Too Wise To Wed?

Cover

It would be amusing to teach this man a lesson

Letter to Reader

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Teaser chapter

Copyright

It would be amusing to teach this man a lesson

“Perhaps I will have that drink after all,” Star said.

As she took the brimming glass from him, a few drops fell onto her skin. Laughing provocatively, she made to lick them off, and then, looking straight into his eyes, offered him her wrist instead and whispered suggestively, “You do it....”

To her chagrin, instead of taking up her sensual invitation, he produced a large white handkerchief and carefully dried her skin, telling her quietly, “I’m afraid it’s going to stay slightly sticky. Did any spill on your dress?”

“No, my dress is fine,” Star told him angrily, snatching her wrist away from him, her skin burning slightly with an emotion that she realized with shock was humiliation.

No man...no man had ever reacted to her like that...rejected her like that, and this one was certainly not going to be allowed to be the first.

Dear Reader,

What is more natural than a bride wanting her closest friends also to find happiness in love? For Sally, this means tricking three of her wedding guests into catching her bouquet! Three women, each very different, but each with their own reasons for never wanting to marry. That is why they agree to a pact to stay single, but just how long will it take for the bouquet to begin its magic?

Penny Jordan has worked her magic on these three linked stories. One of Harlequin’s most successful and popular authors, she has written three compelling romances—all complete stories in themselves—which follow the lives and loves of Claire, Poppy and Star. Too Wise to Wed? is Star’s story. She’s too cynical about marriage to want to marry, but a little bit of seduction would not go amiss!

THE BRIDE’S BOUQUET—three women make a

pact to stay single, but one by one they fall, seduced

by the power of love

Too Wise to Wed?

Penny Jordan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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PROLOGUE

ANOTHER wedding celebration. Star scowled as she studied the elegant invitation before throwing it onto her desk.

She was very tempted to make some excuse not to go—but if she did her friend Sally was bound to pounce on her absence as a sure indication that she, Star, was afraid that the old-fashioned superstition that Sally had practised on the occasion of her own wedding might have some potency to it after all.

Which was all nonsense of course. Just because the other two women who had caught Sally’s bridal bouquet along with her had within six months of Sally’s own wedding become brides themselves, it did not mean that she, Star, was going to fall into the same trap. No way. Not ever.

She scowled again, even more horribly this time. The fact that Poppy, the other bridesmaid at Sally’s wedding, had got married had not come as all that much of a surprise to Star, but the announcement that Sally’s stepmother had also married—just a small, private wedding—and was now holding a celebration party with her new husband for all his friends and relations in America... Uneasily, Star stared out of her study window. It so happened that business was taking her across to the States so she could, in fact, make it to the party, and if she didn’t go...

If she didn’t go Sally would tease her unmercifully about being afraid that there was something in that stupid, old-fashioned tradition that whoever caught the bride’s bouquet would be the next to marry.

But weddings were not her thing at all—she had only gone to Sally’s because Sally was her oldest and closest friend. After all, she had attended far too many of her father’s to have any faith any longer in the durability of the supposedly lifelong vows that people exchanged in the heat of their emotional and physical desire for one another, their compelling need to believe that those feelings would last for ever.

No, weddings, or parties to celebrate them, were quite definitely not her scene, and marriage even less so.

But, that being the case, what had she to fear in going to Claire’s party? Wasn’t she, her will, her determination, stronger than any foolish superstition? Of course she was, and, just to prove it, throwing open her window, Star took a deep breath and said firmly and loudly, ‘I am not going to fall in love. I am not going to get married. Not now. Not ever. So there.

‘Now,’ she muttered as she closed the window, ignoring the startled and slightly nervous glance of the elderly lady walking across the lawn in front of the apartment block, ‘do your worst, because, I promise you, it won’t make any difference to me and it certainly won’t change my mind. Nothing could. Nothing and no one.’

CHAPTER ONE

STAR surveyed the crowd of happy well-wishers surrounding the recently married couple with cynical contempt.

How many of those exclaiming enthusiastically about the happiness that lay ahead of Claire and Brad now that they were married could truthfully put their hands on their hearts and swear that their marriages, their permanent relationships, had truly enriched their lives, had truly made them happy?

If they’d known what she was thinking they would no doubt have questioned the ability of someone who had never been married and who was so vehemently and vocally opposed to any kind of emotional commitment to pronounce on the state of marriage at all, much less to criticise it, but Star believed that she had access to far more experience of what marriage actually was than most of them would be able to boast.

‘Star. Claire said you were going to be here.’ Silently Star suffered the enthusiastic hug of her oldest friend.

Sally’s voice voice muffled slightly by the thick, smooth, shiny sweep of Star’s dark red hair as she continued to hug her whilst telling her, ‘I’m so pleased about Ma and Brad, I just wish she wasn’t going to be living so far away. It was a wonderful idea of Brad’s family, wasn’t it, to organise this post-wedding gettogether and to invite us all over to share it?

‘Has Brad confirmed officially yet that you’re getting the PR contract for the British distribution side of things?’ Sally asked as she released her.

‘Not yet,’ Star told her calmly.

‘But you are going to get the contract,’ Sally insisted.

‘It looks likely,’ Star agreed sedately.

‘There’s only you left now,’ Sally teased her friend, changing tack. ‘Out of the three of you who caught my bouquet, two are now married, despite the vow that all of you made to stay single.’

Star gave a small, dismissive shrug.

‘It was inevitable that Poppy would marry James once she had got over her adolescent crush on Chris, and as for your stepmother...’ Star looked thoughtfully towards Claire, who was standing arm in arm with her new husband, her head inclined towards him as they exchanged a small, intimate smile.

‘You can stop looking at me like that,’ she warned Sally firmly. ‘I’m afraid I fully intend to be the exception to the rule, Sally. I intend to stay very firmly single and free of any kind of long-term emotional commitment.’

‘What if you fall in love?’ Sally probed spiritedly.

Star gave her a contemptuously bitter look.

‘Fall in love? You mean like my mother, who has fallen in love so many times that even she must have lost count, and who uses that state as an excuse for submerging herself and everyone close to her in a swamp of emotional chaos? Or were you meaning that I should, perhaps, follow my father’s example and show my “love” by begetting children whose existence becomes virtually forgotten when he moves on to a new love and a new commitment?’

‘Oh, Star,’ Sally protested remorsefully, reaching out to touch her friend’s slim, tanned wrist in a gesture of female sympathy. ‘I’m sorry. I—’

‘Don’t be,’ Star interrupted her crisply. ‘I’m not. In fact I’m grateful to both my parents for showing me reality rather than allowing me to believe in a false ideology. All right, so my parents might have taken to unconventional lengths the modern view that we each have a right to pursue our emotional happiness, no matter what the cost, but tell me honestly, Sally, how many couples you can name who remain genuinely happy in their relationships once the initial gloss has worn off.’

‘You’re such a cynic,’ Sally complained on a sigh.

‘No,’ Star punched back. ‘I’m a realist. I accept what, at heart, most women know but cannot allow themselves to accept—that the male human being is genetically programmed to spread his seed, his genes, just as far as he physically can, to impregnate as many women as he possibly can, and that is why he finds it biologically impossible to remain faithful to one woman.

‘And that is also why, in my opinion, if a woman wants to be happy she has to adopt his way of life, to enjoy herself sexually when it suits her and not him, to choose her sexual partners because they please her and to refrain from becoming emotionally involved with them, and to remember, if and when she chooses to have a child, that the chances are that she will be the sole emotional support to that child—!’

‘Oh, Star, that’s not fair,’ Sally interrupted her sadly, wincing when she saw the sardonic eyebrow that Star raised in silent mockery to her protest. ‘All right, I know that there are men like your... Men who do... Men who can’t be faithful to one woman,’ Sally agreed. ‘But not all men are like that.’

‘Aren’t they? But then you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ Star asked her grimly. ‘After all, you’ve got a vested interest in believing it, haven’t you?’ she added. ‘Speaking of which, how are things between you and Chris at the moment?’

‘They’re fine,’ Sally told her quickly.

Star knew her so well. Too well at times. Star knew how to get under her skin and pinpoint those small, tell-tale areas of vulnerability. She always had done and it didn’t even help Sally to remind herself that Star’s mode of defending herself and her own vulnerability was to go on the attack. Sally knew how much Star hated any reminders, any discussions about her emotional history, and how prone she was to fending them off by targeting her ‘attackers’ own weak points.

Not that her relationship with Chris was weak or under threat in any way, Sally hastily assured herself. It was true that just lately Chris had been working longer hours and away from home rather a lot, but...

Sally, suddenly realising that Star had switched her attention to someone else, turned round to see what had distracted her and was rather puzzled when she could see nothing out of the ordinary.

‘I must go,’ she told Star. ‘Chris will be wondering where I am.’

‘Mmm...’ Star agreed, steadily returning the appreciative interest of a man standing several yards away.

He had been watching her virtually all afternoon, despite his outward absorption in the woman clinging determinedly to his side.

She had two children with her, both of them petite and fair-haired like her. She was quite obviously their mother. Was he their father? Star gave a small shrug. What concern was that of hers?

She was not the kind of woman who deliberately made a play for another woman’s man, enjoying the challenge of taking from and competing with her own sex, but neither did she necessarily believe that it was up to her to be the guardian of someone else’s relationship.

As a young adult in her late teens and early twenties, she had gone through a phase of sexual experimentation with a variety of short-lived partners. But these days she was extremely choosy—too picky, in fact, or so she had been told—and she was very strict about adhering to a certain set of rules and standards that she had evolved for herself—not, perhaps, the same rules that society hypocritically pretended to live by, but she stuck to hers and they were important to her.

For a start, her partner had to have a clean bill of health and a willingness to prove it. And he certainly had to understand that all she intended to share with him was her sexual self.

She had no inhibitions or hang-ups about the physical side of her nature. Why should she have? If nature hadn’t intended a woman to enjoy sexual pleasure then she wouldn’t have equipped her with the means to do so, and, that being the case, it was more of a sin, in Star’s book, to deny herself that sexual pleasure than to enforce on herself a set of antiquated rules which had been imposed on women by men to preserve their own self-bestowed right to enjoy their sexuality whilst denying women the right to enjoy theirs.

Last but not least, her partner had to accept with good grace the fact that once the sexual excitement of their relationship had faded it was time for them both to move on, although not necessarily, in her case, to another lover.

These days she spent more time in bed alone than with someone else, and, if she was honest with herself, she had grown to prefer it that way.

When her father had walked out on her mother and she had witnessed the financial and emotional devastation that his absence had caused, despite her youth, she had made herself a vow that the same thing would never happen to her, that she would never allow herself to depend financially, or indeed in any way, on anyone other than herself, and that, unlike her mother, she would not keep on falling in love and remarrying in the forlorn hope of finding someone to fill the empty space in her life...in herself...

There were no empty spaces in her life or in her, Star had decided triumphantly three months ago when the arrival of her twenty-fifth birthday had prompted a mental stocktaking of her life.

‘Mom, I need the bathroom...’

Star frowned as her attention was abruptly refocused on the small family group that she had noticed earlier by the shrill, insistent voice of one of the children.

The man with them—their father, she assumed—was, she observed, more interested in catching her eye than acknowledging his wife’s attempt to capture his attention.

‘Clay, Ginny wants the bathroom,’ Star heard her telling him.

‘Then take her,’ he responded impatiently, shaking his head when the woman tried to insist that he went with them.

The look he gave Star as his wife gave in and walked away from him with their children across the lawn of Brad’s large family home—built on the shores of the lake around which lay the small American town where he and his family lived and to which he had brought his bride, Sally’s stepmother—was one she had seen in very many pairs of male eyes before his.

Barely waiting until his wife and children were out of sight, he started to make his way towards Star.

Star did nothing. She simply stood still, watching and waiting.

He was quite attractive, she decided judiciously, though not so attractive as he obviously believed, but then she quite enjoyed a certain amount of confidence in a man, as well as that very obvious streak of selfishness, provided he did not bring it to bed with him.

A selfish lover was not to her taste at all.

As he came towards her she did not, as another woman might have done, exhibit any self-consciousness. There was no need for her to raise flirtatious fingers to the silky dark red satin of her hair which today she was wearing loose over her shoulders in a smooth, polished, immaculate fall. Nor did she need to check any other details of her appearance or draw attention to her sensuality.

The simple silk and linen dress that she was wearing had been bought in Milan and it showed. It fitted the slender, elegant line of her body perfectly. That was to say, it merely hinted at the feminine curves that lay beneath it rather than hugging or emphasising them in the way that the dress worn by the woman who had been clinging so desperately and so unsuccessfully to the man’s side had done.

Star never wore clothes which drew attention to her sexuality—there had never been any need for her to do so—not even in bed, where the only thing she wanted next to her own skin was that of her lover.

Behind her she could still hear the querulous voice of the child and the equally irritated response of her mother.

Star’s make-up, like her hair and her perfume, was understated. Her father might not have given her his physical support or indeed his financial support during her childhood, but he had given her his excellent bone structure, and by his absence he had also given her the opportunity to witness, at first hand, the folly of trying too hard to please his sex.

Not that she would ever have been tempted to try to appeal to this particular specimen of it, she decided, abruptly changing her mind about her admirer’s potential as she observed the smug satisfaction in his eyes—and the lack of humour or intelligence. She might not want to form any kind of permanent or emotional bond with a lover but she enjoyed the spine-tingling ritual of foreplay as much as any other woman, especially when it was spiced with intelligent conversation and laughter.

As she broke eye contact with him with a coolly dismissive look that told him he was wasting his time, she realised that she could still hear the whiny voice of the child behind her and her mother’s reproach as she demanded, ‘Oh, Ginny, why did you say you wanted the. bathroom if you don’t? Your father... Oh...’

Star frowned as the woman’s tone of voice changed, all its former irritation and lethargy replaced by an almost breathless note of sexual excitement and warmth as she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Kyle! Where did you come from? I didn’t see you. Clay is—’

‘I know where Clay is. I’ve seen him,’ Star heard a coolly incisive male voice interrupting, and she could tell from the way he drawled the words that he knew exactly what Clay had been doing and, moreover, did not approve.

The voice sounded interesting but the man, Star suspected, who not really her type. He sounded far too disapproving and moralistic.

She was just about to walk away and refill her glass with the rather good champagne cocktail that she had been enjoying when a purposeful quartet comprising the two adults she had just heard talking plus the two children—or, rather, a slightly uncertain trio shepherded by an extremely large and very determined sheepdog in the form of a man who would normally have caused her more than a single heartbeat’s recognition of his masculine appeal—crossed her line of vision heading towards the man who had just been trying to attract her attention.

There was really no comparison between the two men, Star decided. Clay now looked sulkily, almost seedily unappealing as he ignored his wife’s outstretched hand and frowned impatiently down at his two children, whilst the man who had sounded so determined to remind him of his marital and parental status looked...

He looked like the very best kind of sexy American male, Star admitted to herself.

Tall, lithe in the way he moved, he had a sheen of good health on his thick, well-cut dark brown hair and on his forearms where his flesh was exposed by the short sleeves of his snowy-white T-shirt.

She didn’t miss, either, the brief glance he gave her as he restored and reunited the small family group—a look which told her how thoroughly he disapproved of what had been going on.

In a flash, the automatic flare of sexual awareness she had felt was submerged by a much stronger flare of resentful anger as she recognised what he was doing. The fact that she herself had already decided that she wasn’t remotely interested in the sexual invitation being handed out to her was forgotten as she rose to the challenge of his interference.

Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Star asked herself wrathfully. She had a deeply rooted resentment of other people trying to make her decisions for her, to control her life for her, especially her sex life, and if he thought for one moment that if she’d really been interested in Clay she would have allowed him or that theatrical piece of byplay of his to stop her...

Frowning, she started to turn away, shrugging aside her irritation.

It wasn’t like her to let anyone get under her skin so easily, especially a male anyone...and especially a male anyone whom she didn’t even know and with whom she had barely exchanged more than one assessing glance.

Her frown deepening at the realization that she’d let herself waste time thinking about a man whom she was hardly likely to see again, Star was startled when the subject of her thoughts suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

Star focused cool aquamarine eyes on him without smiling.

‘We haven’t been introduced yet,’ he began, smiling at her.

His teeth, Star was surprised to see, did not possess the uniform perfection that she had grown used to seeing in American adults. In fact, one of the front ones had a small but very definite chip in it. His smile was slightly lopsided as well, making him look vaguely boyish—something which might appeal to those members of her sex who enjoyed having someone to mother, Star decided scathingly, but she personally preferred her men to be totally and uncompromisingly adult, thank you very much.

‘No, we haven’t, have we?’ she agreed in answer to his comment, with a pointed and wholly unfriendly baring of her teeth, but as she made to sidestep him he stepped with her, still blocking her path.

Star stepped the other way and again he followed her.

‘You’re in my way,’ she told him sharply.

‘Your glass is empty,’ he commented, ignoring both her comment and her hauteur. ‘Let me get you another drink.’

‘Thank you, I can get my own drinks and anything else I feel I might need,’ Star told him evenly.

To her surprise, instead of being offended, he laughed.

‘Ah, you’re annoyed with me over Clay,’ he said, knowingly shaking his head as he added, ‘I’m sorry about that, but you would have been rather disappointed. He isn’t—’

‘Really? You certainly are a very perceptive man,’ Star marvelled sarcastically, ‘if one look is all it takes for you to know immediately exactly what another person wants.’

‘He’s a married man,’ he returned quietly, the good humour dying from his eyes. His eyes were a very deep, dense blue, shaded by thick dark blunt lashes which, for some odd reason, Star felt compulsively tempted to reach out and touch to see if they felt as soft as they looked.

‘Yes, I rather assumed he was,’ Star agreed. ‘Which was what attracted me to him in the first place,’ she added with blithe disregard for the truth. No one, but no one had the right to make her decisions for her and she was determined to make sure that this interfering would-be knight in shining armour was made aware of that fact.

‘Married men make by far the best lovers,’ she went on in deliberate provocation. ‘They’re normally so grateful to have a receptive, responsive woman in their bed after being frozen out sexually by their wives that they’ re only too willing to please, and, of course, once the fun is over you can send them home.’

‘Fun? You think of sex as fun—something recreational like baseball?’ he questioned sharply.

‘Yes,’ Star agreed, pleased to have pierced the armour of quiet self-assurance that he seemed to wear so easily and so irritatingly.

‘Don’t you?’ she challenged him mockingly.

‘No,’ he retorted immediately, ‘I don’t. So far as I am concerned, sex without emotion, without love, without all the things that bond two people together, is like a flower without perfume, initially appealing but on closer inspection a disappointment.’

‘That depends, surely, on your outlook?’ Star argued, adding when he looked questioningly at her, ‘On whether or not you want your flower to be perfumed. Some people don’t; some people are allergic to perfume.’

Trust her, she was thinking ruefully. Outwardly this man, whoever he was, had all the male attributes that most appealed to her. Pity that he’d had to go and spoil it all by opening his mouth and voicing his opinions. An amusing thought suddenly occurred to her, making her eyes sparkle warningly. He deserved to be punished a little for his interference and his high-handed, moralistic manner and she certainly deserved to have a little fun.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had devoted her energy to anything other than her work. Her last relationship had been over for—Oh... She was startled to realise that it was almost two years since she had told Jean Paul that their long distance affair was over.

She had been celibate for two years! Amazing... Oh, yes, it was high time she had some fun.

So he didn’t believe in sex without emotion, did he? Well, she didn’t believe him. No doubt he found it a good line with which to blind other women to the truth, but she was not like other women. No man really wanted commitment... No man really wanted a woman’s lifelong love. Oh, he might tell you he did at the start of a relationship, but sooner or later- he would revert to type—to want the challenge of someone fresh, someone new. Star had seen it happen so many, many times.

Yes, it would be amusing to teach this man a lesson, to let him believe that he had deceived her with his insincerity, and even more amusing to bring him to the point where he was forced to admit just how good sex could be—for its own sake—and she would make him admit it; Star was determined on that point.

‘It’s normally my sex who express those particular views,’ she told him, letting her voice soften and become slightly husky, her eyes sending deliberately sensual messages to his as she played with her empty glass. Then she breathed, ‘Perhaps I will have that drink after all.’

It never mattered how blatant you were or how insincere, Star reflected grimly as he fell into step beside her, guiding her through the crowd to a hovering waiter with a full tray of freshly poured cocktails. Men fell for it every time, greedily swallowing bait that surely in reality should have choked them.

There hadn’t been a man born yet whose sexual ego didn’t outweigh his brains, she decided as she accepted the full glass he was handing to her..

As she took the brimming glass from him a few drops fell onto her skin. Laughing provocatively, she made to lick them off, and then, looking straight into his eyes, offered him her wrist instead and whispered suggestively, ‘You do it...’

To her chagrin, instead of taking up her sensual invitation, he produced a large white handkerchief and carefully dried her skin, telling her quietly, ‘I’m afraid it’s going to stay slightly sticky. Did any spill on your dress? It might—’

‘No, my dress is fine,’ Star told him angrily, snatching her wrist away from him, her skin burning slightly with an emotion that she realised with shock was humiliation.

No man...no man had ever reacted to her like that...rejected her like that, and this one was certainly not going to be allowed to be the first.

Stifling her pride and staying where she was instead of turning on her heel and storming away from him proved harder than she had anticipated, but somehow she managed it.

‘Are you a member of Brad’s family?’ she asked him, subtly studying the contours of his body as she waited for him to reply.

Those muscles were certainly solid enough. What did he do? she wondered. Something that involved being outdoors a good deal of the time, perhaps.

‘No, I’m not. Are you related to Claire?’

He sounded more polite than genuinely interested but Star refused to be put off.

‘No. I’m actually a friend of Sally, Claire’s stepdaughter,’ she explained. ‘In fact we’ve been friends since our schooldays; but I’m not just here as a friend—I’m here on business as well. I’m a consultant and Brad’s been asking my advice on how to improve the image of their British distribution arm...’

A slight exaggeration of the truth but justified in the circumstances, Star excused herself. She was not normally given to exaggerating her own importance—in any area of her life. It was not normally necessary and she recognised that she was being far more forthcoming, supplying him with far more information about herself than she would normally have done.

But then this was not just about sex, just about meeting an attractive and very sexy man and wanting to go to bed with him, it was about proving a point, about confirming one of life’s realities, about making him back down and admit that he was lying when he pretended to be so emotionally correct and right on!

Engrossed in her own thoughts, Star missed the sudden, startled flare of recognition that darkened his eyes as he listened to what she was saying.

‘So...you won’t be attending the family dinner later this evening, then,’ Star commented, and offered temptingly, ‘Neither shall I.’

In point of fact she had been invited but she knew that Sally and Claire would understand if she didn’t go.