She drew the curtains together, the ebb and flow of her thoughts preventing her from settling into sleep.
Each disturbing thought lingered just long enough for her to reach out and try to grasp it, but no sooner had she stretched out her hand than it vanished, only to give way to another, equally disturbing.
She thought about Emily, sweet and impressionable underneath her abrasive exterior. For the first time since she had started doing au pair work, she knew that she would have to be careful not to become too involved. In the past, she had always been fond of her charges, but there had never been any difficulty in moving on. Like a doctor who sympathised with his patients, but was smart enough to know where to draw the line between care and over-involvement.
But then, she thought, her charges had all been under seven years old. It was different with Emily.
And then there was Grant, more complicated than his daughter and far more dangerous.
He made no bones about concealing the sort of man he was, one who was not prepared to settle down, one, perhaps, who was still controlled by the memories of his late wife. But a man who was only too aware of his sensual appeal, and it was that awareness that made him dangerous. Self-confidence could be a heady aphrodisiac. She wouldn’t let it get to her; she couldn’t afford to. She had wept too many bitter tears over Brian. Tears of self-pity and shame and anger. She never wanted to weep like that again.
The jumbled thoughts sifted through her brain, giving her a headache, and when she did finally fall asleep it was into a sleep that was restless and plagued with alarming dreams.
When she woke up, the first thing she did was to wander across to her window and stare outside, where the snow was still lying in pristine splendour.
Half of her loved the sight of it, its untouched beauty. It was like looking through your window at a picture postcard. The other half was deflated at the prospect of either battling a way through it outside, or else admitting defeat yet again and remaining indoors.
Mrs Thornson had already said that she might take one week’s holiday to stay at home and catch up on some decorating with her husband just while the snow lasted. At least she and Emily could busy themselves with some cooking. Even if it were just for the two of them, it would still be great fun. Roberta rather liked cooking; it was the sort of solitary pastime which she relished, and her mother had been an appreciative audience. From as far back as she could remember, her efforts had always been applauded. Unbelievable loyalty, when she thought back to some of her youthful disasters.
She got dressed unhurriedly, slipping on her jeans and a baggy jumper, sprinting down to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee before Emily woke up.
Emily slept with the gay abandon of the young, rarely rousing herself until at least nine o’clock, and Roberta had got into the pleasurable habit of enjoying a relaxing half-hour or so before her day really began.
She made herself her cup of coffee and headed off to the lounge to enjoy it.
When she reached the doorway, she stopped in shock, her eyes taking in Grant’s figure on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a stack of papers on the table and on the floor.
‘What are you doing here?’ she stammered. She had successfully managed to put all thoughts of the night before to the back of her mind, relegating his tantalising, seductive kiss to an unfortunate, not-to-be-repeated experience.
Now, seeing him here unexpectedly, the memory came flooding back as if it had all taken place only minutes before.
‘What does it look like?’ he rasped.
Definitely not in a good mood. His brows were meeting in an impatient frown.
‘Catching up on paperwork?’ Roberta asked. ‘Or just appreciating the joys of indoor life?’
‘The former, as you show such interest.’
She went across to one of the chairs and sat down, carefully sipping her coffee.
‘I’ve been up all night,’ he said with restless impatience, and Roberta raised her eyebrows.
‘Insomnia? Perhaps you should consult your doctor about that.’
‘I’m glad you find my lack of sleep amusing. I don’t suppose you could channel your amusement into getting me a cup of coffee, could you?’
Roberta ignored him. ‘You weren’t really working all night, were you?’
He scowled. ‘How very perceptive of you. I got a call around midnight, and I’ve had to spend the whole damn night revising some of the documents for this Japanese deal.’
‘I see.’ She looked at him sympathetically. ‘Maybe you should get some sleep now. You must be exhausted.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, woman. I can’t just grab some sleep—’
‘—simply because you’re exhausted?’
‘The work won’t get done if I do, will it?’ he growled, and she felt an absurd temptation to laugh.
‘Sorry,’ she said meekly. ‘Of course it won’t. Is there some kind of deadline, then?’
He looked at her as though she were terminally stupid. ‘Yes, there’s a deadline. If there weren’t, do you really think that I would spend the night working out of a sense of fun?’
‘I have no idea. Would you?’
He threw her a ferocious scowl. ‘How enriched my life is with that sense of humour. Any chance of some coffee and spare me your quips?’
‘Sure. Black?’
He nodded curtly, his attention back on the papers spread across his lap, and she vanished back to the kitchen, reappearing minutes later with a mug which she handed to him.
‘And you might as well stick around,’ he informed her bluntly. ‘That deadline is a meeting the day after tomorrow.’ He looked at her shrewdly, and this time a smile was on his lips. ‘You did say that you could drive, didn’t you?’
CHAPTER FIVE
ROBERTA looked at him cautiously. ‘Yes, I did mention that in passing,’ she said, not liking that smile. ‘Why?’
‘Because I need you to drive me somewhere,’ he informed her patiently. ‘Obviously. Why else would I ask?’
‘Can’t you take a taxi?’
‘No. It’s too far.’
‘Too far?’ Roberta repeated faintly. ‘Where exactly do you want me to drive you? And why can’t you drive yourself?’
‘I have a house near Lake Simcoe to the north-east of here. Well, more of a cabin, really. Anyway, that’s where I need to be. And I can’t drive myself because I shall need to carry on working on the trip up. How can I do that if I’m driving?’
He looked at her as though that meagre explanation settled everything. It didn’t, and if he thought that he could relax back in that damned sofa and assume that she had agreed to chauffeur him to some obscure part of the country, then he was in for a shock.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, resting her coffee-cup carefully on the table. ‘If you don’t mind me disturbing your concentration—’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ he threw at her without glancing in her direction, ‘though you could make yourself slightly more useful by tidying up some of the papers on the floor for me. In numerical order.’
‘I have no intention of doing any such thing,’ Roberta said, momentarily distracted, ‘and please don’t feed me that line about how you pay my salary.’
‘My time is money,’ Grant grinned, ‘and think of the time you’ll be saving me. Although,’ he added, ‘I do pay your salary, now that you mention it.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ She knelt down and began gathering the papers together, quickly sifting them into order. He handed her another stack without looking up, and she glared at his downbent head.
‘Don’t look so ill-humoured,’ he said with a straight face. ‘Don’t you like the thought of helping your fellow man?’
Only some of them, she wanted to respond, and you definitely don’t rate on the list.
‘Done,’ she announced after a few minutes, dumping them unceremoniously on the sofa next to him, and he murmured, with barely concealed amusement,
&nbs
p; ‘Good girl. What a good little secretary you’d make.’
Don’t you use that languid, amused tone with me, she wanted to wail. Instead she threw him an impotent, cold glare and dragged her thoughts back to the matter in hand.
‘Another thing I’m not willing to do, in fact not paid to do, is act as your chauffeur. I have no experience driving on the right-hand side of the road.’
‘You’ll never learn until you try.’
‘I don’t want to learn,’ she snapped. ‘What I want to do is enjoy a walk around the harbour front with Emily and have a relaxing day.’
‘Want, want, want. Typical woman,’ he muttered, eyeing her from under his lashes. ‘Anyway, as I said, this meeting is very important. I have to get there, one way or another.’
‘The another option sounds fine to me,’ Roberta said stubbornly, but half of her already knew that she would end up driving him God knew where. He was relentless. And, right now, being charming with it. He obviously had decided on that tactic in order to win her over. How transparent, she thought.
‘The meeting is the day after tomorrow at a hotel relatively close to the cabin. But I need to get to the cabin tomorrow night. I want to do some vital preparatory work there, and I have all the necessary equipment. I can take the computer disks up, feed them into my computer at the cabin and, by the time the meeting rolls round, everything will be exactly where I want it. I can easily take a taxi to the hotel and get a ride back down to Toronto.’
‘How nice to see that you have it all worked out,’ Roberta said with an acidity that was apparently lost on him.
‘It pays to think ahead in life.’
‘And where do I fit in?’
‘I would have thought that that would have been obvious. You drive me up to the cabin. No need to stay, you can be back here by evening.’
‘Well, that certainly is a tempting proposition,’ she said sarcastically. ‘In other words, you basically want me to spend the day on the road. In this weather.’
‘Oh, the weather will be no problem,’ Grant assured her. ‘The roads will be clear. There hasn’t been any more snow since that initial fall and there won’t be.’
‘And you’ve studied meteorology, have you? Or do you think it’s enough that another fall of snow might ruin your plans, so ordering it not to is sufficient?’
He stared at her, his hands behind his head.
‘You seem reluctant,’ he said blandly, turning to face her.
‘How observant,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘And what about Emily?’
‘You’ll be back by nightfall, as I said.’
‘And when do we leave?’
He shot her a vaguely smug look. ‘Tomorrow morning. Early. No point courting the inevitable traffic jams.’
Roberta looked at him helplessly. She didn’t fancy the idea of tackling the road system for the first time in snow, and she fancied even less the prospect of being cooped up with him in a car for hours on end.
‘Now,’ he said, deciding for both of them that the matter had been settled, ‘perhaps you would care to help me to the study with some of these papers?’
Do I have a choice? she wondered, moving over to where he was holding out some folders for her.
Their fingers touched, a brief physical contact, and the warmth shot through her like an electric current, almost making her jump back in shock.
It frightened her, this response to him. She so badly wanted to have her life back in control, to know that she would never fall foul of her common sense again.
She so desperately didn’t want to have to cope with this unwanted, bewildering response to him.
They heard the front door open just as they reached the study, and Roberta breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs Thornson. At least that was something.
Emily had also roused herself at long last. Roberta could hear her flying down the stairs, feel her pause in the hallway as she took in the sight of the two of them vanishing into the study. It was no surprise when her little face appeared at the study door.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ She directed the question ungraciously at Grant, who shot her a cautious, defensive look. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I already had this conversation with your au pair,’ he said. ‘Work. I haven’t had a wink of sleep all night. I’m functioning on sheer momentum at the moment.’
Emily gave a smirk that said, Work, what else would keep you at home? and he turned to Roberta with a grimace. ‘Have you ever seen such depth of sympathy?’
‘I’m sure your daughter is extremely sympathetic.’ She directed the observation to Emily with a meaningful frown.
‘You do look haggard,’ Emily admitted, with a small, shy smile that vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
Roberta had deposited the files on the desk and stood back, as far away from him as she could reasonably get without actually leaving the room.
‘I’ve really never seen you look so tired, Dad,’ Emily said, staring at him as if he were a creature from another planet.
‘You make me sound like a robot,’ Grant observed drily. ‘Believe me, I’ve been as tired as this before. I suppose you don’t remember the times I’ve stayed up with you when you were ill. You’re more responsible for the lines on my face than any amount of work.’
Emily shot him a look that was a touching mixture of defensiveness and warmth.
‘Would you like me to get you anything?’ she asked awkwardly after a while, and he smiled. It almost hurt Roberta to see how much he appreciated this unexpected thaw in his relationship with his daughter. It might only be temporary, but he was grateful for it. Wasn’t it funny, she thought, the number of things in life that you just couldn’t control, however much money or will-power you had?
He shook his head and drawled, ‘No, thank you, darling. I’ve already had my ration of toast and coffee for the morning.’ He began fiddling with the computer terminal, his fingers expertly moving over the keyboard until a series of reports flashed up on the screen.
‘Lunch, however,’ he said, with his back to them, ‘would be nice.’
They left him absorbed in whatever was on the screen, and spent the rest of the day out in the snow. It was bitterly cold but, with no wind, quite delightful.
Emily, Roberta noticed, was rather subdued. She could guess what was going on in the child’s mind. Had her father changed or had she? Either way it had been apparent that she had felt an empathy with him which she had not done in a long time, and it had left her thoughtful.
She hardly raised an argument when Roberta told her that she would be out of the house the following day.
‘He’s bossing you about again,’ she said. ‘Typical. Always giving orders and expecting them to be followed, acting as if the entire world revolves around him.’ But her voice lacked its usual childish bite.
Mrs Thornson had gone by the time they returned to the house, leaving them some food and a note saying that she would see them all the following Monday as she had decided to take that week off after all.
Emily took her father a plate of food into the study, where he had been glued to his terminal since they had left the house in the morning, and Roberta stuck her head around the door a couple of hours later to find that the food had not been touched.
She picked up the plate of cold food and frowned. ‘You should eat. Keep your strength up,’ she said. ‘You’ve left the lot.’
He broke off what he was doing to look at her, rubbing his eyes wearily with his fingers.
‘Thank you for the concern. Actually, I didn’t even notice it there,’ he said. ‘This damn deal is eating up my time.’
Roberta regarded him in silence. ‘Can’t you take a break from it for a while?’
‘And what about the deadline?’ he said drily. ‘It isn’t exactly conducive to taking time off. Where’s Emily?’
‘Watching television,’ Roberta answered lightly. ‘Some detective show. She complains about how boring it is every time it’s on,
but she still watches it.’
He looked away from her, and when he spoke there was a hesitation in his voice which he tried to hide under a guise of gruffness. ‘She seems a little more settled,’ he began.
There was silence, and Roberta smiled slightly. ‘She appreciates having you at home, even if it isn’t often, and even if she doesn’t always show it.’
He grunted something unintelligible. That masterly self-control was, for once, missing. When it came to his daughter, Roberta realised, he was still groping about for the right solution to a perplexing problem. It was the one aspect in his life that he found himself incapable of handling with his usual clever dexterity.
‘Be ready tomorrow morning,’ he said briefly. ‘We’ll leave at six.’
‘Six?’
‘That way we can avoid the bulk of the traffic, and you can be back here at a reasonable hour.’
‘Any more orders?’ she asked, moving to the door with his plate, and he turned to her, his brilliant eyes glinting.
‘None that you’re likely to obey.’
Roberta flushed and hurried out of the room, closing the study door behind her.
Later, as she lay on her bed, she wondered what Grant would think if he knew just how susceptible she was to his masculinity. Would he be flattered? Amused? Embarrassed? Maybe, she thought with a flash of insight, he would see it as a ploy to get herself into his bed, to play on the love he felt for his wife by flaunting her similarity in front of him so that she could wheedle her way to his bank account. Hadn’t he already warned her that it was something he would be on the look-out for?
At any rate, they were all very good reasons for making sure that he never suspected what she felt.
And, she thought, at least she recognised her own weakness. There was no point denying it and, having faced it, she decided that it might be unsettling, scary even, because of what it said about her precious self-control, but it was really no threat to her peace of mind, because to be aware of a problem was halfway to resolving it.
Too Scared to Love Page 7