Not a Marrying Man Read Online Free Page B

see it, came a frustrated voice from within.
    It wasn’t the first time this realisation had jumped into Warwick’s head. That day he’d gone bunjee-jumping, for instance, when the damned rope had gone awry and he hadn’t been killed. More was the pity. Amber’s feelings had been written all over her face. She’d been trembling with shock and relief when he was brought back up, unharmed.
    Unfortunately, being loved the way Amber loved him—with such sweet sincerity—was as powerful as the most addictive drug. Giving up the way she made him feel was going to take a massive act of will, one that Warwick didn’t think he was capable of this evening. Knowing she wanted him to make love to her after dinner was weakening his resolve to end their relationship.
    Maybe it was time to tell her the truth about himself, to force Amber to face the fact that there was no future with him.
    Could he do that?
Should
he?
    Unfortunately, revealing his genetic flaw and all itsappalling inevitabilities might not bring about the desired result. If Warwick had learned one thing about Amber’s character during the last ten months, it was that she was as compassionate as she was passionate. She would become visibly upset whenever she saw those ads about poor starving children, and could only be soothed when he promised to make regular donations to whatever charity was canvassing for help. Stories about neglected animals inevitably brought similar distress, as did reports on the news about more bombs killing innocent women and children in war-torn countries. Warwick had taken to putting a box of tissues at the ready by the sofa to mop up her tears.
    Finding out what awaited her lover in the future might send her running, not in the other direction, but right into his arms.
    It was a risk Warwick decided he could not take. He would have to find some other way to end their relationship.
    ‘Is that your glass of wine over there?’ He nodded towards the nearly full glass that was sitting on the side table next to the box of tissues.
    ‘Oh, yes, it is. I was having a drink earlier when I was waiting for you to come home.’
    Another stab of guilt. Still, he was here now.
    ‘Bet I can guess what it is,’ he said. ‘A Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region.’
    She smiled as she walked over to pick up the glass. ‘You know me too well.’
    Yes, he thought as he dropped a few cubes of ice in his glass then slurped in some whisky. I do. And you deserve better than me. You deserve a man who’ll marry you, give you children and grow old with you.
    I can’t do any of those things.
    Warwick scowled as he lifted the glass to his lips, irritated suddenly by his maudlin thoughts. What good did they do? He’d always been a realist, and the reality of his life was that he couldn’t offer Amber any more than he’d originally offered her.
    But damn it all, surely the time she’d spent living with him hadn’t been totally wasted. She’d travelled a lot and learned a lot. She’d socialised with some of the world’s most successful people, been dressed by the world’s most fashionable designers, stayed in the world’s most luxurious resorts.
    Some women would kill for what Amber had experienced during these past ten months.
    Unfortunately, Amber wasn’t one of those women. Warwick knew she didn’t give a fig about any of those things. All she wanted was his love and his ring on her finger.
    Not that
she’d
told him so. Not once.
    Her aunt Kate had told him, last Easter at a family barbecue at her home that Amber had dragged him along to.
    What an old tartar she’d been. But she’d obviously loved her niece and wanted to see her happy.
    ‘You do realise,’ Kate had snapped at him when Amber had left them to go to the bathroom, ‘that Amber was practically engaged when she met you. To a perfectly nice boy who would have given her the only things she’s wanted since she was knee high to a grasshopper: a loving husband and a family of