A Kiss To Remember Page 8

  ‘Stop calling him “lover-boy”,’ Angie groaned. ‘His name’s Lance.’

  ‘OK. Lance what?’

  ‘Sterling.’

  ‘It would be. Here’s the earrings.’ And she held out a pair of amber and gold creations which would hang to her shoulderblades.

  Angie shook her head at them. ‘No, Vanessa. They’re too much. I’ll just wear these simple gold drops, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind, but just remember whose earrings you were wearing when you snaffled his attention last night.’

  Angie declined telling Vanessa that Lance had also thought her a tramp of the first order last night, and that maybe the saucy earrings had contributed to that first impression. ‘Maybe, but that was a party. This is daytime. Oh, God, there’s the doorbell.’

  Vanessa swanned off towards the door while Angie fled back into the bathroom.

  Her hands shook as she pinned up her hair, resulting in the haphazard style Vanessa had suggested more by accident than design. Still, she felt surprisingly satisfied with the final result. She looked classy but sexy. Cool, yet subtly sensual.

  Grace Kelly, with auburn hair.

  Collecting herself with several deep steadying breaths, Angie finally found the courage to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom and face her destiny.

  He looked as gorgeous as Vanessa had said, his almost dazzling glamour seeming out of place in their small and cheaply furnished lounge-room. He was standing with his back to the half-open Venetian blind when she entered the room, his suit jacket open, his hands slung lazily into the depths of his trouser pockets.

  The slats of sunlight coming through the window glinted a line of gold on his glossy head, and picked up the silk sheen in his expensive Italian suit. His shirt was the palest blue, his tie and kerchief a bold mixture of blues and yellows and greens in a splotchy design.

  The only other time Angie had seen Lance formally dressed had been at his wedding, which wasn’t the same as encountering it in one’s own living-room at eleven in the morning. She realised with a suddenly sinking heart that she could have bought ten of her orange linen dresses with the money it had taken to buy that suit.

  Lance’s wealth had never bothered her before. But then neither had she harboured this kind of hope about him before. Now she saw his multimillionaire status as a major hurdle in their ever becoming more than just transitory lovers. Girls like Angie Brown didn’t marry men like Lance Sterling. At best, they became girlfriends of a sort.

  Or mistresses ...

  Angie realised she was standing there frowning at him, and that Lance was frowning at her frowning at him while Vanessa was frowning at them both. Carefully placing that stupid dream of hers back where it belonged, she found a plastic smile from somewhere.

  ‘You’re very punctual,’ she said crisply.

  ‘And you’re very beautiful,’ he returned silkily, bringing a small sigh from Vanessa’s lips.

  Angie glared at her, then bent to pick up her cream handbag from where it was sitting on the coffee-table. It wasn’t an exact match for her cream shoes, which hadn’t bothered her earlier but now did. She wished she’d gone out and bought new shoes and bag. She wished she’d bought brand new underwear. She wished her earrings were real gold and not gold-plated.

  Damn it all, she almost wished she were rich!

  ‘Shall we go?’ she suggested airily.

  ‘Nice to have met you, Vanessa,’ Lance said, extending a polite hand.

  Vanessa did likewise. ‘And you. So where are you two off to today?’ she asked before Lance could propel Angie out of the door.

  Angie found herself pulling away from the possessive and highly disturbing touch on her elbow to look into those brilliant blue eyes of his. ‘Yes, where are we off to today, Lance?’ she echoed, amazed at how calm and casual she sounded.

  Vanessa was right. She had developed a rather controlled facade over her years living in Sydney, and while it was a good cover for feelings best hidden she wasn’t at all sure that she liked it. Where had the simpler, more honest country girl gone to? Would she have wanted to be rich? Would the Angie of old have felt somehow inferior because her stupid damned shoes weren’t exactly the same colour as her bag?

  ‘I thought I might take you shopping,’ he said, his sensually sculptured mouth curving back into a slight smile. ‘I did promise to replace your dress, remember? Then I thought we’d go somewhere for a long lunch.’

  ‘Oh, so Angie will be back for tea, will she?’ Vanessa persisted, her own smile extremely naughty. ‘It’s my turn to cook, you see, and I need to know if it will be for two. Or maybe three?’ And she threw Lance a quizzical look.

  ‘I wouldn’t be expecting Angie home for tea,’ he returned with silky smoothness, the amused gleam in his eyes showing that he knew exactly what Vanessa was up to. ‘I wouldn’t be expecting her till very late tonight, actually. I’ve also made plans for this evening. You are free this evening, aren’t you, Angie?’ he directed straight at her, cleverly bypassing Vanessa.

  ‘Yes,’ was all she could manage. Dear God, why had she agreed to Lance picking her up this early? The day stretched ahead as hour after hour of sheer torture. She wasn’t even sure she would enjoy the evening, when it finally came. Maybe by then she would be too nervous.

  ‘Excellent,’ Lance pronounced. ‘Goodbye, Vanessa.’

  ‘Goodbye? That sounds like we won’t be seeing each other again.’ Angie flinched at the cynical implication behind Vanessa’s remark.

  ‘Does it?’ Lance drawled. ‘Au revoir, then. I’m sure that won’t be the case.’

  ‘I hope not,’ she muttered, and Angie rolled her eyes at her behind Lance’s back. Vanessa responded with an immediate but patently false smile. ‘Well, off you go,’ she gushed. ‘And don’t forget what I said about drinking, Angie.’

  ‘I won’t, Vanessa,’ she bit out, taking Lance’s arm and practically pulling him out of the flat before that mischief-maker said another word.

  Lance gave a dry chuckle once the door was shut.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Angie almost snapped.

  ‘Your friend. Anyone would think you were Little Red Riding Hood about to venture into the woods with the big bad wolf. What on earth did you tell her about me?’

  ‘Only the truth.’

  ‘Your version of the truth bears little resemblance to the real truth, Angie. Not that it’s your fault. Bud’s been feeding you a warped view of me for years. I told him so last night. I also told him that it had to stop.’

  Angie sucked in a shocked breath. ‘You didn’t tell him you were taking me out today, did you?’

  ‘No, though, damn it all, I was tempted to. The only reason I didn’t was because I’d promised you. Still, I knew I’d say something I’d regret if I stayed there, so I went to a motel for the night.’

  Last night’s visions of Lance and that blonde rolling around on a motel bed immediately flashed into her mind, and, try as she might, Angie couldn’t get rid of them. Or the suspicion that Lance’s reason for going to a motel for the night had nothing to do with a spat with Bud and everything to do with ridding himself of the frustration she herself had caused.

  She continued walking down the stairs in a black silence, hating her doubts yet grabbing at them with a wild despair.

  ‘You’ve gone all silent on me,’ he said with a weary sigh. ‘What is it, Angie? What have I done now?’

  She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gripping her handbag in tight hands as she turned to face him. ‘Swear to me you didn’t sleep with that blonde last night,’ she cried brokenly. ‘Please, Lance. Swear it!’

  Angie was taken aback by the savage fury which swept into his eyes. When they heard a group of people coming down the stairs, Lance grabbed Angie’s arm and bustled her outside, then over and into his car. Once he’d climbed in behind the wheel he swivelled to face her, his face full of bitter reproach.

  ‘And if I did so swear?’ he challenged. ‘What would that pr
ove? If I were the kind of person who would do that, then I would also have no compunction about lying. But if it makes you feel better, Angie, I do swear. I did not sleep with that blonde last night, or any other woman. To cover all contingencies, I also did not kiss any other woman last night,’ he went on testily, ‘or have sex with her, or have her go—’

  ‘Stop!’ she groaned. ‘I... I believe you.’

  ‘Do you, now? How nice.’ Sarcasm dripped from every word and Angie cringed.

  ‘Oh, God, Lance, I’m so sorry. Truly I am. I do believe you. I do! It’s just that you’re so attractive to women and I got so jealous when I saw you talking to that blonde, and... and...’

  ‘And I’m still lumbered with my old superstud reputation,’ he finished ruefully for her. ‘God, but if I could only go back in time I’d go to some blasted monastery for my education rather than that uni. I have no excuses for my truly appalling behaviour during that time, except that I was a silly, spoiled young fool with more hormones than sense.

  ‘But I did change in that regard, Angie. I stopped taking advantage of this empty talent I have for attracting the opposite sex. After uni I had girlfriends, not one-night stands. Helen was my only bed-partner during the year leading up to our marriage.’

  ‘And during your marriage, Lance? Were you faithful to her?’

  ‘I’d be lying if I said I was. But she drove me to it. She stopped sleeping with me over a year ago. I wanted her to have children, and she refused. Hell, I’d been wanting her to have children since the day we married. She compromised by saying she would have a baby after two years. Then she extended it to three. Finally, she refused altogether. I can’t tell you how furious I was. She didn’t trust me to use protection after that so she simply moved out of the bedroom till I supposedly came to my senses.’

  ‘But why wasn’t she on the Pill?’

  Lance’s laugh was cold. ‘She told me it ruined her libido and made her put on weight. Like a trusting fool, I believed her. But, of course, the Pill is no protection against other hazards besides pregnancy—especially if one wants to be wildly promiscuous.’

  ‘Helen started having affairs?’

  ‘She’d been having them since shortly after our honeymoon. The private detective I finally hired to investigate her a couple of months ago showed me all the times and dates of her various daytime hotel assignations, dating back nearly four years. She ruthlessly but recklessly signed and paid for them all with the credit card I gave her. Sometimes, when business called me overseas, she gave the house staff time off and actually had her current lover to stay in the house with her. They made love in our marriage bed.’

  Angie could only stare at Lance.

  ‘When I showed her the report, earlier this week, she admitted she’d never loved me but thought that I would make her a very rich divorcee. At which point I left the house before I killed her. While I was gone she packed all her things and moved out.’

  ‘Oh, my God, Lance, that’s awful! And yet... almost incredible!’

  ‘I can show you the report,’ he said drily, ‘if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you. Of course I do. I simply can’t understand any woman marrying any man she doesn’t love—or any woman married to you who would ever want another man.’

  Now it was Lance’s turn to stare, his startled eyes slowly melting as he reached over and stroked her cheek. ‘You are so good for me, my darling girl. God, but if only all females were like you. If only—’ He broke off to straighten, a deep frown creasing his high forehead as he appeared to drop deep into thought.

  ‘Lance?’ she asked softly at long last.

  He snapped out of his reverie to smile over at her. It was the saddest smile she had ever seen Lance give anyone, and it made her heart bleed for him. People might think he had everything in life, but in fact he had nothing of real worth, if worth was measured by the values of family love and loyalty. Angie had long known that his parents had little time for him, and he didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Angie suspected that his mother had stopped having children at once when she’d produced a male heir. She’d met the woman at Lance’s wedding and had been struck by her cold snobbery.

  Lance’s wife had obviously never really loved him, either. From what Lance had said, it was likely she’d seen dollar signs from the moment she’d met the Sterling son and heir.

  Angie had opened her mouth to tell him that she loved him, when something held her back—some last, lingering worry which whispered that to tell him of such an enduring and almost blind love would be to give him great power over her. As much as Angie did admire Lance in many ways, his moral fibre had to have been corrupted by his background, plus that ghastly marriage.

  ‘Let’s not talk about Helen any more,’ she said instead. ‘Let’s not talk about anything serious today. Let’s just have fun.’

  His answering smile was much more like the Lance she remembered. His perfect teeth sparkled, his blue eyes flashed, that cheeky and charming dimple of his dimpled cheekily and with great charm.

  ‘Best suggestion I’ve had all year!’ he pronounced heartily.

  He drove over the bridge into the city, where he turned into the driveway of the Prince Hotel—one of the new boutique establishments springing up all over Sydney. Angie only recognised the place because she’d seen a small spot about it on the television recently. Described as a classic of old-world charm and grace, it was reputed to be scandalously expensive, and patronised only by the very wealthy or the very famous. Strict privacy was what they offered, plus discretion and red carpet service.

  ‘Er...what are we coming in here for?’ Angie asked hesitantly. ‘Will we be lunching here?’

  ‘No. I’m staying here.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since I rang and made a booking this morning. It’s supposedly within walking distance of the shops and the theatres, not to mention the quay and Darling Harbour. It should make a perfect base for our activities today.’

  Activities?

  Angie had heard it called a lot of things but never...’activities’. An insane little giggle threatened to burst from her lips but she smothered it just in time and gave Lance what she hoped was a perfectly unreadable look. She must have succeeded for he frowned at her, the kind of frown a man gave a woman when he didn’t know what was going on in her mind but would dearly have loved to.

  ‘I thought you said you wanted to have fun,’ he muttered. ‘If that’s the case, do you think you might try smiling at me?’

  She did, and when he smiled back a warm wave of love rushed through her.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said in a satisfied tone. ‘Come on. Let’s get out and go inside. The valet wants to park the car.’

  Angie was all eyes as she climbed out, standing there gazing all around her while Lance instructed the pompously uniformed porter about his bag then gave the equally pompously uniformed valet his car keys. ‘Have you stayed here before?’ she whispered as Lance took her arm and guided her through the heavy glass doors.

  ‘No. Never. And why are you whispering?’

  ‘This is a whispering sort of place,’ she said, still in hushed tones, at the same time glancing all around her with wide-eyed fascination at the rich wood-panelled walls, the plush red-carpeted floor, the deep leather chairs and the many bronze statues—all of old-fashioned-looking ladies in various stages of undress. Angie found the decor a little much, and while she could imagine a lot of men liking it, she didn’t think it reflected Lance’s taste. ‘Er...why did you choose it?’

  ‘Because it was the only hotel in Sydney where the honeymoon suite wasn’t booked out for tonight.’

  Angie ground to a halt, her stomach fluttering. ‘The...the honeymoon suite?’ She stared up at Lance, searching his face for an explanation.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, his voice as softly caressing as his eyes. ‘I decided our first night together required something really special—something reflective of how
I think about you and what you mean to me.’

  A great lump filled her throat. Tears threatened, but she valiantly battled them away. ‘That...that’s very sweet of you, Lance.’

  His low laugh had a drily cynical note to it. ‘It’s not sweet at all, Angie. I haven’t been brought up to be sweet. I’m selfish and arrogant, and at times utterly ruthless. I’m pulling out all the stops to make sure you never forget tonight. Or me. If you thought I’d spoilt you for other men before then, believe me, by tomorrow morning you’re going to be well and truly spoilt for other men for the rest of your life! Now, sit down over in that armchair,’ he ordered, smiling an utterly ruthless but devastatingly attractive smile. ‘I’m going over to check in. Then I’m taking you shopping!’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘Yes, we’ll take that one too,’ Lance said from where he was sitting in a comfy winged chair, supervising Angie’s try-ons and sipping the cup of coffee the staff had brought him. They were in a very exclusive fashion boutique in the Centrepoint Building where, naturally, Lance had been given first class treatment from the moment he walked in with Angie in tow. He was that kind of man.

  Angie frowned, knowing that the gold brocade suit she was wearing cost a small fortune—much more than the black velvet dinner dress he’d just given the nod to. Angie had not minded the velvet number, as Lance had ruined her green silk dress last night and it wasn’t too expensive. When he’d suggested she try on the brocade outfit, which had been highlighted in the display in the window, she had done so, thinking he was giving her an alternative choice to the velvet.

  In truth, she did prefer it. The sleek straight skirt and hour-glass-style jacket suited her longish body to perfection, and the lowish V-neckline between the satin-edged lapels showed off her nice bust to advantage. Angie had fallen in love with it, till she glanced at the price tag in the changing-room.

  Still frowning, she walked over to Lance and bent down to whisper in his ear. ‘Lance...this suit is very, very expensive. I couldn’t possibly let you buy it for me.’