Not a Marrying Man. Miranda Lee

a bit of dragon, but at least she loved you enough to give me a piece of her mind.’

      ‘She did?’

      ‘Indeed she did,’ he said drily.

      Kate had had a reputation for speaking her mind. And a reputation for being a bit of a man hater. Though she hadn’t hated all men. She’d liked Max Richmond and had always sung his praises. But then it was highly unusual, Amber supposed, for a billionaire to give up his jet-setting lifestyle to get married and raise a family away from the spotlight of wealth and fame.

      ‘What did she say?’ Amber asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.

      Warwick shrugged his shoulders. ‘The usual. I was a selfish you-know-what who should be hung, drawn and quartered for taking a sweet young thing like you as my mistress.’

      ‘Oh,’ Amber choked out.

      Warwick’s head snapped round. ‘You’re not crying, are you?’

      ‘No,’ she denied, but shakily.

      ‘You are,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I can’t stand it when you cry.’

      ‘I don’t cry all that often,’ Amber said defensively.

      ‘You have to be kidding, sweetheart. You cry at the news, and at ads, and during all those soppy movies you like to watch. I put a box of tissues by the sofa to mop up your tears.’

      ‘They’re not real tears. I’m talking about real tears.’ She’d only wept a few times since moving in with Warwick. Once, when her mother was highly critical of her relationship. And then, when she’d heard that her aunt Kate had died. Oh, and yes, after her argument with Warwick last week.

      But he hadn’t been witness to that, had he? He hadn’t even been in the same room.

      ‘Tears don’t solve anything, you know,’ he growled.

      ‘They’re not meant to solve anything,’ she shot back, dabbing the moisture from her eyes. ‘They just happen.’

      ‘I don’t like the way women use tears to get what they want.’

      ‘I don’t.’

      ‘No,’ he said, if a little reluctantly. ‘You don’t.’

      ‘Let’s not argue, Warwick,’ she said, worried that the happiness she’d felt this morning was beginning to disintegrate.

      ‘Only if you promise not to cry.’

      She smiled over at him. ‘See? I’ve already stopped.’

      ‘What about later when you get to your aunt’s place?’

      ‘I’ll do my best not to.’ But she rather suspected she would shed a few tears then. She hadn’t been there since her aunt died, the wake having been held at a local club.

      ‘Mmm. I think I should have given you the car for the day. Let you drive yourself up to Wamberal.’

      ‘But I want you with me. I need your advice on what I should do with Aunt Kate’s place. Besides, I don’t much like driving your car.’

      ‘What? You don’t like driving a Ferrari? Are you insane?’

      ‘I don’t like speed the way you do. Promise me you won’t go fast when we get on the expressway. There’s no reason to. We have all the time in the world.’

      Warwick almost laughed. All the time in the world was something he certainly did not have. Which meant he didn’t want to spend what precious time he did have with her at Wamberal where she was sure to get weepy over her aunt all over again. Next thing he knew, she’d want to keep the damned place. Maybe even go up there on weekends.

      She wanted his advice? Warwick already knew what that advice would be. Put the property in the hands of a good real estate agent to sell, then come back to Sydney with him. He’d already decided he couldn’t be without her just yet. Last night had shown him that. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. But maybe soon he’d find the strength to end things. Until then, however, he aimed to keep things exactly as they were, with her by his side, and in his bed.

      ‘I’ll wait for you in the car,’ he said when they finally arrived at her parents’ home in Carlingford just before midday. ‘Got a few things to attend to.’ And he picked up his BlackBerry.

      Amber didn’t argue with him. Quite frankly, the last thing she wanted was him by her side when her mother answered the door. She climbed out of the car and hurried up the steep front path to the equally steep front steps. Running up them, she reached the front porch and was about to ring the bell when the door was wrenched open and her mother stood there, looking very annoyed.

      ‘I’d almost given up on you coming,’ she said sourly.

      ‘But I rang you from the car to say I’d be here.’

      ‘I don’t know why you had to leave it to the last minute,’ her mother snapped. ‘It’s not as though you work.’

      Amber could think of nothing to say to that. It was true, after all.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she heard herself apologising the way she’d been doing all her life. ‘We had a late night and we … er … slept in. If you’ll just give me the keys I’ll be on my way.’

      Doreen sniffed her distaste as she swung away and picked up two sets of keys from the nearby hall table. ‘Here they are,’ she said, and handed them over. ‘The second set belongs to Kate’s car. That’s yours too, it seems.’

      ‘Really?’ Amber could not help feeling pleased at this news. She’d only ever owned one car, a rust-bucket she’d bought when she’d been eighteen and had taken a second job as a waitress and needed wheels to get to and from work at night. Naturally, her parents had refused to let her use either of their vehicles. Neither had they offered to subsidise the purchase of one for her as they had with the boys.