With Charlee seemingly unaffected by the disaster, Leah gave in to her daughter’s pleas not to miss kindy and dropped her off in the rental vehicle. Next, it was time to return to the grove. Her stomach clenched in a thousand and one knots at the thought of seeing all she had lost, but she had to face the damage and her future, or lack of it.
She turned the vehicle toward Aroha Farm, battling to quell the somersault of emotions as she drove in silence.
At the arched gateway where the gnarled vines of the wisteria tangled with the wild rose planted by her grandfather so many years ago, she drew to a halt. She wound down the window and shut her eyes for a moment, thinking, feeling, breathing in the heady fragrance.
Then she blinked her eyes open at the reality. She couldn’t smell the smoke.
Funny, that.
It smelt normal, of olives and soil and the fragrance of the roses.
But nothing would be normal again.
She scanned the landscape ahead. It looked so peaceful, belying the rage that only a few hours ago had robbed her so brutally.
Minutes ticked by, and still she hadn’t made a move, her courage deflated, but she couldn’t stay here all day. She had to see for herself what lay beyond the bordering native ponga ferns that flanked the winding driveway.
She put the vehicle into gear and eased down on the accelerator, fighting hard to stem the urge to turn and drive away. She held her breath and continued to hold it until she felt as if her lungs might explode.
Time to go and face reality.
The vehicle inched forward until it rounded the curve at the top of the drive.
Twenty-four hours ago, her stately old villa had graced this beautiful valley. Now, all that remained were charred ruins and memories.
The overnight fire crew that remained to keep an eye on the smoldering ruins had departed. It was just her…and burnt rubble.
Wiping back the flood of tears trailing down her cheeks, she exited the vehicle and picked her way through the blackened debris. She spied her old table, its legs burned to stubs, the top lacerated by flames, and slid her fingers along its worn surface, now coated with a slick of smoke and ash.
Gone. Everything was gone.
Making her way to where the porch had been, she sat on a remaining battered step and hugged her arms around her chest, lost in self-pity and the injustice of it all.
Just then, the call of a fantail above drew her attention, and she sought out the bird as it flittered from bough to bough, seemingly testing each branch until it found one that felt like home.
Leah choked back a sob. Home. Her home was gone and with it her security. All she had ever wanted was to be safe, secure, and to be able to give that to Charlee too.
Now it lay in tatters around her.
Across the acres, her precious olives glistened under the sunlight, soaking up nature’s warmth, still growing, fulfilling their promise. At least she still had her olives…she hoped. She’d need to test them first, make sure there was no smoke damage or singeing from the heat.
Leah pushed herself from the step and strode over to the entrance to the grove, then glanced back at her house. It was a building. Four walls. That’s all. She had to believe that.
Home was what she made it. It could be a tent or a mobile home, as long as she and Charlee were together. Like the fantail, she could choose any bough she wanted.
Seeking solace in the familiarity of the grove, she wandered each aisle, plucking one olive, then another and another. She sniffed them, bit into a few and checked the actual trees for any hint of damage.
Nothing! She rejoiced. They had survived nature’s worst.
As she came to the gate that led back out of the grove, she tilted her head back and looked to the heavens, glorying in the heat of the sun, drawing all her determination and courage to the surface. Her heart swelled with pride at all she had achieved, would still achieve. “I will survive. I will.” Her voice echoed across the silent valley, a powerful testimony to what she believed, what she would do, had to do. “I will not give up.”
They were strong words, courageous. Yet, despite it all, a niggling thought tugged at her. What about last night? What about Mac? And…what about tonight?
The moment Mac opened the door to his penthouse, the sweet fragrance of Tandoori chicken engaged his senses, followed in hot pursuit by a churning twist of disquiet in his gut.
Home, sweet home.
He bit back an oath, dropped his briefcase on the ormolu-engraved table and sidelined his conscience when he thought of the legal papers his lawyer had sent him to review.
Then he saw Leah in the kitchen and his body jerked alive. Correction: his body had been in torment all day long, and things just got a lot harder.
Last night had embedded the touch and feel of her in his psyche, his body a combustible force of desire as memories of lust and of skin touching skin replayed in his brain, a video on constant rewind.
She wore a pair of black leggings and a floaty top. He cursed the top. He could see right through it. See her delicate lace bra beneath. See her skin.
His eyes closed as the image of the soft blush of that skin beneath his fingertips replayed too.
He hadn’t even said a word, and yet her hazel-green eyes flecked with tiny amber darts widened, and her chin tilted upward with that “don’t you dare” attitude he’d come to recognize.
He swallowed back every word he had been about to utter, though in truth, words weren’t really on his mind. However, kissing definitely was. And more.
As she wiped her hands on a tea towel, he found himself staring at her beautiful fingers, remembering their ministrations. He remembered too the glistening sheen of her skin as he’d brought her to climax. God, he wanted her.
He cursed his raging libido. All day he’d been on edge, in heat. Yet, fool that he was, he’d dragged up every reason to stay away, rereading Curtis’s last email and forcing himself to commit to memory why he was playing happy families in the first place. Why Leah was here.
Right now, though, that detail diminished with every breath he took. “I don’t expect you to cook,” he finally said, recognizing the inane words as a jumble of nothing. Tough, it was all he could think of right now.
And damn it, she heard the cut in his voice, because he witnessed the light in her eyes darkening. “I’m presuming you want to eat,” she shot back.
Guilt soured Mac’s taste buds, and he dragged a hand through his hair, then yanked at his tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt at the same time. He needed to breathe. Relax.
Hard ask, buster.
“Sorry. I’ve had a hard day.” Hard? Hell, he’d had a hard-on all day.
Her eyes widened. “Really? You’ve had a hard day. I’ve lost everything I possess. That’s called hard.” She stepped up close, and his nostrils flared as he stole a deep breath, relishing the lingering fragrance of olives and the earth, such an integral part of her and very sexy. Mostly, though, he could just smell her, the perfume he had dreamed about all day.
He spun away. What the hell was wrong with him? He was fantasizing, for God’s sake. He ground his teeth as his struggle to win the war of common sense over lust reached a pinnacle. He wanted to hold her and desperately wanted to kiss her. Just to see…
What? That he could turn around and walk away? That he could subjugate his conscience?
Who was the fool now? He had to get it together, fast. He turned back to her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, trying for an added dimension of sincerity. “But seeing you in the kitchen, well… I didn’t expect it. I mean I don’t expect you to cook. Betty will be back soon.”
“I cooked at the farm. What’s the difference?”
“Nothing,” he admitted.
“But you expect me in your bed.”
Hell yeah! He tried to analyse the tone of her voice. Was it wistful or in denial?
In truth, he didn’t have a clue. Instead, he found himself smiling, and his tension eased a fraction. “To
uché. You can’t deny last night was good.”
Heat traced a teasing path up her throat and cheeks, the light in her eyes sparkling. Her mouth twitched. He focused on that twitch. So kissable.
“A repeat performance would be kinda fun,” he prompted.
“Sorry, but that was a one-time-only performance.”
Mac clamped down his disappointment and shrugged, offering an indifference he certainly didn’t feel. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“I guess I deserved that. Our…ah…living arrangements are a bit new,” he offered as an excuse.
“Don’t worry, they’re temporary.”
“Shame. It has its perks. I mean a meal, and…” Shut it, Grainger. Mac cursed his libido once more. He didn’t want Leah to retreat from him. Perhaps if her defenses were lowered, he’d see the real Leah, the real mother, then the custody would be signed, sealed and delivered right into his hands.
That he was so devious should have shocked him, but it didn’t. If needs must, he reasoned privately. And he wanted answers.
Standing beside her, he lifted up the pot lid and inhaled. “Smells good.” What he wanted to say was she smelt better.
“It’s nearly ready.”
He heard the clipped tone in her voice, noted the slightly shaking hands. She twisted them together.
“How’s Charlee,” he questioned, looking toward his niece, who was coloring in. “She looks okay.”
“She is. She’s resilient.”
“Just like her mother?”
“If you’re asking am I okay, then yes I am. I went out to the farm.”
“Alone? Why didn’t you wait, I could have come with you.”
“Why? It’s not your home that burned down.”
“No, but, hell, Leah, I could have been there for you.”
“Waiting with open arms, no doubt, when I fell to pieces.”
“What? I just said I reckoned you were resilient. Isn’t that something?”
“I suppose so,” she acquiesced. She turned the elements off, reaching for the dinner plates from a nearby cupboard. “Go through, Mac. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“I know you didn’t ask me to go, Leah, but I would have.”
Sad eyes stared up at him. “I know. But, well, like you said, I’m tough. I can handle it.”
As much as he’d built walls around himself, it was clear she’d built up her own too, and he yearned to pull down those walls, show her she wasn’t so alone after all. He went to turn away, but found his gaze focused on her lips again. A beautiful mouth, tempting and sweet. “I want to kiss you, Leah.”
Nervousness skittered across her green gaze. “I know.”
“But if I touch you right now, you’ll run a mile.”
Surprise lightened her expression. “You can read me that well?”
“I know how your body hums for mine,” he murmured, mindful Charlee was nearby.
“You’ve got that wrong, Mac.”
“Really? Want to try again and find out?”
“No. I told you, it was a lone performance.” She lowered her gaze from his then, turning away to dish up dinner, and Mac decided it was best if he retreated. He had to take his time, something he wasn’t used to doing. Patience had taken him to the top in life. Now, impatience scored deep. However, if it meant Leah graced his bed again, he’d wait. Making love with Leah would definitely be worth waiting for.
In the lounge, Charlee lay sprawled on the floor, paper and coloring pencils surrounding her. She gave him a wave and a sweet smile. “Hiya, Uncle Mac.”
Uncle. Mac’s heart lurched, and for a moment jealousy soured his gut. This was Curtis’s family. For the first time he felt jealous of his brother for what he’d had and yet, according to Leah, hadn’t really treasured.
Mac pasted on a smile. “Hey there, kiddo, what’s this?”
“Mummy brought me a coloring-in book, since the fire took everything.”
“So you like to color in?”
“Yep. Mummy and I color in all the time.”
He plopped down on the floor with Charlee, and the years seemed to slip away.
A mother who played with her child wasn’t neglectful. He tried to remember when his mother had played with him. Had she? Ever? He remembered her disinterest, her wrath.
He wasn’t perfect. Not like Curtis. Not like the golden boy.
“Penny for them,” Leah said as she ambled over.
He dropped the green crayon he’d been using to help Charlee color in a dinosaur and pushed himself to his feet. He tried for a smile, but his mouth wouldn’t obey. She stood a few feet away and looked at home, which surprised him given that she had protested about coming here in the first place, and that she’d said it was definitely temporary.
Staring at her, he wondered about her life, her family. He remembered his, and bitter thoughts colored his tone as he spoke. “You really wouldn’t want to know what I’m thinking right now.”
“Try me?”
His jaw tightened. “Leave it, Leah. Let’s eat.” He marched past her, an unknowing Charlee skipping at his side.
“Where do I sit, Uncle?”
Distracted, he pulled out a chair for the child. “How about here.”
“And you?”
“I’ll sit here.” He indicated the chair at one end of the mahogany dining table.
Charlee hopped up onto her chair, her cherubic face creasing into a frown. “Daddy used to sit at the head of the table too. He said it was because he was the boss. Are you the boss, Uncle Mac?”
Mac’s gaze crossed to Leah. She watched him right back, unblinking, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. It was an action he recognized she did when uncertainty reigned. Charlee’s question repeated itself in his brain? Was he the boss?
Hell no. Leah had him and his libido running in circles.
“Nope. Don’t think so.” He chuckled and tossed a quick smile in Leah’s direction. “I reckon your mother has that job. She can boss me around anytime.”
Even from across the table, he witnessed her heightened flush, eyes sparkling, the tilt of her chin. Oh, how she dared him. And he wanted that challenge, because he had something to prove.
“That’s not what Daddy said.”
Charlee’s reply pulled Mac up short. So what did Daddy do? “Really?”
“Eat up, Charlee,” Leah cut in, her voice taking on a near-panic tone.
Mac shifted his attention from Charlee to Leah. What was going on here? Again he realized she was hiding something. Something about Curtis.
Sadly, he had to admit he knew little of his brother, the adult, as Curtis had been barely in his teens when Mac upped and left fifteen years ago.
“Daddy used to yell that he was the boss, and Mummy and me should just do what he says.”
“Charlee!”
“But…”
“No buts, Charlee. Enough.”
Worried, dark eyes that mimicked his brother’s lifted to Leah. “Mummy, now Daddy’s gone, does that mean the bad man has gone too?”
A sudden quietness fell over the table as all color drained from Leah’s face. For a fraction of a moment, she said nothing, wary gaze darting to him, then stealing away again. She shuffled closer to Charlee, hooking an arm over her daughter’s small shoulders. Charlee hugged into the curve of Leah’s body.
“Don’t you worry about that, sweetie, he’ll never come back.” Gathering up some cushions Charlee had plopped on the floor, she said, “I know, how about you have a picnic?” She held the cushions out to Charlee. “Take them to your room and make a secret cave with the blankets and the bedside chair. I’ll bring your supper in, and you can pretend to be camping.”
Charlee’s face lit up. “I love camping.”
Once Leah had Charlee settled, his niece’s bubbling chatter echoing from the bedroom, she returned. Frustration burgeoned inside Mac. He wanted answers. “Who the hell is the bad man?”
Leah refused to look at him, busying herself with
dishing up the dinner. “Nobody.”
“I heard Charlee talk about the bad man the evening I arrived. Are there other men in your life I need to know about?”
A plate slipped from her fingers and clattered back onto the bench. “And I told you, no.” With shaking fingers, she righted the plate and wiped up the spilled food.
Mac’s gut churned; his suspicion spiked. “Is that why Curtis called you neglectful? The night I arrived, you’d left Charlee alone while you worked. You abandoned her. Hell, maybe you go out on the town looking for fun.”
“Charlee was asleep.”
“She was alone,” he corrected.
“I was outside. I had work to do.”
“Ah…work. The all-important.”
“Yes, Mac, it is important. It brings in money so we can survive. But then, you’ve got so much, you don’t have to worry. You haven’t a clue.”
“Don’t try and turn it around, Leah. You left her alone, just like Curtis said you did.” The thought sickened him. He sank onto his chair, and for a moment he stared ahead, at nothing really, while memories plagued him. She’d left her child alone. It reminded him too much of his childhood, of being alone, sometimes not physically, but emotionally, cut off and separate.
He didn’t want any of it to be true, for Charlee’s sake. But it was. He could see the guilt etched across Leah’s beautiful, kissable face.
“I only go out at night when I know she’s asleep. The work has to be done. I’m never very far away. And,” she said, stepping forward and towering over him, “let me tell you, I do not go out and have fun, as you call it.” Her chest heaved, her breathing rapid. For several silent seconds she just stood there, then suddenly she spun on her heel and hightailed it to Charlee’s room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Mac stared after her. This was definitely about Charlee now. She was a Grainger and his responsibility. He didn’t want to believe that the woman in his arms last night was any of the things Curtis had vilified, but right now he wasn’t quite so sure. Nothing seemed to fit.
However, he would keep his promise, though he realized he’d already crossed the invisible barrier. No matter what he knew, he still wanted Leah in his bed.
Secrets and Seductions Page 11