And she found she was suddenly hugely grateful to him, because being a single parent was difficult and endless and sharing it, even in this small way, truly lightened the load.
Supper was different as well. More fun. She and Stephen often had fun then, talking over silly things that had happened in the day, but with Michael there it was—well, it was more interesting.
And when Stephen had gone up to bed and she’d finished bagging up her pasta bakes in their individual dishes and put them in the freezer outside in the garage, they’d sat down together in the little sitting room at the back and shared a pot of tea in a companionable silence.
Then Michael looked at his watch and sighed, getting to his feet. ‘I ought to go. I’ve got things to do, a couple of phone calls to make.’
She nodded, getting up to see him out. ‘Of course you have. I’m sorry, I’ve kept you too long—’
‘No, you haven’t. You’ve been lovely.’
‘Not a cross between Mother Teresa and Mrs Beeton?’ she teased with only a flicker of hurt, and he clicked his tongue and shook his head and pulled her gently into his arms.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured into her hair.
‘Don’t be. You were right. I collect lame ducks. Always have. It makes a change to have someone to lean on.’
He squeezed her gently. ‘What I said—about not wanting anything from you,’ he said quietly. ‘It wasn’t quite the truth. What I meant was, I don’t want to take anything you aren’t ready to give me. I didn’t mean I didn’t want you.’
She looked up, her breath catching at the gruff, husky note in his voice, and her eyes met his and locked. Good grief. She thought she’d burn up with the need in them, but then suddenly it was gone, as suddenly as it had come, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.
He lifted his hand, grazing his knuckles gently over her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Annie,’ he murmured, and lowering his head, he brushed his lips lightly, tentatively, over hers.
‘Goodnight, Michael,’ she whispered, and lifting herself up on tiptoe, she kissed him back.
For a moment he stiffened, but then he gave a rough, tattered groan and slanted his mouth more securely over hers and kissed her as if he was dying for her.
Dear God.
It only lasted seconds. Maybe four, five? And then he wrenched himself away and dropped his hands from her shoulders as if she might burn him. He could very well be right—
‘Sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said, and all but bolted for the door.
She watched him go, then locked up, went back into the kitchen and fed the cat, made another cup of tea and settled down again on the sofa to think about the feel of his lips and the heat of his mouth and the need in his eyes.
Sleep tight?
She didn’t sleep a wink.
* * *
He avoided her on Thursday. He had to. Things were moving far too fast.
What the hell had he been thinking about to kiss her like that?
‘Too much, you fool,’ he muttered, wrenching the bath away from the wall without even thinking about what it was doing to his neck. To hell with his neck. He didn’t care about his neck. All he cared about was Annie, and kissing her again, and—
‘Damn!’
The blood spurted from the cut, and he glared at it in disgust. He’d have to wash it.
Except, of course, he’d taken out the basin already, and the only running water was in the loo. Not a great idea.
Which left him no choice but to go back downstairs and use the basin in Annie’s cloakroom to sort it out. And that meant seeing Annie.
Well, his mind might think that was a lousy idea, but his body was all for it. With a grunt of disgust he tugged his rugby shirt down to give him greater privacy and ran down the stairs, his finger clutched in a wad of loo paper.
‘Oops,’ she said with a knowing grin. ‘Want a plaster?’
‘No. I think I need a nurse,’ he muttered. A psychiatric one.
‘I’ll come,’ she said, picking up the first aid kit and chivvying him through to the cloakroom.
The tiny cloakroom, with her pressed up against him clucking and tutting and pulling the cut open and pouring icy water into it—
‘Ouch!’
‘Baby,’ she teased. ‘You’ll live. It needs to be clean.’
‘I’m sure it is now,’ he said drily, and handed her another handful of loo roll to dry it.
She stuck a plaster neatly over the cut, told him to apply pressure to it and cleaned up the basin.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he said, but she just threw him a smile that made his body shriek with delight and patted his cheek.
‘Don’t worry. Although I’m going to have to restock my first aid kit at this rate.’
‘I’ll buy you a new one,’ he promised. ‘I’ll get myself one while I’m at it. Or perhaps a job lot. Wonder if I’ll get a bulk discount?’
He was just talking for the sake of it, but she chuckled and shooed him back out, went behind the counter and reached for a teapot.
‘Tea? Or are you still on coffee?’
‘Tea would be lovely,’ he said, giving up on the idea of going back upstairs without a qualm.
Moments later she set the pot down on the table, followed by two cups, a milk jug and a slice of apple cake. ‘Here. I expect you need this,’ she said, sliding on to the chair beside his and pushing the cake towards him.
‘I do. I missed lunch,’ he said unnecessarily, and met her eyes.
Only for a second, though, before hers skittered away.
‘Um—about last night,’ she began, and he sighed.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I was out of line—’
‘You were?’ she exclaimed, then lowered her voice hastily. ‘No. It was me. I kissed you back. You just gave me a peck, and I—’ She floundered to a halt, and he found himself holding his breath.
‘You—what?’ he coaxed, desperate to hear what she was going to say.
‘I pushed it,’ she confessed hurriedly. ‘Turned it into something it wasn’t meant to be.’
‘I didn’t exactly object,’ he pointed out, thinking he ought to be fair about that, at least, and it got a chuckle from her.
‘No—I suppose you didn’t, but it wasn’t fair to move the goalposts. There you were, just being polite—’
‘Polite?’ he mouthed, and gave a strangled little laugh. ‘You think I was being polite?’ He stuck a finger under her chin, steered her head round to face him and waited for her to meet his eyes. Finally.
‘I was not being polite,’ he said firmly. ‘At all. Not even slightly.’
‘Oh,’ she said, and gave a relieved little laugh. ‘I wondered if that was why you skipped lunch.’
He groaned. ‘It was—in a way. I thought I’d overdone it. Pushed you.’
‘Pushed me—oh, no. No, not at all. It was—fine.’
Fine? She thought his kiss was fine? He was obviously losing his touch.
‘Um—Stephen said thanks for the chess lesson, by the way. It was all he could talk about at breakfast.’
He smiled. ‘He’s welcome. When do you want me to teach him again?’
She met his eyes then, searchingly, and he found the contact unnerving. God only knows what she’d see if she looked too hard. ‘Are you sure it’s OK?’
He forced a grin. ‘I’ll do anything for supper.’
And she relaxed, at last, and laughed softly.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Sure. Same sort of time?’
She nodded. ‘Well, no, actually, a bit later,’ she amended. ‘Come at six-thirty—that’ll give me time to sort this lot out—oh, no, Stephen’s at a friend’s house. Saturday?’
He nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘Just come round the back and let yourself in. It’s easier if I’m busy in the kitchen.’
He nodded again, then stabbed his fork into the apple cake and sliced off a chunk. She was right, he was starving—and not only for the cake. It made a good start, though.
* * *
‘Hi, Honey, I’m home!’ he sang, knocking on the back door as he opened it, and then he ground to a halt and shut his eyes, wincing inwardly with embarrassment.
Great. Just what he needed!
‘Sorry,’ he said, opening his eyes and greeting the two young women at the table with a sheepish grin. ‘I didn’t realise Annie had company. I’m Michael.’
He held out his hand, and they shook it in turn.
‘I’m Kate,’ the younger one said with a curious but friendly smile, ‘and this is Vicky. We’re her stepdaughters.’
‘Ah,’ he said, and nodded. ‘Of course you are. I can see your father in you both. Um—is she around?’
‘She’s upstairs—she said something about sorting out the beds. She wasn’t expecting us.’
He was on the point of telling them to go and make their own beds when he realised it was actually none of his business.
Kate was still looking at him curiously, but Vicky’s look was altogether more searching. ‘Are you in the habit of walking in like that?’ she asked, her voice less than friendly, and Kate stared at her in obvious astonishment.
‘Vicky!’
Vicky was no problem to him. He could deal with her with one hand tied behind his back. But, for the sake of harmony and because it was their house, too, he reined in his temper. ‘No, I’m not, actually,’ he told them. ‘Annie told me to come in, though. I’m here to give Stephen a chess lesson.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ he said drily, his grip on his temper slipping a fraction at her arch tone. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘Only if you’re using it as an excuse to get in her knickers.’
He froze, astonished at the unexpectedness of her attack and her choice of words, while Kate coloured furiously and hissed ‘Vix!’ at her sister in horror.
After a lengthy silence which he did nothing to alleviate, he leant towards Vicky, propped both hands on the table, and said very slowly and carefully, ‘If I wanted to get into your stepmother’s knickers—which, by the way, is absolutely none of your business—I wouldn’t stoop to using her son as an excuse.’
And then he straightened up and went over to the hall door, just as it opened and Annie came in.
‘Michael! I didn’t hear you arrive. Have you met the girls?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly, his back to them. ‘I’ve already been warned off.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes widened, then narrowed. ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to give them the wrong idea,’ she murmured and, going up on tiptoe, she hooked a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him down and kissed him.
It was just a peck, but it was proprietorial and it made him want to beat his chest like Tarzan.
She grinned at him, dropped back on to her heels and moved past him.
‘So, have you put the kettle on for Michael, girls?’ she said cheerfully, and Kate got up, still clearly flustered, and grabbed the kettle and shoved it under the tap.
Vicky was made of sterner stuff. She gave him a baleful look. ‘I’ll bring my things in from the car,’ she said shortly, and disappeared.
‘Stephen’s in the study,’ Annie told him. ‘Why don’t you go through and find him, and I’ll bring you some tea in a moment?’
He nodded, having a fair idea of what was about to take place, and not wanting to be in Vicky’s shoes for anything. ‘Don’t be too hard on her,’ he murmured.
‘Hard?’ she said, and he realised she was quietly seething. ‘I’ll give her hard. Don’t worry about Vicky. She’ll get over it.’
‘Annie—she loves you.’
And her eyes softened, and her shoulders dropped inches. ‘OK. I won’t kill her. This time.’
‘Promise?’
She smiled up at him. ‘I promise. Go on.’
He went, keeping one ear out for the screams and cries he felt sure would follow, but there were none. She appeared five minutes later with a cup of tea, set it down beside him, glanced at the chessboard and said, ‘Oh. You seem to have lost a lot of pieces.’
‘Mmm. He’s a quick study.’
And Stephen grinned up at her, and he just hoped she had the sense not to say anything else.
‘Come on, Sport, thrash me and get it over with,’ he said with a sigh, and Stephen turned his attention back to the board and rubbed his hands together with glee.
‘Checkmate,’ he said with a grin a mile wide, and Michael leant over the corner of the desk, ruffled his son’s hair and grinned right back.
* * *
‘So. Who’s going to tell me the truth?’ she said, and Kate looked away.
Vicky sighed. ‘He walked in, saying, “Hi, Honey, I’m home!” in a stupid voice. What was I supposed to think?’
She could just imagine his embarrassment and confusion when he’d seen the girls. It made her laugh just to picture it. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said after a moment. ‘So you put two and two together, made about twenty-five and warned him off, is that right?’
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘That he’d been warned off? Yes.’ She leant forwards and covered Vicky’s hand, squeezing it gently. ‘Vix, he’s my landlord. And he’s a friend. And really, if I wanted to have a relationship with him, there isn’t a good reason why I shouldn’t, is there?’
She shook her head, looking embarrassed and unhappy. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just—’
‘What?’
‘Well, Dad.’
‘Vicky, your father’s dead, darling—and anyway, you know we didn’t have that kind of a relationship. Your mother was the only woman in the world for him, and he’d be the last person to want me to sit about and mope.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘It’s just that he’s so—’
‘So what?’ she prompted, when Vicky broke off.
‘So—I don’t know. Male! Macho. Dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ she exclaimed, laughing. ‘Michael’s not dangerous! He’d kill me with kindness if I let him. He keeps trying to get me to extend the tearoom and won’t take any more rent—’
‘Rent? Your landlord?’ Kate squealed, cottoning on at last. ‘He’s Michael Harding?’
Vicky went pale. ‘Oh, my God. I’ve just told one of the richest and most successful authors on the bestseller list to leave my stepmother alone. I can’t believe it. Oh, God, I want to die.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ Michael said gently, hooking out a chair and dropping into it beside her. ‘Anyway, if it makes you feel better, your brother just thrashed me at chess.’
‘Good grief, you must be crap,’ Kate said with a stifled laugh, and he chuckled.
‘Or just a very nice man,’ Annie said, smiling at him. ‘Don’t let him win too often. He’ll be insufferable.’
Michael snorted. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. My ego can’t cope with it.’
And, getting to his feet, he headed back out, just a gentle squeeze on her shoulder to tell her—and the girls—that she wasn’t forgotten while he was out of the room.
Their eyes met, and Vicky groaned.
‘I’m going to have to apologise, aren’t I?’ she said.
‘It might be nice. And while you’re on a roll, I’ve put clean sheets out on your beds. You could make them up to save me a job. Kate, fancy helping me with the supper?’
‘Sure.’
And that, she hoped,
was the end of that.
CHAPTER SIX
‘LOOK—I’m really sorry.’
Michael looked up at Vicky and his heart ached for her.
‘It’s OK, Vicky.’
‘No. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I can’t believe I did—’
He gave a grunt of laughter. ‘I had a moment’s doubt, I must say. Followed by the urge to rip your head off, but what would that achieve? And then I sat down and thought about what you must be feeling—what you’re going through at the moment, you and Kate, and it all made much more sense.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not about Dad.’
‘I know. It’s about Annie, and what she means to you, and preserving the status quo. And suddenly a man appears in her life and the status quo is threatened. And my guess is you panicked, just like I did when my mother died. My father had been an invalid for years, and whether it was the strain of looking after him or just one of those crazy things, she got cancer.’
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I know how that feels. How old were you?’
‘Eighteen. She died when I was twenty, and he couldn’t go on without her. By the time I was twenty-one I’d lost them both. I don’t know if he died of a broken heart or because of his old injuries—he’d been a bomb disposal officer, and got caught in a chemical blast—but whatever, he only lasted months after she died, and I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen to me.
‘I was at university, the family home had to be packed up and sorted out, and without my godparents I think I would have lost it. As it was I joined the army and ended up in the SAS. Dangerous and messy and exactly what I needed, but my godparents were always there for me, like a safety net, in case it all went wrong. And they still are. And the fact that the house isn’t there any more, and I can’t just go home and go up to the bedroom I used as a child, somehow doesn’t matter. I’ve got my own life now, as you will, and just because Annie needs to move on with her life doesn’t mean she won’t be there for you, just as my godparents are there for me. She loves you to bits, you know. Nothing’s going to change that.’
Her eyes were sparkling, filling with tears, and as he watched one welled over and slid down her cheek.
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