“Don’t set your sights on me.”
Bryn coolly studied Fleur’s reaction to his words as he continued, “I’m not on the marriage market.”
“I see. But I’m not on the marriage market either, so—” she smiled at him ruefully “—we might even find we get along like a house on fire, Mr. Wallis.”
“Are you running away from a man, Fleur?”
“What makes you think that?”
Bryn shrugged. “You must attract men like bees to a honey pot.”
LINDSAY ARMSTRONG was born in South Africa, but now lives in Australia with her New Zealand-born husband and their five children. They have lived in nearly every state of Australia and tried their hand at some unusual, for them, occupations, such as farming and horse training—all grist to the mill for a writer! Lindsay started writing romances when their youngest child began school and she was left feeling at a loose end. She is still doing it and loving it.
Wife in the Making
Lindsay Armstrong
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ONE
FLEUR MILLAR studied the brief from the employment agency as she sat in the back of a taxi on her way to a Brisbane hotel for a job interview. One Bryn Wallis, restaurateur, was seeking a personal assistant cum bookkeeper who was also experienced with computers.
‘Personal Assistant’ was highlighted on the brief and there was a handwritten note that suggested a broad interpretation should be placed on this—‘Be prepared to turn your hand to just about anything’ was what the note said.
Fleur smiled fleetingly because she liked the sound of that—especially as the restaurant was situated on a tropical island. It would certainly make a change from being cooped up in an office as well as the rest of it. In fact, she realised, the prospect of this job had made her feel better and more positive than she had for a while…
The taxi deposited her and she made her way into the foyer of the luxury hotel and across to Reception, where she gave the name of the person she was to meet, and was personally—and more effusively than she would have expected—escorted by the concierge to a table in the adjacent lounge. The man sitting at it stood up with a frown as she approached and, rather distractedly, shook her proffered hand.
Early thirties, Fleur estimated, tall with a rangy, rugged physique that let you know he’d be quite capable of tossing you over his shoulder should he so desire—to add you to his harem, for example—and the unconventional but interesting looks that made you wonder whether you mightn’t mind…
On the other hand, his clothes suggested very much a man about town. He wore a pair of superfine bone-cord trousers, a trendy cream linen shirt and a beautiful and faultlessly-tailored tweed jacket. His hair was longish, a dark copper colour, his eyes were hazel, very penetrating and not entirely approving, she couldn’t help feeling, and his hand was lean and strong.
So, mixed signals, she thought. Damn! Why couldn’t he have been a more conventional restaurateur? But she immediately countered this thought with the wry reflection that there was probably no such thing, as well as a caution not to judge on appearances, and sat down to smile across at him, unable to hide her eagerness to get this job.
Bryn Wallis shoved a hand through his tawny hair and stared grimly at the girl sitting opposite him so hopefully. She was gorgeous, having stunning, long-lashed deep blue eyes, a river of smooth, bluntly cut, medium blonde hair that fell loose from a side parting to below her shoulders, a wide brow tapering to a beautifully defined jaw line and the most elegant, fastidious nose.
Her perfection didn’t end there, either. Her whole aura was elegant although her clothes were simple. She wore well-pressed, tailored jeans, a white shirt and a navy jacket. But beneath was a shapely body and long legs—she was about five feet six, he judged—and a graceful mover with slim expressive hands, although—the only fault he could find—she bit her nails.
She was also not a day over twenty, if he was any judge, which meant all sorts of things but principally that he could end up feeling responsible for her and that would be counterproductive, since he’d been down that road before and because he was looking for someone to share his responsibilities.
He sighed savagely. ‘What the hell am I going to do with you—uh—’ he glanced at the paperwork in front of him to discover that she was aptly named ‘—Fleur?’
She put a thumb to her mouth as if to bite the nail then stopped herself and twisted her hands together. ‘I gather I’m not what you expected, Mr Wallis?’
‘Not in the least. That is to say,’ he sought to sweeten that blunt statement then shrugged and decided to opt for honesty, ‘you’re far too young and inexperienced, you would be the kind of distraction I need like a hole in the head and I don’t think you’d be tough enough.’
She thought through this quite calmly, which surprised him a bit, but she surprised him even more when she said with a slight smile, ‘I don’t know why but people do tend to take me for younger when in fact I’m twenty-three.’
He blinked then frowned down at the paperwork, to have this fact confirmed. ‘All the same—’ he started to say.
‘No, although I have a degree, I’m not terribly experienced in the workplace,’ she agreed, ‘but you will find a couple of good references amongst my résumé and you’d be very welcome to check them out.’
This time he flicked through the paperwork to see that she did indeed have a degree in computer science and business applications, with honours, what was more. And the two references, which he scanned swiftly, were impressive.
‘I’m not quite sure what you mean by a distraction,’ she went on, with—could it have been a secret little gleam of laughter in those stunning eyes? he wondered, ‘but perhaps I should reassure you that I never,’ she paused for emphasis, ‘mix business with pleasure.’
Bryn Wallis knew he was doing it but couldn’t help himself—he smiled coolly and cynically.
She said nothing but looked him straight in the eye, all secret amusement gone from hers now so that it was a particularly level gaze he found himself returning.
Well, well, Miss Fleur, he thought and, for the first time since the employment agency had presented him with this
