Trophy Wives by Jan Colley Read Free Book Online Page B

feet away, she looked like anyone else. You had to get close to appreciate the silky radiance of her skin, the warmth and sparkle of her eyes.
    Correction. You had to get close enough to touch her on a hilltop with a magical view to get really carried away. He was still shaking his head over his impetuous actions that morning. Perhaps it was the contrast between her and the type of women he usually came into contact with.
    Women like Juliette.
    His eyes narrowed as he studied the new Mrs. Magnus Anderson. Growing up in Australia, he was used to tanned and toned athletic girls. As he got older and traveled all corners of the world, he was confronted with more tanned and toned women, but with a subtle difference. They got their tan and their tone from the beauty parlor and the personal trainer.
    Sleek and bronzed. Stylishly dressed. Immaculately made-up and coiffed. The perfect companion. He stared hard at her. What was she hiding? And what were her intentions toward Magnus?
    With a start, he realised that Lucy was looking right at him. He met her eyes and all thoughts of Juliette were whisked away.
    He did not smile in greeting. So they had a secret to share, a bit of a kiss when they’d only just met. Good sense told him to step back. It wasn’t his style to deliberately hurt, confuse or treat women carelessly. With little time to socialize, he made sure his partners knew the score. No romance. No promise of anything more. The few women he dated were of similar disposition to him: ambitious, busy, on the way up with no time to spare.
    There was something vulnerable about that doll-like mouth, something that both drew him to her and warned him off. She had not smiled and from where he stood, he could not read her expression. Then she nodded and turned back to Juliette.
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    Magnus was in an exuberant mood. Ethan tossed his briefcase on the table and poured himself a coffee, and for the next hour or so, they went through every detail of the successful completion of the Middle Eastern resort.
    At the conclusion, Ethan stretched and stood to refill his cup. Magnus sorted the sheaf of papers in front of him and fussed in his top pocket for a cigar, which he clamped down on enthusiastically. It was in deference to his doctor, Ethan knew, that he only actually smoked one cigar a day, but he chomped through four or five others.
    â€œLooking pleased with yourself,” Ethan commented, resuming his seat.
    Magnus removed the cigar and pointed it at him, his eyes twinkling. “It’s marriage, my boy. You should try it.”
    Ethan considered again raising the subject of the newspaper clippings, but he hated to blight his boss’s relaxed good humor. It could wait till they were back in Sydney. Or until he had something concrete from the P.I. “Just like a newlywed,” he sighed. “You must try and fix up all your poor, miserable, single friends.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Magnus leaned back in his chair and squinted at him. “Got a bit of a light in your own eye today.”
    Ethan pushed the unbidden thought of Lucy firmly away. “There is something else.” He pulled his open briefcase toward him, his mouth tightening into a cautious grin. The Turtle Island file was on top and he lifted it and placed it on the table. Magnus’s big hand landed on the plain manila folder and he slid it closer, flipping back the cover.
    While he studied the file, Ethan paced, savoring the anticipation of his boss’s reaction. Turtle Island had historical significance to MagnaCorp. He counted on Magnus jumping at the chance to recoup a substantial loss suffered.
    He sat down again, his hand threatening to drum up a tattoo of impatience on the table.
    Finally Magnus cleared his throat, his head still bent but the last page of the slim file inching closed. He picked up his cigar, tapped the end of it on the table and brought it slowly to his mouth. The chair creaked as he shifted to face Ethan.
    The older