He stretched out in the chair, perching his long legs onto an opposite chair, and closed his eyes. He was enjoying the scent of Faye’s sweet perfume as she bent over him, the delicate touch of her fingers on his scalp, and the sound of her breathy voice murmuring exclamations of concern. At long last, he had her fingers in his own hair. He was in heaven, loath to feel her move away.
“Don’t go,” he said, prying open an eye. “Keep me company.”
Faye chewed her lip, hearing a new note in his voice, one that spoke of longing and there was no mistaking...loneliness.
The air was thick and moist with a low-lying fog. Her hair felt like a coil of hemp. Faye pulled it from her shoulders and gave a twist, fastening it to her head in a clasp.
“Storm’s coming,” she said, pulling out a chair.
“It’ll break the humidity,” Jack replied. “Probably only have a few minutes before the rain comes.”
“Let’s just sit back and enjoy them then,” she said, stretching out her legs on the opposite chair like Jack. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes.
Jack turned his head to gape in surprise. “That’s a new attitude...” He paused. “For you.” His gaze was trapped by the vision of long, smooth legs and taut, shapely thighs that curved beneath the thin dress fabric. Her small, rounded breasts rose and fell with each easy breath.
She sighed lustily, unaware. “Maybe it is.”
After another tortuous gaze, Jack turned his head and said, “It suits you.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair then cocked his head, listening to her humming.
“What’s that tune you’re always humming?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “I hear it at night sometimes. That flute music, remember? I just can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”
“It sounds so familiar,” he said, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before.”
“Of course you have. You must have heard it from outside, like me.”
“No, that’s the strange part of it. I never hear the flute music, and I’ve been listening for it.”
Faye turned her head. “You haven’t heard it?”
Jack shook his head. “But I’ve heard that tune somewhere before.” He didn’t tell her that when he heard her humming it, it stirred restless memories that he couldn’t quite reach. It was as though they were hidden behind some gauzy veil.
She was alert again to the longing in his voice. His eyes were closed, and his hand was molded over the ice bag on his head. It was a long hand with beautifully shaped fingers that looked like they could belong to a concert pianist.
She turned away. If only her campaign to keep her desire for Jack Graham at a distance was as successful as her tea campaign was becoming. Not that he was making it any easier for her. She was eminently aware of his presence in the same building, the same garden, the same room. Of his breathing the same air that she did. To his credit, she could never accuse him of being obnoxious or pressing his attention or being anything but the good neighbor. The friend who lived next door.
Yet—there were times when she caught him looking at her with the same desire she no doubt wore in her eyes at this very moment. She’d see it flash in his eyes before he’d quickly turn away. That look never failed to arouse her, to stir her memories of a certain kiss between them, to deepen her longing to feel another such kiss. It was driving her insane. She knew where another such kiss would lead them, and it would ruin the friendship between them, a friendship she’d come to treasure.
What she needed at times such as this when she had feelings such as these was a good whack to her own head, she thought, slumping back in her chair.
“Do you want to go to Kensington Gardens tomorrow?” he asked, unaware of her turn of thoughts. “I bought a toy boat to float in the pond. She’s a beauty. Maddie and Tom will love it.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“I love spending time with the kids,” he replied. He looked straight at her, throwing her a challenge as easily as if it were a pigskin ball. “And you.”
She caught the challenge. Sitting up, she asked, “Jack, you’re so good with children. How is it that you never married? Or had children of your own?”
His face clouded, and he rubbed the back of his head gingerly as though being reminded of another, deeper hurt.
“I’m not the marrying kind. I have few possessions and responsibilities, and I like it that way. Though I’m no ivory-tower academician, I’m very good at what I do and I work very hard at it. My work takes me all over the world. I like flying around at will, meeting new people.” He looked back at her, his eyes clouded with a brooding intensity she didn’t often see. “The way I see it, making a baby doesn’t make a man a father. Being a father means being there every day. Consistent. I’m not ready for that, don’t know if I ever want it.” He reached down to slap a mosquito with a vengeance. “And I won’t be like my biological father. I have no memory of him, other than of a fist slamming into my face. The only thing I know for sure is that I was abandoned by him. And by my mother.”
Naturally, she thought of Tom, and her sympathy redoubled. She leaned closer and placed her hand on his.
“It’s never easy for a mother to leave her child. Maybe she thought it was for the best.”
He looked at her hand covering his for a moment. “I’ll never know.” Then rubbing the top of her knuckles with his thumb he said, “Sure I like Maddie and Tom, like them a lot. They’re wonderful kids. I like going places with them, talking with them, playing with them. But it’s just another game. I’m playing make-believe father.”
“Being a free spirit is a kind of play, isn’t it?” she asked gently. “To avoid real relationships?”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “It’s not me who’s been avoiding.”
She comprehended his meaning and slipped her hand out from under his and tucked it safely in her lap. “Relationships and sex are two different things entirely.”
“You’re right about that,” he said, his sarcasm a ready response. “I imagine it’s great when they’re combined.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
That silenced him.
In the distance a faint thunder rumbled, heralding the oncoming storm. Hearing it, Nana whimpered, retreated to the door, and scratched at it. Maddie opened the back door to her rescue, carrying her indoors, clucking her tongue, and crooning, “Poor Nana.”
The door slammed behind her, leaving Jack and Faye in a silence as thick and weighted as the air that enveloped them. Not a birdcall, a cricket’s song, or the hoot of an owl pierced the pause before nature unleashed her fury. Memories of another storm, and a certain kiss, flashed through their minds like the lightning in the distance. A sigh escaped Faye’s lips, and the sound of her soft, high-pitched voice floated like a wisp of wind.
“Faye,” Jack said in a rush, dropping the ice, swinging his legs around and inching to the edge of the chair closer to her. The stirred air sent their electrons charging. His knees grazed her legs, and she felt each hair against her tender nerve endings. He took her hand again in his own while his corona of curls fell over his broad forehead, obscuring his lowered lids.
“I wouldn’t know either, Faye,” he said at last. “And I wonder if it might not be possible. With you.”
“A sexual relationship?”
“No. Not just that. A relationship. That includes sex.” His fingers pressed against her palm as his voice grew more urgent. “We already have a wonderful relationship. Don’t we? I can’t deny that the times I’ve spent with you and the children have been some of the happiest in my life.”
“Jack, you don’t have to say that...”
“It’s true. My adoptive parents were older than most. And by nature distant and formal. I always felt well cared for, but I never shared with them the relaxed, loving, cozy atmosphere of family that I share with you. You’ve included me, brought me into your family.” Now he paused, a
nd when he spoke again, his voice was low. “But I still want more. I want you, Faye.” He tugged her closer till their faces were a breath apart. “Tell me that you don’t feel the same for me.”
She opened her mouth to deny it.
“Faye, I’ve watched you, observed every slight movement of your face. It’s too late to lie now.”
Her mouth went dry, and she closed it without speaking. He was right. It was no use to pretend any longer that her feelings for him were merely those of a friend, a kind neighbor, or a sister. She found Jack Graham every inch a virile, seductive, utterly desirable man. She confessed all this with her silence.
“I’m a patient man, but it seems to me you take two steps back for every one I take closer to you. Why are you avoiding me? I’ve tried to give you space and time, but it’s been hard, Faye. Very hard.”
“I’m not avoiding you. I’m giving you signals that you refuse to accept. Jack, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive. I do! Very. It’s just that...I’d rather not.” She met his gaze, urging him to understand. “It’s a new experience for me, having a male friend. I accept that it is enough. Why can’t you just leave things the way they are? Why must you try and ruin it?”
“You think sex would ruin our friendship?”
“I do. Sex was all I had with Rob. We got married and we never should have.”
“How about if I promise not to marry you?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.
“I’ll think about it,” she conceded.
His gaze dropped to her lips. “I promised I would ask your permission before I kissed you again.”
The air thickened again, and her chest felt constricted, her breath scarce. She knew a sexual relationship with Jack would be wonderful. But she also knew that he was unreliable, like Rob. A free spirit. He’d said so himself. And she’d never push a man to marry her again. Nor could she go through a relationship that gradually disintegrated. She didn’t think she could handle that particular pain again, and she wouldn’t put her children through it.
“Don’t,” she said.
He dragged his gaze from her lips back to her eyes. He saw a brightness in her eyes, the source of which was not passion or desire. It was a faint glimmer, as uncertain as a small ember in a cold log, yet it shone bravely, determinedly, through a darkness that he knew was put there by pain.
He could not add to that pain, he decided. Who was he to think he could have a real relationship with anyone, much less a woman like Faye O’Neill? Someone like her needed, deserved, a whole man, someone to be there for her and for her children. Not half a man, a man without a history, like himself. She needed someone who could help that glimmer of light to glow, not squelch it.
Nearby, thunder cracked, breaking the tension in the sky. The wind picked up and angrily threw at them a few fat, wet drops of rain that plopped loudly, gracelessly, on their heads, the table, and the bricks.
“Come on, pal,” Jack drawled, reeling her up from the chair, close to his chest. They both stood for a moment, whipped by the gusting wind, shivering. “I think Mother Nature is frustrated with us.” His breath was warm against the top of her head. Then in a sudden move he stepped back and gently pushed her forward. “Better not tempt her too much. She doesn’t like to be ignored.”
Chapter 14
The following week Jack returned early to No. 14, his head swimming from the success of his final series of experiments. All they had to do now was write up the paper and send it out. Irwin and the whole team were still celebrating back at the Institute, but he didn’t feel like partying with them. He had an overwhelming urge to share the good news with Faye and the kids. He glanced at his wristwatch. They’d probably be gathered in his kitchen about now, Faye at the Aga stove. He smiled, and his stomach growled just thinking about all the meals she’d been cooking there every night lately, and he told himself it was the prospect of a home-cooked dinner that made him so eager to return home.
So he escaped the many slaps on the back, the come-hither looks of Rebecca Fowler, and the glasses of champagne offered and instead took the tube home, thinking that maybe he’d take the gang out for some ice cream after dinner. They could try out that new sweetshop Tom had spotted just a few blocks over. It was a balmy night and wouldn’t it be nice to take a walk? He smiled in anticipation as he entered his flat, thinking that maybe he could convince Nana to try taking her first walk on a leash.
Tossing his keys, he thought if he was lucky, maybe he could even try holding Faye’s hand.
As he passed through the dark halls of his flat to the rear kitchen, a sense of unease coursed through him. Everything was too quiet. Something was missing. Reaching the kitchen he found that it, too, was dimly lit and empty. He stopped at the Aga, turned his head and searched the deserted room, his mouth agape with disappointment.
He was alone. Faye, Maddie, Tom, even Nana, weren’t here in the kitchen where he’d expected them.
Expected them.
Jack tugged at the Windsor knot of his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his Oxford shirt, feeling a bit choked. What was happening? He liked coming home to find everyone piled around the long scrubbed kitchen table, smelling the scent of rosemary or garlic or thyme from the garden simmering on the stove, hearing his name called out in cheery voices as he was welcomed home.
Home. He pulled the tie from around his neck and tossed it on the empty chair, staring at it for a few moments longer.
What the hell, he thought, bounding up the stairs to the O’Neill flat. He was too tired to think anymore tonight. He only knew what he felt, what he wanted—and that was to see Faye’s face at his table. And Maddie and Tom’s, and even that crazy puppy, Nana.
At the top of the stairs he came to an abrupt halt, finding instead Mrs. Lloyd and Mrs. Jerkins with their heads bent close, deep in conversation. That pair was as predictable as the law of gravity, he thought irritably. And just as much a downer.
Jane Lloyd was impeccably dressed as usual in a cool silk dress, polished pumps, and hair that didn’t budge even when she wagged her head, as she did now. Yet like the Queen, she still managed to look frumpy. And as for Ol’ Horseface, well, the less said the better.
He wished he could escape down the back stairs, but it was too late. They’d already spotted him, on the scent like two long-eared, pointy-nosed hunting dogs. He sighed, resigned to his fate.
The two women raised their brows and exchanged a meaningful glance. Mrs. Jerkins took a step backwards into the flat, far enough to be respectful, but not too far that she couldn’t hear every word that was spoken.
“Halloo, Dr. Graham,” Mrs. Lloyd said in her high-pitched croon. There was no mistaking the disapproval in the undertones.
He smiled in kind, looking longingly at the exit.
“I understand there have been a few changes in the building since I’ve last been here. Unlocking doors, are we?”
“Indeed we are, Mrs. Lloyd,” he replied, the devil rising in him. “I had no problem at all with the locks, actually.”
Nettled, she brushed away some invisible lint from the lace doily on the hall table. “I would have appreciated notice. And would it have been too much to ask permission for a pet?”
“But I did. In fact, Wendy insisted.”
The nettle was visible now, a red flush creeping up her neck that was now ramrod straight.
“I see.” She tucked her hands together, hoisting her bosom a good couple of inches. “Dr. Graham, it simply won’t do that you and others I might mention in Number 14 feel you can go over my head to my mother. I manage this building. The lease is between us, and I must insist that you lock those doors right back up. As for the dog, well, you may keep the dog since you will be leaving in September anyway and it would be a shame to upset my mother any further. You realize that she honestly believes that your dog is her own Nana, a dog she had as a child! Her condition is only getting worse. I was afraid something like this might happen.”
Jack didn’t feel the need to explain the puppy’s remarkable heritage. “Her condition?”
“Quite. She is not entirely in touch with reality, is she?”
Jack’s face grew thunderous. “Everything is humming along just fine here. We’re all perfectly happy with the arrangement. No one more so than your mother.”
“I can understand why you and Mrs. O’Neill might be happy,” she said with a loud sniff. “I don’t approve of the goings-on in this building, especially not in front of those children!”
“Goings-on?” Jack cast a threatening glance toward Mrs. Jerkins, who quickly darted her gaze away.
“If you can’t stay away from Mrs. O’Neill,” Jane Lloyd continued, “at least have the decency to leave Mrs. Forrester alone. I don’t want you encouraging her in her fantasies. You and those children spend far too much time with her.”
“Someone should spend time with her,” Jack exploded. “You certainly don’t! Good day, Mrs. Lloyd. Mrs. Jerkins,” he said through tight lips, then turned and walked quickly back to his flat, not trusting that he wouldn’t say something he would regret later.
Jane Lloyd was visibly shaken by Jack’s accusation. Mrs. Jerkins sidled close, eyes over her shoulder marking Jack’s departure down the rear stairs.
“Tsk...tsk...tsk. Trouble’s coming, that’s for sure,” she said from the side of her mouth.
“I simply can’t allow that. This situation demands action. It’s time for Mother to face the facts. She must be sensible, for once in her life. Mrs. Jerkins, I depend upon you as always to keep a close eye on Mrs. Forrester. We must be vigilant! You know she won’t go to a nursing home on her own volition, so I shall need something solid, something that will hold up in court, if we must take things into our own hands. She simply cannot stay here on her own any longer. Then I’ll sell this place and put an end to those childish fantasies of hers about strange lights and stars and...” She shook her head, unwilling to say the boy’s name that hovered at her lips.
Mrs. Lloyd and Mrs. Jerkins nodded conspiratorially, then departed, Mrs. Jerkins back into the O’Neill flat and Mrs. Lloyd up the stairs to visit her mother.
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