The Lawson Boys: Marty Read online

  ‘Who Is The Other Woman?’ was emblazoned across the top of the page and underneath was a photo of the back door of the church, showing Trevor exiting with his hand over his face and his best man and groomsmen shielding him from the photographer. Another photograph showed a limousine at the side of the church with the distraught bride glaring at the photo lens while being bundled into the car by her tearful mother and scowling father.

  In horrified fascination, Belle started to read.

  ‘On what should have been a day of heartfelt fidelity swearing, it was discovered that Trevor Benderage had been anything but when his wedding to Melissa Hartford was interrupted spectacularly by a mystery woman who stormed the church accusing him of taking her virginity less than a week ago.’

  “Ooohhh, shit.” Taking a deep breath, Belle read on.

  ‘The mystery woman allegedly stormed up the aisle, accused Trevor and then slapped him across the face. Neither the bride nor groom was available for comment, and the parents of both are saying nothing. All that is known is that the mystery woman will not be charged for assault.

  In fact, we’re left wondering who is the mystery woman? Witnesses say she’s not the kind of woman the groom would normally date.

  One guest stated, ‘Obviously she had something that attracted Trevor. I guess we all know what that was now!’

  There has been no further mention of whether the wedding will go ahead or not.

  Staring at the photos was like seeing something that had happened to someone else, and in case of the photos it had, but she’d been the cause of it.

  No, Trevor had caused it with his lies and his cheating. But whatever happened, now everyone was wondering who The Other Woman was and a sudden thought struck Belle. What if someone recognized her?

  “Oh no,” she muttered, dropping the newspaper onto the coffee table. “I can’t go out, not now. No way.”

  “Sure you can,” a voice drawled from the doorway.

  She spun around to see Marty leaning languidly against the doorway, his ankles crossed and one hand in his black pants pocket, the other holding a light jacket across one broad shoulder. The thick lock of blonde hair flopped low across his brow and his eyes twinkled wickedly.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied stiffly. “I’m not feeling well, that’s all.”

  Pushing upright, he ambled past her, leaving a faint trace of fresh aftershave in his wake. When he bent over to pick up the newspaper she couldn’t help but notice how nicely his pants stretched taunt over his buttocks. Very nice, firm buttocks.

  God above, Belle! You’ve more problems on your plate and don’t have time to ogle a man’s arse! What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never noticed a man’s arse before in her life and now certainly wasn’t the time to start.

  Tossing his jacket carelessly onto the coffee table, Marty picked up the newspaper and straightened, turning to face her and holding it before him with the photos glaringly clear. He arched one brow.

  She arched one back at him coolly, determined not to crack.

  He shook the paper a little.

  She arched her brow higher.

  His matched hers.

  This time he snapped the paper briskly.

  Belle folded her arms beneath her breasts, which caused the generous mounds to swell against the bodice.

  Give him his due, Marty’s gaze faltered only briefly. His mouth quirked at the corner, the dimple appearing.

  “Come,” he coaxed, his voice deep and oozing masculine confidence. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Honey, you’re The Other Woman. Everyone is wondering who you are. That’s why you don’t want to go out now.”

  “No. I said I don’t feel well.”

  “That’s the sensation of the butterflies in your belly having a panic attack.”

  Dropping all pretence, she glared at him. “What do you want, Martin?”

  “Ooohhh, Martin. My mother calls me that when I’m in trouble.” Dropping the newspaper onto the table, he stuck both hands into his pockets and rocked back on his well-shod heels. “Am I in trouble, Belle? Because I rather thought it was the other way around.”

  “Then you’d be wrong. Trevor was in trouble. I’m just fine.”

  “If you’re just fine then you don’t feel sick, your butterflies aren’t having a panic attack, and we can go out for dinner and drinks.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Frustrated, her emotions a jangled mess, Belle slammed her hands on her hips. “Look, I appreciate you keeping your mother happy, but-”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not taking you out to keep my mother happy.” His smile flashed white against his tanned skin. “I’m taking you out because I like you.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “I also know you’re scared stiff that someone will recognize you, but you can’t hide in the house forever, Belle. Now get your things and lets go.”

  “Are you listening to me? I said-”

  “I’m listening.” Walking past her, he smoothly slid his arm around her waist and brought her along with him, tucking her into his side as he did so. “Now here’s what I propose. We skip the expensive club I was planning on taking you to, we go to some cheap dive no one who mixes in Trevor or Melissa’s company would ever dream of going to, we have a nice meal and some drinks, you relax, and we enjoy ourselves.”

  By the time they got to the foyer, she’d regained her senses and dug her heels in. When Marty looked down at her inquiringly, she said, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “If you don’t go out, Mum will start to get suspicious. She’ll think I did something to you.” His eyes gleamed a little wolfishly. “I promised her that I’d be good.” His face saddened a little, though his eyes retained the twinkle. “Come on, Belle. You’ve had a rather nasty start to your holiday and I’m here to see that you enjoy tonight. All you have to do is eat, drink, and enjoy yourself.”

  Looking up at him, she couldn’t stop the sad droop of her shoulders.

  “Or talk.” His gaze softened, and reaching up, he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Or not. Just come and relax, Belle. We’ll go somewhere you can relax and not be afraid of being recognized. Okay?” He held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute. “I promise to behave.”

  “Your Mum said you’d never been a Boy Scout.”

  He made a motion of crossing his heart with one finger. “Better?”

  Looking up at him, Belle could see the sincerity in his expression. All amusement was gone from his handsome features and was now replaced with concern.

  Yes, she could stay in this house, holed up, thinking about Trevor and his treachery. Or she could go out and relax for a few hours. Marty, she was certain, would ensure she was okay. If he didn’t, it would reflect on his family and that was one thing she knew a Lawson never did.

  Besides, didn’t she deserve a nice evening with a handsome man after what Trevor had done to her? After all, she’d done nothing wrong, so why should she be the one hiding?

  She smiled up at Marty. “Okay.”

  His grin was instant. “There you go.” Picking up her lace cardigan and clutch, he handed them to her with a flourish. “Madam.” Placing a hand in the small of her back, Marty steered her to the front doors, opening one and standing back to let her go through first. Down the stairs to the BMW they went, he ensuring she was settled in and buckled up before he closed the door and strode around to the drivers side. Getting in, he slid his seatbelt on and snapped it closed before slanting her a wicked look. “Ready, Belle?”

  That wicked look wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I think so.”

  “Trust me.” His grin was equally wicked. “You’re in expert hands.”

  Oh boy. “You forgot your jacket.”

  “Honey, where we’re going, I don’t need a jacket.” He tugged his tie loose and tossed it over his shoulder into the back seat. “Or this.” As she watched, he unfastened the cuff
buttons and rolled his sleeves up to just below his elbows, revealing muscular, tanned forearms. Popping open another couple of buttons on his shirt, he stretched and gave a sigh of contentment. “That’s more like it.”

  Putting the car into gear, he pulled out of the driveway.

  Settling back into the seat, Belle rested her elbow on the door and her chin in her hand, watching the scenery pass as the car moved smoothly down the long drive, around a curve and through the big, wrought iron gates into the traffic.

  Here went nothing. The Other Woman was out in public. She wondered what her parents would think, then gave a mental groan. Hells bells, they’d get the news soon and they’d know exactly who The Other Woman was as soon as they read the article. In fact, her friends would know.

  “Oh, crap.” She dropped her head back onto the headrest.

  “Problem?” Marty kept his attention on the road.

  “Everyone back home will hear about this.”

  “Yep.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Keep forging onward. Refuse to talk to the media. Keep your chin up.”

  “Keep my chin up?”

  “You did nothing wrong.” He slanted her a quick look. “Did you?”

  “Of course I didn’t do anything wrong!” she retorted hotly. “It was Trevor who - who…”

  “Took your virginity?”

  Belle flushed.

  “Hey,” Marty said. “Your words, not mine, remember?”

  Dropping her forehead into her hands, she moaned. “Oh my God.”

  A big hand patted her back comfortingly.

  “My parents are going to read that. My neighbours. My friends. My boss. Oh God!”

  “Trust me, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “How can you say that?” She rubbed her face.

  “It’s not like you’re a terrorist, right? You didn’t hold up a bank or steal from an old pensioner, or kick a dog.”

  “Kick a dog?”

  “Kicking a dog is low.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Not when it comes to animals.”

  “Trevor was an animal.”

  “Okay, you can kick him, but that’s it.”

  A glance out of the corner of her eye showed him smiling and Belle couldn’t help but give a watery laugh.

  Marty leaned across, popped open the glove box and withdrew a small box of tissues which he dropped into her lap.

  Plucking out a couple, she dabbed the stray tear that had been hovering at the corner of her eye and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and cracking the window open a little to let the evening breeze enter to help dry her eyes. Though why she was crying over the cheating bastard was beyond her.

  She sought to divert her attention. “So where are we going?”

  “To the local pub.”

  “Do you even know a place like that?”

  “What a question! I always go to the pub when I’m slumming.”

  Realizing how her words had sounded, Belle turned to face him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  Unconcerned, Marty waved it away.

  “I’m really very grateful to you for taking the time to take me out. For dinner.” Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, she added, “At your parent’s suggestion, I mean.”

  “I know what you mean.” He grinned. “And here we are.”

  He pulled the car into the crowded car park of an old, two story brick building. Music thumped out and people milled around.

  Opening the car door, Belle got out and glanced around. Pubs were more the places she was used to when going out, fancy clubs no. Marty came up beside her, his hand on the small of her back easing her aside so that he could shut the door. He pressed a button on the remote attached to the key and the locks engaged, the headlights flashing once to show that the car was now alarmed.

  Belle was startled when he took hold of her hand as he started walking, threading through the cars and leading her around the crush of people, his tall, muscular frame making a pathway for her to follow. Not once did he release her hand, not even as he nodded and called back cheerful greetings and several times a laughing insult.

  Okay, she had to admit, his warm grasp felt comforting, his stance between her and the crowd almost protective, and when he stopped and she bumped into the back of him, his other hand came back to brush against her hip as he glanced back over his shoulder. “All right?”

  It wasn’t just a casual glance but one that swept over her face searchingly.

  Unsure in the face of this unexpected chivalry, she nodded. The heat from his body so close against her own was…delicious.

  And she, Belle decided, must be delirious. He was just a man, for Pete’s sake.

  Okay, a protective man.

  And a man who knew his way around women, she reminded herself as one giggling woman called his name and waved. She couldn’t afford to forget that little fact, not after having just been badly burned.

  The timely reminder had her stepping back from him, but when his hand tightened reflectively around hers, she didn’t struggle.

  Okay, she was weak. The warmth of his hand holding hers was welcome. Call it a moment’s weakness, but damned if she was going to pull away. Besides, she’d probably get lost in the crowd.

  Marty greeted the bouncer at the doorway as they entered, and once inside he stepped to the left and pulled Belle up beside him, his arm going around her shoulders as he glanced around. His head was bobbing along to the music and he was totally relaxed in the rowdy pub. He was even humming along to the music.

  Leaning down, he placed his mouth to her ear. “We’re going upstairs to the dinning area where we can hear our own thoughts and talk without yelling.”

  Nodding, she half expected him to take her hand once more and lead her to the staircase on the other side of the room, but instead he moved to her other side and slid his arm once more around her shoulders, holding her close as he manoeuvred them along the wall, ensuring that she was between him and the wall.

  The man sure knew how to make a girl feel protected.

  The dining area on the second floor had an old world charm. The wooden floor was scratched from countless shoes and boots, and the tables and chairs were all wooden with worn cushions. There was another bar along the far wall but it was definitely quieter up here, though not a genteel quietness. More of a happy, relaxed atmosphere.

  Stopping at a table next to the wide window, Marty waited until she’d sat down before taking the chair opposite. They’d barely sat down when the barmaid arrived.

  “Hey, Marty,” she greeted him.

  “Bronwyn.” He nodded to her. “How goes it?”

  “Same old, same old. You know the drill.”

  “Work, work, and more work?”

  “That’s about it.” Bronwyn flashed Belle a smile. “Ready for drinks?”

  “I’ll have a Diet Coke, thanks,” Belle answered.

  “Make mine a light beer,” Marty added.

  “Be back soon.” Bronwyn gestured to the menus in the stand on the middle of the table. “I’ll get your food orders then as well, unless you’re ready now?”

  “We’ll check out the menu,” Marty replied. “Thanks, Bron.”

  Looking around, Belle doubted that any of these customers would have been to Trevor’s wedding. She was safe here.

  Several young couples held hands over their tables, speaking softly. The music from downstairs was subdued here, but it provided a pleasant background.

  The sight of a couple kissing in the far corner booth made Belle look away quickly, a feeling of sadness sweeping over her.

  “Don’t.”

  Startled, she looked across the table to meet Marty’s steady regard. “What?”

  “Don’t feel sad for getting out of what was a nasty situation.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Really?” That one word was filled with heavy sarcasm.

  That stung. “Wh
at would you know about it?”

  “I was at the wedding, remember?” Marty shrugged. “I kind of got the whole story.”

  “Really?” It was her turn to be sarcastic.

  “Really.”

  “Then we don’t need to discuss it, do we?”

  “Were we going to discuss it?”

  “Isn’t that what we were doing?”

  “In that case, what happened?”

  “I thought you knew?”

  “I can guess in a nutshell.”

  “Enlighten me.” Annoyed that he had the gall to presume to know what had happened, she folded her arms and sat back in the chair.

  Playing with the coaster on the table, turning it around and around in dexterous fingers, Marty continued to regard her steadily. “Trevor came to your town on business. He met you somewhere. He wined and dined you, was attentive, wormed his way into your trust, you slept with him, he promised everything and came back to the city. How am I doing so far?”

  Pretty good, actually, but Belle wasn’t admitting it.

  Apparently it didn’t faze Marty, for he continued relating exactly what had happened. “He sent you a phone call, said he was busy and couldn’t come to see you for awhile and you decided to surprise him. Down you came with stars in your eyes but you found out he was getting married. Am I still on the right track?”

  What, had the man been standing by her side the whole last couple of weeks, invisible to sight? Belle swallowed, feeling like a fool for being so transparent. “I guess a country mouse is easy to read, huh?” A lump rose in her throat.

  He grinned crookedly. “I have to say, crashing that wedding was hot.”

  In the act of trying to swallow the lump down and not burst into tears, Belle gaped. “Huh?”

  “There you came, Trevor’s little country fling, storming down the aisle to make him pay penance. He was found out, and rather than hide under a rock somewhere, you, Belle, called him out in front of all and sundry.” Marty shook his head admiringly. “He found out that not every woman was going to let him get away with it. You are some woman, Belle Broune.”

  “Some woman,” she echoed almost bitterly. “I made a fool of myself. I should have just left the city as soon as I heard.”