he had been, and obviously still was, a chick magnet. And why he was such a knee-buckling, sigh-worthy
experienced
kisser …
‘So, Stella.’ Forcing him from her thoughts, she linked arms with her sister and guided her back to the little glass table. ‘Ryan can’t wait for tomorrow. He’s going to make a wonderful husband, and you’re going to have lots of babies and live happily ever after, the way you always dreamed.’
She picked up their Cosmopolitan cocktails and offered a toast. ‘To your last night as a single woman.’
As she sipped, Emma’s gaze drifted inside, through the floor-to ceiling glass doors, to the two four-poster double beds with their embroidered snowy white covers and mountains of soft lace pillows.
Ryan’s parents had footed the bill for the entire wedding and the wedding party’s accommodation here tomorrow night. Ryan was their only child, and for them this extravagance was a drop in the ocean.
‘You’re marrying money, Stell. We might have been rich too if Dad hadn’t made those bad investments just before he died.’
Stella nodded. ‘Yeah, Mum never got over losing her inheritance that way.’
‘She never got over
Dad
.’ Even now their mother was in her own beautifully appointed room down the hall, alone. ‘She let him destroy her,’ Emma went on. ‘Even beyond the grave she’s still letting him colour her life grey.’
Emma reminded herself that she wanted no part of that pain. Wayne had temporarily clouded her vision with his good looks and smooth-talking charm, but now she saw everything through the crystal-clear lens of experience. No man would ever have that power over her again.
Stella set her glass down and touched Emma’s hand. ‘You’ve kept us together all these years with a roof over our heads and I want to thank you—’
‘It was my responsibility as the elder sister to keep us safely off the streets.’ She shook her head. ‘You looked out for Mum—I had it easy compared to you. But I wanted a career too. All you ever wanted was to find the right man and get married.’
‘Yeah.’ Stella sighed. Then she smiled, her face aglow with a bride’s radiance. ‘But now I’m marrying Ryan I’ll be in a position to help out. I’ve already decided—’
‘Stella—’
‘He and I have discussed it.’
‘For Mum, then. Not for me.’
Stella met her eyes. ‘You don’t want to give away a bit of that independence and find someone to love and share your life with some day?’
‘Love? No.’ Because Stella’s question had unsettled her, she cupped her suddenly cold hands beneath her armpits. ‘I prefer lust. Less complicated.’
‘You’re hurting after what happened with Wayne,’ her sister said gently, ‘and that’s okay because—’
‘I told you last night. It was lust, not love.’
‘Bed buddies?’ Stella murmured, then shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you for one minute, Em. And I don’t care what you say. You
do
want love somewhere down the track when you’re over the love rat. I remember when we were kids and used to talk about the men we were going to marry. Your man had to own a house by the sea, he hadto love animals, ‘cos Mum refused to let us have pets and he had to own a cupcake shop.’
Emma smiled at her childish fantasies. ‘What about your ivory castle?’
‘We’re staying in one in France.’ Stella hugged her drink close to her chest. ‘Not ivory, but a real medieval castle with its own resident ghost.’
Emma heard the signal for an incoming text and dug her phone out of her pocket to read the screen.
‘How’s the view where U R? J’
She frowned as a butterfly did a single loop in her stomach. She texted back:
‘Glorious.’
Setting the phone on the table, she reached for her drink and considered switching the thing off. She needed a clear head for tomorrow, and interacting with Jake beforehand—in any way, shape or form—wouldn’t do her any favours.
A moment later another text
experienced
kisser …
‘So, Stella.’ Forcing him from her thoughts, she linked arms with her sister and guided her back to the little glass table. ‘Ryan can’t wait for tomorrow. He’s going to make a wonderful husband, and you’re going to have lots of babies and live happily ever after, the way you always dreamed.’
She picked up their Cosmopolitan cocktails and offered a toast. ‘To your last night as a single woman.’
As she sipped, Emma’s gaze drifted inside, through the floor-to ceiling glass doors, to the two four-poster double beds with their embroidered snowy white covers and mountains of soft lace pillows.
Ryan’s parents had footed the bill for the entire wedding and the wedding party’s accommodation here tomorrow night. Ryan was their only child, and for them this extravagance was a drop in the ocean.
‘You’re marrying money, Stell. We might have been rich too if Dad hadn’t made those bad investments just before he died.’
Stella nodded. ‘Yeah, Mum never got over losing her inheritance that way.’
‘She never got over
Dad
.’ Even now their mother was in her own beautifully appointed room down the hall, alone. ‘She let him destroy her,’ Emma went on. ‘Even beyond the grave she’s still letting him colour her life grey.’
Emma reminded herself that she wanted no part of that pain. Wayne had temporarily clouded her vision with his good looks and smooth-talking charm, but now she saw everything through the crystal-clear lens of experience. No man would ever have that power over her again.
Stella set her glass down and touched Emma’s hand. ‘You’ve kept us together all these years with a roof over our heads and I want to thank you—’
‘It was my responsibility as the elder sister to keep us safely off the streets.’ She shook her head. ‘You looked out for Mum—I had it easy compared to you. But I wanted a career too. All you ever wanted was to find the right man and get married.’
‘Yeah.’ Stella sighed. Then she smiled, her face aglow with a bride’s radiance. ‘But now I’m marrying Ryan I’ll be in a position to help out. I’ve already decided—’
‘Stella—’
‘He and I have discussed it.’
‘For Mum, then. Not for me.’
Stella met her eyes. ‘You don’t want to give away a bit of that independence and find someone to love and share your life with some day?’
‘Love? No.’ Because Stella’s question had unsettled her, she cupped her suddenly cold hands beneath her armpits. ‘I prefer lust. Less complicated.’
‘You’re hurting after what happened with Wayne,’ her sister said gently, ‘and that’s okay because—’
‘I told you last night. It was lust, not love.’
‘Bed buddies?’ Stella murmured, then shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you for one minute, Em. And I don’t care what you say. You
do
want love somewhere down the track when you’re over the love rat. I remember when we were kids and used to talk about the men we were going to marry. Your man had to own a house by the sea, he hadto love animals, ‘cos Mum refused to let us have pets and he had to own a cupcake shop.’
Emma smiled at her childish fantasies. ‘What about your ivory castle?’
‘We’re staying in one in France.’ Stella hugged her drink close to her chest. ‘Not ivory, but a real medieval castle with its own resident ghost.’
Emma heard the signal for an incoming text and dug her phone out of her pocket to read the screen.
‘How’s the view where U R? J’
She frowned as a butterfly did a single loop in her stomach. She texted back:
‘Glorious.’
Setting the phone on the table, she reached for her drink and considered switching the thing off. She needed a clear head for tomorrow, and interacting with Jake beforehand—in any way, shape or form—wouldn’t do her any favours.
A moment later another text
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