The Millionaire's Seductive Revenge
Every man in the room was staring at Kia Benton. And Brant Matthews was one of them. He'd seen many beautiful women in his life but none who affected him like the woman who'd entered the ballroom of Darwin's Shangri-La Hotel. Australia's most northerly city may possess a tropical lifestyle that was the envy of the rest of the country, but it still didn't hold a candle to this woman's beauty.
Dressed for an evening that promised glitz and glamour, Kia looked stunning tonight, with her ash-blond hair pulled back in a stylish chignon, her perfectly made-up features accentuated by the black liner circling her eyes.
The eyes of a seductress, Brant mused, his gaze sliding down over bare shoulders to the shimmery silver dress that hugged her breasts, then slid over slim hips and long legs.
But it wasn't just her looks that coiled sexual hunger in the pit of his stomach. She had something that called to him on another level. A quality he'd never found in another woman, not even in his ex-fiancée, Julia. Hell, definitely not Julia. Julia had only been about one thing.
The Tycoon's Blackmailed Mistress
"We meet at last, Mrs. Ford," Flynn Donovan drawled, looking into a pair of heart-stopping, exquisitely arresting blue eyes. In that instant, he wanted her. With a passion as absurd as it was unexpected.
For a moment the woman appeared startled, then whatever she saw made her delicate chin rise and her delicious mouth tighten. "I'm sorry to disturb you…" she said coolly.
Disturb him? Hell, despite her poise, Danielle Ford radiated a sex appeal that reached out and grabbed him by the… throat.
"Mr. Donovan, you sent a letter demanding repayment of a loan my husband and I-"
Suddenly he was angry with her for being so damn gorgeous on the outside and so damn dishonest within. He knew her type. Robert Ford had said his wife was superb at acting and that her "innocent" look could hook a man until she got all she could out of him. He wasn't fool enough to believe everything Robert Ford had said, but any woman married to that liar and cheat must be tarred with the same brush.
"Don't you mean your late husband?" he snapped, flicking his pen on the desk.
The Executive's Vengeful Seduction
Damien Trent acknowledged two things when Gabrielle Kane stepped from the elevator and walked along the corridor toward her office. She was even more gorgeous than he remembered. And he'd been a fool to let her go.
"Hello, Gabrielle," he said, straightening away from the wall, his gaze sliding over the soft gray material of her pantsuit that hugged her breasts and clung to her hips, down to the matching strappy sandals. She'd never looked more elegant and feminine than she did right now.
Her blond head shot up from searching through her purse, and her steps faltered. She paled. "My God! Damien?"
"You remembered?" he drawled, then felt something shift inside his chest when those blue eyes met his full on. For a split second time reversed itself to five years ago. She'd walked into that business function with her father, and their eyes had met across the room, jolting him, making him want her.
Just like they were doing now.
She moistened her mouth, then appeared to pull herself together. "How could I forget?"
"That's something we have in common, then." He moved closer, pleased to see two spots of color rush into her smooth cheeks. "You've grown very beautiful, Gabrielle."
Her delicate chin angled. "Is this a social visit, Damien? You're a long way from home."
He mentally pulled back from wanting her. He was here for a reason. "We need to talk."
"After five years?"
His mouth tightened. She'd been the one to leave him. "It's important, Gabrielle."
Alarm flashed in her eyes, then was banked. "It's my father, isn't it?" she said, her tone without inflection now, but he'd seen her immediate reaction. She still cared for the father who'd cut her off after she'd walked out.
He cupped her elbow. "Let's go into your office," he said, feeling the slenderness beneath his palm, conceding that he'd missed touching her.
She turned away and with a shaky hand that was a dead giveaway she unlocked the door to a suite of offices with a sign reading Events by Eileen-The Events Organizer.
He followed her through the main reception area and into another office, taking in the plush carpet and quality furniture and fittings. "You seem to have done well for yourself."
She walked around the desk and stood with her back to the large glass window, a breathtaking view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House behind her. "Let's not pretend you don't already know all about me, Damien. I'm sure whatever report you had done on me must have told you what I do and who I work for." She crossed her arms, her face closed. "Just say what you have to say."
So. She was going to play it cool now, was she? It didn't surprise him. She'd always been a mixture of fire and ice. It was one of the things he'd liked about her- all that passion beneath a cool exterior.
He inclined his head at the high-backed leather chair behind her desk. "You might want to sit."
"I'd rather stand," she said, but her shoulders went back, as if preparing for a blow.
There was no easy way to say this. "Your father's had a stroke, Gabrielle," he said, hearing her gasp, seeing the shock she couldn't hide now. "It caused a cerebral hemorrhage in his brain. It was touch-and-go so they had to operate."
She swallowed hard. "Is he…"
"No, he's not dead. They're hopeful he'll pull through and will recover fully in time."
"Oh God," she murmured, all pretence gone now as she finally sank onto her chair.
He watched her, seeing the whiteness of her skin and the way she bit her bottom lip, and he knew he'd done the right thing by coming to get her. "My private jet's ready when you are."
She blinked up at him. "What?"
"You'll be coming home to Darwin to see your father."
She shook her head. "No…I can't."
His mouth thinned. "He's your father, Gabrielle."
She made a choking sound. "Obviously that hasn't worried him too much these past five years."
It was one thing to ignore your father's existence when he was in good health, but Russell had come close to death. It was time they sorted things out between them. Damien had told Russell the same thing not long before his stroke, when the other man appeared to be fretting over the loss of his daughter. Perhaps Russell sensed something had been about to happen.
"You were the one who walked out on him," he pointed out. "Your father found that hard to forgive."
"Perhaps I find it hard to forgive a few things, too," she said, remaining firm.
He was instantly alert. "Such as?"
A wary look suddenly entered her eyes. "It doesn't matter."
"Obviously it does or you wouldn't have mentioned it."
She looked across the desk at him. "Nothing can change the past now. Let's just say that when I left home five years ago I never looked back."
He arched a brow. "Never? I find that hard to believe."
She shrugged her slim shoulders and leaned back in her chair. "That's your problem, Damien. Not mine."
Her comment irritated him. "You walked out on me, too," he reminded her silkily.
Her chin rose in the air. "And did you find that hard to forgive?"
His jaw clenched. "Your note was sufficient."
"I'm glad you think so," she said with a touch of sarcasm.
He scowled as her comment slammed into him. "You said you wanted to end our affair," he reminded her. "You also said not to try and change your mind."
"And it suited you to believe me, didn't it?"
"Are you saying you lied?" he demanded, his stomach knotting.
Her eyelids flickered, as if she knew she was in dangerous waters. She sighed. "No. It was the truth. It was over between us."
He stared hard for a moment as something centered inside his chest. Things were far from over between them. He'd subconsciously realized that when she'd stepped out of the elevator and walked toward him like a vision from heaven.
"No, I don't think it was over at all," he said quietly. She stiffened. "Really? You obviously didn't think that at the time."
"True. But we had other priorities back then."
She inclined her head but couldn't hide a hint of relief in her eyes. "Yes, we both had a lot of things going on in our lives."
"And I let that get in the way of what was important." He paused. "Things have changed."
She looked startled. "Changed?"
Now that he'd seen her again, he would have to work her out of his system. In the most pleasurable way, of course.
"It's time to come home, Gabrielle. Your father needs you." Hell, he suddenly needed her, too.
Her gaze dropped, and she began to smooth her palms over the front of her silky jacket. Then she looked up as if making a decision. "I'm sorry. Please tell my father I wish him well, but I won't be coming back."
That wasn't acceptable. "And if he dies?"
She winced, then whispered, "Don't."
He couldn't let himself soften toward her. Not right now. He had a job to do. "You have to face facts. Your father is seriously ill. He needs to see you."
"Damien, I can't…I…"
"Not even for your mother's sake?"
Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened. "Wh..what? My mother? When did you talk to my mother?"
"Caroline came home a couple of days ago when she heard about your father's stroke."
Gabrielle clenched her hands together. "No, she would never forgive him." Her mother would never have gone back to her father. When Caroline left, she'd sworn the marriage was over forever.
"She did. And I think you should, too."
"You're lying. This is a trick."
"No tricks, I swear. Gabrielle, your mother asked that I come and get you. She needs you right now."
She flinched. "That's not fair."
"I didn't say it was," he said as he was jabbed by an old heartache. Despite everything that had gone on, at least Gabrielle had parents who cared about her. She wasn't totally nonexistent to them, unlike his own parents. She had a second chance with her family. He doubted his parents would have even wanted a second chance. They'd been too involved with themselves…too selfish to consider that their son might just need some of their attention.
Just the thought of it made the muscles at the back of his neck tense. "Look, if you can't come back for your father, then do it for your mother's sake."
She glared at him. "I just can't walk out of here and leave everything to the others. This is a thriving business. We've got some major events coming up."
"I'm sure they can cope without you."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?" he challenged. She was only making excuses and they both knew it.
She held his gaze for a long moment, then her eyes clouded over and she sighed with surrender. "Okay, I'll come home. But I'm only staying until my father's out of danger."
"Deal." By then he would have her in his bed again and out of his system once and for all. The thought was completely satisfying.
Her slim shoulders tensed, even as her eyes reflected surprise at his tone. "My late husband, then." She took a breath. "About the letter. It says I owe you two hundred thousand dollars but I have no idea what this is about."
"Come now, Mrs. Ford," he mocked. "What you actually thought was that you'd try and con your way out of repaying back the loan you took out from my company."
She gasped, her thick lashes blinking in confusion. "But I don't know anything about a loan. And certainly not for such an amount. There must be some mistake."
And he was supposed to believe that? "Don't play dumb."
A blush stained her cheeks, making her appear oddly vulnerable. Or guilty, but then, a person could only feel guilty if they had a conscience. He doubted this woman had one.
"I assure you I'm not playing dumb, Mr. Donovan."
His jaw clenched. "Is this the same assurance your husband gave us when he borrowed the money from one of my loan officers?" He pushed some papers across his desk toward her. "Isn't that your signature alongside your husband's?"
Her eyes clouded with apprehension as she took a few steps closer, before looking down at the paperwork. Then she paled and sank onto a chair. "It looks like my signature but…" Her voice trailed away to nothing.
Oh, so that's how she was going to play it. Robert had been right about her. She wasn't about to admit to anything, not even when the evidence of her guilt was right in front of her.
"It is your signature, Mrs. Ford," he said, ignoring her "helpless female" act. "And now you owe me two hundred thousand dollars."
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and panicked. "But I don't have that kind of money."
He knew that already. After some investigating he'd learned she had exactly five thousand dollars in the bank here in Darwin. The rest she'd flittered all away, as evidenced by a variety of empty accounts around the rest of Australia. He was beginning to feel sorry for that poor guy who'd married her. She'd turn any man's head.
God, she was beautiful. His gaze slid down her simple pink dress and matching jacket that made a soft statement of style, to the slender legs revealed by the hem of her dress.
Nice.
Very nice.
They'd look really sexy in a tub full of fluffy white bubbles, one shapely calf raised as she smoothed soap over its silky length, the water's edge just stopping short of covering her breasts. The image aroused him without any effort at all, sending the blood pounding through his veins, telling him he needed a woman.
This woman.
"Then perhaps we can come to a compromise?" he said, leaning back in his leather executive chair to watch her more closely. Her eyelids gave the slightest flutter, before she angled her chin, as if daring him to take another look. For a moment he was tempted.
She pulled herself up straighter. "Maybe I can pay you back a little each week. It'll take a long time but-"
"Not good enough." There was only one payment he wanted now.
Her lips parted in surprise, their perfect bow shape too damn appealing. "Wh-what?"
"You'll have to do better than that, I'm afraid."
She hesitated, as if trying to understand. "I'm not sure-"
"You're a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Ford."
Her eyes held his for a heartbeat, then a pulse began to leap crazily in a tiny vein in her neck. "I've been widowed for two months, Mr. Donovan. Have you no sensibility?"
"Apparently not." He wanted to place his lips on that neck and feel her heart beating against him.
She let out a sigh. "Then you must tell me how I can repay you. I can certainly do with some money at the moment."
Ah, yes. Money is what it came down to with this woman. His gut knotted at the reminder of how mercenary she was. "Sorry, sweetheart. You don't get another cent from me until you pay back the loan. In full."
Her cheekbones instantly reddened. "Oh, but I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did."
She looked taken aback for just a moment, then quickly recovered. "Oh, yes, of course I did," she said with sarcasm. "I'll take as much money as I can get out of you. I'm good at that, you know."
As a bluff, it didn't work. He knew what she was trying to do. "Yes, you're very good at that."
She threw him a glare. "I'm glad you can read my mind. I hope you can read what I'm thinking right now?"
He felt a ripple of amusement. "A lady shouldn't know such words."
"A lady shouldn't have to sit here and listen to you blackmail her, either."
"Blackmail is an ugly word, Danielle." He rolled the name over in his mind the way he wanted to roll her over in bed. "I merely want what is mine."
And she was one of them.
Her lips pressed together briefly before she answered, "No, you want revenge. I'm sorry, but I can't be blamed for my husband's mistakes."
Flynn stared hard. "What about your mistakes, Danielle? You signed for the loan, didn't you? Therefore you are just as liable to pay me back." He arched a brow. "I wonder how many hot tropical nights two hundred thousand dollars is worth?" He thought for a moment, then answered his own question. "Hmm. About three months, I'd say." Expensive, yes, but he knew he'd pay that for just one night with this woman.
Her blue eyes turned disbelieving, as if only now realizing he was serious. "Three months! You expect me to sleep with you for three months?"
His gaze lingered on her mouth. So perfect. "I didn't say anything about sleeping with me, though I guarantee it wouldn't be a hardship," he said, as her surprisingly sensual fragrance wafted across the desk and slid into him, stirring his blood. "No, I have a lot of engagements coming up and I could do with a… mistress to accompany me."
Awareness flickered in the back of her eyes, then was quickly blanked out.
She got to her feet. "Mr. Donovan, you're dreaming if you think I'll give my time… or my body… to a man like you. Let me suggest you wake yourself up and find a woman who would actually welcome your company." With those words, she spun on her heels and left the office.
In cynical amusement, Flynn watched her go, then got to his feet and stood looking out the huge window of Donovan Towers to the sparkling expanse of harbor spread before him. He rather liked her response. It was a far cry from some of the females he'd been out with lately, who'd left him cold with their easy acquiescence to anything remotely connected to bedroom games.
And then he remembered.
Danielle Ford was more sinner than saint. Her token resistance was only a game, one she'd already played with her late husband. From what Robert Ford had said, she'd taken him on a wild ride during their marriage, though he doubted Robert had needed any encouragement. They had obviously deserved each other. No, he wouldn't forget she had belonged to Robert Ford and that the two of them had reneged on a loan. A pair well-matched.
He muttered a swearword and turned back to his desk, knowing he had a morning of video conferences with personnel in Sydney and Tokyo ahead of him, yet for once the thought of work didn't appeal. Not even the promise of a particularly satisfying takeover tomorrow.
He preferred instead another sort of takeover, with a woman who had gorgeous blue eyes and golden-blond hair. Despite her protestations, he would make her his mistress. No doubt she would sell her soul for a chance to rub shoulders with him and his billions.
His mouth tightened. He had to remember that Kia was no different. Both women wanted the same thing.
Money.
He'd been suspicious of Kia from the moment he'd stepped onto the plane on his way back from Europe and caught sight of a photograph of her and his partner Phillip in the society section of a Darwin magazine. It was being read by the man next to him, and the picture had shown her arm in arm with Phillip at a cocktail party, looking very pleased with herself. The last he heard, Phillip still had his secretary from years back. This Kia was a total shock.
The caption had read, "Has one of Australia's richest bachelors finally been hooked by his new personal assistant? Miss Kia Benton obviously knows a thing or two about getting 'personal'."
Yes, this woman knew how to get her hooks into someone all right. But what she didn't know was that he'd heard her on the telephone when he'd gone into the office the next day.
Of course I'm working on getting myself a rich man, she'd been saying when he'd passed by Phillip's office and seen her leaning against the desk, looking for all the world as if she owned the place. Then she'd laughed and said, It's as easy to love a rich man as a poor one, right?
This was the reason she'd made herself indispensable to his business partner so quickly. Within two months she'd had Phillip eating out of her hand. Oh, yes, she was a gold digger, this one.
A beautiful, deceitful gold digger.
"Oh, don't they make a lovely couple?" one of the executive wives tossed into the conversation going on around him, pulling Brant from his thoughts and dropping him back into the Christmas festivities that were a necessary evil at this time of year.
"Yes, they're perfect together," one of the others agreed after all heads turned toward Kia and Phillip standing beneath the Merry Christmas sign in the doorway.
Then the head of the Legal Department's wife put her hand on her husband's arm. "Hon, I don't know what they're putting in the water at your office, but she's beautiful."
Simon puffed up with an odd sort of fatherly pride. "That's Kia. She's got brains as well as beauty."
Brains as well as beauty.
And she had no qualms about using those assets, Brant thought, hating the pull of her attraction but unable to do anything about it.
Dammit. If only he'd met her first. But two months ago, as senior partner, he'd gone to Paris to establish their new office and get everything up and running. Phillip hadn't wanted to go because he'd been heavily involved with his then girlfriend, Lynette. Yet when he'd returned a month later, Phillip's secretary had resigned due to ill health and Kia had been firmly ensconced as Phillip's personal assistant during work hours.
And his constant companion out of hours.
Like now.
Of course, if he'd seen her first, they would have been lovers straight away. No doubt about it. He'd known it from the moment he'd gazed into her sparkling aquamarine eyes.
Why?
Because she knew what she did to him, that's why. She knew the attraction he felt for her. This deep, pulsing need to make her his own. She merely had to glance his way and sizzling heat coursed through his veins. Even now he could feel himself burning to be inside her, feeling her close around him as he moved ever so slowly in and out, watching her eyelids flutter against her cheeks, hearing his name a murmur on the parted bow of her lips.
"She's got a brand new car, too," someone interrupted his thoughts, making him stiffen in disbelief. "A Porsche. It's fantastic."
"Lucky girl," one of the guys said. "Did Phil buy it for her?"
Simon darted a look at Brant, as if he knew this wasn't a subject they should be discussing in front of the boss. "Er - I'm not sure," the other man said awkwardly.
"It's understandable," Simon's wife added in a sympathetic tone. "He probably doesn't want her to have a similar accident to the one he had."
Pretending to ignore the conversation, Brant leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his whiskey. Late one night, Phil's car had broken down after he'd gone out on a date with Kia. When he'd stepped out to check the problem, a passing vehicle had clipped his leg, busting up his knee and breaking his ankle, leaving him with what would eventually be a permanent limp.
And Kia - God bless her, Brant mused cynically - had been quite happy ever since, going back and forth between the hospital and the office, assisting Phil with his workload. Through it all she must have been manipulating him to get the car. And a Porsche, to boot. Bloody hell. His friend and business partner deserved better than someone who was only using him for his bank account.
He was tempted to show Phil what sort of woman he was involved with. Kia would be easy enough to get into bed if he really put his mind to it. Only he couldn't. Not for her sake but for Phillip's. He knew how it felt for someone close to steal your woman.
And he'd be damned if he'd put the business at risk. He may've had to correct some of Phillip's poor decisions since they'd started buying up other businesses three years ago, but the last thing Brant wanted was instability within the company that was now riding the wave of phenomenal success.
Yet all of it could be jeopardized because of a woman who was out to get everything she could, he reminded himself as he watched the pair moving through the tables toward him, Kia pushing Phil's wheelchair but stopping to talk to people on the way. Oh, she was good at what she did. She knew how to work her audience.
Sickened that such beauty hid a heart of stone, Brant stood up. "Back in a minute," he muttered to no one in particular and headed for the exit behind him. His date had vanished into the nether regions of the ladies' room a while back, so he was unconcerned she would miss him until his return.
He needed to get outside and let the ocean air fill his lungs and clear away the smell of deception. Then maybe his body wouldn't ache so much for a woman who deserved nothing more than his contempt.
Mistress & A Million Dollars
"We are gathered here today in the face of this company to join together Kimberley Blackstone and Ricardo Perrini in matrimony...."
Jarrod Hammond heard the words of the female marriage celebrant but his eyes were drawn not to the bride, but to the woman sitting opposite him in the horseshoe circle surrounding his cousin Kim and her soon-to-be husband, Ric Perrini.
Adrenaline kicked in as he leaned back in his chair and let his gaze rake over Briana Davenport, the Australian supermodel who was the "Face" of Blackstone Diamonds. Through the massive yacht's large windows behind her, the late afternoon sun highlighted the most glorious harbour in the world and created a picture perfect backdrop for her beauty.
Framed by the Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge, and dressed in a silky, pale-blue pantsuit that flowed as she moved, she was elegance and sophistication. The epitome of glamour. A crowning glory for the diamond company she symbolized. He could see why Howard Blackstone had chosen her to represent his business.
And just as expensive, Jarrod mused rather cynically, noting with satisfaction the exact moment she saw him looking at her. Her eyelids flickered just a bit before she looked away, but only someone with an internal radar for this woman would pick up on it.
Someone like him.
"If anyone can show just cause...." the celebrant continued.
Much to his displeasure, his internal radar was constantly tuned on Briana. It had been that way from the moment he'd set eyes on her at his brother's marriage to her sister four years ago. It had been on high ever since, even though he knew Briana had a serious flaw. An expensive serious flaw. She liked money, and plenty of it, and went through it like it was going out of fashion, according to her now-dead sister, Marise.
Of course, being attuned to Briana didn't help when everywhere he turned she was there in front of him... up on billboards...on the television... in glossy magazines. Nor was it easy knowing they lived in the same city in another part of the country. Thankfully with her jet-setting around the world as a supermodel, and him with his law practice, Melbourne was big enough for the two of them not to run into each other.
"Ric, do you take Kimberley for your lawful wedded wife, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honour, comfort and...."
But now, seeing Briana in the flesh again - her oh-so-delicious flesh - reminded him why he'd inveigled an invitation to the Blackstone Jewellery launch here in Sydney last Friday and flown up from Melbourne. And why he was glad he'd accepted Kim's invitation today. Being a Hammond at a Blackstone wedding was never going to be easy, but with Briana here, the day suddenly seemed full of sensual possibilities, despite the presence of millionaire Jake Vance, who once again partnered her.
"Kimberley, do you take Ric for your lawful wedded husband, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honour, comfort and...."
Jarrod's mouth tightened as he looked at the man sitting beside Briana. The pair had been photographed together in the Melbourne papers at the St Valentine's Day races a few weeks ago. And again last Friday at the jewellery launch. Were the two of them lovers? Probably, he decided, not pleased by the burst of irrational jealousy he felt at the thought of her in the other man's bed.
"May this ring be blessed so that he who gives it..." the woman continued.
Dammit, was he being a glutton for punishment by going after her? Hadn't he already made his decision to bed her? A decision based on wanting to find out all he could about her sister for his brother's sake. He'd seen Matt only two weeks ago and had been shocked at how worn and bitter he'd become. Jarrod and Matt may be adopted but they were closer than blood brothers, and he'd do everything in his power to make sure Matt found some inner peace - no matter what it took.
Or whom.
But he couldn't blame his brother for being bitter when his wife, Marise, had died from injuries received in a plane crash almost two months ago, along with Howard Blackstone and four others. It had conjured up a myriad of questions. Questions that no one had any answers to, except maybe Briana Davenport.
"Wear it as a symbol of love and commitment..."
Surely Briana knew why her sister had been on Howard's plane before it crashed. And she knew if her own sister was having an affair with Howard, the enemy of the Hammond family ever since his greed parted the two family factions many years ago. She just wasn't saying.
And then there'd been the shock of Marise having been named as a beneficiary in Howard's will. A seven sum figure and the Blackstone jewellery collection was a considerable inheritance for a young mistress. And that begged the question as to whether Blake was really Howard's son and not Matt's. Blake certainly had the same dark hair as Howard, unlike Matt's sandy blonde head. It made Jarrod sick to the stomach to think about it.
"You may now seal the promises you have made with each other with a kiss."
Dammit, the Blackstones had caused enough pain for his family. His parents would be devastated if they found out that Blake was not their grandson, but their great-nephew instead. Not that it would make any difference to the way they felt about the child. They'd proven that by adopting him and Matt all those years ago. As for Matt and how he would feel about Blake not being his own....
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ricardo Perrini."
Just then, as if his angry thoughts had drawn Briana's blue eyes back to him, Jarrod held her gaze amongst the clapping and the cheers, and let her know with a look what he had decided. She was the woman he wanted.
She was the woman he would have.
More excerpts here