Table of Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Copyright

“One of the reasons I’m still a stupid virgin is because of you!”

All the anger seemed to melt from his face as a tender expression took over. “I don’t think there’s anything stupid about being a virgin in this day and age,” he said softly. “But since I’ve spoilt you for any other man so far, then the least I can do is undo the damage I’ve done.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“I mean, Angie, my sweet,” he said, kissing her lightly on the lips, “that you’re quite right. It is high time you lost your virginity, but I also think your first experience should be with someone you really fancy…Therefore I’m volunteering to be your first lover.”

Dear Reader,

Love can be full of surprises!

Welcome to the first book in Miranda Lee’s bewitching trilogy AFFAIRS TO REMEMBER. This month, and for the next two months, this popular Australian author brings you three complete stories of love affairs with a difference—there are twists to all the tales that you won’t forget.

Read on now to find out how one stolen kiss changed Angie’s life forever…!

Sincerely,

The Editor

A Kiss To Remember
Miranda Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

ANGIE looked over at the sulky-faced girl sitting on the other side of her desk and shook her head sadly. What was the world coming to when girls thought they were freaks just because they were still virgins at seventeen?

‘Debbie, dear,’ Angie said, with as much patience as she could muster at five to four on a Friday afternoon. ‘It is not a crime not to be sexually active at your age. In fact, in view of the health hazards these days, I would say it was very sensible. Can’t you at least wait till you leave school? This year is almost over, after all. You have less than twelve months to go before you graduate.’

Which could be part of the problem, Angie suspected. Next year—Debbie’s final year—would be a very stressful one. A lot of Year Eleven students let their hair down at this time of the year. This year’s exams were over, summer had arrived, and the end-of-year party scene had well and truly begun—with all the accompanying hazards of alcohol and drugs. A lot of girls lost their virginity at such times, but mostly this was an unpremeditated event. Debbie’s decision to sleep with her boyfriend was hardly that.

‘Look, I know you probably think you’re madly in love with this boy,’ Angie went on. ‘But love rarely lasts long at your age. Next year—or even next term—it will probably be another boy, then another. If you sleep with all of them, then…’

‘I’m not at all in love with Warren,’ Debbie denied, her defiant eyes shocking Angie. ‘I just want to know what it’s like, that’s all. You read so much about it and everyone else is doing it.’

‘Everyone else is not doing it!’ Angie argued, her cheeks pinkening with what she hoped looked like indignation.

‘That’s all very well for you to say, Miss. I’ll bet you know what it’s like. I’ll bet you’ve had loads of boyfriends!’

Angie could feel her face beginning to burn. ‘Now, you look here, young lady,’ she began firmly. ‘My boyfriends are my business. What we are here to discuss is your sex-life, not mine! Besides, I happen to be twenty-four years old—not seventeen. Believe me when I tell you that when I was your age I definitely was a virgin.’

And you still are, a small dark voice pointed out drily in her head.

Angie scowled, both at the voice and at Debbie.

‘As your school counsellor,’ she continued, in her best lecturing tone, ‘my advice to you is to wait till you are at least in a steady relationship before you take this step. Making love should not be an experiment—especially the first time. It should be a very special experience between two people who truly care about one another. It should be an experience to remember and look back on with good feelings, not regret.’

Even as she was saying the words Angie could see she was not getting through to the girl. Debbie confirmed this opinion by pouting and not meeting her eyes. ‘Rebecca said you’d understand,’ the girl grumbled. ‘She said you’d help me like you did her.’

‘Rebecca was an entirely different case,’ Angie muttered, even as she knew she was defeated. Privately, she might be a romantic and an idealist. Professionally, she was a realist.

As Debbie’s counsellor she had a responsibility to look after the girl’s physical as well as her mental health. For they were intrinsically linked. Unhappily, she opened the bottom drawer and drew out a couple of condoms from the supply of samples she kept there, ready to be given out with discretion to any girl over the age of consent who came to her with a similar attitude to Debbie’s.

‘I am giving you these most reluctantly, Debbie, and only because you seem determined to do this. They are not my way of condoning your decision, or giving you permission, but I can’t in all conscience see you without protection. Some young men aren’t too caring about young women who give themselves to them without love,’ she finished pointedly.

At last, Debbie had the good grace to blush. ‘I didn’t realise you were so old-fashioned,’ she muttered. ‘Rebecca said you were real cool.’

‘You think it’s cool to be promiscuous?’ Angie asked sharply.

‘No. But I think it’s stupid to be ignorant about sex,’ she flung back.

Angie stiffened.

Debbie stood up and went to leave, then stopped, glancing anxiously over her shoulder at Angie. ‘You…you won’t tell my parents, will you?’

‘No. You’re over the legal age of consent.’

The girl suddenly smiled at her. ‘Thanks, Miss. And I promise to think about everything you said. See you next Monday!’ And she fairly skipped out of the door.

Angie stayed sitting at her desk for a few minutes, gnawing away at her bottom lip and wondering if Debbie was right. Maybe she was impossibly old-fashioned. And impossibly romantic. And impossibly cautious.

Was it silly of her to wait for Mr Right to come along before she made love? Naive of her to want to see stars when a man kissed her before she let him go further? Stupid of her to hope that it wouldn’t end up a matter of making a conscious choice to go to bed with a man—to believe she would be so madly, blindly and irrevocably in love that it would just happen quite naturally!

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ her flatmate answered to all three questions, when Angie posed them to her as they drove home together that afternoon.

Angie remained unconvinced. Vanessa was thirty years old and a terrible cynic about men and love. A maths and science teacher at the same girls’ school where Angie was the school counsellor, she was a striking-looking though brittle brunette, who frightened most men off with her superior intelligence and incisive wit. Which was a shame because, basically, Vanessa liked men a lot.

They’d been colleagues at the same private girls’ school for nearly a year, but had only been flatting together for a couple of months, Angie’s previous flatmate having left to go overseas. This was the first time Angie had really opened up to the older woman about her personal life. And, to give Vanessa credit, she accepted the news of her inexperience without too much shock, though she was typically cutting in her advice.

‘For pity’s sake, go out and get yourself laid before it’s too late. How can you possibly counsel all those randy little teenagers who come to you for advice if you don’t have any first-hand knowledge of the subject? Good Lord, Angie, if you wait for Mr Right these days, you might go to your grave a virgin! Frankly, I can’t understand how a girl who looks like you do made it through her teenage years without scores of horny boys jumping on your bones every five minutes!’

‘I didn’t say they didn’t try…’

‘And there wasn’t one you fancied back?’ Vanessa’s tone was sheer scepticism.

An image swept into Angie’s mind. Of brilliant blue eyes and flashing white teeth, of windswept fair hair and golden-bronze skin, of a face like a Greek God and a body to match.

‘There was one,’ she admitted.

‘Only one?’ Vanessa squawked.

Angie smiled ruefully to herself. ‘Believe me, after Lance, no other male has ever measured up.’

Which had always been the problem, hadn’t it? Angie realised with sudden insight. Once you’d tasted ambrosia it was hard to settle for plain bread. She’d always told herself that her shrinking from casual sex had been because of that AIDS chap, who’d come to her high school and lectured them upon the dangers of such activities.

But it hadn’t been that at all, Angie finally conceded. It was because subconsciously she’d compared every boy and then every man she met to Lance Sterling. And they’d all come up wanting.

‘He sounds awfully intriguing,’ Vanessa said.

‘Intriguing,’ Angie repeated thoughtfully. ‘Yes, one could say that about him. Among other things.’

‘Do tell. I’m dying of curiosity already.’

Angie frowned, aware that thoughts of Lance had been teasing her mind a lot this past week. Mostly because tonight was her brother’s thirtieth birthday party, which she would be obliged to attend.

Anything to do with Bud always reminded her of Lance.

Not that her brother had anything much to do with Lance these days. Their once close friendship had waned after Lance married four years ago and moved to Melbourne to live. It had now come down to exchanging Christmas cards once a year.

Not that they’d ever had much in common, except for doing the same business degree at the same university in Sydney. Angie had never been able to work out exactly what Lance had seen in Bud—and vice versa. They had come from two entirely different worlds. They’d had two entirely different personalities.

Perhaps it had been the old case of an attraction of opposites. Or perhaps it had just amused Lance to have a simple country boy as a friend, whom he could impress with his sophistication and wealth. As it had amused him to impress his friend’s simple country sister that fateful summer nine years ago…

CHAPTER TWO

ANGIE sat on the top step of the front veranda, waiting impatiently for her brother to arrive with his exciting-sounding friend. Bud had said in his last letter that they’d be leaving Sydney straight after breakfast. But it was a five-hour drive north up to Wilga, then another twenty minutes out to the farm. Since it was only ten to twelve, they probably wouldn’t be here for at least another hour.

Still, Angie couldn’t seem to settle to anything else. So she stayed where she was, anxiously watching the valley road and hoping against hope that they’d started out earlier than intended.

For the millionth time that morning she wondered what this Lance looked like.

Bud had said in his letters that his friend was very good-looking. But Bud’s idea of good-looking and Angie’s idea of good-looking were often poles apart. Their views on things differed as vastly as did their own looks.

Bud took after their mother, who was small and dark, with black wavy hair, chocolate-brown eyes and an inclination to put on weight easily. Angie, however, was a female version of their father—tall and athletically slim, with auburn hair and widely spaced green eyes.

Their natures were different as well. Bud was easily bored, and craved excitement and companionship all the time. Angie was far more placid and private. She was quite happy with her own company, liking nothing better than to go riding by herself, or to curl up all alone on her bed to write poetry or read a book. She liked to think rather than talk. Bud could talk underwater, like their mother.

A cloud of dust in the distance had Angie jumping to her feet, her hand hooding her eyes from the sunlight as she peered down the hill. A car was coming along the valley road, going as fast as her heart was suddenly beating.

It was Bud and his friend. She was sure of it.

Somewhere at the back of her mind Angie knew she was acting totally out of character, getting excited over a member of the opposite sex. Especially one she hadn’t met yet.

She was not boy-mad, as were most other girls in her class. Her classmates actually thought her shy.

She let them think it.

Angie knew that she wasn’t really shy. Just reserved. She liked her personal space and hated being harassed in any way. Unwanted male attention sometimes embarrassed and always annoyed her. Frankly, she found most boys at school exceedingly adolescent, noisy and irritating. She’d actually been relieved by her father’s edict a couple of years back that she could not have a boyfriend till she was sixteen. It was the perfect excuse for her to turn down the invitations she received from her overeager admirers.

And there were many. For Angie was a very attractive girl. In the past few months some people had started using the word ‘beautiful’.

Yet she never made any attempt to enhance her looks or look older, as some girls might have. She never used make-up, always wore her long straight hair up in a simple ponytail, and was happiest wearing jeans or shorts, plus one of her father’s shirts.

Today was no different. Angie had too much common sense to try to attract someone like Bud’s friend from Sydney. He was twenty-two, after all—one year older than Bud—and wouldn’t look twice at a fifteen-year-old girl. On top of that he was very, very rich—the only son and heir of one of Sydney’s wealthiest families.

Perhaps it was this last factor that Angie found so fascinating. She’d never met any really rich people before, and the things Bud had told her about Lance’s home and lifestyle sounded very glamorous. Totally different from the simple country life the Browns led.

Angie had been amazed to hear that after finishing high school Lance had travelled the world for a whole year before starting uni. He and Bud had not become friends till this last year, and no doubt now that their degrees were finished their paths would soon diverge. Next year Bud would have to go out into the real world and find himself a job, whereas Lance would be automatically given a cushy executive position in one of the family’s companies.

Sterling Industries had many fingers in many pies—from food and cleaning products to furniture, from plastics to various mining interests. Apparently, Lance had offered to find Bud a job, but Bud had refused, and Angie was proud of him for that. Not that she was worried about her brother going out on his own in search of a career. Bud had enough drive and energy to succeed in whatever he put his mind to.

The wire door creaked behind her, and Angie turned to see her mother coming out, wiping floury hands on the apron which was doing its best to circumnavigate her rotund middle. Though not yet forty, Nora Brown had long surrendered to her genes, plus her love of food.

Not that she worried about her weight. Nothing ever worried Nora Brown. She was easygoing, easy to please and easy to love. If she had a fault it was her tendency to be blunt with others at times. She was not rude, just a little tactless on occasion. Still, everyone loved her—especially her husband, Morris.

A very handsome man, Morris Brown could have had his pick of any number of local girls. He’d chosen Nora, who was short, plump, dark, and very ordinary-looking.

It was a tribute to Nora’s totally natural self-esteem that she had never found this in any way amazing. She accepted Morris’s love as her due, and loved him back with all the love in her ample bosom. Twenty-two years later, they still adored each other.

‘Did I hear a car coming?’ Nora asked hopefully.

‘Flying, more like it,’ Angie said.

Her mother stepped forward, dark eyes twinkling, a wide smile on her homely face. ‘I’ll bet that’s my Buddy driving. Dear me, but he’s a naughty boy when he gets behind the wheel of a car. I hope his father’s still down on the river flats and can’t see this.’

The car came into view, sending some gravel flying as it lurched around a corner on its way up the hill to the house. Red and gleaming, it had silver wheels and the top down.

The sounds of its manic approach sent the dogs shooting out from underneath the weatherboard house, barking in force. A motley lot, there was a brown kelpie named Betsie, a blue cattle-dog cross named Fang and a black Labrador who’d been a guide dog reject, suitably called Max, after the hero in Get Smart.

‘Betsie! Fang! Max!’ Nora called out. ‘Stop that racket and get yourselves back under the house before you get run over.’

All three dived for cover just as the red Mercedes Sports came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the front steps. It wasn’t her brother’s Mercedes, Angie knew, since he didn’t own a car, but it was Bud behind the wheel all right; she saw that straight away. He was grinning his head off as he glanced down at his watch.

‘Made it before noon by a whole thirty seconds!’ he exclaimed excitedly, then gave his passenger a smug look. ‘You owe me twenty dollars.’

The sound of a rich laugh sent Angie’s eyes swinging over to her brother’s friend, and her heart just stopped. As she stared his head turned slowly towards them, his hand lifting lazily to comb back his thick blond hair. He tipped up his perfectly sculptured face and set dancing blue eyes upon them, his laughing mouth showing dazzling white teeth and a dimple in his right cheek.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Lance.’

‘Hi there, Mum,’ Bud called out. ‘Hope we didn’t scare the chooks too much.’

‘Yes, sorry about the ruckus, Mrs Brown,’ Bud’s friend apologised, still smiling that overwhelmingly engaging smile of his. ‘Your son here is insane when it comes to winning a bet.’

‘That’s all right, young man,’ Nora returned. ‘I already know my Buddy’s weaknesses, as well as his strengths. One seems to be picking very nice friends.’

Bud groaned. ‘For pity’s sake, Mum, don’t flatter him. He’s already got a head as big as the Sydney Harbour Bridge.’

‘I’ll flatter whomever I like in my own house, you cheeky pup,’ Nora pretended to reproach him. ‘Now, get yourself out of that fancy car, come up here and give your old mother a hug. You too, young man. I’m partial to hugs.’

‘Coming right up,’ Lance chuckled, and with an extraordinary amount of grace and athleticism, leapt out of the car without opening the door, landing on long legs which supported a body as perfect as his face. Angie had an excellent view of it, standing there, encased in hip-hugging jeans and a muscle-moulding white T-shirt. When his legs moved to propel him up the three steps it looked even better.

Lance had been long hugged by the time Bud made it out of the car and up the steps, by which time Lance had turned his attention to Angie.

‘Don’t tell me you’re Bud’s little sister?’ he drawled, those brilliant blue eyes of his narrowing upon her in a way which did incredible things to her insides. Her previously stopped heart was suddenly racing like a quarter horse in full gallop.

‘Do I get a hug from you too?’ he asked softly, not waiting for permission but immediately taking her in his arms and squeezing her tight.

After a moment’s shock, Angie closed her eyes and let the feel of his firm embrace wash through every pore of her body. It was an experience alien to anything she had ever felt before, making her face flush and her legs go to jelly.

Fear that she might slide down his body on to the veranda in a melted heap forced her to hug him back. But when she did so, he pulled her even more tightly against him, making her fiercely aware of the physical differences between males and females. Her breasts were squashed flat against the hard expanse of his broad chest, and there was a vague assortment of lumps and bumps pressing into her lower abdomen.

‘You can let her go now,’ Bud said, tapping Lance on the shoulder. ‘And don’t go getting any funny ideas about my sister. She’s only fifteen, you know.’

Lance pulled back to hold her at arm’s length, his hands still resting lightly on her hips as he looked her over a second time.

‘She looks older,’ he said, his voice once again having dropped to that low, lazy timbre which sent little shivers running down her spine.

‘Who, Angie?’ Bud sounded sceptical. ‘Nah, she’s just tall, the lucky devil.’

‘Five foot ten in her bare feet,’ her mother piped up proudly. ‘Takes after her father. Buddy here takes after me,’ she added, tousling her son’s black curly head.

‘Mum, stop that,’ Bud objected. ‘And stop calling me Buddy. You know I hate it.’

‘You liked it well enough for your first eighteen years, me lad. Don’t go letting life in the big city give you airs and graces. You haven’t been giving him airs and graces, have you, Lance?’

Finally, Lance’s hands slipped from Angie’s hips and she gulped a steadying breath. She did her best to look composed but she just knew her cheeks were flaming.

‘Not me, Mrs Brown,’ he said, looking away from Angie’s face at long last.

‘Didn’t think so. You seem a mighty fine boy—even if you are from a filthy rich family.’

‘Mum!’ Bud groaned.

‘Well, we all know money can spoil children,’ his mother stated quite ingenuously. ‘But I can see Lance here has grown up to be a credit to his mum and dad. Where is it that your parents have gone to, Lance?’

‘Europe, I think, Mrs Brown.’

Nora was taken aback. ‘Don’t you know?’

Lance’s shrug was nonchalant. ‘They don’t like to be tied down to a schedule. They just go with the flow.’

‘It seems a strange time to go away, just before Christmas,’ Nora muttered, frowning.

Angie had to agree with her. Christmas was for families.

‘Not to worry,’ her mother went on, linking arms with Lance and smiling broadly up at him. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us. We’ll look after you, won’t we, Angie?’

Vanessa gave a dry chortle. ‘I’ll bet your mother wouldn’t have made such an offer if she’d known how her guest wanted the daughter of the house to look after him. So what happened? How long before he made a pass? And how did you possibly resist him? He sounds gorgeous.’

Angie sighed, then slowed for a set of lights, stopping a little raggedly. ‘He didn’t make a pass. Not once. And he stayed with us most of the summer, right till the end of January.’

‘I don’t believe it! He was obviously attracted to you.’

‘Yes, I thought so too. And I was besotted with him. Followed him around like a puppy. Made every excuse to be wherever he was.’

‘Didn’t your brother mind that—his kid sister tagging along all the time?’

‘No. Our family has always done things together. Bud and Dad spent a lot of time that summer showing Lance how to do country-style things. They taught him how to ride, how to plough, how to shoot. By the end of his stay he could drill a beer can at one hundred yards. It was only natural for me to help. And who else would be stupid enough to stand around putting empty beer cans on fenceposts for hours?’

The lights turned green and Angie eased ahead in the heavy city-going traffic.

‘Did your family know you were ga-ga over him?’ Vanessa asked.

‘I don’t think so. As I said before, I’ve always been a private person. I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve then any more than I do now. Certainly Dad and Bud never guessed. I think maybe Mum might have suspected something, though oddly enough she didn’t say anything at the time—which wasn’t like her at all. Maybe she was smart enough to see the passing nature of the situation and knew that any comment would have made my eventual agony worse.’

‘But Lance knew, didn’t he?’

‘Oh, yes…Lance knew…’

‘And how did he feel about you?’

Angle shrugged. ‘Who knows? I thought he cared for me. He certainly liked me, and I think you’re right in that he was attracted to me, but only in a superficial sense. I was only fifteen, after all. Of course I used to lie in bed every night fantasising that he was as secretly crazy about me as I was about him. I used to write the most sentimental poetry about him—reams of it. I also used to read something deep and meaningful into even the smallest attention he gave me. Every glance my way was a searing, passion-filled gaze in my adolescent mind. Every conversation we shared had hidden love messages behind it.’

Angie gave a soft, sad laugh. ‘The family had a habit of sitting out on the front veranda every night, looking up at the stars and talking. On a few occasions the others went off to bed, leaving Lance and me alone. You’ve no idea how that set my teenage heart a-beating. Only a fifteen-year-old fool would wind romantic dreams around idle chit-chat.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Nothing important. Just general stuff. Movies. Music. Books. Poetry. Looking back, I think Lance was only humouring me by claiming to find my tastes and opinions incredibly sensible and mature.’

‘Maybe not, Angie,’ her flatmate argued. ‘You’re a deep thinker, and maybe too sensible for your own good, I’m beginning to think. Far too sensitive, too. I can just picture you at fifteen. Very beautiful but very intense. Perhaps he didn’t make a pass at you because that very intensity frightened him off.’

‘Did I say he didn’t make a pass at me? Yes, of course I did. Perfectly true, in fact. He didn’t. He didn’t have to. It was stupid me who made the pass. Eventually.’

Vanessa’s head whipped round to stare over at her. ‘You did? Good Lord! When? Where?’

‘It was the night before he went back to Sydney. Out on the front veranda.’

‘What on earth did you do? Do tell.’

CHAPTER THREE

GO TO bed, Angie willed desperately. Please go to bed. He’s going home tomorrow. Don’t you understand? I need to be alone with him!

Angie got the shock of her life when her mother immediately rose and announced her intention to retire for the night. When her father quickly followed, then Bud five minutes later, Angie thanked the Lord for His mercy. She swiftly moved from where she’d been perched up on the veranda railing to sit down next to Lance on the steps, her heart thudding at her boldness.

Lance was dressed in shorts and a singlet top, Angie in similar garb. The day had been hot and the night air was only just beginning to cool. Not that Angie felt cold. Sitting this close to Lance was a highly warming experience.

She stared down at her long brown legs, then over at his, tanned to a golden bronze by the long summer days. Her left thigh was barely an inch from his. If she moved it slightly, their skin would touch. She kept perfectly still, knowing her boldness did not extend that far.

‘You don’t get night skies like this down in Sydney,’ he mused, sighing and leaning back a little, the movement making his thigh brush against hers.

Angle jerked her feet up on to a higher step, her knees pressed together to stop them from trembling. So much for her boldness! ‘I…I wouldn’t know,’ she said shakily.

‘Your mum tells me you’re going to come to Sydney to university when you finish school,’ he said.

‘I hope to. If Dad can afford it. Let’s hope we don’t have a drought or a flood during the next three years.’

Lance frowned, as though it would never have occurred to him that one’s fortunes could depend on the weather. ‘If that happens, I’ll pay for you myself.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t let you do that!’ she exclaimed, despite being thrilled that he had offered. ‘The Browns always pay for themselves.’

Lance sighed. ‘So I’ve gathered from Bud. Damn it all, Angie, you must come to Sydney.’

‘Must I?’ she croaked. Her eyes locked with his and her heart filled to overflowing. He feels the same as me, she thought dazedly. He just thinks I’m too young for him to say anything. This is his way of saying he’ll wait for me.

‘Not that I’m sure I’d like you going to Sydney Uni,’ he muttered, but Angie wasn’t really listening any more. She was drowning in his beautiful blue eyes, thinking how wonderful he was and that she wanted him to kiss her more than anything else in the world. She would just die if he went back to Sydney without kissing her.

‘What course do you want to do?’ he asked.

‘What? Oh…er…an arts degree, majoring in psychology, if I get a high enough mark. If not, I’ll do a degree in Social Welfare. I want to work with people, you see. I want to help solve some of the social problems of the world.’

‘That’s a tall order, Angie—solving the world’s social problems. But I think it’s fantastic that you want to try. So, tell me, what do you see as the world’s main social problem?’

‘That’s a hard one. There are so many problems. Look, this is probably a simplistic approach but I think if people made their lives simpler they’d be happier. The Western world is moving too far away from the family unit and family values. I’d like to encourage people to be more serious about marriage and their commitment to raising children, to appreciate how much time it takes to do both well.’

‘And do you want marriage and children for yourself? Or will you settle for a career?’

‘I don’t see why I can’t have both. Of course, my career would always play second fiddle to my family. My husband and children would always come first with me.’

‘Mmm, I see I’ll have to keep a close eye on you when you get to Sydney, or some smart bastard will whisk you off to the altar before you can say licketysplit!’

‘You…you won’t have to worry about that happening, Lance. There’ll only ever be one man for me.’ Having gone this far, she turned her head and stared him straight in the eye.

Those eyes flared briefly wide with surprise, before narrowing to an expression he’d never bestowed on her before. His darkened gaze moved slowly over her face, dropping at last to her softly parted lips then down to where her breasts were clearly outlined against the thin material of her top. Suddenly, she knew what it was like to be the target of a man’s desire. A man’s, not a boy’s. She felt her body respond, everything all at once hot and tight and tingling. Her face flamed along with the rest of her.

‘You’re only fifteen,’ he said abruptly, as though reminding himself.

‘I won’t be fifteen forever,’ she returned breathlessly.

‘True…But when you grow up, you might change your ideas about who and what you want.’

‘No, I won’t,’ she said, her voice firming. ‘Mum says I’m as stubborn as old Wally Robinson’s bull. I’ll feel the same way about you in three years as I feel now.’

She shook his head, obviously still troubled by the situation.

‘Wait here,’ she whispered, and, jumping up, raced inside to her bedroom, returning within no time.

‘I wrote this the first week you came,’ she said, and pressed the piece of paper into his hands.

He read the poem in dead silence before folding the page and putting it down on the step, shaking his head all the while. For a long moment Angie thought she’d made an utter fool of herself. But then he looked up at her and she knew…She just knew she’d been right. He did feel the same.

‘Oh, Angie,’ he said softly. ‘Sweet…sweet Angie.’ And he reached out to touch her face lightly.

His fingertips were like flicks of fire against her already heated cheek, at the same time igniting other flames throughout her body. The words fell out of her mouth—reckless, breathless words.

‘Kiss me, Lance. Kiss me…’

‘You can’t stop there!’ Vanessa wailed when Angie suddenly fell silent. By this time they’d reached the block of units in North Sydney where they lived, parked in the underground garage and were making their way up the internal staircase to their neat little second floor unit.

‘What happened?’ she persisted.

Once she recovered her composure, Angie smiled wryly at Vanessa’s enthusiasm for her story. Underneath her hard-boiled exterior, she was a romantic—like most females.

‘Nothing much. He kissed me, just once. It was quite brief, really.’

‘It couldn’t have been that brief if you still remember it. And if it’s totally turned you off all other men ever since.’

‘I didn’t say I was totally turned off other men,’ Angie explained. ‘It’s just that I’ve been waiting for their kisses to do for me what Lance’s kiss did. I guess it’s a matter of a standard of chemistry never being reached again.’

‘So what was so special about the way this Lance kissed?’

‘I don’t think there was anything really special about his technique. I think it was the way the kiss made me feel that was so special.’

‘And how did it make you feel?’

Angie stopped at their door, her heart squeezing tight again at the memory. She inserted the key in the lock but didn’t turn it, her hand freezing as the words were wrenched from deep within her. ‘Like the world had tipped on its axis,’ she choked out. ‘Like I’d died and gone to heaven…’

It was crazy, but even after all these years she could still remember the feel of his steely arms winding tight around her, the heady, intoxicating effect of his lips possessing hers, the blindingly electric shock that had charged along her veins when his tongue had momentarily dipped past her eagerly parted lips.

But it was what he’d said to her afterwards which had caused the lasting damage.

‘I’ll write,’ he had said thickly, when he’d put her from him. ‘And when you’re old enough, we’ll be together properly. I promise…’

Perhaps he’d almost meant it at the time. She could give him the benefit of the doubt after all these years. But that didn’t change the inevitable outcome of his thoughtless arrogance in making a promise he must have suspected he would not keep, in condemning her to years of hopeless longing. In a way, that kiss had ruined her life.

‘Wow, Angie! You really were in love with him, weren’t you? So what became of him? Where is he now?’

Angie snapped back to reality, firmly pushing the still upsetting memories of Lance to the back of her mind. ‘Happily married to a very rich, very beautiful woman,’ she said with seeming calm. ‘They live in Melbourne.’

‘What did the poem say? Can you remember?’

Of course she could remember. Every heartbreaking, humiliating word.

‘Not really,’ she hedged. ‘It was just a lot of sentimental twaddle, much better forgotten.’ Which was true.

‘I presume he didn’t keep in contact after he left,’ Vanessa said drily. ‘No letters or anything.’

Angie threw her a cynical look as she turned the key and pushed open the door. ‘Only a polite note to my parents, thanking them for having him to stay.’

‘Bastard. There again, Angie, it was only to be expected. He was way out of your league.’

Five minutes later both girls were sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping a reviving cup of coffee. Angie was off in another world—worrying about Debbie—when Vanessa returned to the subject of Lance.

‘Did you see him again after that summer?’

‘Yes. A few times.’

‘No kidding. Where? When?’

‘The first time was a few months later at his and Bud’s graduation ceremony. The whole family travelled down to Sydney to celebrate the occasion.’

‘And?’

‘He was polite to me, but distant. And of course there was this very sexy-looking redhead hanging off his arm all the time.’

‘You must have been awfully upset.’

‘Crushed. I’d still been making excuses for him in my mind, telling myself that he was like so many males when it came to writing letters. I thought once we saw each other again everything would be all right. He would see I was quickly growing up—having turned a whole sixteen by then. He would tell me he was still waiting for me.’

Angie’s rueful smile hid a wealth of remembered misery. ‘Silly me. But it was Bud who finally put the nail in the coffin of my one-sided love that day, when he told me that Lance had been voted Superstud of the Year at the party his faculty had held the previous night. Seems he’d had more girlfriends in the past three years than porcupines have prickles. The redhead was the latest—acquired at that very same party. Bud was already taking bets with his mates on how long she would last.’

‘Hmm. Maybe you had a lucky escape, Angie—getting out with only being kissed. He could have screwed you and your life good and proper if he’d wanted to. You have to give him some credit for not taking advantage of your youthful hormones.’

‘Yes, I did think of that. Eventually. I also believed I’d finally forgiven and forgotten, or at least gotten over him…till I literally ran into him in Sydney one day during my second year at university. I had a mid-morning lecture and my train had been late. I dashed out of Wynard Station, and was racing along the street for a bus when I collided with this man. You can imagine my surprise when I realised who belonged to the strong hands which reached out to steady me. I think Lance was just as surprised.’

‘My God!’ he gasped. ‘Angie…’

Angie tried not to stare at him. But he looked so handsome, dressed in dark trousers and a cream sports jacket. And so sophisticated. Only twenty-seven, but the university graduate was gone forever, replaced by the elegant man-about-town he had always promised to be.

She hated her tongue-tiedness; she hated the way she couldn’t stop staring at him; she hated the way her heart was instantly yearning and hoping once more. She hadn’t gotten over him at all. Not for a moment.

His blue gaze swept over her, taking in her typical student dress of jeans and T-shirt, a canvas backpack slung over one shoulder, battered trainers on her feet. ‘I see you made it to uni,’ he said. ‘Did you get into the course you wanted?’

‘Yes,’ was all she could manage. She’d pictured such a chance encounter happening ever since coming to Sydney, had run over in her mind how she would act. So cool, so casually indifferent.

But there was nothing cool or casually indifferent in the way she was gobbling him up with her eyes. Or the way her heart was pounding behind her ribs. God, what a fool she was!

‘You’re looking well, Angie,’ he said. ‘I was sorry I couldn’t make it to Bud’s wedding last month. I’ve been overseas on business. And I’m sorry I can’t stay and talk. I’m on my way to meet someone.’

‘Oh, that’s all right. I can’t stay either. I’m late too. Look after yourself. Bye.’ And she was off, almost running.

‘Where are you staying?’ he called after her.

Her heart leapt as she ground to a halt and turned around. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to ask her out, was he? Please, God, let him ask me out, she prayed.

‘I need to know your address so that I can send you an invitation,’ he elaborated.

‘Invitation?’ she repeated weakly.

‘For my wedding. I’m getting married in October.’

‘Oh…’ Did she look as stricken as she felt? She must have, for suddenly he looked awfully apologetic.

His obvious pity was the saving of her.

Somewhere she found a smile, a bright, breezy smile to hide her inner weeping. ‘Fancy that! Married! Well, congratulations. Look, why don’t you send the invitation to Bud’s place? I keep changing my digs. Must go, Lance. See you on your big day!’

* * *

‘Surely you didn’t go!’ Vanessa exclaimed in appalled tones, glaring at her over the table.

Angie shrugged her admission.

‘Gees, girl, you’re a glutton for punishment!’

‘You can say that again. What Lance can do for a dinner suit is criminal.’

‘Why on earth did you go?’

Angie expelled a weary sigh. ‘Curiosity, I guess. I wanted to see the woman who’d snared him. Besides, the whole family had been invited, including Mum and Dad. I really couldn’t get out of it without having to answer some darned awkward questions.’

‘And?’

‘Sheer perfection, the bride was. Like a Dresden doll and just as expensive. I hated her on sight and worshipped Lance all the more. It was the worst day of my life.’

‘What about your family in all this? Didn’t they notice anything? Didn’t they see you’d broken your heart over this heartless Don Juan?’

‘I’m sure Mum was beginning to wonder. And I think Bud had guessed some time back. Perhaps as far back as the night of his and Lance’s graduation. He’d made such a point of letting me know about Lance’s reputation where the opposite sex was concerned. Even at the wedding he said he’d make a fortune if he took bets on Lance’s marriage lasting. He said Lance was a great guy but that he wasn’t cut out for monogamy. He added, rather pointedly, I thought, that it wasn’t always his fault. That a lot of the times silly girls—this said looking straight at me—threw themselves at him.’

‘Pretty lame excuse, if you ask me. Hard to rape a guy, I say. Did you speak to lover-boy himself at the wedding?’

‘I tried not to, but Lance seemed to deliberately seek me out. Lord knows why. Maybe he was finally suffering from a guilty conscience. He gave me this ghastly kiss on the cheek, then told me rather stiffly that he hoped life would bring me everything I’d ever hoped for, that he thought I was the nicest girl he’d ever met and that he wished the world could be full of people like the Browns.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Vanessa sighed. ‘Hardly the thing to say to turn you off him, was it?’

Angie swallowed the lump that had suddenly filled her throat. ‘No,’ she confessed. ‘Not quite…’

Vanessa was frowning at her. ‘You’re not still in love with him, are you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she returned impatiently, standing up abruptly to carry her empty mug over to the sink. ‘That was donkey’s years ago. Don’t be silly.’

Vanessa joined her at the sink. ‘I hope you’re telling the truth, for it would be silly of you to still be in love with him. It’s also silly for you to keep knocking back other men because of the way some rich creep once made you feel. Get your head out of the clouds, Angie, and get real. You’re not getting any younger, you know. One day you’ll wake up and you won’t see a cross between Elle MacPherson and Sophia Loren in the mirror, and then it’ll all be too late!’

Angie had to laugh. Vanessa had a turn of phrase which could be highly amusing. A cross between Elle MacPherson and Sophia Loren, indeed!

‘You’re going to your brother’s birthday party tonight, aren’t you?’ Vanessa went on, with a devious gleam in her eye.

‘Yes…’

‘Is it a big party or just a small gathering?’

‘Bud’s parties are always huge.’

‘What’s your brother do for a crust?’

‘Well, he did a business degree, majoring in computer studies and marketing. But he went into advertising and he’s been surprisingly successful.’

‘Then his party should be full of eminently suitable candidates, shouldn’t it?’

‘Candidates for what?’

‘Your first lover.’

Angie was about to protest when she stopped herself, all those maudlin memories of Lance sparking an uncharacteristic surge of recklessness. Maybe Vanessa was right. Maybe even Debbie had been right this afternoon. Life was meant to be lived. To remain ignorant and inexperienced just because she was clinging to a crazy dream was indeed silly.

‘At least go with an open mind,’ Vanessa urged. ‘Promise me that if a suitable candidate shows up, whom you’re genuinely attracted to, you’ll think about giving him a chance.’

‘All right,’ she said, suddenly making up her mind to do just that. ‘I promise.’

‘Now you’re being sensible.’

Which was what Lance had said about her more than once that summer. How sensible she was.

Well, she was sick of sensible! Her resolve to follow Vanessa’s suggestion deepened. She would find herself a real lover as opposed to a fantasy one. It was time. Yes, it was definitely time!

‘I’m going to make sure I look smashing tonight,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘Attagirl!’ Vanessa crowed. ‘Go for it, sweetheart. You only live once!’

Ten o’clock that evening found Angie regretting the trouble she had gone to over her appearance. She received enough male attention at parties at the best of times. Done up as she was tonight, and smothered in perfume, she seemed to have reduced potential candidates to panting pursuers, thereby ensuring her revulsion. She hated men who came on too strong, who delivered obvious lines then expected her to melt instantly at their feet. If one more intoxicated fool said ‘your place or mine’, she was going to scream.

There again, she supposed it was her own stupid fault if they all thought she was on the make. She should never have curled her long auburn hair and worn it provocatively over one shoulder. Or let Vanessa talk her into borrowing her outrageous gold and crystal earrings, which were five inches long and looked incredibly sexy.

On top of that, she hadn’t been able to wear a bra under the petticoat-style party dress she’d bought specially for the occasion, and her naked nipples were patently obvious under the silky material. She should have bought the black one she’d first tried on, but the salesgirl had talked her into the green, saying it matched her eyes and complemented her auburn hair.

If she’d tried the dress on instead of just holding it up against her, she’d have known that the green didn’t camouflage her body as well as the black. Angie began to worry that from the back she might look totally naked under the dress, despite wearing tights with built-in knickers.

Spotting a glassy-eyed chap making a beeline straight for her across Bud’s crowded living-room, Angie whirled and made a dash for safety, gripping her glass of wine firmly in both hands lest she spill it all down her front. She found a temporary sanctuary in the kitchen, where Bud’s wife, Loretta, was happily refilling serving dishes with all sorts of party snacks.

‘Oh, hi, Angie. My, but you do look slinkily glamorous tonight. Bud said you had all his workmates drooling. Now I can see why. You had a jacket on when you first arrived, didn’t you? Darn, there goes the front doorbell again. Could you get it for me, love?’

‘Sure.’ Angie didn’t mind at all. It was better than going back into that room with all those heavy-breathing yuppies.

She sipped her wine as she made her way along the downstairs hall towards the front door, thinking as she went that Bud had really done very well for himself for a country boy from Wilga. A thriving career as an advertising executive, a lovely home in the leafy North Shore suburb of Turramurra, a very pretty wife and a delightful little boy, named Morris after their father. All this, and only thirty today. Remarkable.

Angie opened the door and promptly froze.

The man standing on the front porch, with his hands deep in his trouser pockets and an overnight bag at his feet, had his back to her. But she knew immediately who that well-shaped fair head belonged to. She’d have known him from any angle.

It was Lance.

CHAPTER FOUR

HE TURNED slowly at the sound of the door, moving with that lazy, indolent grace which she remembered oh, so well. There was no man who could mount a horse like Lance. There was no man who looked like him, either.

Even at thirty-one, Lance was still breathtakingly handsome. The lines around his eyes and mouth did not detract from the brilliance of those beautiful blue eyes, or the sensual appeal of that perfectly sculptured mouth. If anything, they added a very attractive maturity, which Angie preferred to his once almost pretty-boy look.

His body hadn’t changed, though. Perhaps it would have been better if it had. A few pounds of flab to mar its male perfection might have provided some protection from the way it had always affected her.

How was it, she wondered caustically as her eyes travelled with an almost resigned fascination over him, that he could look so sexy in an ordinary pair of grey trousers and a simple white shirt?

A bitter taste invaded her mouth as she recalled the occasion of that unexpected meeting in Sydney, when she’d been flustered and tongue-tied. Angie vowed that this would not be a repeat performance, despite the way her heart was instantly racing.

Her green eyes stayed cool as they lifted to meet that brilliant blue gaze. ‘Hello, Lance,’ she said casually. ‘Long time, no see.’

For a few seconds he didn’t reply as he gave her as thorough a once-over as she had given him. It piqued Angie when his expression revealed a degree of surprise, plus something else that she couldn’t quite identify.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said slowly. ‘I see you’ve changed somewhat.’

‘For the better, I hope,’ came her almost challenging comment as she sneakily moved her glass to cover her left nipple, the one which her hair didn’t reach.

His smile was wry. ‘Hard to improve on perfection, Angie.’

He could not have said anything to annoy her more. For it was so insincere! She found a smile as wry as his. ‘You always did know what to say to turn a girl’s head, Lance. But, tell me, what are you doing here? Is Bud expecting you?’

‘No.’

‘You do realise it’s his birthday today, don’t you?’ she said archly. ‘And that we’re having a party in his honour.’

‘Yes, of course. That’s why I came.’

She frowned down at the bag at his feet. ‘You look like you’re aiming to stay for longer than the party.’

‘For a night or two. But only if Bud has room. I can just as easily go to a nearby motel for the night. I have my car.’

She frowned some more. ‘Are you saying you drove up from Melbourne just because it’s Bud’s birthday?’

‘Partly.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means, Angie, my sweet, that my wife and I have agreed to a divorce and I felt the sudden need to get away and see old friends again.’

Angle congratulated herself on taking this news so nonchalantly. At least on the exterior. ‘You’ve left your wife?’

‘Aah, now, I didn’t say that. She left me, actually.’

‘Why?’

His casual air suddenly dropped, irritation flaring. ‘For pity’s sake, Angie, must I stand here answering questions? I’ve just driven all the way from Melbourne. I’m stiff as a board and damned tired. I need a shower and a drink. Your mother wouldn’t have left me languishing on the doorstep like this. She would have given me a big hug and bundled me inside, post-haste.’

‘Indeed. Well, I’m not my mother, am I? And I’m more into kissing than hugging. Would you like to kiss me hello, Lance?’ she taunted, thrilling to the foolishnes of her words.

He stared at her. ‘Are you drunk or something?’

‘No.’ But I’d like to be, came the savage thought.

‘Then why are you acting like this?’

‘Like what?’

‘So unlike yourself.’

She laughed. ‘How would you know what I’m like these days? The only Angie you ever knew was just a kid—a silly, impressionable kid who once thought the sun shone out of you.’

‘Well, it’s perfectly clear you don’t any more,’ he muttered testily.

She could hardly believe her ears. He was actually sounding disappointed that her once obvious hero-worship of him had disappeared.

‘Oh, do stop scowling, Lance, and come inside. I’ll go get Bud for you.’

Bud was as amazed as she was.

‘Good God. Lance? Here?’

‘His wife’s left him,’ she whispered to her brother.

‘Hmm. Doesn’t take too many guesses to work out why. I always said Lance was never cut out for monogamy.’

‘Apparently he drove all the way from Melbourne today because he wanted to celebrate your birthday with you. Says he also wants to stay the night.’

‘Well, of course he can stay the night. He’s my friend! Go tell Loretta we have an overnight visitor, will you, Angie?’ And he raced off towards the front hall.

Loretta was back in the kitchen, this time loading the dishwasher. She took the news of Lance’s unexpected arrival and anticipated stay as cheerfully as Angie’s mother would have, giving Angie new insight into why she and Bud were so compatible.

‘How nice for Bud. He hasn’t seen Lance since his wedding.’

‘Neither have I,’ Angie said.

Something in her tone brought a sharp look from her sister-in-law. ‘You’re not still carrying a torch for him, are you?’

Angie blinked her surprise, and Loretta smiled softly. ‘One would have had to be deaf, dumb and blind at that wedding not to know you were heartbroken that day. Bud told me later that he tried to make you see that Lance wasn’t the right man for any girl, let alone his much-loved sister. Did he succeed?’

Angie shrugged. ‘I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I still find him awfully attractive. But I’m cured of anything more.’

‘I hope so. Married men are always trouble.’

‘He says he’s getting a divorce.’

‘That’s as popular as the cheque’s in the mail,’ Loretta said drily.

‘You don’t have to worry about me, Loretta. I’m once bitten, twice shy where Lance Sterling is concerned.’

‘I know Bud will be relieved to hear that.’

‘I’ll be relieved to hear what?’ the man himself said as he came into the kitchen.

‘That Angie’s cured of Lance.’

Bud looked hard at his sister. ‘She’ll need to be, dressed as she is tonight.’

Angie bristled. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning Lance is not the sort of man to ignore the signals you’ve been giving out tonight, dear sister of mine. On top of that, he always did fancy you.’

‘Come on, Bud, you’re living in the past. And give me a break. I’m twenty-four years old now, not fifteen. I think I can handle myself where men are concerned—Lance included.’

Brave words, girlie, that voice mocked inside her head again. Want to put them to the test?

Her brother sighed. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m being paranoid. Lance seems to have changed too. He was very quiet just now—not at all like his old self. I think that marriage must have knocked the stuffing out of him.’

‘Where did you put him?’ Loretta asked.

‘In the main guest-room. He’s having a shower. I’m supposed to be mixing him a Scotch and dry and taking it up to him. Since you’re so cured, Angie, you can do that. I really should get back to my other guests. You should, too, Loretta. You’ve been in this kitchen long enough.’

Panic claimed Angie immediately. She wanted to scream out that she wasn’t that cured yet, but the idea of taking Lance up a drink while he was in the shower did have a certain perverse appeal. Who knew what she might accidentally see?

Memories of their swimming together in the creek at home came back in a rush. Lance had such a great body. A swimmer’s body. Wide of shoulder, slender of hip, with long, tapering muscular legs. He’d been a champion swimmer at university, only missing out on the Olympics because he would never take training seriously.

That had always been a problem with Lance. He’d never taken anything really seriously. But that had been part of his attraction too. Serious-minded, deep-thinking Angie had been intrigued by someone who didn’t seem to plan or worry about much.

Not that he had to. He’d been born clever and handsome and rich—the rich part being the most influential in forming Lance’s attitude to life. Everything just fell into rich people’s laps, it seemed. Everything had certainly fallen into Lance’s lap—females included.

This last thought brought a sour grimace to Angie’s face. She threw together a whisky and dry which would have made the heroine in Raiders of the Lost Ark finally slide under the table, and carried it upstairs, wondering what her motivation was in mixing such a stiff drink. Was she trying to anaesthetise Lance, or prime him for seduction later on?

She gasped with shock at this last thought, grinding to a halt on the top landing. But the shock quickly changed to defiance. Hadn’t she promised Vanessa that if a suitable candidate showed up at the party tonight she would give him a chance to become her first lover? Who better than the man she’d wanted to be her first lover all along?

God, maybe she was drunk after all. How many glasses of wine had she had before Lance arrived? Two? Three? No, only two. She wasn’t drunk, but she also wasn’t acting like her usual sensible self either, as Lance had so accurately pointed out at the door. Suddenly she felt even more reckless than she had earlier, and just a little bit wild. Wild as in angry.

Oh, yes, she was angry. Angry at Lance. He had no right to show up here tonight and spoil everything for her again. It wasn’t fair! He would have to pay. She would make him pay. With his body!

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