laura it is, then. And Laura …?’
‘Yes?’
‘Try to relax a bit before tomorrow, will you? You’re way too uptight.’
‘Sorry. I can’t help it. I hate having to do this.’
‘What? Pretend that you’re in love with me?’
Laura winced. Did he have to be so baldly honest?
‘I guess,’ she said.
‘You’ve been madly in love before, haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she confessed reluctantly. Twice. First with Brad, and then with Mario. Finding out Brad was a selfish, greedy, amoral rat had been devastating enough. But it had been the super-charming Mario who had nearly destroyed her. Because she should have known better by then. Should have seen through his lies.
But she hadn’t.
‘Act with me the way you acted with him, then,’ Ryan suggested.
‘I could never act that way again,’ she said coldly. ‘It was pathetic.’
‘That bad, huh? Okay, just don’t freeze up if I put my arm around you or give you a little kiss occasionally. Strictly no tongues.’
‘I should hope not!’
He laughed. ‘I can see that tomorrow might be a stretch, but what the hell? We’re doing this for your gran, right?’
Laura blinked. She’d almost forgotten about her. Ever since that horrid phone call from her aunt she’d been thinking more about herself and her pride.
‘Yes,’ she said, feeling ashamed of herself. ‘Yes, of course.’ There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her gran. ‘Ryan …?’
‘Mmm?’
‘You can call me sweetheart if you want to.’
He laughed. ‘That’s more like it. Now you just need to find a dress. Red would look good on you.’
‘But I don’t own a red dress.’
‘Then go buy one! You have all tomorrow morning. And some sexy shoes as well. Have to go now, Laura, someone’s trying to ring me. I’ll see you at your place tomorrow at one o’clock sharp.’
Laura opened her mouth to protest, but he’d already hung up.
Dear God, what have I done?
But he was right, she supposed. Any girlfriend of Ryan’s would dress sexily.
Laura hadn’t dressed sexily since she’d split with Mario, which was quite a few years ago now. Frankly, she wouldn’t even know where to start to find a sexy red dress.
But Alison would. Alison was right into fashion.
Laura pulled a face. If she asked Alison for help that would mean telling her what she was doing this weekend—and with whom. This would also mean confessing what she’d said to her gran when she’d been in the coma.
Alison would be hurt that she hadn’t confided in her earlier. The two girls pretty well told each other everything, had done ever since their boarding-school days together. Confessing that she’d kept a secret from her would be hard but it had to be done.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t judge her too harshly. Biting her bottom lip, she punched in Alison’s number and walked slowly into her bedroom. There she sank down on the side of the bed and waited for her best friend to answer.
Please don’t let her have gone out tonight, she prayed as the phone rang and rang.
A split second before it would have gone to her message bank, Alison’s harried voice came down the line. ‘This had better be important, Laura. You know how dreadful the children can be at this time of night.’
In truth, Laura could hear the sounds of arguing in the background. Alison had a boy of eight and a girl of six who didn’t always get along, especially when they were tired. Clearly it wasn’t the time for true confessions right at this moment.
‘Sorry,’ Laura said. ‘But I am desperate. Could you get Peter to mind the children tomorrow morning whilst you come shopping with me?’
‘Shopping for what?’
‘A dress. A sexy red dress.’
‘Bloody hell, Laura, I almost dropped the phone just then. Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you wanted to buy a sexy red dress?’
‘Yes,’ Laura admitted, knowing that she’d just opened the floodgates to Alison’s curiosity, which was second to none. ‘Could I possibly explain tomorrow?’
‘You can explain later tonight, madam, when I have time to call you back and listen to what I’m sure will be a fascinating story.’
‘All right,’ Laura said with a resigned sigh. ‘Just be gentle with me. I’m feeling a bit fragile.’
‘Rubbish! You don’t do fragile. You kids, if you don’t stop fighting I’m going to get off this phone and strangle you. Laura, I have to go kill the kids. I’ll ring you back later.’
‘Fine,’ Laura said wearily and hung up.

CHAPTER SEVEN
‘MY MIND’S still boggled by all this,’ Alison said as she put down her coffee cup.
They were sitting in a café in Centre Point Tower, having spent a good two hours since the shops opened finding the right sexy red dress, not to mention a pair of equally sexy shoes.
‘I mean, why Ryan Armstrong of all people?’ she went on disbelievingly.
‘You know why, Alison,’ Laura replied patiently. ‘He’s exactly the type of man Gran would think was a good catch.’
‘But you can’t stand him.’
‘I don’t dislike him as much as I thought I did,’ Laura admitted. How could she when he was doing this for her?
‘Ah-ha!’ Alison pounced. ‘I get it. You’ve been secretly attracted to him all along. And he to you.’
‘Please don’t start that romantic rubbish, Alison.’
‘But why else would he agree to this … This …?’
‘Charade,’ Laura finished for her. ‘I told you—he’s doing it because he has a soft spot for grandmothers.’
Alison rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, phooey! He’s probably just doing it to get into your pants. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I can see it’s not romance he wants but sex. I keep forgetting not all men are sincere like my Peter. We both know what kind of guy Ryan Armstrong is, Laura. He’s a player, with an obsession about winning. If what you’ve told me is true, you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder ever since you got him as a client. Am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Men like that don’t expect women to give them the cold shoulder. They’re used to being flattered and flirted with. You’ve become a challenge, Laura. You yourself said you were surprised at his asking you out for a drink.’
And to go sailing with him, Laura suddenly recalled.
‘That was move number one,’ Alison said wryly.
‘But he has a girlfriend!’ Laura protested.
‘Who’s away in Melbourne for the weekend. My my, how convenient.’
‘It isn’t like you to be so cynical, Alison. That’s usually my bag.’
‘Yes, well, I can see that you’re in danger of being taken in by this creep. I mean, the guy asks you to buy a sexy red dress and you actually go and buy one. The Laura I know would never have done that.’
Laura sighed. ‘I’m not being taken in by him. I just don’t want to look like an old maid this weekend.’
‘Well, you sure as hell won’t look like an old maid in that red dress. And those beck-and-call-girl shoes you bought.’
‘You told me to buy them.’
‘That was before I worked out what the guy was really up to.’
‘I hate to mention this, Alison, but it takes two to tango. And I have no intention of sleeping with Ryan Armstrong, even if he wanted me to.’
Which he didn’t. But Laura could see where Alison was coming from. Her friend’s view of Ryan’s character had been tainted by what Laura had said about him in the past. If she met him, Alison would see that he wasn’t some kind of sleaze bag who couldn’t go a weekend without sex. As much as it pained Laura to admit it, he’d shown her another side yesterday, one which had both surprised and impressed her.
‘He’s just being kind,’ Laura stated firmly. ‘Now, I have to get going. Ryan’s picking me up at one. Thanks a bunch for coming with me, Alison. I would never have found that dress without you.’
‘Don’t thank me yet,’ Alison said dryly. ‘That is not any old dress. Even if he doesn’t fancy you yet, he will when he sees you in it.’
Laura worried about Alison’s last words all the way home on the ferry. It was a sexy dress. But not over-the-top sexy, she decided once she had the opportunity to have a second look at it in the privacy of her bedroom.
Of course the scarlet colour was a bit in your face. As was the wide, black patent-leather belt which was decorated with rows of silver studs. Still, the fashion world seemed to have become addicted to glamour and glitz during the last few years so it was hard to buy a cocktail dress which wasn’t shiny or didn’t have some bling on it. The same applied to shoes. The black patent high-heels Alison had talked her into buying had the same silver studs decorating the straps which ran up the front of her foot to the wide ankle strap.
Laura winced when she looked at the shoes again. Perhaps it would be wise to wear another pair of shoes, one which was less provocative, and decidedly less dominatrix-inspired. But when she rummaged through her wardrobe in search of something else Laura soon saw that there was absolutely nothing there that wouldn’t look positively dreary. After her break-up with Mario, she’d thrown away all the sexy clothes and shoes that she’d happily worn for him, replacing them with a wardrobe which wouldn’t have stirred a single hormone in any man.
Whilst Laura didn’t actually want to stir Ryan Armstrong’s hormones this weekend, she did want her family to think she was capable of doing so. If a by-product of this was that Ryan might look at her temporarily with different eyes, then so be it. She couldn’t imagine that he would actually make a pass. Why would he when he already had a girlfriend who was no doubt providing him with plenty of sex? Whilst Ryan had a reputation for trading in his girlfriends with monotonous regularity, he did not have a reputation for two-timing. As perverse as it might seem, he was well thought of around Sydney as a man of integrity.
Up until yesterday, Laura had taken that opinion of her esteemed client with a grain of salt. But, now that she’d had more to do with him, she was beginning to feel that he could be trusted, which was a very odd thing for her to think about any man, let alone a swinging-bachelor type like Ryan.

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