by Miranda Lee
The lecture worked well till she opened the door and saw Scott standing there, dressed in the sort of clothes that added to his macho appeal. Dark jeans, an opened-neck white shirt, covered by a smart jacket. It wasn’t an outfit she had chosen for him, or that she’d ever seen in his wardrobe. Clearly, he’d been out clothes shopping, wanting to wear something new for her. Maybe it felt like a first date to him as well.
‘Looking good, Scott,’ she complimented, doing her level best to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.
‘Not as good as you,’ he returned, his gaze hot and hungry as it roved over her.
Sarah scooped in another gathering breath. ‘What? This old thing?’ she tossed off nonchalantly.
His smile almost undid her feigned cool. God, but it was a sexy smile. Not all teeth. Just a wry lifting at the corners of his mouth and a knowing light in his glittering grey eyes. ‘I haven’t seen that top before,’ he said. ‘Anyway, you look fabulous. But then, you always look fabulous.’
‘Wow. Flattery, Scott? That’s not like you.’
‘I’m a desperate man tonight. Come on. Let’s get going.’
‘I have to lock up first.’
‘Cory not home?’ he asked whilst she did so.
Sarah noted an oddly knowing note in the question, the reason for which eluded her. Perhaps he’d noticed that Cory’s car wasn’t parked in the street. Not many terraced houses in Paddington had off-street parking.
‘On a Saturday night?’ she hedged. ‘You have to be joking. Where’s your car?’ she added as she glanced up and down the street.
‘Just round the corner. This is a dreadful street to park in at the weekends.’
‘I should have taken a taxi to the restaurant,’ she told him as they walked along together.
‘That’s not what I wanted,’ Scott returned, his hands slipping into his pockets. ‘You don’t get to hold all the cards in this, Sarah. You have to consider my wishes as well if you want us to get back together.’
When she stopped and gaped over at him, Scott laughed. ‘You should see the look on your face. Truly, Sarah darling, a lawyer should never forget that there are always two sides to a story. I might have done the wrong thing last Friday night, but you haven’t exactly played nice this past week.’
Sarah had always found personal criticism a hard pill to swallow, especially one that rang true. She’d been so busy feeling sorry for herself that she hadn’t really stopped to think how those photos had affected Scott. Even when Cleo had come over last night and pointed out how much he was hurting, she hadn’t really taken it on board. Scott’s comment now hit home, making her feel terrible.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I haven’t. And I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. Look, I can admit when I’m in the wrong and I behaved badly last week. I wish I could turn back the clock. But perhaps you overreacted a little too? If you’d just stayed, we could have eventually sorted everything out. Instead, we’ve both ended up being miserable and lonely all week.’
Sarah refused to let him whitewash what he’d done. Or put the blame on her. Her father used to do that with her mother, tell her she was overreacting and that it was all her fault if he looked at other women. Which was what he used to claim in the beginning. That he was just looking. And her poor silly mother had swallowed that. For a while...
Sarah had no intention of backing down. ‘I don’t agree with that at all, Scott,’ she replied. ‘Nothing would have been sorted out if I’d stayed. What happened last weekend showed we have some deep-seated problems in our relationship.’
‘Would you care to elaborate on that?’
‘I will when we get to the restaurant—did you manage to get us a table at the Seafood Palace?’
‘I did. Money talks all languages. It gets men like me the most beautiful wives and the best of tables.’
Sarah stared up at him. ‘You still think I married you for your money?’ she asked, startled.
Scott just shrugged. ‘To be honest, Sarah, I have no idea why you married me.’
‘I married you because I loved you,’ Sarah answered, feeling quite angry with him for doubting her motives. But it put a different perspective on why he might have believed her unfaithful to him. ‘I’ve always wanted you,’ she added, anxious now to convince him. ‘Right from the first moment I set eyes on you.’
‘That’s another thing which bothers me,’ he ground out. ‘You were a virgin when we met. It doesn’t make sense that you lusted after me the way you seemed to but not any other man before me. It’s not like you wouldn’t have been pursued by the opposite sex before, Sarah. You are one hot-looking babe.’
Sarah winced, then sighed. She should have told Scott the truth about her upbringing from the word go. Then he would understand why she’d been so wary of men for most of her life. She vowed then and there to do what Cleo had suggested last night. Tell Scott everything.
Well...perhaps not everything! She wasn’t about to mention her pregnancy scare till everything had been sorted out to her satisfaction. Why make more trouble, if there was no need?
‘I understand your confusion,’ she told him with utmost sincerity. ‘But there are reasons why I was still a virgin when I met you, reasons which will take a while to explain. Could we wait till we get to the restaurant? Then I’ll answer all your questions. And you can answer some of mine,’ she finished up firmly, determined not to lose control of tonight’s conversation.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SEAFOOD PALACE was five star plus, from its top-class menu to its setting overlooking Sydney harbour. The dining room was spacious, with the tables not too close together, each one covered in a crisp white linen cloth and set with the best of cutlery and glasses. In the centre was a small crystal candlestick—complete with a not-too-high candle—which the maître d’ lit with a flourish after he showed them to their set-for-two table. Undoubtedly it was the best and most romantic spot in the house, situated in a semi-circular alcove that had a huge bay window, affording its privileged diners a magnificent view of the water and the nearby Harbour Bridge.
‘Andre will be your waiter for tonight,’ the suave maître d’ informed them as he held out the chair for Sarah. ‘Enjoy,’ he added, flashing Scott a wide smile before leaving them in the hands of the eager-faced young man.
And well he might smile, Scott thought wryly, given the tip he’d promised the man for securing him this table on such short notice. At the time, Scott’s only intention for tonight was to impress the pants off Sarah—quite literally. He’d honestly thought he could get her back via the mutual chemistry that still sizzled between them. That was why he’d left the races as soon as he could today and gone clothes shopping, determined to show up looking his best. He’d thought his plan had worked when she’d opened the door and practically drooled. But somehow things had become sidetracked during their walk to the car. Her stating that she should have taken a taxi had annoyed him, and soon he’d been saying things to her that would have been better left unsaid. But the damage was done now, and, if he was brutally honest, he did want answers to the questions he’d posed.
Meanwhile, perhaps it would be a good idea to soften her up with some champagne. Sarah liked good champagne. But when he asked her if she wanted a bottle or just a glass, she disappointed him by declining altogether, saying she was sorry but she wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol whilst taking the antibiotics for her sinus.
‘Just some sparkling mineral water for me,’ she said, smiling up at their waiter.
Talk about the best-laid plans of mice and men, Scott thought frustratedly.
‘In that case bring me a beer,’ he added, feeling quite put out.
‘What kind, sir?’
‘Any of the pale ales will do.’
* * *
Sarah hated lying to Scott but what else could she do? She had to give him some reason for turning down her favourite drink. It wasn’t the right time to tell him that she’d forgotten to take her pill
for some time and now she might be pregnant. But only might. Tonight was supposed to be about the past, not an unproven future. Sarah picked up the menu and started studying it, suddenly aware that she didn’t have much of an appetite. Nerves gathered in her stomach at the thought of telling Scott the unvarnished truth about her totally dysfunctional and somewhat sordid family life.
‘You order for me, will you?’ she asked him, and put down the menu. ‘I always like what you order more than what I order, anyway.’
‘True,’ he replied with a rueful smile. ‘You can be indecisive at times.’
‘Not something anyone would ever accuse you of being,’ she countered with a dry laugh.
‘I usually know what I want,’ he told her, his eyes colliding with hers across the table.
And there it was, the same hunger Sarah had glimpsed in those glittering grey depths on the first day they’d met. This time, however, she refused to surrender to its primal pull. She would not let him seduce her tonight. No way! She’d come here to talk to him. Nothing else.
Still, it took a real effort to drag her eyes away from his and pretend to inspect the view.
‘It’s a very pretty spot here at night, isn’t it?’ she said, striving for a casual tone.
‘Very,’ he agreed in an annoyingly smug voice. It came to her that he honestly expected her to come home later tonight. It also came to her that behind her steadfast resolve to resist him lay the wickedest of temptations. It wouldn’t hurt to go to bed with him, would it? At least you might sleep tonight for a change.
By the time her eyes returned to his, she wasn’t so sure that she would say no to him, underlining his accusation of her being indecisive at times. Perhaps if she started talking about all those things she hated talking about, she would stop being turned on. Nothing guaranteed to make her feel cold inside more than remembering the life she’d led at home.
But before she could launch into her sorry tale, Andre returned with their drinks, Scott grabbing the opportunity to order at the same time, choosing fresh rock oysters for their entrées, grilled barramundi in a lemon and parsley sauce for the main, along with salad side dishes, finishing up with the most decadent-sounding chocolate cheesecake for dessert.
‘With ice cream, not cream,’ he added.
‘You do love your ice cream,’ she said after the waiter departed.
Sarah realised she already knew a little more about Scott’s upbringing than he did about hers. She knew his mother had died when he was very young and he’d been brought up by his father, who’d been a less than successful prospector. Intelligent, though, having a degree in geology. He’d home-schooled Scott, home being a Kombi-van in which they’d traversed every state in Australia, looking for that pot of gold. His dad had occasionally made a killing, finding a few valuable opals at Lightning Ridge, plus a couple of decent-sized gold nuggets, their proceeds funding the purchase of those parcels of land that had eventually proved to contain true treasure. Whenever money ran seriously low, his father would get work in one of the coal mines and they’d live in a local caravan park, where Scott ran wild and free.
‘That was the life,’ he’d told her once.
Thinking about that now, she rather agreed. Anything would have been better than her own stressed and distressed existence.
‘Time for you to do that explaining, Sarah,’ Scott said, breaking the rather tense silence that had enveloped the table. ‘We’re alone, so no more excuses, please.’
Sarah picked up her mineral water and took a sip before speaking. Her mouth had dried, her throat thickening with her memories. When you’d never really told anyone the total truth about something it was very difficult to know even where to begin.
‘My father didn’t just have one affair,’ she blurted out. ‘He was a serial cheater for as long as I can remember.’
Scott didn’t seem shocked, though his expression was thoughtful.
‘He never bothered to hide his dalliances,’ Sarah swept on. ‘Sometimes he would go off with some woman for the whole weekend. It used to drive Mum mad. The rows they had were monumental.’
Now Scott was frowning. ‘Why didn’t she just leave him?’
Sarah laughed. It was not a happy laugh. ‘I used to say exactly the same thing. Lots of times. But no,’ Sarah added after another sip of mineral water, ‘she always took him back. She said it was because she loved him. And maybe she did, in her own masochistic way. She would never have divorced him if he hadn’t left her first. For a younger, but very wealthy woman, by the way.’
‘I see. What did your father do for a crust?’
‘He used to sell quality cars. You know. Ferraris and Porsches and cars like that. He was a good salesman, too. Made an excellent living. We never wanted for anything, financially, not even after the divorce. Dad gave Mum the family home and paid for my education so I can’t complain about that.’
‘It sounds like your life was better after the divorce,’ Scott pointed out.
‘Oh, it was, for a while. It was a relief to have Dad out of the house. But an even bigger relief to never have to see my bastard brother ever again!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE ARRIVAL OF their oysters interrupted Sarah’s story at this startling statement, Scott wondering what her brother had done to make her talk about him like that. Something not very nice, he was sure. Her face had twisted with the memory, her eyes filling with distaste.
‘What did he do to make you so mad with him?’ he asked quietly after the waiter left.
‘Victor. His name was Victor. Lord, what didn’t he do? The creep. He was five years older than me and by the time I turned thirteen he was eighteen. And a total sex addict. Watched porn on his computer all the time. Treated his multiple girlfriends like crap. Cheated on all of them. Like father like son, I guess.’
‘He didn’t try anything with you, did he?’ Scott said, worried now.
‘No, but he enjoyed using his power to scare me into thinking he would. He’d threaten me and generally made my life hell every way he could think of. When he started accidentally coming into the bathroom we shared when I was in there, I went and bought a bolt so that I could lock it from the inside.’
Scott swore and another deep shudder ran through her.
‘That’s terrible, Sarah,’ Scott said, beginning to understand why she’d stayed a virgin for a long time. ‘But not all men are like that,’ he added gently.
‘I know,’ she said, and smiled at him. ‘But it took me a long time to trust one again. I just didn’t like them. Or trust them. Even when I first went to university, I was still wary. Whenever a male student took an interest in me, I blew them off, quick smart. Then Mum died and I think I must have had some kind of breakdown.’ She gave him a guilty look, then. ‘Her death wasn’t an accidental overdose like I told you. It was suicide.’
When tears pricked at her eyes, Scott decided enough was enough. Any more soul-shattering stories could wait till later, when she was safely in his arms and he could comfort her properly.
‘I think, my darling,’ he said with a warm smile, ‘that you should stop talking about upsetting subjects for now and just concentrate on eating these truly delicious oysters. I am no longer curious over why you were still a virgin when we met. And I can see how your being an unfaithful wife would be the last thing you would ever do. I’m just sorry I ever pushed the issue in the first place. So let’s forget about distressing confessions for now... If I’d known what you went through...’
‘I want to be honest with you,’ Sarah replied as she stabbed one of the oysters with her fork. ‘And for you to be honest with me. If our marriage is to survive, we can’t keep secrets from each other.’ Especially big ones like she’d forgotten the pill and just might be pregnant.
Sarah opened her mouth to confess but the words simply wouldn’t come, her panicky mind finding all sorts of excuses not to tell him, the main one being she might not be pregnant at all! Why risk more trouble? Far better to wait till she was s
ure that Scott really did love and trust her before hitting their fragile marriage with added stress.
And a baby was definitely added stress.
Meanwhile, everything else had to be aired. Like her private financial stash. She hoped it wouldn’t make him angry that she’d kept that a secret.
‘There’s one more thing I must tell you,’ she said.
Scott looked alarmed.
‘No, nothing too dreadful,’ she hurried on. ‘It’s just that I inherited a substantial amount when Mum died. The house for starters—which I sold—and quite a bit of cash. So I definitely didn’t marry you for your money,’ she told him with a touch of acerbity, having been cut that he’d even thought for a moment that she might be a gold-digger. ‘I have plenty of my own. Though not enough, unfortunately, to bail out that refinery of yours. From what I gathered, that’s going to take millions.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Scott said ruefully.
‘You’re welcome to what I’ve got,’ she offered rather impulsively.
‘Thanks, but no thanks. You might need it one day, the way the mining industry is going.’
‘You’re not really in deep financial trouble, are you, Scott? I mean, I wouldn’t have suggested this restaurant if I thought you were going broke.’
‘Don’t trouble your pretty little head about that. I’m not an idiot. I have plenty of assets and a steady private income from other sources. I have more than enough to pay the bill. And to support a wife. When and if she ever comes home... I nearly went insane this last week. I miss you, Sarah. I want you to come home.’
Sarah sighed. Trust him to use this opportunity to bring that matter up. This was why she hadn’t wanted to see him in the first place. That, and the uncontrollable lust he kept evoking in her. She missed him too. Or she missed his body. That was what seemed to be uppermost in her mind at the moment. Oh, God, everything was such a mess. ‘I...I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘Now let’s just eat our food.’