Leona has known Boyd since she was a child, and he still has the power to turn her emotions inside out. But he is so out of her league that she carefully hides behind a wall of cool indifference. Until the kiss that sets the tongues of society wagging and gives Boyd the means he's been waiting for to make the stubborn, sensual redhead his….
Leona has known Boyd since she was a child, and he still has the power to turn her emotions inside out. But he is so out of her league that she carefully hides behind a wall of cool indifference. Until the kiss that sets the tongues of society wagging and gives Boyd the means he's been waiting for to make the stubborn, sensual redhead his….
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Overview
Leona has known Boyd since she was a child, and he still has the power to turn her emotions inside out. But he is so out of her league that she carefully hides behind a wall of cool indifference. Until the kiss that sets the tongues of society wagging and gives Boyd the means he's been waiting for to make the stubborn, sensual redhead his….
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781426827785 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Harlequin |
| Publication date: | 02/01/2009 |
| Series: | Diamond Brides , #2 |
| Sold by: | HARLEQUIN |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 192 |
| File size: | 214 KB |
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Read an Excerpt
"Leo, you know they don't want me, but they feel obliged to ask me," Robbie, her stepbrother said. As usual, he was making himself comfortable, lolling back on her brand-new sofa, dark head on a cushion, his long legs slung languidly over the other end.
This was a familiar theme between them, causing Leona, always the peacemaker, to answer automatically, "You know that's not true." Sadly, it was true. "You're good company, Robbie. You're an asset to any house party. Besides, you're on Boyd's polo team, which counts for a lot, and you're a darn good tennis player—my best doubles partner. We can and do beat the rest of them." The rest of them being the close-knit Blanchard clan, many of whom would be attending the weekend house party.
"Except Boyd," Robbie chipped in. "Now, Boyd is a man to marvel over—a business dynamo, IQ off the charts, superb athlete, a serious heartthrob with the women. What more could a man hope for? They could have cast him as the new James Bond."
"Forget Boyd," said Leona. "I rather like the new guy." As always, she was masking the deep feelings she had for Boyd— feelings she thought she would never get past—as she chucked a cushion at Robbie. "Though I will concede they don't come any more perfect than Boyd." This was said very dryly.
Robbie laughed, deftly fielding the silk cushion and depositing it on the floor. "Sure you don't actually love him?" He lifted his head to flash her a bright challenging look. Robbie was teeming with intuition and he frequently caught her out.
"Now, that would be a turn-up, wouldn't it?" she answered, hoping her white skin wasn't showing tell-tale bright flags of colour. "He is my second cousin."
"Well, not strictly speaking. You'd have to give or take a few 'steps'," Robbie reminded her. "There've been so many deaths, divorces and remarriages in the Blanchard family."
That was certainly true. Triumph and tragedy aplenty. She and Boyd, for instance, had both lost their mothers. She when she was eight. His beautiful mother, Alexa, had become Leona's honorary aunt after that until she'd died when Boyd was in his mid-twenties. Boyd's father, Rupert, Chairman of Blanchards, had remarried two years later, not to a nice sensible woman somewhere near his own age, as the family had dared to hope, but to a flamboyant divorcee, the daughter of one of Rupert's old cronies who sat on the Board of Blanchards. She was just a handful of years older than Rupert's only son and heir, Boyd.
The family had been reduced to a state of shock at the speed of the new alliance. Robbie privately referred to the newcomer as the Bride of Frankenstein. And he wasn't the only one in the family to gloat. Most expected the marriage would end in a ferocious court battle and a huge settlement. All had the great good sense to keep their opinions to themselves, except Geraldine, Rupert's older unmarried sister who didn't hesitate to speak her mind, as befitted her position. Despite that, Rupert had married his Jinty—short for Virginia—regardless. Rupert Blanchard was a law unto himself. And so, as it had transpired, was Jinty.
"Anyway, we're not talking about Boyd, we're talking about you," Leona picked up the conversation. "Why you keep writing yourself off, I don't know."
"Ah, but you do know, Leo." Robbie sighed. "Low self-esteem." The unhappy, rebellious six-year-old he had been when Leona had first laid eyes on him fourteen years before glittered out of his dark eyes. "The problem is, I don't know who I am. Carlo didn't want any part of me. Didn't even bother to toss a coin for me. 'Heads me, tails your mother'. Your dad, my stepfather, is a good man, a gentleman of the old school, but he still doesn't know what to make of me. Just hopes things don't get any worse. Mother dearest has never loved me. No need to ask why. I don't make her proud and I don't look a scrap like her. I keep reminding her of Carlo and their failed marriage. To top it off, I'm not a Blanchard, am I, all these years later?" Robbie's intense young face took on a bitter cast. "I'm the misfit in your midst, the emotionally neglected adopted son."
In a way he was absolutely spot on, but Leona didn't hold back on the groans. "Please, Robbie, not again!" She allowed her still coltish frame to collapse into an armchair opposite him, feeling weighed down by her constant anxiety for him and his well-being. "Do you really have to sprawl all over my new sofa?" she asked, not really minding. As usual Robbie was immaculate, very sharply groomed and dressed. Nothing scruffy about Robbie, not that it would have been tolerated. Robbie, for all his moans, well knew on which side his bread was buttered.
"How can I not?" he responded, not moving an inch. "It's so darn comfortable. You have superb taste, Leo. You're a super girl altogether. Best of all, you're as tender-hearted as you're beautiful. Lord knows how I would have made it in this family without you—my big sister, my most trusted confidante and supporter. You're the only one who doesn't think I'll turn out a rogue like Carlo."
"No, no!" she automatically denied.
"Yes, yes!" said Robbie. "They're all just waiting for me to prove it. Probably the best thing I could do, so far as the family is concerned, is fall under a bus."
And he didn't have it all that wrong, Leona thought dismally. For that reason, she couldn't let the opportunity go past. "You might consider your gambling is a worry, Robbie. You have to get a grip on that." She couldn't bring herself to throw in drugs again. Not so soon after their last confrontation. Robbie ran with a fast, moneyed, mostly mindless young crowd, hell-bent on pleasure, or what they considered pleasure, which didn't include work. She knew for a fact he dabbled with pot, like so many of his peers. She was fairly certain it hadn't gone any further than that. Not yet anyway. Like her, Robbie carried the burden of the Blanchard name, which meant pressure as well as prestige, power, mega-wealth. But, unlike her, Robbie wasn't the most stable of people.
The only person he seemed to be able to commit to was her, his "big sister." They hadn't used the "step" for years and years. Robbie just referred to her as his sister, as she called him her brother. It didn't seem to matter that there was no bond in blood. Her father had legally adopted Robbie directly after he'd married Robbie's mother, Delia. Newcomers who didn't know Leona and Robbie's background always commented with perplexed frowns, "But you're not a bit alike." Maybe the fact that Robbie—christened Roberto Giancarlo D'Angelo— strongly resembled his Italian father while she was a porcelain-skinned redhead had something to do with it.
"Pure art nouveau," Boyd had long since labelled her looks, consigning her to the romantic, overly sentimental Pre-Raphaelite lot—the willowy springtime woodland nymph with her loosely pinned mane of red-gold hair, flowing floral diaphanous dress, away with the fairies. Not his usual cup of tea— slick, elegant, the perfect brunette, all long legs and womanly curves, whereas she had as many curves as her ironing-board.
Don't think of Boyd.
It was excellent advice. She'd do well to follow it. Even being around him was dangerous enough.
Robbie's voice brought her out of her discomfiting thoughts. "I promise you I will, Leo. Have there been more whisperings about me in the family? 'What else is Robbie doing'?" he mimicked a female family voice.
There had been plenty of those, she thought. Shocked horror from the older generation. Delia, his mother, reduced to fat crocodile tears over her son's misconduct. "Remember there's Boyd to consider. Nothing gets past him, Robbie. He has eyes and ears everywhere."
"Spies, spooks!" Robbie laughed as if it was funny. It wasn't. Robbie sustained himself with cynical, sometimes bitter banter, when in reality Boyd Blanchard was everything he yearned to be. "Scion of generations of multi-millionaires, now billionaires," he continued, dangling an arm to the floor. "Now there's a man for you."
"Oh, I don't know." Leona pursed her finely cut, sensitive lips.
"Come off it." Robbie grinned wickedly and swung upright with the strength and elegance of the university champion gymnast he was. "Maybe he's the one to awaken you—"
"He is not!" Leona protested, uncharacteristically cross.
"Well, you do a good job of covering up, but I know you, remember? You admire him as much as everyone else. Problematic old me included. He might bawl me out from time to time, but I know he means well by me. I'm simply not in his league. He's cast in the heroic mould. I'm the one everyone is waiting to see unravel. No wonder Boyd is worshipped by the family. He's probably the most eligible bachelor in the country, all the women love him, not yet thirty—"
"He is. A month ago," Leona confirmed, not giving Robbie a chance to go on. Counting off Boyd's attributes was a sure way to madness.
"Fancy that! I wasn't invited to the party, then?" "There was no party. He was much too busy." "Well, that would be true enough." Robbie was always fair. "He's a workaholic. Just think what he's achieved. He's ready to step into Rupert's shoes right now. Boyd and Jinty— one of my least favourite women, as I've told you umpteen times—are the only ones in the entire clan who don't go in fear and awe of old Rupe. And there's you," he pondered thoughtfully. "The odd thing is, the ruthless old devil is very fond of you. That's the only thing about him I like. He despises me."
"Not true." Again Leona shook her red-gold head when she knew the autocratic Rupert considered Robbie "worthless". "He's ready to take you into the firm as soon as you complete your degree."
And why not? Robbie was very clever and he was right about one thing: Rupert had always shown a marked interest in her since she was a little girl. Intimidating with most people, he had always been very gentle with her, especially after she had lost her mother, Serena, in that fatal riding accident on the Brooklands estate. In those far off days Boyd, six years her elder, vividly handsome and clever, already at fourteen six feet tall, had made a special effort to take her under his wing as if she were a stray fluffy duckling. He had always looked after her at family functions and gatherings, without any need for prompting. He had just done it. In those days Boyd had been her hero. She told herself she had long run out of hero worship.
These days, Boyd affected her so powerfully, so painfully, she could scarcely make eye contact with him. He made her nervous and excited. He challenged her and honed her already sharp wits. It was torture to be physically near him, yet she couldn't seem to draw back. The fact was, she was mesmerised by his whole persona—those piercing, incredibly beautiful blue eyes that wooed as they wounded. She was a seething mass of contradictions where Boyd was concerned. He stirred her and she feared him. Any liaison between her and Boyd would never be accepted. Not that he had ever looked at her in that way. Well, how did he look at her, exactly? Sometimes he made her feel extraordinarily beautiful. Inside and out. Other times he seemed to go out of his way to alienate her. The cool tongue. The blazing eyes. Face it: it was her fantasy, not his.
Robbie broke into her errant thoughts again. "I expect I get invited because they want to keep an eye on me."
"Same way they keep an eye on all of us," she said with a smile.
"Just like royalty! At least they acknowledge you for the clever, creative young woman you are. The fact you're a genuine beauty is always an enormous help, and you have the wonderful gift of being able to get on with all sorts of people."
"Except Boyd." The fact she had voiced it aloud made her twitch with self-disgust.
Robbie laughed. "I expect there's a very good reason for that. I ask myself—all that sparring the two of you go on with. Are you both playing a part? Is it all a sham?"
"Funny sort of sham." She spoke as though the very idea of being secretly in love with Boyd was utterly ridiculous. "We bring out the worst in each other." How proficient she had grown at crushing down all other explanations. It was bad enough they lurked on the outskirts of her brain.
"Personally, I think you're a good match," Robbie announced as though he had given it serious consideration. "Boyd needs a woman with fiery red hair. You're good at keeping him in line. Well, I'd best be off."
"I hope that doesn't mean to the races." Leona stood up. It was Saturday and the Spring Carnival was underway.
A little colour rose to Robbie's olive cheeks. "I don't do much harm. I'm taking Deb. Barrington and his current squeeze are coming along. Just a fun afternoon and a chance for the girls to dress up. I'm surprised you're not going. Old Rupe's glamour two-year-old is bound to win its race. Shall I put a couple of bob on for you?"
Leona shook her head, her beautiful hair loosely caught back in a high knot. "I've never felt the slightest urge to gamble, Robbie. With money, that is. I certainly play my hunches. That's the right side of my brain. Money makes money for the likes of Rupert." She planted an affectionate kiss on Robbie's cheek. He wasn't tall and she was for a woman. "If I were you, I'd put my boot down firmly on what you've got." Robbie was on a generous allowance from her father but she knew he made short work of it. He often borrowed from her, promising he would pay her back. Sometimes he did. More often he didn't.
The two of them walked to the door of Leona's very attractive open-plan apartment, which took full advantage of its marvellous location overlooking Sydney Harbour. The apartment had been a twenty-first birthday present from "The Family". It was their way of showing their approval of the way she conducted herself and brought credit to the family name. No way could she have afforded it herself, although with her latest promotion to personal assistant to Beatrice Caldwell, a fashion icon and overall Director of Blanchards Fashion, she had now hit an income high.
"You deserve it, girl. Like me, you have the eye!"
High praise from the autocratic and incredibly difficult to please Beatrice.
"So you are coming to the house party?" Leona needed to double-check. "You're expected to reply." Good manners ranked high on the Blanchard expectations list.
"Naturellement! And that just about exhausts my French for the day. Just for you, Leo. No one else."