Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby. Emma Darcy

the sky, shedding a golden light over the great arch of the bridge, the opera house and the long stretch of the harbour with its myriad coves and bays—a spectacular backdrop. A heritage house, situated in the park, had been turned into a function centre where the reception would take place.

      It wasn’t a long drive from Bellevue Hill. Tammy was too choked up with tense anticipation to chat with her friends. She mentally ticked off the landmarks they passed—the Vaucluse Yacht Club, Fisherman’s Wharf, Camp Cove, Lady Bay Beach which was famous for being one of the earliest nudists’ beaches in Sydney—each one bringing her closer to Fletcher Stanton and her chance to make contact with him.

      Her heart quickened to a wild flutter as the cars pulled up on a long driveway which ran in front of the two-storeyed brick house and above the landscaped terrace where guests were milling amongst the rows of chairs set out for the ceremony. There were too many people for her to spot Fletcher straight away, and she didn’t have time to give more than a cursory glance at the crowd. Her friends were piling out of the car and she had to follow, carry through her bridesmaid role for Kirsty who looked wonderful in her own Grecian style gown.

      A flight of stone steps led down to the terrace. The harpist Kirsty had hired for the ceremony was positioned at the head of them and the guests settled as he started playing his magnificent gold concert harp, instantly creating a romantic atmosphere for the wedding. The five bridesmaids lined up beside him, ready for the walk down the steps.

      Celine was behind Tammy, and she leaned forward and muttered, ‘Fletcher did come. I can hardly believe it. But there he is, standing beside Andrew at the back of the seated guests and he’s staring straight at you.’

      Tammy’s head instantly swivelled to where Celine had directed, her pulse racing in excitement at this possible evidence that Fletcher might still be interested in her.

      Her swinging gaze caught his and for several electric moments, Tammy was transfixed by a bolting sense of joy. He didn’t look away. The distance between them was too great for her to see the expression in his eyes but she felt their laser-like strength of purpose, probing for a response from her. Yes, yes, yes, flew wildly round her mind. She should have smiled, she thought afterwards, given a positive physical signal, but before her mind could come down from its high to reason sensibly, Celine poked her in the back and hissed, ‘Move!’

      Her attention jerked back to performing her bridesmaid role. Hannah was already on the third step down, Lucy on the top one. She had to move forward, keep two steps between each bridesmaid. And watch her footing. The stone slabs dipped a bit in the middle, worn down by innumerable people treading on them during the long naval history of this place. There would be time for Fletcher later.

      The wedding procession rounded the stone fountain in the middle of the lower terrace, then turned to walk down the makeshift aisle to the right of it, heading for where the groom and his men were lined up beside the celebrant. Tammy could barely stop her feet from dancing. Walking at a measured pace was an act of stern discipline. But it was easy to smile. In fact, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face for the entire ceremony.

      She was still smiling when Fletcher made his way to her as other guests crowded around the bride and groom to congratulate them. Her heart was pounding with nervous excitement as she watched him deliberately target her and home in.

      ‘Tamalyn…’

      Her name sounded like a drum-roll coming from deep within his throat. His dark eyes seemed to burn into her soul. A wave of heat rushed through her. She clutched her bouquet tightly as though it was the only support system she had to hold herself together. It was important to stay alert, to assess where Fletcher was coming from and what he wanted of her.

      ‘Hi!’ she said in warm welcome. ‘I didn’t think weddings were your thing, Fletcher. What are you doing here?’

      ‘Fate took a hand in this one with Kirsty marrying Max’s brother,’ he answered smoothly, smiling over the coincidence, not mentioning how he’d used it. ‘And may I say it was worth coming, just to see you again.’

      ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she said lightly, wary of actually believing that seeing her was his only purpose behind this visit. He might have business with Max Hathaway after the wedding.

      ‘I mean it,’ he insisted in his deep sexy voice. ‘Each time we meet your beauty hits me like a thunderbolt.’

      The words gave her a queazy, defensive feeling. Beauty had no holding power. Her mother’s life proved that. And how Fletcher had seen her at both weddings was very temporary, manufactured for the occasion. She didn’t want it to be her main attraction for him, instinctively bridling against it.

      ‘Ah! But the strike is like a flash in the pan, Fletcher,’ she said with an ironic twist. ‘You recover and move on.’

      ‘I carry the memory with me. And the scars.’

      ‘Scars?’ She arched quizzical eyebrows, wanting to know if she really had deeply affected him.

      ‘Battle wounds.’ He made a wry grimace. ‘I came off losing with you last time.’

      Tammy eyed him warily. Was this approach to her an ego thing? ‘Does that mean that you’re out to win today?’ she asked.

      ‘Do I have a chance?’

      ‘That probably depends on how much you offend me.’

      ‘I’ve learnt my lesson,’ he said with mock gravity. ‘No comments on your friends’ marriages.’

      ‘You can say good things,’ she suggested, wishing for a change of attitude on his part.

      ‘I’d rather concentrate on you.’ His eyes burned into hers with an intensity of purpose that would not accept any evasion. ‘Are you connected to anyone, Tamalyn?’

      A man, he meant. Tammy instantly seized the opportunity to clear that deck both ways.

      ‘No. Are you?’

      He smiled, the intensity relaxing into a simmer of satisfaction. ‘I came alone. I hoped to have the pleasure of your company this evening.’

      The pleasure of her company…

      A flood of warmth invaded her heart, soothing the troubled need to be a person he valued for more than her physical attraction. It emboldened her enough to tease him. ‘Pleasure, Fletcher? You must be a masochist, since you carry wounds from our previous encounter.’

      He laughed, delight in her response lighting up his face. ‘I find the battle with you envigorating.’

      ‘Then I’ll try to be at my challenging best whenever you seek me out.’

      ‘As soon as you’re finished with your bridesmaid’s duties, I’ll be at your side.’

      ‘Eager for the lash of my smart tongue?’

      The provocative comment ignited a blaze of desire in his eyes. ‘It’s an addictive taste,’ he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

      He meant to kiss her tonight. No doubt about that. And she wanted him to, wanted him to so badly that her body signalled a wild urge to let it happen. Her breasts tingled, her nipples tightening into hard buds, her heart thumped into a gallop, her stomach contracted and every nerve in her body buzzed. She was too choked up to speak.

      Jennifer’s call broke the tension-filled moment. ‘Tammy, photographs.’

      ‘Got to go.’

      The words came out in a guttural jerk. She swallowed hard, needing to work some moisture down her throat.

      His gaze flicked up. ‘I’ll patiently watch you perform for the camera,’ he drawled, a sensual promise in the slow movement of his mouth.

      ‘Don’t miss the background view,’ she tossed at him. ‘It might remind you there’s more spectacular beauty right here on Sydney Harbour than anywhere else in the world.’

      And