already have another poor fish on your hook and you are already preparing for the time you will throw her back.’
Her statement was so ridiculous Sebastian almost laughed. But then he realised she was deadly serious. Her hand clamped tight onto a strange blue stone and he could swear she was on the verge of throwing it at him!
‘There is no fish to speak of, Romy,’ Sebastian said, simply unable to resist pandering to her self-righteousness. He wanted her up and fighting if he was going to get what he needed from her. ‘But I am a pragmatic man and time is awaiting, as is the next ex-Mrs Sebastian Fox. She’s out there somewhere and here we are, wasting time arguing about it, rather than giving the girl the chance to have a go.’
The nerve of the man! Romy’s palms began to itch as the hot blood rushed to her edgy extremities. She lowered her crystal into her desk drawer to stop herself from pegging it between his eyes.
‘I will not be your divorce lawyer, Mr Fox.’ Her voice all but quivered with indignation.
‘Once again, it’s Sebastian.’
She took a deep breath and counted to three. ‘Fine, then. I will not be your divorce lawyer, Sebastian. I act only for those who take marriage seriously and you, Sebastian, do not come across to me as a terribly serious person. And if you have really done your research you will know that I consider myself not in the business of promoting divorce but in the business of making sure the right people are together.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine?
‘As I said, there is no fish to speak of. Not yet. So, since you are such a renowned matchmaker, I need you to assist me in procuring my next wife.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘I THINK the best thing for me is to get back on the horse,’ Sebastian said.
Romy’s mouth hung ajar and her eyes were round and bright as dollar coins. ‘Get…back…on…the…horse?’
Her face was crimson and absolutely delightful. He’d heard of women who were beautiful when they were angry but had thought it just a myth. But here was one woman for whom the saying could have been written.
‘OK. So that was a bad analogy. Though you obviously don’t see it yet, I will make someone a good husband,’ he said, taking to the plan the more he fumbled his way through it. ‘And, as you are a self-professed expert on the subject—’
‘I am nothing so worthy as an expert, Mr Fox.’
‘But you yourself are engaged, are you not?’ he asked.
Her mouth snapped shut like a threatened clam and surprise flickered across her vibrant eyes. But she neither agreed nor denied the claim. He wondered if Tom was right and it was a fallacy she had created as a hands-off signal.
A cute young thing like her, spending every day with newly single male clients would surely have an excuse to create such a rumour. But Sebastian decided it was more likely the truth. Half the reason he fancied she was perfect for the job was the likelihood she was taken. It meant he had a good reason not to fall into the trap of seeing her as someone to ease his loneliness short-term when he needed to refocus on the big picture.
The steady disapproval in her magnetic blue eyes was unmistakable. But welcome. It was exactly that spirit that he needed to tap. And all the better that her heat remain directed against him not toward him. She was spoken for and she didn’t much like him. Perfect.
‘I’ve rung around and heard good things about your divorcees group,’ he said.
‘Mr Fox, I assure you there is no way that I am going to launch you upon that unassuming group of people. They are serious and they are damaged, whereas you…you act as if it is all just a game!’
Aah, so that was why she was so offended; she did not get to be the shoulder to cry on. She did not get to be the fix-it woman. Well, if that was what she needed to be…
‘I assure you, Romy, it was no game. I am serious. I am damaged.’ He held out his arms and even gave her his best go at a pout. She glared at him in disbelief but he thought he saw the first real flicker of interest.
With visible effort her face relaxed. Her tongue shot out to briefly wet her lips and she managed a fragile smile. ‘I would not even know where to begin.’
‘Well, that’s the beauty. I’m a not only a willing and able participant but I also have a bevy of ideas. I just need your help to implement them. Besides, I am very certain you have researched my background so thoroughly you now know more about me than I do. So mould me. Shape me. Make me the kind of man any good woman would want to marry.’
Her eyes positively glowed and he knew it had nothing to do with recent exercise. She was once more lit with that inner fire, that spirit that so caught at him. He had finally found the right button to push to bring her on to his side. She was intrigued despite herself.
‘I’ve done some homework and have heard about how hands-on your clients expect you to be. And I want that from you.’
Sebastian knew from the firm line of Romy’s mouth the only hands-on approach she would be willing to give him right then was a right hook.
‘I can’t do it. I have other clients counting on me.’
‘For the moment they can count on someone else.’
‘I can refuse you as a client.’
‘I will bring so much work your firm’s way you will not have a choice.’
He stood, stretching like a sleepy cat, knowing it would only rile her more, and the fists clenching on her desk showed him it worked. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to prepare my file.’
‘Don’t count on it.’
He glanced over her barely dressed form and, since he was way beyond right-hook distance, he could not stop himself from saying, ‘I’ll see more of you soon.’
Then he left.
Once outside the city building, Sebastian took a deep breath of the still foggy morning air. But the grey sky could not dampen his mood. She was such a spitfire, yet so certain. If he had any chance of finding his footing again it would be at her side.
He couldn’t believe that only the day before, after years of knowing he wanted a family of his own more than anything, his experience with Janet had made him think he had hit a point when it really might not happen for him. He saw the future on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage, but he knew it was real and just waiting for the right moment to slip into focus.
He took off up the street, whistling and smiling at strangers. One of those strangers turned out to be a familiar dark-haired pixie.
‘Gloria! Good morning!’
She glared at him, her big eyes narrowing to slits as her perceptive gaze slid past him to her building beyond. ‘Mr Fox. What brings you to this part of town?’
No point in pretending. She would know soon enough. ‘I had a proposition to put forward that
