Taryn told herself she should be pleased. She’d be prepared to bet her next year’s income—always providing she had one, she thought uneasily—that on his home turf he’d be hip-deep in swooning women. He had to be in his early thirties and he wasn’t married. Most men with his financial and personal assets would enjoy playing the field. As she hauled herself up onto the rocks she decided acidly that when he did make up his mind to marry he’d probably choose a glamorous model or actress. After five years or so he’d divorce her and marry a nice girl from his own strata of society—whatever that was—who’d give him the required couple of children. And in his fifties he’d divorce the second wife and marry a trophy one thirty years younger. And she wouldn’t want to be any of those wives. That thought made her grin ironically before she slid back into the water. Half an hour later she’d showered and reluctantly got back into her smelly shirt and shorts, emerging from the luxurious cabana to meet Cade, his muscled elegance defined by clothes that made her feel like a ragamuffin.
What do You think about The Far Side Of Paradise (2011)?
