Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby. Emma Darcy

the centre of the manicured lawn was a magnolia tree, laden with its purple and pink flowers, the grass around it strewn with fallen petals. The photographer had just posed the bride and groom in front of it when Fletcher Stanton started tarnishing his golden image.

      ‘That looks so romantic!’ Tammy enthused with a happy sigh.

      ‘Yes. I’d have to give Celine top marks for picking great staging,’ he agreed amiably. ‘But I can’t help questioning if the romance of a wedding has clouded her brain.’

      They were alone together, waiting in the shade of a giant pine tree for the next group photo-call. The others had trooped off to the house to refresh themselves while they were free to do so. Tammy had not been inclined to leave Fletcher’s side, eager to share every moment she could with him, and he had remained with her, apparently just as pleased to have her company.

      However, the cynical twist of his last comment was not to her liking. She turned to him with a frown. ‘What do you mean?’

      He shrugged. ‘Celine is only twenty-three, not even set in a career. It’s stupid to get married this young.’ His eyes challenged hers, cutting through the shock of his statement. ‘Would you do it?’

      ‘If I loved a man to distraction, as Celine does Andrew, and he loved me just as deeply, yes, I would,’ she answered vehemently.

      One black eyebrow arched. ‘You’d tie yourself to a relationship before you’ve even begun to explore all you’re capable of? Before you find out what else you might want in your life?’

      It came over loud and clear that he was not about to tie himself to a relationship that might cramp his life style.

      ‘I don’t see why marriage has to stop anything,’ she argued. ‘It should complement things. Make them even better with sharing.’

      ‘How often does marriage live up to that ideal?’ he mocked.

      Never when it’s entered into for the wrong reasons, Tammy thought.

      ‘The statistics tell another story,’ Fletcher ran on, arrogantly confident of his argument. ‘Especially where young marriages are concerned.’

      Young…old… Tammy had seen absolute devotion to each other in all sorts of couples during her time in different hospital wards, training to be a nurse. Marriage could and did work if there was real caring between the persons involved.

      ‘I happen to think that letting statistics rule your life is even more stupid,’ she retorted hotly, delivering a scathing look before refixing her gaze on Celine and Andrew, who were looking adoringly at each other for the camera. Though it wasn’t just for the camera, Tammy assured herself. Their feelings were real, not manufactured for this moment.

      ‘There are always exceptions to any rule,’ she added to drive the point home, wanting the best for her friend. The very best. And it was offensive for Fletcher to be airing these opinions at his own sister’s wedding. He should try having a bit more faith in Celine’s judgement. Soul-mates were difficult to find and age had nothing to do with it.

      Regrettably, Fletcher Stanton was taking himself out of the running to be her soul-mate. Vexation and disappointment tore at Tammy’s heart. He’d looked so good, felt so good, sounded good until a minute ago.

      ‘That’s true,’ he conceded, re-animating her interest in him.

      There was nothing too arrogant about a man who would stand corrected. She could deal with a reasonable human being. The rigidity in her spine softened. Her ears tingled with anticipation for what more he might say, preferably something she could hug warmly to her heart.

      ‘I do hope this marriage doesn’t turn into a mistake. I want Celine to be happy in it.’

      The sincerity in his voice was lovely to hear, and Tammy was deeply in tune with these sentiments. ‘I’ve never seen her so happy,’ she said, smiling dreamily at the newly joined couple.

      ‘What about you, Tamalyn? Are you happy with your life?’

      She turned the smile to him. ‘Yes, I am.’ As long as she didn’t count not being in love with anyone. Though a wild hope whispered that could change by the end of the evening. ‘I’m now a fully qualified nurse, and this year I’m training to be a midwife which is what I want to be.’

      ‘A midwife…’ He eyed her curiously. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because there’s nothing more exciting than helping to deliver a new life. I love working in the maternity ward.’

      He looked bemused. ‘You don’t mind squawling babies?’

      ‘They only cry when something’s not right for them. I like making things right. It’s very rewarding.’

      ‘I guess that’s relatively easy to do when their needs are so basic,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Needs get much more complex as people get older.’

      ‘How complex are yours?’

      The quick shot surprised him. He broke into a peal of laughter, his eyes dancing wickedly as he eventually answered, ‘Oh, mine are very basic right now. Not the least bit complex.’

      Her toes curled.

      Lust was looking at her straight in the face. Lust was rushing through her own body. He was so devilishly handsome, so very desirable, it was madly exhilarating to have him desiring her, too. But a hardy strain of common sense reminded her he would probably be flying back to the other side of the world after the wedding and he could be viewing her as a handy one-night stand, whereas she would want a night of intimacy between them to be the beginning of a relationship that had more going for it than just sex.

      She wondered if she could be a midwife in other countries.

      Or whether he might settle back here. After all, today’s technology made everything and everyone readily accessible. The magazine article had mentioned that one of his team of wizards lived in Canberra. Surely Fletcher could base himself in Sydney if he wanted to.

      ‘What are you working on now?’ she asked.

      He shrugged. ‘Basically hackwork. Making adjustments to the system to satisfy our clients’ requirements.’

      ‘You sound bored by it.’

      ‘Like changing babies’ nappies,’ he tossed at her with a teasing grin. ‘I enjoy being in on the creative process, just as you do. The birth of new ideas, new ways of attacking problems, is very exciting. But the run-of-the-mill stuff—a repetitive task that has to be done—it doesn’t raise a tingle in the mind, does it?’

      Clever…linking it to her life. Was he patronising her? Would a genius really be interested in a nurse, apart from on a physical level?

      ‘Do you have any females on your technology team?’

      He shook his head. ‘All men.’

      ‘No meeting of minds with a woman,’ she muttered, then flushed at having spoken such a revealing thought out loud.

      ‘On the contrary, I’m finding considerable pleasure in meeting yours. And connecting with it.’

      Her flush deepened as heat raced around her bloodstream. Did he mean it or was he playing with her?

      ‘Tammy!’

      Celine’s call distracted her from pursuing the question. She turned to her friend who was beckoning action.

      ‘Bring Fletcher over here and let the photographer pose you two in front of the magnolia. It should be a marvellous shot with your mauve dress. We can get it done before the others come back.’

      ‘Must oblige the bride,’ Fletcher murmured, instantly hooking her arm around his and leading her over to be posed with him.

      Tammy couldn’t help revelling in being close to him again, measuring her own slight but very feminine figure against his powerful male physique as the photographer