Her One and Only Valentine

by Trish Wylie

  It had translated into another thing to resent about her. Because it meant he had another reason to study her, to spend time looking at her, seeking out those thoughts in her eyes and trying to decipher them.

  And somewhere in the last few days, he’d remembered it was something he’d always liked about her before. That very ‘visible’ intelligence she had.

  Lizzie had it too. Her skill in picking up things quickly didn’t come just from him. Oh, no. Having spent so much time with her, he now knew that there was an equal amount of her mother in her—probably more, because she’d spent all of her life with Rhiannon.

  His head was really beginning to hurt.

  A door opened on the landing above him and he stood tall, every nerve-ending in his body tensing as he waited for Rhiannon to reappear. But, when he looked up, Lizzie appeared at the banister, a grin on her face.

  ‘Are you waiting for me?’

  Kane exhaled and smiled back at her, the tension in him disappearing in a heartbeat. ‘Yep. C’mon. Let’s go get something to eat.’

  Being in Lizzie’s company was the only time he felt completely at ease in the house. But he couldn’t keep putting off spending time with Rhiannon and he knew it. The line of communication had to be opened. He wanted answers. More than that—he wanted to know everything so that he wouldn’t have to keep studying her and noticing things.

  Like her natural ability to move gracefully, the sensuous way she would tilt her neck to rub her long fingers against her shoulders, how everything from the soft fall of her hair to that way she had of running the tip of her tongue over her full lips when she was nervous constantly reminded him of how innately feminine she was. And how that femininity would tug at an invisible part of him, the part deep inside that he hadn’t felt so keenly in a long, long time around another woman.

  If familiarity really bred contempt then he wanted that familiarity.

  ‘I lit a fire in the stove room.’ He stood in the kitchen doorway, studying Rhiannon with cautious eyes while he attempted to keep a soft tone to his voice.

  She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, her pale skin lacking its normal creamy glow.

  And he’d grudgingly admired her guts for coming down to sit through dinner. No matter how she felt about him being there, she never let it affect the way she was around Lizzie. And that couldn’t be easy, he knew.

  Running a cloth over the end of the table, she focused completely on her task, taking a breath before she answered him. And that had to be tiring too, the constant caution around him in the brief moments when they were alone together.

  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb. ‘This place is draughty as hell, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it can be. Most old houses of this age and size are, I think.’

  All right, that had worked. So maybe talking about Brookfield was a starting point.

  ‘Mattie said you always loved this place.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded, turning to rinse the cloth out at the deep Belfast sink. ‘Brookfield is special. It’s the kind of place you dream about when you’re a little girl. I once saw a doll’s house with three storeys like this place in a shop window and it became a dream house in my mind. And Lizzie has always loved it here.’

  Kane thought back to the little he could remember of Rhiannon’s life from before. And discovered he didn’t remember much beyond the fact that her family hadn’t been well off. Had she told him more than that? She couldn’t have; he’d have remembered.

  She spoke again. ‘Where is she?’

  Ah, okay, she was looking for her shield again, was she? And, with a quick glance at the set of her narrow shoulders, he could see that she wasn’t happy with being alone with him again minus that shield. Well, if he was going to have to do without it in order to open a line of communication then Rhiannon was going to have to deal with it too.

  ‘She went up to take her shower.’ He pushed off the door frame and walked across to the Aga. ‘Do you want coffee?’

  He sensed her hesitation so placed an air of nonchalance into his tone. ‘I’m making one anyway.’

  ‘All right, then.’

  Lifting the kettle from the back of the Aga, he stepped closer to Rhiannon at the sink to fill it with water. The minute his arm brushed hers, she jumped back a couple of inches and Kane sighed impatiently, studying her from the corner of his eye as he poured the water.

  ‘I don’t bite.’

  She didn’t answer him.

  But she did fold the cloth, set it over the edge of the sink and step away from him to gather mugs and coffee from a cupboard.

  Kane lifted the plate on the Aga and set the kettle on the plate to boil, before moving to the fridge to get milk. And in the tense silence it occurred to him that it was the first task they had worked on together, albeit in silent communication, since he’d come to the house. She’d stayed on the periphery while he spent time getting to know Lizzie, hadn’t she? Not that he would probably have appreciated it any if she hadn’t. But, even so—

  ‘I think you and I should spend some time together before we tell Lizzie who I am.’

  Rhiannon’s eyes filled with disbelief. ‘Why on earth would we do that?’

  ‘Because I happen to think two parents who can work together is a better combination than two parents who spend all their time arguing. And we need to know each other better than we do now for that to happen.’

  He set the milk carton down beside the mugs and tilted his chin a little to keep looking at her, his eyes searching hers to see what she was thinking.

  She wasn’t too enamoured with his idea.

  And he smiled a little at that. At least he knew he wasn’t the only one experiencing difficulty with it. ‘We both know she’s a bright kid. She’s bound to feel the tension there is when you and I are both in the same room. And eventually that’s going to lead to questions.’

  Brown eyes searched his in the same way he had been doing with hers and Kane smiled a little more as he realized she was trying just as hard to read him. He doubted she’d be as successful though; he’d spent years learning how to keep his thoughts hidden from those around him; in private as well as in business.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re saying we should get on better for her sake?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how exactly are we going to manage that?’

  He shrugged a shoulder as the kettle bubbled. ‘We liked each other well enough to make her together in the first place.’

  A rose-coloured flush spread on her cheeks as she looked away from his face, focusing on spooning coffee into mugs. Her voice lower, she said, ‘That was a long time ago. We were barely adults ourselves.’

  ‘That’s true. But surely, as adults, we should be able to find a way of getting on well enough to put Lizzie before ourselves.’

  Her hand faltered and some granules of coffee spilt over the edge of one mug so she had to set the spoon down and retrieve the cloth to wipe them up. ‘I don’t see how we can be friends—we never took the time to do that before. It’s too late now.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s ever too late to make the effort to ensure our daughter doesn’t feel like she has to bounce from one of us to the other.’ He lifted the boiling kettle and carefully poured the hot water into each mug. ‘Do you?’

  As he filled each mug, she followed up by stirring the contents until the granules dissolved. ‘I don’t want her to feel she has to do that.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ He set the kettle back on the rear of the Aga and replaced the cover over the hotplate. ‘That would be something we agree on.’

  He turned and watched as she poured milk into the mugs, her long lashes flickering while she thought. And then he watched as she ran the end of her tongue over her lips, as her throat convulsed when she swallowed, as her small breast rose and fell when she took a deep breath. Then her face turned and she looked up into his eyes, the tiniest hint of a smile on the edges of
her mouth as she handed him one of the mugs.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  His mouth curled into a more relaxed smile. ‘It’s a place to start.’

  Rhiannon took a long time to answer him. ‘Maybe.’

  His fingers brushed against hers as he took the mug from her, the touch brief but the sensation of it lingering on his skin even as she withdrew her hand and turned away, taking her own mug with her.

  Wrapping his hand tighter round the warm mug, he studied its contents for a second, before his gaze rose and he saw her curl her fingertips into the palm of her hand as she walked away.

  At the doorway she looked over her shoulder, taking another breath before she spoke. ‘If the fire is lit then maybe we could all watch TV for a while before Lizzie goes to bed.’

  It would be the first evening they all spent together and they both knew it. And, even with his fingers still tingling against the edge of the mug, something he would have added to his long list of things to resent only a few hours ago, Kane was nodding in agreement.

  This had been his idea after all, hadn’t it?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RHIANNON felt brighter after a few nights’ uninterrupted sleep. And the fact that the stormy weather had subdued enough to let the winter sunshine flood through Brookfield’s many windows lifted her spirits.

  She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with spending so much time in Kane’s company, even with Lizzie there to act as a catalyst between them. But at least they weren’t arguing. And that had to be a good thing. Kane was right; it would be better if they parented with better communication. She couldn’t argue that.

  It had been his use of words like ‘we’ and ‘us’ and ‘together’ that she’d had the most difficulty swallowing. Those words hinted at a bond between them that just wasn’t there.

  And yet, reluctantly, she knew it was. Lizzie was a bond that held them together whether Rhiannon liked it or not. At least now she didn’t feel like so much of an outsider any more.

  So, in the spirit of entente cordiale, she made two cups of coffee and then, with a deep breath, she made her way up to Kane’s territory. She did, however, have a moment of indecisiveness before she knocked lightly on the half open door.

  ‘…and then e-mail them to me.’

  He glanced up, his mobile held to his ear, brows rising in question while she hovered in the doorway. Then his gaze dropped and he caught sight of the mugs in her hand ushering her in with a wave of his large hand.

  ‘Yeah, that’s fine. But I want Colm to look at the new graphics first; he knows the issues I had with the last lot.’

  He leaned forward in his chair and reached for the one Lizzie normally sat in beside him, turning it round to face Rhiannon and inviting her to sit down with another wave of his hand.

  But Rhiannon shook her head. She hadn’t meant to interrupt him, or to sit down and actually drink the coffee with him. All she’d intended was to leave him the cup she’d made before she went down to look for the laundry there was bound to be in Lizzie’s room.

  When she went to set the mug on the desk beside him, he tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder and took it from her hand, his other hand closing around her wrist, tugging her towards the chair.

  He could even be bossy silently.

  ‘Absolutely not, that packaging sucked. The whole idea is to have it look like a more expensive game, even when it’s not.’ He pursed his lips slightly when she resisted his direction and tugged on her wrist again.

  So, with a roll of her eyes, Rhiannon complied, sinking down into the chair with a sigh. She could spare him five minutes, she supposed.

  ‘Not before I see it.’

  Blue eyes glowed warmly at her, no doubt another indication that he knew he had ‘won’ yet again, even on something so simple. But rather than scowl at him, she rested her weight on her toes and rocked the chair around to look at the screens behind her—one filled with images of an animated forest and another with lines of code that may as well have been Swahili to her.

  ‘Yes—’ she could hear the smile in his deep voice ‘—I did ring them.’

  His low rumble of laughter drew her gaze back to his face as he rocked his own chair back and forth. ‘Well, it must have been another query. No, you just never believe me when I say I did unless you put the call through.’

  He laughed again. And, by straining her ears a little, Rhiannon heard the tail-end of the voice on the other end of the phone—a female voice. Well, that explained why he was in such a good mood.

  ‘Okay, then, the next time they ring you can check and when they tell you I did reply you can call me back to grovel.’ He grinned at whatever reply his female friend made. ‘No, but you should. Okay. That’ll do.’

  He withdrew the phone from his ear, flipping the cover back into place with one long forefinger while he reached for his mug with the other hand. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I was making one anyway.’ She didn’t want him making it into a bigger deal than it was. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. It can’t be easy running your business from so far away.’

  ‘It’s all right, Sara keeps me informed; it’s her job to keep me in line.’

  Rhiannon had to force an expression of disinterest on to her face. It was none of her concern what woman kept Kane ‘in line’ these days, though it would be interesting to meet the woman who could manage it…

  As if he had read her thoughts, Kane added, ‘She’s been my PA for three years.’

  Rhiannon nodded, avoiding his knowing look by focusing instead on the images that were moving on the screen—the trees giving way to an open valley where tiny men were working, building houses and chopping trees. ‘Is this a new one?’

  ‘Nah.’ He set his mug down, tossed his phone beside it and then leaned past her to click on the mouse, moving the image out so that she could see there was a world beyond the busy valley. ‘It’s an updated version of one of our best-sellers. Having some peace and quiet here has let me tweak it some.’

  ‘Then I’d better let you—’

  But he had his other arm across the back of her chair and used it to stop her from leaving. ‘Have a go. I’ll take you back to the set-up menu.’

  ‘I don’t know how to play computer games.’

  ‘Well, considering how much Lizzie loves them, maybe you should learn.’

  Nursing her mug between both hands on her lap, Rhiannon tried hard not to be so aware of how close he was sitting to her, his body creating a frame for her smaller one in the chair. Instead she focused on his profile as he concentrated on the screen, on the way his eyes moved back and forth, making sense of everything in front of him as easily as he breathed in and out.

  Her gaze swept upwards, to the short gleaming strands of dark hair touching his forehead, one strand sitting in a different direction to the rest, as if he had run his fingers through it at some point.

  And her fingertips itched against the mug, begging that she reach up and smooth it back into place.

  Rhiannon frowned in annoyance—annoyance that she knew came through in the tone of her voice. ‘I’m the kiss of death to anything electronic.’

  She watched the slow smile form on his lips, his voice low. ‘Yes, I remember.’

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and out of nowhere Rhiannon found herself smiling in response to the sparkle of amusement in the blue depths. ‘Well, if you remember then you’ll hardly want me killing this one. Whatever you design these days is worth a hell of a lot more than anything I killed back then.’

  ‘Yes, but anything I design these days is more user-friendly and better protected. If you manage to kill it, then I’ve not done my job right.’

  He focused his gaze back on the screen while Rhiannon felt her breath catch in her chest at the memories that rushed uninvited into the front of her mind—as they had the day she had walked in and found him playing games with Lizzie. Maybe even stronger because it was just the two of them. She remembered the las
t day she’d ‘killed’ one of his creations…

  He had stared in amazement that day, his mouth gaping, while the now outdated graphics had got tangled up with lines of code and Rhiannon had laughed her way through her apology. Until he had pulled her away from the screen and coaxed more laughter from her as he’d tickled his revenge from her ribs, the laughter eventually fading as Rhiannon found a way to ‘make it up to him’.

  She lifted her mug to her lips and swallowed a large mouthful of coffee to dampen her dry mouth, hiding her thoughts behind the rim.

  ‘Right.’ The arm that had been on the back of her chair snaked forwards while he forced his chair closer to hers so he could reach the keyboard. ‘The idea is that you’re the ruler of a new kingdom—you’re shipwrecked—and you have to build an entire civilization from scratch using the resources you have at hand.’

  His long fingers tapped at the keys. And beside him Rhiannon tried to focus on what he was doing, rather than the fact that his knees were now pressed in against the side of her leg or the fact that somewhere in her clouded mind she’d recognized he wasn’t wearing the aftershave he normally did. He just smelled of soap, and shampoo, and that purely male undertone that was all him. And the simplicity of it reached out to the very core of her femininity, where it tugged, hard, until a dull ache formed.

  How in hell could she still be physically attracted to him when she had spent a decade of her life hating his guts?

  She glanced at the screen as he typed in a user name. ‘Is that the game name you’re giving me?’

  ‘It’s your name.’ He glanced at her with an amused glint in the depths of his eyes.

  Hell. If she was going to play the silly thing she may as well enter into the spirit of it. Anything other than being so very aware of him or running screaming from the room—the latter of which was hard to resist…