Convenient Brides (36 page)

‘If you can handle yourself topless you can probably handle anything with aplomb.’

‘What are you going to do about her?’ Ellie asked.

‘Nothing. What are you going to do about Dan Dawson?’

She frowned. ‘Are you implying there is any similar-ity between the two cases? I never led Dan on in any way!’

‘He does have a picture of you beside his bunk, Ellie.’

Words failed her briefly and when she could come up with anything, it sounded lame to her own ears. ‘It’s still not the same thing, I had no idea.’

‘You’re very judgemental for someone who wasn’t even there,’ he commented.

Ellie muttered something beneath her breath and stood up impatiently. ‘Since I’ve been mistaken for the cleaning lady, I may as well get on with it!”

He grinned fleetingly. ‘Chantal might have that effect on ninety per cent of the female population. I wouldn’t take it to heart. And I need to take myself to work.’ He paused, then touched her lightly on the chin with his knuckles. ‘Why don’t you give the cleaning a miss for a change? The place looks fine to me.’

How like a man, Ellie thought darkly as she methodically got through her chores, and could not, for the life of her, imagine Chantal washing floors. And later in the day, her woes were compounded when Dan Dawson came to call.

She found him hovering in the kitchen doorway looking embarrassed.

‘Oh—hi, Dan!’

‘Ellie, can I come in?’

‘Sure,’ she said and hoped the sense of helplessness she felt didn’t come across in her voice. ‘Sit down, if you like.’

But Dan told her that he preferred to stand and immediately embarked on a long and tangled explanation that nevertheless contained the kernel of what he’d told Brett the previous evening.

Nor was Ellie able to get a word in edgeways until he finished his monologue with the observation that at least it was out in the open now.

Ellie sank into a chair and wished herself at the South Pole. It didn’t happen, of course, and there was no dodging the hopeful look in Dan’s blue eyes.

She swallowed. ‘Dan, I can’t tell you how flattering this all is,’ she began. ‘But…I think I’m too old for you—’

‘No way, Ellie! Anyway, I prefer older women,’ he replied fervently.

‘But I had no idea!’

‘That’s because I’d rather be subtle about these things,’ he said proudly. ‘People look at me and don’t think I could have a subtle bone in my body—you know, oil-well rigger, tough and all that—but that’s not the real me.’

Ellie stared at him. He was no taller than Brett but a lot broader and all of it hard muscle. He had the neck and shoulders of a front-row forward, very large hands and feet, but he wasn’t bad-looking with thick fair hair and rather shy blue eyes. As a friend, he’d been fun, but what to do now?

‘Dan, I never thought you were unsubtle. In fact it’s been a real pleasure to know you but I just don’t think of you in the same way.’

‘Is it because of Brett?’

‘No! Good heavens, no!’ It was out before she could help herself and not only was it a lie but a tactical error because Dan relaxed visibly.

‘Maybe you just need a bit of time to get used to the idea?’ he suggested. ‘Why don’t you think about it?’

‘No, thank you, Dan,’ she said firmly. ‘And you def-initely must not give up your job because of me—’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he interposed with a grin. ‘I’ve had my fill of oil rigs, I’ve saved a small fortune and I’m ready to lead a normal life now. You and Simon wouldn’t want for anything,’ he confided. ‘So have a think, Ellie.’

His gaze rested on her with an awful mixture of pride and tenderness—awful, because she couldn’t reciprocate and she hated to hurt his feelings—and Simon came pelting through the back door.

‘Hey, dude!’ he said to Dan. ‘I didn’t know you were home! Would you like to have a go at the new video game my grandad sent me?’

‘Y
OU’RE
looking very pensive, Ellie. Anything wrong?’

It was the same day but late in the evening. Brett had stayed out for dinner and just come home to find Ellie curled up in the lounge staring into space.

She stirred. ‘My life has just spun completely out of control, if you really want to know.’

He grinned. ‘Tell me?’

She hesitated, then shrugged. ‘I’ve had an offer of marriage.’

‘Dan came over to state his case?’ he hazarded.

‘He did.’

‘And you were able to let him down nicely?’

Ellie gazed at him broodingly. He wore jeans and a black polo shirt and was looking lean and strong from his broad shoulders down to his thick-soled black shoes. Not only lean and strong but terrifyingly attractive.

She released a slow breath. ‘It was like knocking my head against a brick wall.’

Brett sat down on a chintzy settee opposite her and rested his chin on his hand with a grimace. ‘How did you go about it?’

‘I tried to tell him I was too old for him.’

‘A bit of a cop out,’ he suggested wryly. ‘What did he say to that?’

‘He
prefers
older women.’

‘Ellie’, Brett said, when he stopped lauging, ‘why didn’t you just tell him the truth?’

‘I did!’ She looked tragic. ‘But he insisted I think
about it. It was all so—I mean, I didn’t want to hurt his pride and—the sum total, I guess, is that this has to have been just about the most unromantic day of my life and there have been a few of those.’

Brett sobered. ‘You know,’ he said slowly, ‘the kind-est thing to do is simply to say no, thanks, Dan—rather than letting it drag on and keeping his hopes alive.’

‘I did that as well,’ she said. ‘It just bounced off him. Incidentally, is that how you handled Chantal Jones?’

His lips twitched. ‘Point taken, Ellie. But I did in fact tell her—quite pointedly—that I was not the man for her.’

‘What say Dan is as stubborn as Ms Jones?’

‘Just stick to your line. At least he has an oil rig he has to go back to shortly.’

Ellie sighed. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’

‘No, stay a while.’ He got up and disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a glass of wine for her and a brandy for himself.

And he waited until she’d sipped some of her wine before he said, ‘Is the lack of romance in your life getting to be a problem, Ellie?’

She nearly choked on a sip of wine and the look she flashed him was full of hurt before she could compose herself.

‘I meant—’ she stood up resolutely and said with dignity ‘—that on top of being mistaken for the cleaning lady by Chantal Jones, being told by a man who then went off to play video games with my son that Simon and I would want for nothing if I married him…was all a bit lowering.’

‘I see what you mean,’ Brett replied gravely and stood up himself. ‘Well, then, would this help?’ His gaze wan-dered up and down her white cotton blouse tucked into
colourful, flower-printed shorts. ‘While you were being such a cool, calm and efficient nurse there were times when I—barely—restrained myself from pulling you into bed with me and rendering you a lot less cool and calm.’

Ellie’s lips parted incredulously.

‘Don’t look so surprised. You were also very sweet and there is—’ he put his hands around her waist, nearly spanning it ‘—an awful lot of sweetness packed into this slender frame.’ His gaze dwelt on her breasts. ‘I cannot,’ he went on simply, ‘get it out of my mind.’

Ellie tried to speak but nothing came out.

‘Then there’s your perfume.’

‘I don’t wear perfume, it makes me sneeze,’ she did manage to say at last.

He smiled slightly. ‘That’s what’s so nice about it. Clean and fresh and—just you. And the way your hair curls.’

He paused and she felt his breath fan her forehead, then he went on. ‘So, you see, Ellie, on this day in fact, you have two men very much taken with you. I would call that
quite
romantic.’

‘Brett, if this is designed to massage my ego,’ she breathed, stunned, ‘you—’

‘Not at all,’ he denied as he slid his hands up beneath her breasts and watched intently for her reaction.

Ellie trembled and did battle with the mental images that came to her—of being pulled into his bed and made love to. But there was so much else to battle, how his hands below her breasts were causing her nipples to tin-gle, a sure sign they were about to misbehave them-selves. How his proximity and that intent query in his grey eyes were weakening factors, as if her body had a mind of its own and was hell-bent on melting with desire
beneath Brett Spencer who was tall and strong and everything she wanted.

She swallowed and told herself to resist this, but he was more than a match for her. He touched each bur-geoning nipple beneath her cotton shirt with his thumbs and a streak of pure, hot sensuality flowed through her, causing her to gasp again although this time with delight.

‘Ellie?’ he said then, very softly, and pulled her close so he could kiss her and at the same time demonstrate that he was by no means unaffected.

When they separated finally, her heart was beating like a runaway train, she was gloriously alive to the splendours of Brett Spencer and the way he made her feel in his arms. As if she couldn’t get enough of him, and the finesse he employed. His touch on her most sen-sitive spots and the little questions he sometimes asked with his eyes—Is this OK?—and the way her body an-swered for her—Yes, oh, yes! The way he kissed not only her mouth but the soft hollows at the base of her throat, and the way he showed her that he was quite capable of driving her crazy with desire…

It was Simon who saved her, although it took her a little while to admit that she needed or wanted to be saved. But no sooner had they parted to catch their breath than they heard his door open and her maternal instincts took over in a flash, so that by the time Simon found them in the lounge she was back sitting in her chair trying to look as normal as possible.

‘What’s doing, guys?’ Simon enquired as he rubbed his eyes like a sleepy owl. His hair was standing up at the crown and his pyjama jacket was buttoned up crookedly.

‘Nothing much,’ Brett said from his position at the
bay window where he’d been looking out over the dark-ened garden. ‘Can’t you sleep?’

Simon pulled a face. ‘I was dreaming of skate-boards—Mum, if I do the chores I do for pocket money for free for a while, would you be able to afford one then?’

Ellie opened her mouth but Brett spoke first. ‘I think it would be a better idea if you saved your pocket money so you could buy yourself one.’

‘That could take years!’ Simon objected. ‘I’d be old and grey by the time I could afford it.’

‘I doubt it.’ Brett looked amused. ‘And there is one way you could augment your earnings. You could clean my car once a week.’

Simon hesitated. ‘Would you also teach me to drive it?’

‘No!’
Ellie spoke at last.

‘Your mum’s right, you’re too young for that, mate.’

‘Thank you,’ Ellie said with a trace of bitterness.

Simon eyed her, then turned his attention back to Brett. ‘How much?’

Brett named a sum and Simon did some mental cal-culations that appeared to satisfy him to an extent. He said with a shrug, ‘It’s still going to take a while, but not as long as what Mum had in mind, I guess. Unless you’d like to loan me the money?’ he suggested to Brett. ‘I could pay you back interest.’

‘Simon!’ Ellie expostulated.

But Brett said, ‘No, old man. First principle of sound economic management—don’t get yourself into hock if you can avoid it.’

Simon considered, then shrugged. ‘OK. At least I might be able to sleep now.’ And he took himself back to bed.

Ellie waited until she heard his door close, then she said to Brett, ‘How dare you? I’m not sure I want him to have a skateboard in the first place!’

Brett came over to sit down opposite her again. ‘Ellie,’ he said quietly, ‘he’s a boy. You can’t coddle him.’

‘There’s a difference between coddling and wanting to protect him from all sorts of horrific injuries.’

‘He rides his bike around the place, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, but the streets are very quiet round here—’ She broke off and sighed suddenly. ‘I know what you’re saying and I don’t
want
to be become a fearful mother, but it’s not easy.’

He said nothing, but just stared at her thoughtfully until she began to feel all hot and bothered at the mem-ory of what had taken place before Simon had inter-vened.

‘Ellie?’

She stirred and smoothed her shorts. ‘I don’t know what got into me. Could we just forget about it, please?’

He said one word. ‘How?’

Her gaze flew to his, then skittered away as she detected a momentary glint of compassion in his eyes, which was the last thing she wanted from Brett Spencer, she now knew.

‘Has there been
anyone
serious in your life since Tom?’ he asked then.

She looked away, but there didn’t seem to be any point in dissembling. ‘No.’

‘No one who made you feel the way I—
we
did—not so long ago?’ he persisted.

A tinge of colour stole into her cheeks but she said straightly, ‘No. And that’s another reason not to place too much…’ She paused, searching for the right word.

‘Credence on it?’ he suggested, but rather dryly.

‘Brett—’ she held his gaze deliberately ‘—this is not that easy to admit but it occurred to me a few days ago that I was thirty and essentially dateless and desperate. Well, not
desperate
, but, yes, starting to realize that…life was passing me by.’

‘So you’re saying any reasonable man could have produced that effect in you, Ellie?’

She bit her lip and wondered why he wasn’t a lawyer instead of a doctor. Then she decided to be a bit lawyerly herself. ‘Perhaps any reasonable woman could have produced that effect in you, Brett? If you’re on the rebound from Africa, a bit unsettled and at a loose end?’

‘On the other hand, and I must stress that
you
brought this up,’ he drawled, ‘it could be said that I’ve knocked back Chantal Jones in favour of you, Ellie.’

Her lips parted and a little glint of indignation lit her eyes. ‘Let’s get this straight—you knocked back Ms Jones because she’s a topless dancer!’

‘On the contrary.’ His lips twisted. ‘That’s a powerful inducement for a man. She’s an awful lot of woman and very—willing.’

‘I…I don’t see the connection!’ she protested.

He stood up and looked down at her with definite irony in his eyes. ‘I was just trying to point out the distinction between us. You appear to feel you’re ripe for the taking and you appear to be accusing me of taking advantage of that. But there has to be more to it than that otherwise…well, that was why I mentioned Ms Jones.’

Ellie stood up and drew herself to her full height of five feet four. ‘That is the worst case of twisted logic I’ve ever encountered!’

‘Not really, if you think about it,’ he murmured. ‘Which I’ll leave you to do now, Ellie. Goodnight.’

‘Before you go, Brett, if anyone else tells me to “think” about something—I’ll scream!’

‘You really do need some romance in your life, Ellie,’ he observed, and walked out.

Of course there was no way to stop herself from thinking about it.

In fact the only thing that was fortuitous about the next few days was the lack of Brett around the house to constantly remind her of what had happened. He became heavily involved in his grant and the setting up of his laboratory.

She also had to work three days in a row after that extraordinary encounter and get Simon away on a five-day school camp as well. He’d never been away from her that long before and she waved him off with a little pang; she’d also stayed up late the night before baking all sorts of goodies for him to take along.

In his absence she took the opportunity to put in more hours at work than she usually did. Not only, she freely acknowledged, in the cause of bettering her finances but because she was as confused as ever on the subject of Brett, and the less she saw of him, the better. She had already been to Dan’s and dispensed with one of her worries. He’d been understandably hurt, but he’d ac-cepted her refusal with a mixture of resignation and grace. They’d both agreed to remain friends.

But she still went hot and cold at the memory of being in Brett’s arms and the circles of her mind on the subject of how they’d affected each other remained just that—circles. Curiously, however, it became a sore point with
her that when they did happen to meet he made no ref-erence to anything personal.

Or, she amended her thoughts, was the real problem that he didn’t have to? Just to know he was in the house made her jumpy and skittish, she acknowledged with gloom, because ‘skittish’ was not how she liked to think of herself. Just to have him come to her aid when a prototype kite she was testing got stuck in a tree was a severe trial for her, for example.

The ladder was too short for her to reach the first branch and she was standing on the lawn looking frus-trated when he came home. In five minutes he restored the kite to her, but watching him climb up and down the tree with fluid strength and ease awoke very similar sen-sations in her as he’d aroused a few nights previously. Causing her to be disjointed in her thanks, stilted, em-barrassed and feeling like a girl suddenly aware of her sensuality for the first time.

If he noticed, he made no comment.

But on the Friday evening, before Brett got home, Chantal arrived for an unannounced visit.

She came bearing a cold magnum of French cham-pagne and a gorgeous Barberton daisy in a pot for Ellie. Ellie explained that Brett wasn’t home but Chantal shrugged and suggested they sample the champagne themselves.

It was a beautiful evening, it was the end of a partic-ularly hard week, and Ellie found herself agreeing. So she got out some home-made cheese straws and they sat outside on the terrace.

‘I guess Brett’s told you all about me, the topless dancer et cetera, et cetera?’ Chantal said.

‘Well, yes, a bit.’

‘And you don’t take instant exception as in wanting to call me a whore and all the rest of it?’