Free The Virgin Bride (The Australians) by Miranda Lee Page B

seemed to have stabilised, and he would probably pull through. He looked like hell, though.
    Jason put the chart back and walked over to the window. He stared down at the city lights. Pretty spectacular-looking. Certainly not the unsophisticated colonial outpost the rest of world occasionally imagined. Sydney throbbed during the day, and hummed at night. It was an exciting and beautiful city, full of exciting and beautiful people.
    â€˜Hello, Jase… I’ve been waiting for you…’
    Her husky voice curled around his gut and pulled him slowly round.
    The sight of her, however, had a surprisingly different effect.
    She was standing there at the foot of Jerry’s bed, wearing one of those sexy little black numbers which had always turned him on. Not a suit, this time, but a dress, a short, chic crêpe sheath which looked as if it had been sewn on, it was so tight. The blatant outline of erect nipples shouted she wasn’t wearing a bra, which wasn’t a surprise. When did Adele ever wear a bra?
    The shortness of the skirt suggested she’d opted against suspenders in favour of sheer shiny black pantyhose, the expensive kind which never ran, no matter how many times they were man-handled. Her feet were shod in the sort of sexy strappy high heels guaranteed to raise most men’s blood pressure.
    Jason’s heart didn’t miss a beat.
    She sashayed a little closer, perhaps to show him she could walk in them quite well.
    Practice did give one a wide range of professional skills, he thought cynically, as his eyes raked over her.
    She took his thorough appraisal for interest, fairly preening before him. What she didn’t know was the reality of her had had the opposite effect of her voice over the phone. That had stirred old memories, those old tapes in his head. Powerful old tapes. Adele in the flesh stirred nothing in him but a rueful surprise that he’d ever found her attractive, let alone addictive.
    After being with someone as genuinely lovely as Emma—inside and out—Adele looked the hard piece she basically was. Her short dyed black hair was too harsh around her too pale make-up. She was wearingtoo much black around her eyes, too dark a lipstick on her full mouth and too much perfume all over her body. It fairly swamped him in its overpoweringly musky scent.
    Sure, she still had a striking figure, with legs up to her armpits, but even that was now too much. He preferred Emma’s tiny daintiness. He preferred Emma’s lack of artifice. He preferred everything about Emma.
    The worry that he might still be harbouring a lasting passion for Adele disappeared like a magician’s assistant, and the relief was overwhelming. He was free of her at last. Free to forge a future with Emma without any hangovers from the past. His elation produced a real high.
    He looked up at Adele’s sultry face and laughed.
    She pouted angrily. ‘Why are you laughing at me like that?’
    â€˜I wasn’t laughing at you, Adele. I was laughing at myself.’
    â€˜Meaning?’
    â€˜Meaning I’ve been a fool. Look, I don’t hold any malice towards you, Adele, but you’re wasting your time here. Go and find yourself another poor ignorant idiot you can infatuate with your undoubtedly skilful technique. I don’t want it—or you—any more.’
    Disbelief soon gave way to a dark determination. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll bet I could change your mind about that.’
    â€˜Five minutes? Here and now?’
    â€˜Right here and right now,’ she mouthed provocatively. ‘Jerry’s unconscious. We could pull the curtainaround his bed.’ She began to do just that, the action bringing her closer.
    He snatched the curtain out of her hands and threw it back, eyeing her with a savage look which rooted her to the spot. ‘Now listen to me, you miserable excuse for a human being and a doctor,’ he hissed. ‘I wouldn’t let