by Penny Jordan
Sally didn’t sound totally convinced, but Sarah resolutely refused to allow herself to be seduced into the folly of deceiving herself that Sally was right. After all, she had had ample evidence of exactly how Gray Philips viewed her, and she knew quite well that, if Robbie hadn’t formed such an instant and strong attachment to her, Gray would never have considered employing her.
Since it was going to be a full twenty-four hours at least before Sarah could take legal possession of the car, and get it taxed and insured, Sally insisted that, rather than delay starting her new job, she must borrow her car. Unwillingly Sarah accepted her generous offer, knowing that, little as she wanted to start work for Gray, for Robbie’s sake she could not delay doing so.
It was the good manners instilled in her as a child that forced her to telephone Gray Philips once they had returned to the cottage.
When he answered its ring just as she was about to replace the receiver she stifled the mingled feelings of panic and delight that flooded her to say in an unnaturally stilted voice, ‘I hope I haven’t disturbed you, but I just wanted to thank you for going to so much trouble on my behalf with the car.’
‘You’ve been to see it, then.’ Unlike hers, his voice was firm and free of any hesitance. ‘That’s good. Did you like it?’
His question surprised her, especially after the high-handed way in which he had virtually ordered her to go and view the car in the first place. Caught off guard, she responded honestly and enthusiastically. ‘Yes…yes, I did, although it wasn’t quite what I expected.’
She stopped, angry with herself for being betrayed into so much enthusiasm, but Gray appeared not to have noticed, because all he said was a casual, ‘Well, I’m glad that’s settled. You’ll be here in the morning, then?’
Sarah took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘What time would you like me to arrive?’
‘Well, I generally leave around eight. If you could be here for then…It’s early, I know. But I like to be at the factory for half-past. Mrs Jacobs used to give Robert his breakfast, and…’
‘Of course, I’ll make sure that he’s properly fed,’ Sarah started to assure him grittily, but he stopped her, surprising her when he told her coolly,
‘Yes, I’m sure you will. However, what I was going to say was that, in view of the fact that you’ll have such an early start, it might be best if you had your own breakfast with Robert. That is unless you have the same deep-rooted objection to eating in the house as you appear to have about sleeping in it.’
Sarah didn’t know what to say. She could hear the sarcasm in his voice very clearly, and it made her cringe. He was making her sound like some kind of fictional Victorian spinster, the type who would have refused to sit on a chair previously occupied by a man.
When she thought she had her own voice safely under control she responded as neutrally as she could.
‘Thank you. I agree it would be much easier all round if I had my meals with Robert, although, of course, in that case there will have to be some adjustment in my salary too—’
The explosive sound of derision he made silenced her.
‘Look, I’m not going to argue with you about the cost of a few bits of food. From the look of you I suspect you probably eat less than Robert anyway. Women! When will you ever learn that no man ever equated thinness with desirability? A woman who is confident and happy about her natural shape, who enjoys her food and shows it, is far, far more attractive than some neurotic female who’s constantly worrying about her weight and picking at her meals…’
Sarah inhaled sharply and then held her breath while mentally counting to ten. ‘There is nothing wrong with my appetite,’ she told him shortly. ‘And if I’m a little on the thin side it’s due more to stress and worry—of the threat of losing my job—rather than any desire to starve myself in order to impress some man.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Gray told her smoothly. ‘I don’t want Robert adding unhealthy and potentially dangerous eating habits to all his other emotional problems.’
‘If you really thought I was likely to do that I’m surprised you wanted to employ me,’ Sarah countered sharply.
There was silence from his end that went on for so long that she actually began to think he must have hung up on her, and then, just as she was about to put her own receiver down in reciprocal irritation, he told her quietly, ‘It isn’t my opinion of you that’s important, but Robert’s, and besides…’ He stopped speaking as Sarah heard quite clearly the sound of his doorbell ringing. ‘I’m afraid I have to go. I’ll expect you in the morning, then, at eight. Goodbye, Sarah.’
She discovered as she replaced the receiver that she was trembling inside. When she closed her eyes in angry self-disgust they immediately stung with sharp tears.
What was the matter with her? If she hadn’t known it already, that biting little exchange must have warned her how antagonistic he was towards her, how little he liked her, never mind desired her, and yet just because she had spoken with him she was reacting like a child who had just been given its heart’s desire.
Thank God she wasn’t going to be living in. She tried to envisage coming down to breakfast in the morning with Robert and finding him already there, drinking coffee and reading his paper…perhaps wearing some kind of towelling robe, his legs bare, his body still damp from the shower.
The physical desire flooding her body shocked her mind and bruised her emotions. She had never seen herself in this light before, never known she was capable of such uninvited sexual awareness…
Would never have believed herself capable of such explicit mental visualisation, even to the extent that…She took a deep breath and then another, trying to subdue her rioting thoughts.
Mindful of the early start she would need in the morning, she went to bed early, but she only slept fitfully and was awake long before her alarm went off, in the end abandoning the folly of lying there waiting for it to ring, and instead getting up and going downstairs to make herself a cup of coffee before going back upstairs to get showered and dressed.
She dressed, bearing in mind the nature of her new job, pulling on a pair of culotte-type shorts in practical cotton, wearing them with a matching brightly coloured T-shirt, and then adding a sweat-shirt in case the day proved to be cooler than the clear blue sky suggested.
On her feet she wore a pair of well-worn canvas shoes, and into the large bag she was taking with her she had put a plentiful supply of papers, pencils and a notebook, so that once she had elucidated from Robbie just what stage he was up to educationally she could set about drawing up a suitable programme in order that she could teach him while at the same time ensuring that he was enjoying himself.
Although Gray had stipulated that she had to sign a contract ensuring that she would remain in his employ for a full year, he had not said what he expected her to do once Robbie went to school at the beginning of the new term. Of course, he would expect her to take Robbie to school and then to collect him in the afternoon and to remain with him until he himself returned from work, but what about the time in between? Was she to take total charge of Robbie’s life as though she were in fact a substitute mother…buy his clothes, wash and iron them, be there in case there were any problems at school? They were only just into the school holiday, she reminded herself, and there was plenty of time for her to ascertain exactly what Gray Philips had in mind. One thing was certain: he was not the type of man to be reluctant to tell her exactly what it was he wanted and expected from her.
It was ten to eight when she arrived, and, having carefully parked Sally’s car so that it did not obstruct Gray Philips’s exit, she made her way to the house.
While she was hesitating about whether to ring the front doorbell or go round to the back door the front door opened, and Gray Philips was standing there, beckoning her inside.
Instead of the towelling robe of her imaginings, he was wearing a dark navy suit and a crisp white shirt, together with a soberly striped tie, and yet she had to c
onfess as she walked into the house that his effect on her senses was just as powerful and erotic as though he had been far less formally dressed.
What was it about the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a dark expensive suit as casually as though it were a pair of jeans that was so instantly compelling and so instantly…so instantly sexy?
Perhaps the answer lay in Gray’s assurance and self-confidence, in the fact that he was wearing such formal clothes so carelessly and easily.
As she hesitated, not sure if she was to walk straight through into the kitchen or not, he closed the front door.
As she automatically turned round she saw he was looking at her, one eyebrow lifting as he studied her casual clothes.
Immediately she said defensively, ‘You didn’t say that you wanted me to wear a uniform. I’m not a trained nanny, and I thought Robbie would feel more comfortable with me…more relaxed if…’
‘If you looked like a teenager rather than an adult,’ he supplied mockingly.
A teenager. He was being ridiculous, and if he was trying to imply that her clothes were too young for her…but then, to her shock, as she glowered at him he added softly, ‘Mind you, it’s just as well he is so young. With those legs…’
The long, lingering appraisal he gave the lower half of her body was so unexpected, so totally at variance with his previous attitude towards her, that she could only stand there, her face bright red, her eyes flashing with indignation. Quite what she would have said to him if the kitchen door hadn’t opened and Robbie hadn’t come hurtling towards her, to virtually fling himself into her arms, she had no idea, but by the time she had bent down to catch the little boy, lifting him up into her arms while she said hello to him, her anger had gone, melted away by the touching delight of Robbie’s pleasure in seeing her.
‘Believe me now, do you?’ Gray was saying to his son as Robbie wrapped his arms round Sarah’s neck, refusing to let go of her.
Darting a quick glance at Gray, Sarah saw that his eyes were shadowed and that he quickly averted his face from her, as though he didn’t want her looking directly at him.
Ross had said that originally Gray had fought desperately to retain custody of his son. If he cared for the little boy at all it must have hurt him dreadfully to have been turned into a complete stranger to him…a stranger, moreover, whom Robbie so obviously disliked and feared.
‘My father says that you’re going to look after me, that you’re going to be here every day,’ Robbie was saying to her, although Sarah’s heart ached over that formal, stilted ‘my father’ when he should still have been saying ‘Daddy’.
‘Yes, that’s right, Robbie,’she confirmed, while beside her Gray frowned and told her curtly,
‘Give him to me, he’s too heavy for you.’
Too heavy for her? Sarah was about to deny that she was so feeble that she couldn’t carry the weight of a six-year-old, and an almost too thin six-year-old at that, when she reminded herself that Gray was Robbie’s father, and that for Robbie’s sake one of her tasks while she was here with him must be to build some bridges between father and son so that Robbie could develop the trust and love in his sole parent that every child needed to have if they were to thrive and develop emotionally.
However, as she started to pass Robbie over to Gray, the little boy tightened his arms around her, his body going stiff with denial of what she was doing.
‘I’ve brought some paper with me, Robbie,’ she told him cheerfully, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes as Gray took him from her. ‘And tomorrow, if you like, we can go shopping and buy some coloured pencils.’
‘Today. I want to go today,’ Robbie told her, but Sarah shook her head and repeated firmly,
‘I’m afraid not, Robbie. Until I get my new car we won’t be able to go out because the one I’m using at the moment doesn’t have any rear seat-belts in it.’
That had been one of the things she had been most insistent upon when she had decided to purchase her shiny bright red convertible. Rear seatbelts were a must if she was going to feel comfortable with Robbie as a passenger.
‘But we’ll find plenty of things to do today,’ she told him with a smile, asking, ‘Have you had your breakfast yet?’
When he shook his head she suggested, ‘Then why don’t we let your fa…daddy go to work? Then you can have something to eat and you and I can decide what we’re going to do today.’
As she spoke Gray was already heading for the kitchen; Sarah followed him, her attention immediately focusing on the large wooden kitchen table with its half a dozen chairs, the table, like the kitchen, designed to accommodate the needs of a busy and close family, and yet all that was on it was a solitary mug of coffee and a half-eaten piece of toast on a plate.
For some reason the sight of that single mug and plate made her ache inside. How could she blame Gray Philips for his attitude towards her sex? He had presumably loved Robbie’s mother when he married her, had expected to share with her all the pleasure and closeness of a warm family unit, instead of which his wife had been consistently unfaithful to him before leaving him and taking with her his child.
Gray had already put Robbie down on the floor, and instantly the little boy came and pressed close to Sarah’s side.
‘I’ve had a spare set of keys cut for you,’ Gray told her, reaching into his pocket and then handing them over to her. As he did so his fingers brushed accidentally against her wrist, causing her to tense and withdraw quickly from the physical contact. Her flesh tingled where he had touched it, an odd, insidious sensation of heat and weakness creeping up her arm.
‘I should be back for six this evening.’ He was frowning, his mind already elsewhere, and just for a moment Sarah weakly gave in to the desire to ask herself what it would be like if she were married to him, if Robbie were her child. Would he leave her with a cursory peck on the cheek, a distant promise to try not to be late, or would he, as the fullness of his lower lip seemed to suggest, allow a more sensual side of his nature full rein in the privacy of his own home? Would he kiss her tenderly and lingeringly, give her the kind of kiss that would stay with her all day, an implicit promise of a different kind of shared intimacy to come later in the day once Robbie was asleep and they were on their own?
With a tiny shock Sarah recognised that her body was already responding wantonly to the erotic stimulus of her dangerous thoughts. Beside her Gray reached for his coffee, grimacing in distaste as he realised it had gone cold.
Leaving both it and his toast unfinished, he picked up the briefcase standing on the floor beside the chair.
For a moment before he headed for the door he hesitated and looked at Robbie, and, although Sarah silently willed him to make some gesture of affection and warmth towards his son, he made no move to approach him, saying only with curt sternness, ‘Now remember, Robert, behave yourself,’ and then he was gone, his footsteps echoing across the wooden floor of the hall before the front door closed behind him.
‘Sarah…Sarah, I’m hungry.’
Robbie was tugging at her sleeve, looking up at her. His mouth was exactly like his father’s, Sarah recognised with a small pang as she smiled back at him and asked him what he would like to eat.
CHAPTER SIX
A WEEK passed, and, although she and Robbie had very quickly established an excellent relationship, Sarah felt as though she had done nothing to improve the relationship between Robbie and Gray. But then, how could she when Robbie saw so little of his father? On several occasions Gray had returned later than he had planned, having rung her from the factory to say that he was going to be delayed and asking her if she could possibly stay on, so that she was the one who put Robbie to bed and who read him his bedtime story.
She could tell that Gray was irritated by her refusal to live in, but she was determined to stick to her decision. Seeing him in the morning, standing beside the kitchen table in shirt-sleeves, quickly gulping the half-cold mug of coffee that seemed to be the only breakfast he had, wa
s enough to make her so achingly and wantonly aware of him that she knew she was far too vulnerable to risk actually living in the same house with him. And yet why should she feel this way about him? He had certainly not given her any encouragement to do so, and she had never thought of herself as being so highly sexually motivated that she could ever succumb to such an acute attack of a desire and need that was purely physical. Which meant…Which meant what? That she had fallen in love with him? At her age? Surely she was beyond that kind of folly? Falling in love was something that belonged to extreme youth. With maturity and experience came the knowledge that real love was something that grew slowly and sometimes painfully; that it was a delicate plant that needed careful nurturing…And besides…besides, her feelings went deeper than mere sexual excitement and the adoration of some out-of-reach mythical male on to whose real character she had grafted a whole host of ideological and impossible attributes. In the morning, when she watched Gray grimacing over his cold coffee…when she saw the way Robbie turned away from him and to her, she ached inside for him. In the evening, when he came back from work looking drained and tense, she wanted to comfort him, to share his burden with him, to open her arms to him and hold him in much the same way as she did Robbie, to pour out over him the loving tenderness of her instinctive emotional response to his need, and then he would move, say or do something that would make her so aware of him as a man that immediately and dramatically her feelings would change, becoming so intensely sensual and keen-pitched that the ache inside her body was an embarrassment and an anguish to her.
This was not being ‘in love’. This was love itself, this complex and uncomfortable mixture of emotions and needs that common sense and logic told her she had no right and no reason to feel, but which still persisted in growing inside her. But how could she love him when he was still in so many ways a stranger to her? The intimacy of being in someone’s home for so many hours of the day of necessity laid many aspects of their lives open, but these were only domestic details, like the fact that he ironed his own shirts and did his own washing…like the fact that he seemed to have little or no idea what size clothes his son took, and, although he had bought Robbie new clothes immediately that he had come to live with him, to replace those which he was rapidly outgrowing, none of them really seemed to be the right size, nor really suitable for a child living in the country and surrounded by a large garden. Robbie needed tough outdoor clothes, sensible tracksuits, T-shirts and shorts, not the dull, old-fashioned things that were all she could find in his wardrobe. Robbie needed a mother, she acknowledged, warning herself that she must never allow herself to fall into the trap of letting Robbie see her in that light, for his sake even more than her own. While she was an adult, and therefore technically at least capable of knowing the pain she was ultimately inflicting on herself, Robbie was still only a child. She could not…must not allow him to become so attached to her that when she eventually left he would suffer.