The Lawson Boys: Marty (3 page)

Fresh air.
Fresh air was what she needed to dry her face and cool it down.
Straightening her shoulders, she swung the door open and walked out
into the foyer. Relieved to find that all was quiet, she left the
cinema and headed down the street.

The warmth
outside was welcome after the artificial chill of the cinema and
she relaxed as the morning sun touched her skin. Deliberately
blanking her mind, she gazed into the shop windows, steadfastly
ignoring the few couples walking slowly down the street, sipping
their drinks and sharing kisses, holding hands, being all
sickeningly lovey-dovey.

Ugh. No more
men. No more lovey-dovey.

Pausing in
front of a window, she studied her reflection in the mirror at the
side. It wasn’t as though she was ugly. No one would throw up at
the sight of her. A man, she decided with a decisive nod, would be
damned lucky to have her. It was their loss. It was Trevor’s
loss.

Keeping that
thought in mind, she strode with more determination down the
sidewalk. The time slipped past until finally she realised that she
had to hail a taxi to get back to the house in time for lunch. The
last thing she wanted was to give her hosts any idea that something
was wrong. Yesterday she’d been fortunate enough to sneak in
without anyone noticing and maintaining a calm demeanour to
boot.

The
conversation was all about Trevor and The Other Woman, but as soon
as she entered the dining room her hosts switched topic. Yep, they
were nice, attentive, and full of manners, but as soon as she left
the room she lingered long enough to hear the topic switch back to
Trevor. She’d liked to have lingered to eavesdrop more but the maid
coming down the corridor put a stop to that, not to mention the
tears welling up in her eyes.

It appeared
that she’d caused quite the scandal. Well, that’d teach the
cheating bastard to think he could screw around with her and walk
away.

Literally.

Hailing a cab,
she got in and sat down, watching the streets as they passed.
Gradually the houses got bigger, the grounds more impressive, and
then the taxi was sweeping through a gate and parking in front of
an impressive mansion. As she got out, she noted that another car
was parked in the small bay on the other side of the drive.

Visitors. Crap.
Time to put on a happy face. In fact, she better check that she was
presentable before she made her appearance in the dining room. She
didn’t want to give her hosts any hint that she’d been snivelling
into a bucket of popcorn in a cinema. Pathetic.

The maid came
from the dining room as Belle walked down the hallway.

“Am I late?”
Belle asked.

“Oh no. The
family is still coming from their various places,” the maid
replied. “They should all be in there in another few minutes.”

“Good. I’ll
just go and freshen up, I won’t be long.”

Once upstairs,
Belle washed her face, changed into a fresh frock, brushed her hair
and applied a fresh layer of lipstick. Satisfied that she looked
like nothing was amiss, she went back downstairs.

Really, the
place was beautiful. Marble floors, curving banister, large rooms.
Yet it retained a friendliness and the walls, while having valuable
works of art on them, also had many family photos.

Cat toys were
scattered around the furnishings. Little balls, toys, a basket here
and there, all for several kittens who spent their time playing,
eating and sleeping. Oh yes, and one old, beaten up tom cat who the
previous night had stared at everyone balefully before curling up
on one of the expensive sofas and going to sleep. Snoring loudly.
And drooling a little because apparently his appointment with the
vet to get his teeth fixed was on Tuesday.

Her hosts had
adopted the cat and kittens. Belle would have thought a pedigree
dog or cat would have been more appropriate for the setting, but
the battered tom and the two kittens were quite clearly mixed
breeds.

One kitten came
careering around the corner dragging an expensive looking tie
behind it, the second kitten bouncing off a wall as it followed.
They scampered through another doorway. A maid followed hot on
their furry heels, her expression harassed.

Yep, the tie
must be expensive.

Amused, Belle
crossed the hallway and walked into the dining room. Her hosts were
already sitting and their visitor had his back to the doorway.

“Ah, Belle.”
Mrs Lawson stood. “I’ve someone I want you to meet. My son, Martin.
Marty, this is Belle Broune.”

The man stood
and turned around with a smile on his face, and then he froze.

Belle looked at
him, wondering why he seemed familiar and why he seemed dumbfounded
to see her.

He was
handsome, no doubt about it, but then she’d expected it from some
of the photos she’d seen on the walls of him, from dribbling baby
to the adult he was today. Brilliant blue eyes, a curious shade
between light and dark, blonde hair cut to perfection with a thick
lock falling rakishly over his brow and the ends brushing his
collar, firm lips with a wicked tilt at the corners, a masculine
jaw, and a body that was clearly muscular beneath the shirt that
was lazily unbuttoned at the throat.

He was tall,
muscular, and devastatingly handsome. An almost wicked
handsomeness, in fact. And familiar…

Martin blinked.
A small grin curved his lips. Those wicked lips with a wicked
grin.

Her heart
skipped a beat.

Moving away
from the chair, he approached her and held out his hand. “My
friends call me Marty.” His grip was firm, warm, his long fingers
curling around her smaller hand and giving her a little tug
forward. Bending his head slightly, he murmured only loud enough
for her to hear, “And I do believe that you’re The Other
Woman.”

She froze. Oh
God, now she placed him.

He’d been in
the church.

At Trevor’s
wedding.

That she’d
gatecrashed.

She looked up
at him in barely concealed horror.

Suddenly
seeming to realise what he’d said, he straightened and smiled
politely, stepping back. “Pleased to meet you. Are you staying for
long?”

For about five
seconds and then she was running like a racer on fire. Commonsense
prevailed as she became aware of Mrs Lawson watching her and Marty
with slightly raised eyebrows.

She barely
managed a polite smile. “Not long.”

“For the week,”
Mrs Lawson said. “Do sit down, dear. Have something to eat.”

The thought of
food right now was enough to choke her, but determined to maintain
her serene façade, Belle walked around the table and took the chair
that Marty gallantly held out for her. Not once did she meet his
eyes but instead smiled vaguely in his direction.

Wondering if he
was going to tell everything, she mentally steeled herself. Somehow
she doubted it, the Lawsons were known for their good manners,
though the youngest son had just tarnished his record by blatantly
acknowledging that he’d seen her furious descent upon that cheating
bastard Trevor at his own wedding.

Trevor had
asked for it.

Feeling more
sure of herself, she raised her gaze to find herself immediately
ensnared in that brilliant blue gaze, the light of laughter making
the blueness seem to dance in his handsome face.

Was he laughing
at her? Was he finding her predicament
amusing
?

“You seem to
know each other,” Mrs Lawson commented.

“Oh no.” Belle
kept her gaze on Marty the whole time. “I’m sure I’d remember.”

“I’m sure I
do,” he replied. “Or I would.”

Mrs Lawson’s
eyebrows climbed higher.

Mr Lawson, God
bless him, handed Belle a platter of cold cut meats. “Here you go,
m’dear. There’s a nice little selection, do help yourself.
Salad?”

“Please.”
Breaking eye contact with the infuriating arse across the table,
Belle took the platter and was pleased to note that her hands were
steady. Her nerves might be rather shattered at facing one of the
guests of the wedding she’d gatecrashed, but she could pretend with
the best of them.

“Marty.” Mr
Lawson looked at his son. “Any plans for the day?”

“Just the
usual.” Marty buttered a bread roll.

“Nothing, in
other words.”

“Girding my
loins, actually.”

For the woman
he’d been sitting with the day before? Belle vaguely recalled
someone sitting beside him in a scandalous red dress with her boobs
practically falling out of the low-cut top.

“That meeting
with Bronson is tomorrow, remember?” Marty slid a piece of ham onto
the roll. “He’s a tough bugger.”

Mrs Lawson took
a sip of orange juice. “Cindy did the research before she left. You
did get it?”

“Yep. But let’s
not talk shop.” Marty’s gaze cut to Belle. “So, Belle, isn’t
it?”

“Yes.” She
waited to see if she’d been mistaken and he was going to spill the
beans after all.

In fact, how
did she know he hadn’t already told his parents about her? But no,
he couldn’t have done or they’d surely have mentioned it to her by
now. Or kicked her out. Cripes, Trevor was probably a friend of
theirs, seeing as how Marty had been at the wedding.

She hadn’t
thought about that. Great. Just great.

“You’re here
for a week.” Marty smiled engagingly. “Any plans?”

No, I’ve
already gatecrashed the wedding
. “A little sight-seeing, maybe.
I haven’t completely thought out my plans yet.”

“So what
brought you here?”

As if he didn’t
know. There he sat, the youngest son of her hosts, calmly eating a
bread roll while his eyes danced with laughter. His strong white
teeth bit through the crusty roll and firm, masculine lips closed
over it while he chewed.

Keep
calm
. Keeping her attention on the bread roll she took from the
basket, she cut it open and proceeded to slather it with butter.
“Shopping. I haven’t been to the city in awhile, so I thought while
I had some time off work I could visit the shops and have a look
around. You know, the tourist thing.”

“How
wonderful,” Mrs Lawson said. “Marty, maybe you could show her a few
of the sights.”

Yeah, right. As
if he would, after seeing of what she was capable.

“I’d love to,”
Marty said.

Head snapping
up, Belle stared at him. His face was pleasant, his eyes were
wicked, and his parents had no idea what they were doing.

“Oh no,” she
began, a little wildly. “I’m perfectly fine by myself, I probably
won’t even stay the whole week, you’ll be bored stiff because I’m
going clothes shopping and-”

“Not at all,”
Marty refuted smoothly. “I do have some business meetings to attend
and office work, so I’m not free the whole week, but I’ll be able
to show you some of the sights.” His lips quirked at one corner.
“After all, I couldn’t possibly let you loose in the city alone,
could I? Wouldn’t be the decent thing to do.”

“I’m hardly
going to be wandering the streets in desperation,” she retorted,
only to bite her lip as Mrs Lawson’s immaculate eyebrows resumed
their climb up her elegant forehead.

“Perish the
thought.” Marty’s eyes sparkled. “I’m free this afternoon,
actually. Care to join me for a drink?”

“Oh, I don’t
know about that. I’m not one to drink much.”

“I think it’s a
wonderful idea.” Mrs Lawson’s smiled approvingly. “You’ll be
perfectly safe with Marty. Won’t she, dear?” This question she
directed at her son.

Belle wasn’t
sure if she was missing something, because there seemed to be a
warning in Mrs Lawson’s tone and a slight narrowing of her eyes as
she looked at her son.

Marty smiled
widely back at his mother. “Absolutely, Mum. I will take good care
of Belle.”

Mr Lawson also
levelled a look at his son.

“I promise,”
Marty added.

There seemed to
be an undercurrent of some kind amongst the family. Mr Lawson’s
face was stern but there was a twitch of amusement on his lips. Mrs
Lawson was definitely giving her son a steely look. Marty held up
three fingers in a scout’s salute.

“You weren’t a
scout,” Mr Lawson said dryly.

“That’s what
worries me,” Mrs Lawson said.

“I promise that
Belle will be perfectly safe with me.” Marty winked at Belle.

Mrs Lawson
turned back to Belle. “My son will take good care of you.”

“Are you sure?”
The question was out before she could stop it. “I mean - I do beg
your pardon - I - uh…”

Mrs Lawson
laughed lightly. “It’s an old family joke, Belle, dear. Don’t
worry. You’ll be fine.”

Belle wasn’t so
sure about the ‘old family joke’ bit. She wasn’t silly, even she’d
heard about Marty Lawson, the handsome rogue of the family who
liked women and had slept in more female beds than she’d had hot
meals. Hints of his escapades hadn’t just been in letters to her
mother, but also in gossip columns.

Maybe that was
why he hadn’t dobbed her in to his family. Maybe he thought he
could have a good time with her. Well, he had another think coming.
She’d soon disabuse him of that notion. But not here.

“I’d love to
come for a drink.” She smiled at Marty. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you
up at six. We can have dinner at the same time.”

“Lovely. Thank
you.”

“My pleasure,
I’m sure.” There went that wicked grin again. “Absolutely my
pleasure.”

Unsure exactly
to what pleasure he was referring, Belle toyed with the bread roll
between her fingers and decided to turn the conversation around a
little. “I understand you work for the family business?”

He nodded.
“Guilty as charged.”

“He does a
wonderful job.” Mrs Lawson patted his arm fondly. “He’s very
clever.”

“And I get all
A pluses on my homework,” Marty added.