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CHAPTER TWO
BEN SIGHED AS he flipped his phone shut and slipped it into his jeans pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was be driven all the way to Mudgee tomorrow by Miss Jessica Murphy, qualified mechanic and advanced driving instructor, he thought grumpily as he headed for the drinks cabinet. She’d declared herself well over twenty-one. More likely well over forty. And plain as a pikestaff to boot!
Still, what choice did he have after that doctor at Gosford hospital had declared him unfit to drive for at least a week? Not because of the excuse he’d given over the phone just now. His right shoulder was stiff and bruised but quite usable. It was the concussion he’d suffered which was the problem, the doctor having explained that no insurance company would cover him till he had a signed medical clearance.
Stupid, really. He felt fine. A little tired and frustrated, maybe, but basically fine.
Ben scowled as he sloshed a good two inches of his mother’s best bourbon into one of her crystal glasses. He supposed he should be feeling grateful he’d found a hire car at all, not irritated. But Miss Jessica Murphy had got right up his nose. There was a fine line between efficient and officious and she’d certainly been straddling it. He half-regretted making the offer for her to call him Ben, but he’d had to do something to warm the old tartar up, otherwise the drive tomorrow would be worse than tedious.
If only his mother had been here, Ben thought as he headed for the kitchen in search of ice. She could have driven him. But she wasn’t. She was off on a South Pacific cruise with her latest lover.
Admittedly, this one was older than her usual. In his mid-fifties, Lionel was only a few years Ava’s junior. And he was currently employed—something in movie production—so he was a big improvement on the other fortune-hunting toy-boys who’d graced her bed over the years since his parents’ divorce.
Not that his mother’s affairs bothered him much these days. Ben had finally grown up enough to know his mother’s personal life was none of his business. A pity she didn’t return the favour, he thought as he scooped a few cubes of ice from the fridge’s automatic ice-dispenser and dropped them in his glass. She was always asking him when he was going to get married and give her grandchildren.
So maybe it was better she wasn’t here right now. The last thing he wanted was outside pressure about his relationship with Amber. He was having enough trouble as it was, deciding whether he should give up the romantic notion of marrying for love and settle for what Amber was offering. At least if he married Amber he wouldn’t have to worry about her being a fortune hunter, which was always a problem when a man was heir to billions. Amber was the only daughter of a very wealthy property developer, so she didn’t need a meal ticket in a husband.
In all honesty, Ben hadn’t been under the impression that Amber wanted a husband at all yet. She was only twenty-four and was clearly enjoying her life as a single girl with a glamorous though empty job at an art gallery, a full social calendar and a boyfriend who kept her sexually satisfied. But, just before his trip down under, Amber had suddenly asked Ben if he was ever going to propose. She said she loved him, but she didn’t want to waste any more time on him if he didn’t love her back and didn’t want marriage and children.
Of course he hadn’t been able to tell her that he loved her back, because he didn’t. He’d said that he liked her a lot but did not love her. Ben had been somewhat surprised when she’d replied that she would be happy enough with his liking her a lot. He’d assumed—wrongly, it seemed—that a woman genuinely in love would be more heartbroken by his own lack of love. Apparently not! She’d given him till Christmas to make up his mind. After that, she would be looking elsewhere for a husband.
Ben lifted the bourbon to his lips as he wandered back into the living room and over to the glass wall which overlooked the beach. But he wasn’t really looking at the ocean view. He was recalling how he’d told Amber that he would think about her offer whilst he was in Australia and give her an answer on his return.
And he had been thinking. A lot. He did want marriage and children. One day. But, hell, he was only thirty-one. On top of that, he wanted to feel more for his future wife than he currently felt for Amber. He wanted to fall deeply in love, and vice versa, the kind of love you had no doubts over. The kind which would last. Divorce was not on his agenda. Ben knew first-hand how damaging divorce was to children, even when the parents were civilised about it, as his own parents had been. His workaholic father had sensibly and generously given Ben’s mother full custody of Ben, allowing her to bring him back to Australia, with the proviso that Ben spent some of his school holidays with him in America.
