One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (106 page)

That by stepping into Hunter's world, by becoming his wife, somehow she'd lost control. That no matter how willing a participant she was in this relationship, it was Hunter calling all the shots.

‘S
HOULD
we go to Emma's dressing room and wish her luck?' Clutching a glass of champagne, hemmed in by the masses having a pre-performance drink, Lily suddenly felt claustrophobic.

‘Why?' Hunter shot her a cool stare. Since he'd come from work he'd been at his bloodiest, snapping for her to hurry up and get ready then proceeding to spend half an hour on his phone to Abigail as Lily stood, dressed to the nines, waiting to leave for Emma's return to the stage.

‘How was work?' Hunter asked, a seemingly normal question, but with indescribable connotations. Her need to assert herself, to keep a link with her temporary past and inevitable future was a niggling bone of contention.

‘Difficult,' Lily bristled. ‘It's hard, showing you can relate to people when you arrive in a chauffer-driven car.'

‘Don't go, then.' Hunter shrugged, deliberately missing the point. She
wanted
to work,
wanted
to keep that part of herself that was so vital to her soul. No matter how big the donation Hunter had made for the centre she worked at, no matter how easy it would be for them to find another counsellor, hell, maybe even a
real
psychologist now—still it didn't sit right with Lily, and no matter how many times she attempted to explain, quite simply Hunter didn't get it. But she knew with certainty that he didn't need to be quite so poisonous.

He was undoubtedly nervous, Lily told herself. Emma's return to performing was such a momentous leap that it wasn't any wonder he was on edge—but Hunter on edge was like no other. In fact, Lily decided, marriage to Hunter was like struggling through a thesaurus without a dictionary.

Easy to describe—impossible to define.

In the weeks since their wedding, every emotion in her had been triggered—every second spent with Hunter a roller-coaster ride—intoxicating highs, followed by devastating lows. His easy wit, his engaging company, his voracious appetite for sex countered with black moods that no longer blew in from nowhere. Instead, they were tiny whirlwinds that danced endlessly on the horizon, merging unpredictably, and each time their impact was more devastating.

‘Anyway.' Hunter reverted back to the original topic. ‘The dressing room's no doubt a bit crowded. Your cousin Jim's down with her, no doubt fawning all over her.'

‘Good,' Lily shot back. ‘She deserves a bit of tenderness.'

He didn't reply, the ringing of his phone beating the undoubted barb on the tip of his tongue, and Lily felt her own teeth grinding together as Abigail somehow managed to invade yet again. Hunter turned his wide shoulders on the crowd to take the call as Lily took a sip from her glass, and promptly felt as if she might throw it up, the crowd, the heavy clash of perfumes, the rather toxic atmosphere all combining to make her feel thoroughly miserable.

‘What's wrong?' Hunter asked when finally the call ended and the bell went for everyone to take their seats.

‘I'm just a bit hot.'

‘That was just Abigail, confirming that Emma's flowers had been delivered—if that's what's worrying you.'

‘It isn't.' Lily shook her head and wished she hadn't. The room was spinning mercilessly, not that Hunter noticed. He was taking her arm to guide her in as the crowed surged forward, and for an appalling moment Lily thought she might pass out, right there in front of everyone, and, worse still, right there in front of Hunter. ‘I'm just going to the ladies' room.'

Which was easier said than done. Hunter's irritated curse rang in her ears as she went against the tide, black suits and bow-ties blurring like a hypnotic wheel as she stumbled towards the ladies' and sat, undignified in a thousand-dollar gown, on the loo seat lid with her head down between her knees, the stifling heat replaced now with an icy chill, a cold sweat drenching her.

‘Please, please, stop,' Lily demanded of the universe, knowing that Hunter was outside, knowing how huge this moment was for Emma, for him. Desperate not to spoil it, she licked her dry lips in relief as slowly everything came back into focus, her heart rate slowing down, the blood that had drained out of her face making a slow but steady return till finally, gingerly, she sat up.

It was the rich food,
Lily told herself, running her wrists under the tap and rinsing her mouth before reapplying her lipstick—the endless late nights and even more frequent early morning awakenings, courtesy of Hunter's almost permanent erection.

She even managed a small grin in the mirror before heading back out to face him and no doubt another sarcastic barb, but, surprisingly he didn't say anything, just took her arm and this time led them to their seats without incident, his body absolutely rigid beside her. Shooting a glance at him just before the lights dimmed, Lily saw his taut features, the grim set of his jaw and knew he was terrified for Emma, knew somehow that his vileness tonight was more about him than her.

‘She'll be OK,' Lily offered softly, putting a hand over his tense one and, whether he wanted it or not, holding it.

‘Will she?'

Even in the darkness she could see the anguish in his eyes as he turned to her for a moment and Lily could have wept for him. She knew somehow that the guilt he so vehemently denied was sitting right there between them.

‘She'll be great!'

Oh, and she was.

For the first part of the performance they sat on tenterhooks, waiting for her solo, the exquisite music far from soothing because Emma had to match it—better it even—and when finally it was her turn, as the lights dimmed for a moment, as Emma took her place on the stage, Lily felt Hunter's hand tighten around hers and could have sworn they both stopped breathing, knowing Emma was moving out of her wheelchair. Every muscle in Hunter was taut until finally the clearest, purest of notes filled the packed theatre, Emma, exquisite at centre stage. Her jet hair streamed down her slender shoulders, her black ballgown merging into the elegant chair, but it wasn't the absence of the wheelchair that rendered her disability to diminishable proportions. It was Emma herself—her talent, her elegance, her sheer presence that had the entire audience captivated till the last note died away, applause thundering as they leapt to their feet in an impromptu standing ovation, only Hunter a step behind everyone, Hunter with an expression Lily couldn't quite read on his face as he stared down to the stage and his sister. Lily would have given
anything
to know what he was thinking.

Anything
to know what really moved this man.

Anything
for him.

The rest of the show was agony—Hunter, bored now, just wanted it over to congratulate Emma, Lily shrinking into her chair, wishing the room would quiet for just a moment so she could counter the impossible thought that had occurred to her.

Love—true love—didn't exist. Lily knew that, knew that, knew that. In the worst possible way she'd found out the truth, had been betrayed not just by her fiancé but by her father. The fact that true love was impossible was the single reason she was here, safe in the knowledge that it couldn't last, playing the game for each other's gain.

And yet…

The lights blazing on snapped her out of her introspection. Hunter was the first in the theatre standing, and Lily stared up, blushing and suddenly shy.

‘Come on!' he growled, snapping his impatient fingers for her to follow him, and Lily was actually grateful for his arrogance, grateful for his pompous demeanour…glad that her moment of stupidity was over, because how, Lily questioned, following his wide shoulders as he rudely, without apology, bumped knees and trampled programmes in his haste to get out, could anyone love that?

‘You were great, Em!' Backstage and completely ignoring Jim, who was holding Emma's hand, Hunter gave his sister a congratulatory hug.

‘Just like old times, huh?' Emma asked questioningly, and Lily felt a shiver run up her spine as she saw Hunter's eyes flick to the wheelchair and back, saw the agony etched in his face as he attempted a terse nod.

‘Easily as good as before!'

‘Better,' Emma said softly, her hand still coiled around Jim's, her face glowing. ‘I'm playing better than before.'

‘How?' Hunter frowned. ‘I mean, all the trouble you've had with balance…'

‘I've worked that out now.' Emma was almost tripping over her words in her joy. ‘I can't explain it. It's as if all the pain, all I've been through is there, right there in my music, as if everything I can't say I can…'

‘Play…' Lily offered, smiling as Emma gave a grateful nod. ‘You were fantastic. I know nothing about music, but I do know you were amazing.'

‘Thanks, Lily.' They'd clicked at the wedding and Emma often called around at the apartment or met Lily for coffee, bolstering Lily's confidence when an unflattering photo of her appeared in a magazine, laughing out loud at some of the hurtful comments—the press delighting in calling her a nobody and questioning how someone so apparently
plain
could seemingly have captured Hunter's heart.

‘How about dinner, then?' Hunter suggested, but his voice faded into a frown as Emma shook her head.

‘Jim's already booked a table. For two,' she added, wincing as she did so.

‘Well, we'll tell them to make it for four,' Hunter clipped, but, seeing Emma's blush, Lily leapt to her rescue.

‘Actually, I'm exhausted, Hunter. I really could do with just going home and going to bed. You don't mind, do you?' Lily needlessly checked with Emma, giving a tiny unseen wink as Emma gave a relieved shake of her head.

‘Of course not.' Emma smiled as Hunter stalked out with barely a goodbye. ‘Thanks so much for coming and for the gorgeous flowers…Oh and, Lily…' As she made to go and catch up with her impossible husband, the whisper of anguish in Emma's voice had Lily turning around. ‘I don't want to tell you how to…' Her eyes pleaded for Lily's permission to go on, but a bewildered Lily just stared. ‘You know this is
so
hard for him.'

Only she didn't—didn't know because Hunter refused over and over to tell her what was going on inside. At every turn he thwarted her, at every attempt he pushed her away. Only how could she tell Emma that? How could she tell this gorgeous, vibrant woman that the brother she so dearly loved, that the marriage she so clearly endorsed were both a sham.

‘Surely it's harder for you?' Lily answered carefully, hoping for a flash of clarity, but instead the waters muddied further as Emma slowly, so slowly, shook her head.

‘Lily, just keep telling him that none of this is his fault—one day he'll hopefully believe it.'

‘What was that about?' Hunter asked, tapping an impatient foot as his driver flashed his lights from the traffic lights to tell him he was coming. ‘Emma wanted—'

‘To be alone with Jim,' Lily broke in. ‘Only you're too insensitive to see it.'

‘Hell!' As his driver pulled up at the kerb, it was as if the anger, the tension in him just dissipated, a smile creeping onto his face as an impossible thought occurred. ‘Do you realise,' he said out of the corner of his mouth, ‘that if they end up getting married, my ex-wife could be at the wedding.'

‘My ex-husband, too.' Lily gave a rather more wobbly smile, still bristling at his impossible behavior tonight, still reeling at the impossible thought that had earlier occurred to her and still utterly bemused by whatever it was Emma had been trying to tell her.

‘Your cousin and my sister…' Hunter mused. ‘Would that make us related?'

‘Heaven help us!' Lily dry response actually made him laugh, and then totally unashamedly, despite the crowd outside the concert hall, despite traffic piling up behind his silver car, Hunter pulled her into his arms and gave her the most thorough of kisses.

Or because of them? Lily wondered as a camera flashed. She pulled back, slightly breathless from the intensity of his kiss and suddenly felt more than a bit used.

‘Was that for the cameras?' Lily asked. But Hunter shook his head, that gorgeous, debauched mouth moving in on hers once again, those strong warm hands on her bare back, as her insides promptly melted.

‘That—' Hunter's voice was low and very definite ‘—was for me!'

‘A
RE
you doing anything today?'

He knotted his tie as he spoke, standing proud and beautiful amid a pile of damp towels and the chaos of a man who neither cared nor needed to pick up after himself.

‘I'm not sure.' Lily yawned and stretched, blinking at the day that lay ahead of her, realising it was the first time since she'd met Hunter that she had a whole day to do with whatever she wished. The haste of their marriage should had left an endless ream of loose ends to tie up, juggling work and playing the part of Hunter's wife two ridiculous parallels, listening and working on people's problems while seemingly having escaped from hers. And, admittedly, the glamorous world she had stepped into had been immense fun at first—lining her wardrobe with designer clothes, having her blonde hair styled and
maintained,
not just at the most exclusive of salons but by the owner himself. But she felt as if she were living on a movie set, only one where the cameras never stopped rolling, playing the part of Hunter's wife impinging more and more on her real world, Hunter's leading lady, seemingly an all-consuming role.

‘Actually, no.' Lily grinned at the prospect of a free day. ‘I might go and look for a car. The mechanic said it would be cheaper to replace my old one than repair it properly.' Lily saw his hands still for a second, the tie he was looping pausing midway, and Lily felt herself stiffen in defence. ‘I'm not expecting you to pay for it!' Even though she'd been desperately trying to help fund a huge mortgage for her mother, Lily hadn't exactly been derelict financially when she met him—and she certainly wasn't expecting Hunter to dangle a keyring to some sleek sports car, but still he shook his head.

‘What's wrong with Lachlan?' Hunter asked, referring to the driver Abigail had arranged for her.

‘Nothing.' Lily frowned.

‘Because if you're not happy with him, I can ask Abigail to—'

‘You don't need to ask Abigail to do anything on my behalf,' Lily interrupted, sitting up in bed, irritated that something so straightforward was being made so needlessly complicated. ‘Lachlan's perfectly fine. I just can't stand being driven everywhere when I'm more than capable of driving myself.'

‘But there's no need.' Hunter wasn't listening. Instead he was loading up his briefcase with various papers and filling up his suit pockets with his mobile phone and wallet, deliberately ignoring her protests. When Lily raised her voice a touch to get his attention Hunter just switched the subject. ‘Just forget about looking for a car—why don't we meet for lunch?'

‘Are you going to ask Abigail to pencil me in?' Lily asked nastily. Every minute of his exhausting day was planned and accounted for by the ever-efficient, seemingly ever-present Abigail. It was as if Abigail's emotional outburst at the wedding had never happened. Blasé and bold, she strode into the apartment in the mornings, treating Lily with nothing more than polite boredom, as if she was just another of her boss's details to arrange, as she went through Hunter's schedule with him, which was no mean feat—he could be in Sydney in the morning, Melbourne in the afternoon and checking in at the international departures lounge of the airport by evening for a three-day trip to Singapore. But no matter how indispensable Abigail was, no matter how professional she appeared with Hunter, Lily neither trusted nor liked her. ‘I don't want to meet for lunch. I want to go and look at a car.'

‘It's not open for discussion, Lily.' Only now did he look at her, his stance completely immovable. ‘Abigail's had practically every magazine in Australia's features editor trying to arrange an interview—the press still have their lenses trained on you, trying to get a hint of a pregnancy bump.'

‘A pregnancy bump?' Lily gave a shocked laugh. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘That's the reason for most hasty marriages.' Hunter gave a little shudder. ‘Heaven forbid. But, like it or not, it's hard enough to explain why you insist on working, but the sight of you in a secondhand car yard isn't exactly going to douse their interest.'

What Hunter was saying did make sense—the interest from
everyone
had unsettled and shocked her to say the least. Hunter Myles, as she'd found out from the evening news the night before her wedding, wasn't just gorgeous in her eyes—he was one of Australia's top most eligible bachelors, or had been. His hasty marriage had caused more than a stir of interest. But even if it made perfect sense she felt uneasy, felt another piece of her freedom being chipped away—yet another price to pay that Lily hadn't considered when she'd agreed to this marriage.

‘I'll leave it for today, then,' she reluctantly agreed.

‘Good girl.' Clearly happy he'd got his way, he sat on the bed, took her hands and toyed with them until they relaxed a touch then kissed away the frown that was forming on her face.

‘But only until things have calmed down,' Lily said, making it clear that she wasn't giving in on the subject. ‘And then I am going to get a car.'

‘Tell you what, when things are a bit more settled, I'll
buy
you a car. A belated wedding present,' he added, proceeding to kiss her rather more thoroughly now. But Lily felt as if she was being placated and she wriggled away ‘Abigail will be here soon.'

‘I promise I'll be quick.' He grinned that devilish grin, only this time she didn't smile back.

‘What's wrong, Lily?' He must have sensed her disquiet, because he wasn't trying to kiss her now, his voice so tender, so concerned that for a second she forgot the rules.

‘I hardly see you…' She could have bitten her tongue off as the words spilled out, but Hunter just smiled.

‘Hey, you're starting to sound like a
real
wife.'

‘I'm just not used to it,' Lily said carefully, ‘I'm used to being…' She flailed for the right word, struggled to retract the neediness that had crept into the conversation, to pull back from the line they had agreed not to cross. ‘I suppose I'm used to working more, going out with friends, hopping into
my
car for a drive…'

‘The summer holidays are over soon,' Hunter reminded her. ‘You'll be able to find out about finishing that degree and we've got a big charity ball at the weekend to go to. Why don't you go and buy yourself something nice?'

He was trying to help, but he just didn't understand, could never understand, because she simply couldn't tell him—it wasn't her day or her wardrobe that needed filling, it was her mind. Though over and over Lily told herself to relax and enjoy it, to make the best of their time together, to go with the flow and enjoy the experience with every buff the manicurist applied to her nails, with every glittering bauble Hunter showered her with she felt as if her own sparkle was fading, as if somehow he was draining her, would take his fill till there was nothing left then discard the carcass. But instead of telling him that she nodded, said yes because it was easier than saying no, accepted his offer because it was safer than arguing, safer than revealing what was really in her heart.

‘Right.' He squeezed her thigh through the sheet and glanced at his watch. ‘Abigail will be…' His voice trailed off as he stood up, and she watched as the colour drained from his face, as he screwed his eyes closed and sat back down. With mounting alarm she watched as he buried his face in his hands.

‘Hunter?' Appalled, Lily knelt, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, but by then it was over, Hunter shaking his head as if to clear it and even looking faintly embarrassed as he let out a long breath.

‘Sorry about that.'

‘Are you OK?' Her voice was urgent even though the moment had passed—the colour in his face normal now, there was even a rueful smile on his lips. But she knew what she'd seen, knew that just a moment ago he'd been about to pass out. ‘Hunter, you should lie down.'

‘I'm fine.'

‘No,' Lily argued, ‘you're not. I'll ring Abigail and tell her you're taking the day off.'

‘Lily.' He shrugged off concern, fixed her with a stare that told her to stay well back. ‘Now you're really starting to scare me—you're actually starting to
act
like a real wife.' He flashed her a very on-off smile.

‘I'm allowed to worry about you, Hunter,' Lily argued, refusing to back off, refusing to be silenced. ‘You keep getting these headaches, your schedule's ridiculous. Sooner or later it has to catch up.'

‘Worrying about me isn't in your job description,' Hunter broke in, slapping her back with harsh words.

‘Oh, that's right.' Pulling the sheet around her, Lily headed for the bathroom, his words ricocheting through her, tears appallingly close. She was desperate to get away from him, to break down in private. ‘I'm just the good-time girl—well, excuse me for forgetting.'

Sitting on the sofa, nursing a mug of coffee, still bristling from his words, Lily stared out at the view. The city was filling with morning traffic, tiny dots of people heading to work, to school. Part of her wished she were among them, wished she were down there, wrestling with the crowds, wished almost that she'd never met Hunter because that would mean she'd never have to miss him.

And she would miss him.

Biting on her lips to hold back tears, Lily tried to glimpse her future, tried to imagine a world without Hunter, but it was like driving with the windshield fogging up. Every thought of him that she attempted to wipe away came back thicker and faster, the road ahead almost impossible to envision without this impossible, difficult man in her life.

It was almost a relief when Abigail arrived.

Efficient as ever, Abigail stalked into the vast lounge and gave Lily the vaguest of nods as she turned her pussycat smile on Hunter, who was punching two headache tablets out of a blister pack.

‘Morning, Hunter, you're looking a bit peaky.'

‘Morning, Abigail, you're sounding a bit grating.'

At least his poisonous tongue wasn't solely reserved for her! Hugging her knees, Lily carried on staring out at the view, listening and not reacting as Abigail took him through his appalling schedule for the day—a TV interview in an hour, a board meeting at ten. She wondered how on earth anyone could cram it all on—how anyone could consider it normal.

‘Are you sure you're OK?' Abigail checked again as Hunter picked up his briefcase. ‘If you want I can arrange a doctor's appointment for you, we've got a bit of room for manoeuvre around 2 p.m.'

‘Just a suggestion,' Abigail said as Hunter swore under his breath. Clearly she was made of sterner stuff because, unlike Lily, she didn't fly off to the bathroom in tears, just laughed as they headed out of the door. ‘If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a hangover.'

He didn't even bother to kiss her as he left and Lily couldn't even look up and say goodbye either. How long she sat there she wasn't sure—certainly long enough for Hunter to make it to the TV studios because, staring in recognition, she turned to the screen as his rich deep voice reached her ears, those dark eyes flirting with a million stay-at-home wives as he somehow put the sex into the ASX. Even the interviewer was blushing beneath her heavy foundation as she congratulated him on his recent nuptials!

‘It
was
a very sudden wedding,' she said. ‘Was there any reason for the haste?'

‘I'm used to making snap decisions.' Hunter expertly deflected her. ‘And as my track record shows, more often than not I'm right.'

‘And yet, despite your success, your new wife is
still
working…' she fished, but Hunter gave a seemingly bemused frown, managed, even if it was just for the audience, a dash of political correctness.

‘Are you saying you have a problem with married women working?'

‘Of course not,' the interviewer flustered, no doubt envisioning the rating figures dropping behind her frantic eyes. ‘It's been suggested over the weekend that there might be some more good news forthcoming…' Her glossy smile was strained, waiting for Hunter to speak, to confirm or deny the pregnancy rumors, but he didn't even respond, forcing the interviewer to push harder. ‘In the papers on Sunday you would have read—'

‘I've only been married four weeks.' Hunter flashed a smile to the camera and surely melted every woman watching. ‘As you've needlessly pointed out, my wife has chosen to continue with her career. Now, I'm sure you're viewers will understand if we have better things to do on our precious weekends than read the papers!'

‘Of course,' she croaked, blushing furiously and shuffling the notes on her lap. ‘I see that your own company's shares have increased by eight per cent since your marriage. Do you think investor confidence may be up—?'

‘Eight point two,' Hunter interrupted. ‘My company's shares are up by eight point two per cent. So clearly investors have every reason to feel confident.' There was a smile on his face, but his eyes had a warning glint in them, as if daring the interviewer to go on, challenging her to cross the line and delve into his private life further.