why the hell are you going to marry that big oaf? He’s all brawn and no brains. I wish to hell I’d never introduced you to him. You can’t possibly enjoy going to bed with him. I would imagine having Jack on top would be like being run over by a bulldozer. God, don’t stop.’
Felicia laughed. ‘In that case there must be something to be said for being run over by a bulldozer. Jack might not have your formal education, Gerald, but he’s street-smart and not to be underestimated. And what he lacks in irnagination he more than makes up for with a quite amazing stamina. I’m not that much a martyr that I would marry a man who couldn’t satisfy me in bed.’
‘I’d be quite happy to keep on satisfying you. Any time. Anywhere.’
‘Yes, but you won’t marry me.’
‘That’s because I’m already married. God, I’ll pay you, if that’s what you want.’
‘Not enough, darling. Under that supposedly magnaminous façade you wear, you’re the original Scrooge.’
‘I didn’t get rich by being stupid.’
‘Neither will I. Modelling and acting hasn’t brought me any real fame or fortune, and my looks won’t last forever. I’m going to marry Jack Marshall, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me. He’s the ideal husband for me. A multi-millionaire. A self-confessed workaholic. And a man who doesn’t want children. What more could I possibly hope for? Now, I really must go. Jack will be out of the bathroom by now.’
‘But you can’t leave me like this,’ Gerald groaned.
When Felicia laughed, Gerald told her where she could go in decidedly obscene terminology. Felicia laughed again before opening the glass door and going back inside. Gerald must have quickly followed, because all of a sudden the balcony was very silent and very, very cold.
A shudder of revulsion ran through Hannah. Now the matter was settled. She could not let Jack marry that revolting woman. She wouldn’t say anything tonight, but first thing tomorrow morning she would take Jack aside and tell him all she had overheard…
I would have, too, Hannah reminded herself valiantly now, as she glanced over at her sleeping boss again. If Jack had come straight downstairs into the office this morning. If he hadn’t gone off instead to the site of the exhibition village Marshall Homes were building at Cherrybrook. And if that damned tile hadn’t hit him on the head, knocking him unconscious and obliterating the last six weeks from his mind.
Lord, she could still see the shock on Jack’s face when she’d announced their new relationship. If his head hadn’t been aching so much, he might have sought to question her further. But his pain, plus his obsessive hatred of hospitals, had obviously kept all the questions she had seen in his eyes from finding voice at that time. His one and only objective had been getting out of there. Then, once in her car, the sedating painkiller the doctor had prescribed had taken over and he’d drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t even woken when she’d made the stops required to complete her outrageous plan.
Now Hannah began to wonder just how long he was going to be out of it. Then she began to worry that it might not be the drugs keeping Jack asleep. Maybe it was a case of severe concussion? Maybe he was going to fall into a coma? Maybe he—
‘Oh, hell!’ she swore, slamming her foot down hard on the brake as the back of a mud-spattered semi-trailer suddenly materialised through the misty rain. Everyone and everything shot forward when the brakes gripped in the wet, the car slewing wildly. A collision was avoided by mere inches.
Jack was instantly but dazedly awake. ‘What in blazes?’ he growled, then shot a most disconcerting glance over at Hannah. It was part-pain, part-disorientation, part-disbelief. Gradually the fog seemed to clear from his eyes and he frowned at her. ‘What in hell do you think you’re doing, Hannah?’
Oh, my God, she thought. He’s got his memory back.
‘YOU’RE usually such a good driver,’ he added, and Hannah tried not to shudder in relief.
She just wasn’t ready for him to get his memory back yet. It was hard enough to cope with his being awake. She knew he’d been dying to ask questions back at the hospital about their supposed engagement. Now nothing was going to stop him.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Didn’t see the darned thing. This road’s murder in the rain.’ She slanted him a hopefully soothing smile. ‘We’ll be at the cottage soon. Only a few more miles.’
‘What cottage is that?’
‘Don’t you remember? I told you about it back at the hospital, when the doctor insisted that if you were fool enough to discharge yourself then the least you could do was to go somewhere quiet and rest for a few days. When I mentioned the holiday cottage I owned in the Blue Mountains up near Leura, he said that would be perfect.’
‘I can’t really remember. I think at the time I was still too stunned by our engagement to take much in. Besides, I would have blindly agreed to anything to get out of that bloody hospital. So how did you come to own this mysterious cottage? You’ve never mentioned it before.’
‘Dwight bought it several years ago as a getaway. It was part of my divorce settlement.’
‘I see. Well, that explains why I didn’t know about it. You never talk about your marriage or your husband. Or you didn’t before I lost my memory,’ he muttered disgruntedly.
Which was pretty true, although Jack did know that Dwight was a doctor. And she had told him one day about the apartment she lived in, which was right in the middle of Parramatta’s business district, and far beyond a secretary’s salary. It was in a fairly new and prestigious building; the lower floors were devoted to shops and offices, and the upper floors housed exclusive executive apartments.
Dwight had bought one of these apartments only a couple of weeks before Hannah had left him. And had arrogantly—but stupidly, as it turned out—put it in her name for tax reasons. He hadn’t even had time to put tenants in when she’d walked out on their marriage and laid legal claim to it. It had given her a small amount of satisfaction that there hadn’t been a darned thing Dwight could do about it.
As it turned out, it was an ideal spot for her to live, despite Parramatta being a long way from the northern suburb of Mosman, where she’d lived all her married life. Her boys, of whom she had joint custody, were only a short distance away at Kings College, and it was only a ten-minute drive from Parramatta to Marshall Homes’ head office at Castle Hill.
‘Have you brought me up here before?’ Jack asked abruptly, dark puzzlement in his voice.
Hannah tensed. ‘No, I haven’t,’ she admitted.
Jack glanced at his wristwatch, his head snapping up and round in surprise. ‘Good God, it’s almost eight o’clock!’
‘You’ve been asleep for hours. How are you feeling, by the way?’
‘I’ve felt better.’ His hand came up to touch the top of his head carefully.
‘You don’t feel nauseous, do you?’ the doctor had asked her to watch for nausea and vomiting as a sign of a more serious concussion, making her promise to take Jack to a hospital if that happened.
‘No,’ he denied. ‘Just headachy. It’s not nearly as bad as it was, though.’
‘Do you…er…still think it’s May, and not July?’
“Fraid so. And I still can’t believe you and I are engaged,’ he added, shooting her a much sharper look. ‘Hell, Hannah, how and when exactly did that happen?’
A wave of guilty heat filled her face, but she doubted he could see it. It was pitch-black outside, and the light inside the car was dim. ‘Er…only this week,