by Anne Mather
‘You mean an airboat,’ said Olivia, nodding. ‘Mmm, I’ve been on one of those, too. They go really fast, don’t they?’
‘They’re awesome,’ said Sean, with boyish enthusiasm. ‘Dad says we can go back some time and do it again.’
‘Hey, well, that’s something to look forward to,’ said Olivia, hoping to sustain the mood, but Sean hunched his shoulders now.
‘Holidays aren’t very long,’ he muttered. ‘I want to live with my dad. Not just see him now and then.’
Olivia sighed. ‘I’m sure you love your mother, too,’ she said. ‘How would she feel if you lived with your father?’
‘She wouldn’t care,’ said Sean sulkily. ‘So long as she’s got Stewart and—and—’
‘And who?’
‘Nobody.’ Sean scowled. ‘Do you think I should go and look for Dad’s car?’
Olivia frowned, but she couldn’t think of any reason why not, and, nodding, she let him go. But she sensed he had something on his mind, something more than just his eagerness to be with his father. Could his stepfather have anything to do with it? She didn’t want to think so, but there was something he wasn’t telling her. Perhaps he’d tell his father. After all, she told herself again, it wasn’t her problem.
Following Sean round to the front of the property, she was just in time to see Joel’s Lexus pull to a halt at the gate. He thrust open his door and got out and, despite everything, her heart quickened and her mouth went dry.
He was so attractive, she though painfully. Even now, in khaki cargo pants and a cream chambray shirt, the neck open to reveal the brown column of his throat, he looked dark and disturbingly male. Despite the worried expression marring his deeply tanned features, he was strikingly familiar. Big and strong, coiled strength and brooding grey eyes. Heavens, no wonder she’d behaved so outrageously in his office at the university. Just looking at him now, she felt her palms dampen and her body begin to heat.
Sean hesitated a moment and then ran back around the house and Olivia wondered if he thought his father’s grim expression was solely directed at him. She didn’t kid herself. Her involvement hadn’t gone unnoticed. Joel might be grateful to her for bringing the boy here, but he was probably resenting every moment of it.
If Joel wondered why his son should have run away, he didn’t show it, and Olivia shifted a little nervously as he slammed the car door and strode through the wrought-iron gate that footed the garden path. But she refused to scurry away like a scared rabbit. She found she cared too much about Sean to do that.
Joel’s eyes found hers and she steeled herself to face his censure. But all he said was, ‘Thanks for bringing him here, Liv. God knows what he might have done if you hadn’t found him when you did.’
Olivia managed a careless shrug. ‘What do you think he’d have done?’ she asked, stepping out of his way.
‘Found his way here. I hope,’ said Joel fervently. ‘As he did a few days ago.’ He shook his head, looking along the path his son had taken. ‘Crazy kid! What the hell am I going to do about him?’
Olivia took an unsteady breath. ‘He wants to be with you,’ she said, aware as she did so that she knew exactly how Sean felt. Being with Joel again was reminding her of how it had been when they were together. Despite what he’d done to her, she still had feelings for this man.
‘And how am I supposed to handle that?’ Joel pushed agitated fingers through his hair. ‘Dammit, I agreed that he should live with Louise and Stewart. I thought their situation was a more normal one for an impressionable child.’
‘Stewart’s not his father,’ said Olivia, unable to ignore his anxiety. She paused. ‘How old was Sean when you—well, when you and your wife split up?’
‘Six,’ said Joel tersely. ‘But the marriage hadn’t worked for ages. Louise and I were already living separate lives.’
‘Stewart,’ said Olivia, understanding, and when Joel nodded in assent she badly wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him.
But that was too much, even for her. Swallowing, she pushed a hand into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out her keys. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, with enforced lightness. ‘Don’t be too hard on him. He’s a good kid.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ Disturbingly, Joel’s voice had thickened and she found she couldn’t look away from his searching gaze. ‘He should have been our son, Liv,’ he muttered fiercely. ‘Yours—and mine.’
Olivia felt a quiver of awareness sweep over her. The intimacy of the moment, his nearness and the bone-deep remembrance of all they’d shared—and lost—was turning her legs to jelly. For a moment she couldn’t move, frozen by the force of words that tore her composure to shreds. The desire to reach out to him was almost overwhelming, but then, as if regretting his own weakness—or had she only imagined it?—Joel inclined his head.
‘Thanks again for looking after him,’ he said stiffly. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘You’re not going!’
Unnoticed, Sean had ventured back along the path, probably wondering what was taking so long, Olivia reflected tensely. He had the football in his arms again, clutched to his thin chest like a talisman, his blue eyes round and filled with concern.
‘Mrs Garvey’s got to get back,’ said Joel at once, going towards him. As he passed her, Olivia’s nostrils were assailed by the mingled scents of soap and man, but her response was arrested by the indignant expression on Sean’s face.
‘You said your name was Olivia Foley!’ he exclaimed, proving he hadn’t forgotten their conversation. ‘You said you lived at the farm.’
Olivia didn’t remember saying that, but she understood his confusion. ‘My name is Foley,’ she told him. ‘It used to be Garvey, but I changed back to my old name last year.’
‘When you got a divorce,’ said Sean, turning triumphantly to his father. ‘You see. I knew I was right.’
‘Well, it’s good to be right about something,’ remarked Joel drily, still angry with himself for confronting Olivia. ‘So—let’s go indoors and you can tell me why you ran away. Again.’
‘Can she come, too?’
Evidently Sean had decided he needed some support, but all Olivia wanted to do was get away. ‘I can’t, Sean,’ she said, hating having to disappoint him. ‘You talk to your father; I’m sure he’ll understand how you feel.’
She was forced to look at Joel then, willing him to reinforce what she was saying, but conversely, Joel didn’t immediately respond. He could see Sean had taken a liking to Olivia and, while that ought not to please him, the temptation to have a woman’s angle had to outweigh his own feelings towards her.
‘You can stay if you like,’ he said offhandedly, half hoping she’d turn him down. At least, if she did, Sean couldn’t blame him for her decision. God, he thought incredulously, was he really pandering to the boy after the way he’d behaved?
‘Oh, well, I—’
‘Please!’ Sean came forward now and touched her sleeve. ‘I want to show you my room.’
Olivia shook her head, but it wasn’t an indication of what she was thinking. ‘I’m sure your father would rather have you to himself,’ she said, glancing at Joel’s taut face for a moment. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
Joel’s jaw tightened. ‘Stay and have coffee at least,’ he said carelessly, but Olivia knew he was deliberately forcing her to make the decision.
‘O—K,’ she said, unable to resist smiling into Sean’s relieved face. ‘Now, you’re not going to take that football into the house, are you?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOEL had no real idea how he felt as he fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the door to his home.
Despite the fact that he hadn’t lived like a monk in the years since his second divorce, he’d never brought a woman to his house before. And the fact that it was Olivia made it all the more unsettling. He didn’t want her here; didn’t want the certain knowledge that after she’d gone, he’d still feel her presence. But it was too late now
.
Beyond the heavy door, a square entrance hall gave access to the main rooms of the house. A polished parquet floor was spread with a couple of colourful rugs he’d picked up on a trip to India, and a carved oak chest sat at the foot of a curved staircase.
Joel closed the door and Olivia concentrated on her surroundings. That way, she hoped, she wouldn’t reflect on the fact that apart from Sean they were alone here.
And it was easy to admire the high-ceilinged rooms she glimpsed as Joel led the way to the kitchen. Without the obvious financial restrictions they’d had when they were married, he’d proved he had excellent taste. The mix of ancient and modern, of different textures and subtle colours, was exactly what the old house had needed.
‘I’m hungry,’ said Sean at once, opening the fridge with the familiarity of long use and looking inside. ‘Can I have some cheese, Dad?’
‘I suppose so.’ Joel had gone immediately to fill the filter with coffee, but now he glanced over his shoulder with a resigned expression. ‘Don’t they feed you at Church Close?’
Sean’s face darkened. ‘Yes,’ he muttered sulkily. ‘But I haven’t had any breakfast.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ retorted his father at once and Olivia closed her eyes for a moment, knowing that was exactly the wrong attitude to take with his son.
‘Mine, I suppose,’ blurted Sean, and she was sure there were tears in his eyes when he dropped the unopened cheese onto the counter and charged out of the room. They heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs and then the distinctive thud of a slamming door.
Joel hunched his shoulders and turned from what he was doing to rest his hips against the fitted unit. Then, looking absurdly like his son, he exclaimed, ‘Now what did I say?’
‘You know what you said,’ Olivia told him evenly. ‘Be a bit more understanding, can’t you? He’s very—fragile right now.’
Joel snorted. ‘And you’d know this, how? Or have you a growing family I know nothing about?’
Olivia propped her shoulder against the door frame, but she didn’t say anything in response to this provocation, and after a moment Joel muttered an apology.
‘I just don’t know what’s wrong with him,’ he sighed wearily. ‘I mean, he’s never been exactly happy living with Louise and Stewart, but until recently he didn’t have a lot of complaints. God knows, it’s not what I want for him either, but I don’t have an alternative.’
Olivia frowned. ‘Why couldn’t you and Louise share custody, at least until Sean’s old enough to make an informed decision? Surely there’s someone who could look after him when you’re not here? Your mother, for instance.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Joel was sardonic. ‘Like she’s going to give up her freedom to look after a precocious ten-year-old.’ He shook his head. ‘And why should she? It’s not her problem.’
‘Sean’s no one’s problem,’ said Olivia firmly. ‘He’s just a growing boy who wants to spend more time with his father. And—well, I think it might be a good idea to give him a break, if you can arrange it. If he’s run away twice in one week, you have to see it as a cry for help.’
Joel’s gaze sharpened. ‘Has he told you something I should know?’
‘No.’ Olivia wrapped defensive arms about her midriff. ‘It’s just a feeling I have, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘Couldn’t he stay for a few days? Given enough time, he might tell you what’s troubling him.’
Joel scowled. ‘So you do think something’s troubling him?’
Olivia sighed. ‘At the risk of sounding like his social worker, I think he has—issues.’
‘What issues?’ Joel was perplexed.
‘If I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’ Olivia frowned. ‘You know what it’s like. When you’re a child, problems assume a lot more importance than when you’re older.’ She paused. ‘Can’t you remember what you were like at his age?’
Joel looked up at her through lashes that were long and thick and dark as pitch. ‘My memory doesn’t kick in until the day you started at the comprehensive,’ he told her roughly. ‘You were waiting for the school bus when I got there and I thought—’
But he broke off at the point, pushing himself up and away from the unit, turning back to switch on the coffee machine. ‘This won’t take long,’ he said, despising his sudden weakness. ‘Then I’d better go and make my peace with Sean.’
‘Would you like me to speak to him?’ Olivia didn’t know why she was prolonging this, but she knew it wasn’t wholly for Sean’s sake.
Joel shrugged, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘If you think you can talk some sense into him,’ he said tersely, aware that Olivia gave him an impatient look before walking out of the room.
They were down again in a little over ten minutes. Sean still looked uneasy, but at least he wasn’t sulking. ‘Sorry, Dad,’ he mumbled as they entered the kitchen, and then, with a quick look at Olivia, he came and gave Joel a hug.
Joel met Olivia’s eyes over the boy’s head, but he couldn’t read anything from her expression. And, after returning the hug with interest, he turned his attention to the boy. ‘That’s OK, son,’ he said, nodding towards the table. ‘Sit down. I’ve made you a toasted cheese sandwich.’
‘Cool,’ said Sean at once, pulling out a chair and giving Olivia a grateful grin. It was obvious he was seeking her approval, and Joel wondered why it didn’t annoy him that she seemed to have such a good rapport with his son.
‘Coffee,’ he offered, holding out a mug of the steaming beverage. Olivia took the cup and tasted it approvingly.
‘Um, that’s good,’ she said, smiling at him now. ‘You always made—that is, I always enjoy a good cup of coffee.’
She’d almost betrayed their previous relationship, she realised, wondering if Joel was aware of it. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide it from Sean, but right now she felt he had enough to contend with.
‘Let’s go into the sitting room,’ Joel said now. He smiled at his son. ‘Finish your sandwich first, right?’
‘OK, Dad.’
Sean seemed quite content to do as he was told for the moment, but Joel guessed that as soon as his stomach was full he’d begin to have second thoughts.
Which was why he wanted to have a quick word with Olivia before his son joined them. But to his surprise, she apologised as soon as they were out of earshot of Sean. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I mean, I don’t mind if you tell him.’ She paused. ‘But perhaps he doesn’t need to hear it right this minute.’
Joel’s brows drew together. ‘Am I missing something here? What doesn’t he need to hear right this minute?’
‘That we were married,’ she said awkwardly, aware that their time alone was limited. Then, when he continued to regard her uncomprehendingly, ‘Well, obviously you didn’t notice the slip I almost made. I’m sorry I mentioned it.’
She subsided huffily onto a soft leather sofa, one of two that flanked an open grate set in a delicate marble surround. Taking another sip of coffee, she cradled the mug between her palms, feeling frustrated. Was she the only one who was aware of the anomalies here? He was asking his first wife for advice about the child he’d had with his second, and she was worrying because she’d almost said the wrong thing. Unbelievable!
To her surprise—and a certain amount of apprehension—Joel came and sat beside her. The powerful muscles of his thigh depressed the cushion nearest to her. And, when he leaned forward to set his coffee mug on a glass-topped occasional table in front of the sofa, the hem of his shirt separated from his trousers.
Dear lord!
She sat back abruptly, directing her eyes anywhere but at that tantalising wedge of brown skin. Yet, she couldn’t deny, there was something incredibly vulnerable about it. It proved how agitated he’d been when he’d got into his car at the university. He hadn’t even stopped to grab a jacket before making the twelve-mile drive to Millford.
Her eyes darted irresistibly in his direction again. Evidently, he still tanned
as easily as he had used to when they were together. An image of them skinny-dipping in Redes Bay when they were teenagers was as vivid now as it was unwelcome.
But he ensured she couldn’t ignore him for long, whatever her feelings. Turning towards her, he unsettled her still more by laying one arm along the back of the sofa behind her. ‘Now, tell me what you mean,’ he said as her eyes fastened on the cluster of hairs just visible in the open V of his shirt. ‘Don’t you want Sean to know about us?’
‘There is no “us”,’ she told him stiffly, in no state to have this conversation.
‘I know that.’ His voice rasped. ‘But there used to be.’
Now, why had he said that? Joel asked himself irritably. Just because he was sitting so close to her, because he could smell the indefinable perfume of her skin, he’d spoken recklessly. But it wouldn’t do. Dammit, she’d always been able to drive him crazy when he was near her. Right now, all his heat-hazed brain could think about was that scene in his office and how much he wanted to touch her again.
But it wasn’t going to happen!
Then she spoke, her voice low and a little unsteady, and the intimacy of their situation swept over him again. ‘It’s up to you—whether you want to tell him or not. I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.’
‘As opposed to doing the wrong thing,’ he muttered, unable to pull his eyes away from the rounded swell of her breasts. She was wearing a black T-shirt today and tight jeans that emphasised the slender curves below her waist. And a scarlet chiffon scarf, like a flag of defiance. He would have liked to wind that scarf around his hand and use it to drag her provocative body into his arms. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean.’
‘Are you saying I’ve done the wrong thing by coming here?’ she asked, her words distracting him, and Joel closed his eyes for a moment against the pull of an attraction he’d been sure he’d conquered long ago.
‘No, I have,’ he said at last, opening his eyes again and scowling at her. ‘By inviting you into my house.’
Her lips parted. ‘Well, I’m sorry—’ she began indignantly, but he didn’t let her finish. Before he could control the impulse, he’d reached out and brushed his knuckles over the visible peaks of her breasts. He was almost sure she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the notion drove all sane thoughts out of his head.