The Blind-Date Bride. Emma Darcy

      Twenty-nine today. Her little sister…who had her life more in order than Catherine had managed in her thirty-one years. Still, Livvy’s career in the public service carried minimal stress and steady promotion, given a reasonable level of performance. The advertising world was far more cut-throat and Catherine spent most of her working days living on the edge.

      Different lives, different needs, different natures, different…even in looks.

      Livvy’s hair had been very blond in her childhood and she’d kept it blond with the help of a good hair-dresser. She kept it short, too, its thick waves cleverly cut and styled to ripple attractively to just below her ears. Having inherited their father’s Nordic blue eyes and skin that tanned to a lovely golden honey, she always looked sunny and vibrantly alive.

      Dark and intense were the words more often attached to Catherine. Her hair was a very deep rich brown, as wavy as Livvy’s but worn long. There never seemed to be time in her life for regular hair-dresser appointments. Currently it fell to below her shoulder-blades. Luckily she only had to wash it for it to look reasonably good.

      Her eyes were more amber than brown, like their mother’s, but her eyebrows and lashes were almost black, giving them a dark look. The only feature she’d inherited from their father was height. She was a head taller than Livvy who had his colouring but their mother’s more petite figure.

      Different to each other but family nonetheless.

      Close family.

      And Catherine liked to see Livvy happy.

      ‘Okay, I’ll go with you. But I’m taking my own car so if Pete’s friend is a total disaster I can come home by myself whenever I like.’

      Sheer delight lit up Livvy’s pretty face.

      Yes, it was worth the effort, Catherine thought, and resigned herself to sharing an evening with a man who would probably bore her to death.

      A blind date…

      She looked down at the little black and white fox terrier, sleeping blissfully at Livvy’s feet. He’d been called Luther after Martin Luther King who’d done all he could to integrate the black and white races in America.

      Bringing people together.

      Catherine smiled at the dog who’d certainly brought her sister and Pete together. Maybe she needed a dog in her life. It was surely a better means of meeting men than Livvy’s current plot. Bound to provide more lasting and devoted company, too. A steadfast, uncomplicated love.

      Yes.

      She’d give up Stuart and buy herself a dog.

      A much better solution to her problems than a blind date.

      CHAPTER TWO

      PETE insisted they set off at a quarter to eight, even though it was barely a ten-minute drive around the coast to the beach town of Terrigal where they were dining in style tonight. Livvy and Catherine were to meet them at the restaurant at eight, which probably meant anything up to an hour later. Zack had little faith in female punctuality, particularly with social evenings. Still, the less time he had to spend with his blind date, the better.

      Terrigal was a prettier beach than Forresters with its row of Norfolk Pines lining the foreshore, but it was tame in comparison with none of the wild, dangerous surf that stirred the sense of primitive elements at play. This was a highly civilised beach; calm water, smooth sand, edged by lawns, a large resort hotel and many fashionable boutiques and restaurants. A yuppie place, not a getaway, Zack thought, glad that Pete had chosen to buy a house on an untamed shoreline.

      The restaurant they were heading for was called The Galley, built above the sailing club on the other side of town and facing towards the Haven, a sheltered little bay where yachts rode at anchor. The main street traffic was heavy and slow. By the time they got through it and reached the parking area adjacent to The Galley, it was precisely eight o’clock.

      Drinks at the bar coming up, Zack anticipated. He watched a zippy red convertible coming down the incline to the car park as Pete was collecting a celebratory bottle of Dom Perignon from the back seat of his beloved BMW. Had to be a Mazda MX-5, Zack decided, and was surprised to see two women occupying the open front seats. It was the kind of car guys would cruise in. Women were always worried about their hairstyles being blown awry.

      ‘Told you they’d be on time,’ Pete crowed, nodding to the car Zack was watching. ‘That’s Catherine driving.’

      A long-haired brunette. The blonde in the passenger seat had to be Livvy. ‘Is it her car?’ he asked, finding himself interested by the unexpected.

      ‘Yes. Livvy calls it Catherine’s rebellion.’

      ‘Against what?’

      Pete shrugged. ‘Being a woman, I guess.’

      Zack rolled his eyes at him. ‘You mean I’m about to be faced with a raging feminist.’

      The answering grin was unrepentant. ‘More a femme fatale. Just watch your knees. They might buckle any minute now.’

      Not a chance, Zack thought.

      She parked the convertible right at the end of the row of cars, the furthest point away from the entrance to the restaurant. Ensuring it wouldn’t get boxed in, Zack decided, in case she wanted an easy getaway.

      Which makes two of us, darling.

      He and Pete waited at the BMW for the two women to join them. The black roof of the red convertible lifted from its slot at the back of the car and was locked in at the front. The blonde emerged first, waving excitedly at Pete. She looked very cute, wearing a clingy blue dress with shoestring shoulder straps. A pocket Venus for Pete, Zack thought, smiling at his choice.

      Well, Catherine, strut your stuff, he silently challenged as a long rippling mane of very lustrous brown hair rose from the driver’s side, the kind of hair that would look good on a pillow, Feel good, too. A tingle of temptation touched his fingertips. He clenched his hands to wipe it away. This was not the time to let a woman get to him. So she had great hair. The workings of the brain under it probably had no appeal at all.

      She turned to close the door and lock the car. Zack’s attention was galvanised. Pete hadn’t lied. He hadn’t even exaggerated. Catherine Trent was a stunner. Helen of Troy came to mind. Here was a face that could definitely launch a thousand ships. It seemed to simmer with sexual promise, aided by the erotic positioning of a deep pink flower over her right ear.

      The tingle in his fingertips moved to his groin and there was nothing physical he could do to remove it. He tried willing it away. Impossible mission. She moved to the back of the car to join up with her sister and the full view of her was enough to blow any willpower right out of Zack’s head. Even his side vision was affected. Livvy Trent blurred. Only Catherine remained in sharp focus.

      She had a mesmerising hour-glass figure, mouth-wateringly lush femininity encased in a slinky little black dress with a short flirty skirt that barely reached mid-thigh on long shapely legs that Zack thought would feel fantastic wrapped around him. She was tall—tall enough to wear flat black shoes, though they looked like ballet slippers with straps crossed around her ankles. Somehow they were erotic, too, more so than kinky stiletto heels.

      His gaze leapt back to her fascinating face as she came nearer. A slight dimple in her chin, a sultry full-lipped mouth, straight nose, angled cheekbones that highlighted the unusual shape of her eyes, more triangular than almond, amber irises, glinting golden between their black frame of thick lashes. Cat’s eyes, he thought, but they didn’t conjure up the image of some tame domestic cat, more an infinitely dangerous panther, capable of clawing him apart.

      And why he should find that idea exciting he didn’t know. Didn’t think about it. It just was. He felt something dark and primitive stir inside him, wanting to take up the challenge she was beaming at him, wanting her submission to the desires she aroused, wanting to possess every part of her until he’d consumed the power she was exerting over him.