Dream Wedding

'It's very good.' His grin made her breath catch in her throat and set the warning bell jangling madly. 'I get the distinct feeling I've been missing out all these years.'

'You haven't been here before?' she asked carefully, relaxing as one black eyebrow raised sardonically at her tact.

'That wasn't too hard to work out, was it?' He shrugged slowly. 'Barbara and I were brought up with enormous wealth, Miriam, but the normal things…' He shook his head quietly. 'I guess they just didn't happen for us. We had an excellent education—I'm not complaining—and I think my first meal out was at the Ritz when I was still in a high chair.'

He smiled, his eyes distant, and she forced herself to show none of the sympathy his words had aroused, knowing that it would be offensive to him. 'From when I was knee-high we were indoctrinated to take care of ourselves, show no emotion and conduct ourselves in a manner befitting the Vance name. Appearances were everything to my parents, and to the set in which they moved.'

'And you?' She looked at him hard as he bit into the beefburger. 'Where did that leave you?'

'Realistic,' he said coldly. 'The world is motivated by power and influence, Miriam, and don't let anyone persuade you otherwise. Poets and philosophers may expound on the goodly virtues but they don't stand the test in the market-place where it's still dog eat dog.'

'But—' She stopped abruptly at the flinty hardness in his face. 'You don't mean that,' she said weakly. 'Surely you aren't saying that honesty and integrity are wrong?'

'No, I'm not saying they are wrong,' he responded quietly, his voice cool and contained. 'Personally I live by my own moral code, which includes honesty and integrity, but I am saying that I walk this road with my eyes wide open. I can be as ruthless as the next man, more so if necessary, and especially when I am crossed. I don't expect any favours from anyone and I don't ask for any. In the final analysis everyone is looking out for themselves first, second and third. I have no illusions.'

'I don't believe that.' She stared at him indignantly, quite forgetting to eat herself as he finished his first beefburger and began on the second with every appearance of enjoyment. 'About everyone looking out for themselves first. Where does love feature in this world of yours if that's the case?'

'Love?' He leant back in his chair as he eyed her mockingly, his eyes cool slits of silver in an otherwise expressionless face. 'Love is the original four-letter word that has been so misused through the ages that I'm amazed it isn't regarded as obscene. Even the dictionary definition is ambiguous, covering more doubtful emotions than you've had hot dinners in the last month.' He raised his eyebrows sardonically. 'Warm affection is one, and benevolence, charity, to admire passionately, sexual passion…' He paused and nodded slowly. 'Now that last one is perhaps the nearest to anything honest, although another definition, a score of nothing, has merit.'

'That means in tennis,' she said hotly as his cynicism hit a raw nerve. 'And love isn't sexual passion—well, not altogether,' she corrected herself quickly. 'It's lots of things for different kinds of love; surely you can accept that? The love a man and woman feel is different to the one of a mother for her baby—'

'In my case it was extremely different,' he said drily as he gestured for her to eat. 'Barbara and I saw our parents for ten minutes in the evening, if we were lucky, from the day we were born until we left for boarding-school at the age of seven. The rest of the time we were in the care of people who were paid to look after us. Some did their job well and others weren't so conscientious, but nevertheless it was still just a job.'

'I'm sorry, Miriam, but I don't believe in this rose-coloured fantasy called love, not in any form. I simply don't believe it exists beyond the desire to believe in the concept by weak-willed individuals who don't have what it takes to get through by themselves.'

'That's awful.' She stared at him aghast, her eyes huge in her distress as she forgot all about herself in the aftermath of what he had revealed. 'I love lots of people, and not just because I need them to get by,' she added quickly.

'Who?' He leant forward suddenly, his eyes narrowing. 'Who exactly do you love, Miriam?'

'Who?' She bit into her quarter-pounder and chewed stolidly for a minute before swallowing, to give herself time to think. These revelations had hit her far harder than she would have liked; in fact the place where her stomach should have been was a churning mass of jelly. But only because she felt sorry for him, she told herself quickly as she swallowed the food past the huge lump in her throat and took a quick gulp of cola. That was all. 'Well, there's my mother for a start, and Mitch, and my grandparents who live in Scotland—'

'They are all people you have been programmed to consider you love since you were a child,' he interrupted coldly. 'As I'm a child of my heritage, so are you.'

'And friends.' She eyed him firmly, a small shred of anger beginning to burn deep inside at his apparent scepticism. 'I've several dear friends, one or two that I've known since childhood, who I love, although I suppose I've never put it into words before.'

'And boyfriends?' He leant back again and took a long swallow of his drink. 'Have you loved a boy before?'

'I'm not sure how you mean that.' She glared at him as the anger began to flare more strongly. 'And you needn't put that scornful emphasis on the word 'love' either. I now what I feel, Reece, and neither you nor all the powers in the universe could make me say any different. There are people that I care about more than myself; I love them, and that's that.'

She eyed him defiantly as her cheeks glowed scarlet. 'I don't care whether you say love exists or not—I know it does; I've felt it and it's got nothing to do with how much money someone's got or how influential they are either. I think your outlook on life stinks,' she finished tightly as she rammed what was left of the unfortunate bun into her mouth and chewed ferociously.

'Everyone to their own, Miriam.' He was as cool and remote as ever, his face unreadable, and for a moment the urge to hit him was as strong as the urge to reach across and kiss him, and the latter frightened her far more than the former.

Somehow the revelations about his boyhood had pierced something deep inside and it was hurting still more with every second that ticked by. It was ridiculou

s, crazy, but she had never felt the urge to comfort someone as strongly as she was feeling it now, and the urge was very physical and definitely quite carnal, she reflected painfully.

She wished that they hadn't taken the job, wished that she hadn't come here with him tonight; in fact she wished that she'd never laid eyes on Reece Vance. No, she didn't. She glanced at him as the last of his meal disappeared and then looked down at her cold French fries. No, she didn't, and that in itself was the craziest thing of all.

'I've upset you.' She kept her eyes on the table and then jumped violently as his hand closed over hers. 'I've upset you, haven't I?' he asked softly, in a voice that would have melted solid stone:

'Don't be silly.' She dodged the question as she carefully extracted her hand from under his. 'You're entitled to your opinion, after all.'

'Even if it stinks?' he asked wryly.

'Even then.' It cost her more than he would ever know to raise her head and smile, but she did just that even as her heart began to pound frantically at the rueful, tender expression on his face. He looked almost as though he cared that he'd hurt her, she thought agonisingly, watching the silver eyes darken as they wandered over her half-open mouth, but of course he didn't. Reece Vance wouldn't countenance such an emotion.

'Honesty has its price.' He shrugged as he withdrew his hand and finished the last of his drink. 'I could have given you a line but that wouldn't have been fair, and most women—'