Best Friend...Future Wife. Claire Baxter

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Best Friend...Future Wife - Claire  Baxter

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if.’ Della laughed. ‘You’re deluded, Dawn. And you, Luke, are the last person I’d believe.’

      She was proud of herself. She sounded cool, calm and collected. No one would guess she felt the complete opposite. No one would know she’d spent more than half her life comparing every man who’d come near her with this one, rejecting every one of them because they fell short of her ideal.

      ‘I thought you were bringing Yvonne with you,’ Dawn said to Luke. ‘You haven’t left her back in India, have you?’

      Luke’s gaze slid away for a moment. When he looked back, his expression was blank.

      ‘Yes, she’s still there as far as I know. I’ll explain when we’re all together.’

      Curiosity sparked in Dawn’s eyes. ‘Well, let’s eat,’ she said. ‘Come through to the dining room.’

      As they took their places around the large oak dining-table, Della wished she really did belong to this family. This was what she’d always wanted for her own children—a home filled with warmth and laughter.

      She looked down, spreading the linen napkin across her lap and fighting the sting in her eyes.

      No chance of that now.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘ARE you really home to stay?’ Poppy said through a mouthful of salad.

      Luke looked at his little sister. He found it hard to believe that she’d grown up so much since he’d last seen her. ‘How many times do I have to say it?’ he said with feigned exasperation.

      ‘Yeah, I know, but really?’ Poppy said. ‘Won’t you be bored?’

      Luke shrugged. ‘Don’t think so.’

      ‘But there are no wars around here. Nothing bad ever happens in Adelaide.’

      ‘Thank God for it,’ Dawn said. ‘We are very lucky to live in one of the safest cities on earth. I should think Luke’s had quite enough of war and poverty and the like. If he has the sense he was born with, he’ll want to stay well away from all of that.’

      He smiled at his mother. She’d never missed an opportunity to tell him he was crazy for choosing to make his home where he had. But she’d never criticised him either. Though she couldn’t understand his choices, she’d always respected his right to make them.

      Both his parents had. His gaze drifted to his father. His salt-and-pepper hair was now almost all salt. He hoped he hadn’t caused him too much worry over the years.

      Next to their father, his sister Megan was deep in discussion with their brother-in-law, Patrick. It seemed Lyn’s marriage had not only survived, but thrived. His gaze moved on to Lyn, the baby in her arms and her son at her side. His niece and nephew. He’d have time to get to know them better now, and he fully intended to.

      Skinny Lynnie, as he’d always called her, had gained weight. It suited her. She caught his eye and gave him a cheeky wink. He grinned back. So close in age, they’d been more like best friends than brother and sister. All three of them, in fact. His gaze shifted to Della, the third member of their little gang.

      If he thought his sisters had changed, he couldn’t find words to describe the transformation in Della. She was still small and slender, but more confident. More sure of herself and her appeal. She looked…serene. As if nothing could ruffle her. And she exuded femininity. Her beautifully cut, very short hair showed off great cheekbones, and he liked the way her neck curved above the collar of her business jacket. In the past, it had been hidden by a swathe of long, dark hair which had often fallen across her face. A shield between her and the world.

      She must have grown out of her shyness to have cut her hair. Well, it had never really been shyness. More like embarrassment for who she was and where she’d come from.

      Della lifted her head to look at Lyn and her eyes nearly knocked him out. Large, dark and slightly slanted. She’d accentuated their shape with make-up, and he had to admit her eyes were a striking feature without the long hair obscuring them.

      He continued to watch her, couldn’t bring himself to look away. She smiled as she chatted to Lyn, fussed over Jamie, teased Poppy. But her eyes…They didn’t smile. He could almost believe she was sad. But why, when she seemed to have everything going for her?

      Not grieving for her parents, surely? They didn’t deserve a second thought from her. His gut tightened. A whole raft of memories came flooding back. Amongst other things, he remembered his mother taking Della to the doctor and telling him later that Della’s small size was a result of malnutrition during her formative years.

      In recent times, he’d seen plenty of children suffering from malnutrition, and it made his blood boil to think it had happened to Della and here, in Australia, one of the more affluent countries in the world. He knew his own parents had considered initiating adoption proceedings, but something must have gone wrong. They would have adopted her if they could.

      As he watched her, Della smiled down at Jamie. When her lips parted and she moistened them with the tip of her tongue, Luke experienced a subtle shift in his stomach. It felt a lot like sexual attraction, but it couldn’t be.

      ‘So what are you going to do, son?’

      Luke jerked his gaze from Della and leaned back in his chair as he focused on his father. ‘About what?’

      ‘Work.’

      He smiled. ‘I’ve had a job offer.’

      ‘You have?’ Frank mopped at his mouth with his napkin.

      He nodded. ‘It’s not finalised yet, so I don’t want to say much about it, but it’s with the charity I’ve been working for in India.’

      ‘And it’s here in Adelaide?’

      ‘Yes.’

      A clatter drew Luke’s eyes to Della again, and he saw her cheeks grow pink as she retrieved her fork from the floor.

      ‘Talking of jobs, Shrimp, when are you going to desert the enemy?’

      The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘Enemy?’

      ‘Okay, enemy is a bit strong.’ He shrugged. ‘But you public relations people, you’re the gatekeepers. The ones who stop hard-working journos like me from getting at the nitty gritty.’

      She frowned. ‘Without PR people like me, you journos would have to work a hell of a lot harder. We do most of the work for you by providing all the information you need.’

      ‘All the information you want us to have, you mean.’

      ‘Without us, you’d have to get off your backsides and look for the stories yourselves.’ She felt a stab of guilt at using this old argument against Luke, who could never be accused of taking the easy way out. He was far removed from that type, but she was on the defensive. She went on. She couldn’t help herself.

      ‘The vast majority of items in the news have been initiated by PR, whether in-house specialists or external consultants—’

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