The Nurse's Secret Son

by Amy Andrews

  She walked a little further up the beach where the tree-line met the sand and sat in the shade. She donned her sunglasses and absorbed the natural beauty, feeling her tensions ease as each wave hit the beach.

  Sally and John were chatting in the kitchen when Daniel entered, looking for something to eat. Sally fixed him a sandwich.

  ‘I was thinking I might go to the beach house tonight. I’ve got a couple of days off now and I can hear the ocean calling my name.’

  Sally and John looked at each other. ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Sally. ‘There’s nothing like a bit of salt air to clear the head.’

  John looked at her, a small smile on his face. Just as he had always suspected—Sally knew more than she let on! ‘I agree,’ said John, still looking at their mischievous housekeeper. ‘That’s a good idea, Danny, boy.’

  Sally turned away and busied herself at the sink but not before John caught her widening smile and the speculative glint in her eyes.

  ‘I’d better go and pack, then,’ Daniel said, putting his plate in the dishwasher. ‘Where’s Max? I’ll just say goodbye to him.’

  ‘He’s asleep,’ said Sally, turning back quickly to face Daniel. It was the truth, but the last thing she needed was for Daniel to hang around waiting for Max to wake up. She loved that child like her own but, as dear as he was, she knew he was a blabbermouth. ‘I’ll tell him.’

  John and Sally’s collective sigh when Daniel finally left was audible all over Arabella.

  ‘So,’ said John, amusement lighting his eyes, ‘playing Cupid, Sally Jones?’

  ‘You know as well as I, John Monday, that those two belong together and always have, and if Michael hadn’t been paralysed they’d be married by now with maybe another Max or two.’ She said it sternly but spoilt it totally by grinning a moment after her little speech had ended.

  ‘Sally Jones, you old fox.’ He’d always had an inkling that the ever-present housekeeper knew more than she let on.

  ‘I’d be careful who I was calling old, John Monday,’ she sniffed, and gave him a wink as she turned back to the sink.

  The walk back up the hill was much more taxing, and Sophie was glad to have reached the top. She stopped and washed off the sand at the outdoor shower, before making her way to the front door and inserting the key.

  She was really tired now, the exercise and the sun and the salt air combining with her paltry sleep that morning to eradicate thoughts of anything other than bed.

  She headed straight for the bedroom she usually occupied, switched on the air-conditioner and fell onto the bed, still in her bikini. Not Beryl’s death, not Max, not John, not even Daniel, who had occupied too much of her head space lately, intruded on her deep, dreamless sleep.

  When Daniel pulled up a little while later he, too, felt the pull of the ocean and went for a swim before he did anything else. When he finally entered the house the shadows were lengthening, although there was still probably a couple of hours of daylight left.

  He could smell the stuffiness caused by the house having been locked up for so long and methodically went through the entire place, opening all the windows so air could circulate. One of the guest bedrooms’ doors was closed and he thought how odd that was when all the others weren’t. He pushed it open and stopped dead.

  Sophie was startled from her sleep, sitting bolt upright as the noise of the door being opened knifed through her.

  ‘Daniel? You scared the daylights out of me,’ she said as her heart pounded frantically in her chest.

  ‘Sorry…I didn’t know you were here.’ And that you would be wearing next to nothing.

  ‘Hmm.’ She yawned, lying back down and shutting her eyes, the pull of slumber beckoning her back to its enticing embrace. His presence didn’t really register she was so tired!

  Daniel tried not to stare at her barely covered body. It was hardly an itsy-bitsy bikini by any stretch of the imagination. Boy-leg chocolate brown bottom and a crop-top style matching bra. His eyes were drawn to a delicate silver chain adorning her neck. A butterfly with mother-of-pearl wings hung from the chain fluttering at her cleavage.

  He shut the door and shook his head to clear it, trying not to think about her bare skin and curves. She was here, too. Maybe he should leave? By the look of her not-quite-awake eyes he doubted she’d even remember he had been here. But it seemed so ridiculous to drive two hours just for a swim. Surely they were both adult enough to get along for one night?

  Actually, the more he thought about it the more confident he became. He owed her an apology and she hadn’t really given him the chance to do so. Alone with him tonight, she wouldn’t really have a choice. He would cook for her, his very best cuisine. A special, please-forgive-me, apology dinner. He grabbed his car keys and went out for supplies.

  The room was dark when Sophie finally woke up. She jumped in the en suite shower and dressed in a denim miniskirt and a purple V-necked T-shirt. She opened the bedroom door and the most delicious aroma tickled her senses. The image of Daniel bursting into her room came abruptly back to her. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream. Maybe he really was here, too.

  But why? Surely he had told John or someone at the house his plans? And surely they had told him she was already here? Had he followed her here for a reason? Did he want to thrash things out with her again? Revisit their awful argument and try and explain himself?

  Sophie shook her head. Things had been awkward since their row, sure, but Beryl’s death had made their angry words insignificant. They were both alive. That was something to be grateful for. It was just another argument, one of many they’d had and probably, knowing them, just one of many still to come.

  She made her way through the house and leaned against the archway that led into the kitchen and beyond to the open-plan dining and lounge room and eventually to the massive deck overlooking the ocean.

  Daniel was humming to himself as he cooked. He was chopping something on the chopping board, his back to her, and she took a moment to just stare. He was dressed in denim shorts and a white T-shirt, looking very casual and comfortable in such a domestic scene. A man who was comfortable with cooking—what woman could resist that?

  He turned to get something from the fridge and spotted her.

  ‘Hi,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’m making us some tea. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘What are you doing here, Daniel?’ she sighed. ‘I’m really not in the mood to go round and round the houses with you tonight.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here. John didn’t mention it when I told him I was coming. I wouldn’t have come if I’d had known, Sophie.’

  Sophie accepted Daniel’s words at face value. She had a sneaking suspicion the old man was trying to pull their strings. Did John expect her to blurt out the truth simply because they were alone? Didn’t he realise how difficult it was for her?

  ‘Look, you’ve had a tough day and, whether we like it or not, we’re both here. Let’s just make the best of it. I made you a tropical cocktail.’ He plonked it in her hand. ‘Go outside and drink it. Tea is half an hour away.’

  She didn’t argue with him. The sight of him cooking dinner seemed too cosy, too appealing, so getting as far away as possible seemed like a most sensible suggestion. She wandered out to the deck and noticed that he’d turned the fairy lights on so she walked down the steps to the garden and made her way to the love seat.

  She sipped at her drink, its fruity taste and the crushed ice very pleasant on this balmy night. The house looked magnificent and Sophie knew that from its elevated position the lights could be seen from miles around. Max would love them when the whole family came up next week for the annual pilgrimage to celebrate his birthday.

  She watched as Daniel walked towards her, a drink in his hand.

  ‘Do you mind if I join you?’ he asked.

  She shuffled over and they swung together silently for a few minutes as his weight caused the love seat to rock.

  ‘So…Beryl…’ he
said gently.

  ‘Died.’

  ‘Yes. I rang St Jude’s. I’m so sorry, Sophie. I know she was a favourite of yours.’

  ‘Que sera sera,’ she said, and smiled sadly.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Please, Daniel,’ she interrupted, ‘don’t spoil the moment with I told-you-sos.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to, Soph, I’m not totally without tact! I was just going to say that it seemed like such a waste of a life.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘it was.’

  They sat, not speaking, absorbing the night atmosphere. They could hear the waves crashing on the beach below, the insects humming raucously, and the vision of the fairy lights completed the magic.

  Daniel finished his drink. ‘Come on, dinner is served,’ he said, and walked into the house with Sophie trailing behind.

  She sat at the beautifully set table and whistled. ‘Did you invite the Queen?’ She smiled. ‘What’s this all about, then?’

  ‘It’s my way of apologising,’ he said as he served up their food. ‘I was totally out of line the other night. I don’t know what came over me. It was unforgivable.’

  ‘You’re right, it was, but lucky for you I’m a very forgiving person.’

  ‘That’s sounds promising,’ he said as he placed a glass of wine in front of her.

  ‘It’s amazing how very little it seems to matter now. John’s stroke, Max’s choking episode, Beryl…things like that put petty differences into perspective.’

  ‘Amen,’ he said, and clinked his glass with hers.

  Their meal got under way and Daniel was grateful he could occupy himself with something other than looking at Sophie. The damn butterfly necklace was most distracting, his eyes drawn to it over and over again.

  Cooking was one of his passions and with Sally’s tutoring, as well as living alone for years, his culinary skills had been well and truly honed. He had skipped the idea of keeping it simple and had cooked to impress. It was only what Sophie deserved after what he had accused her of.

  And when Sophie bit into the superbly cooked beef Wellington and shut her eyes and sighed blissfully, well…it was the greatest compliment. Some tiny pieces of flaky pastry stuck to her lips before she licked them away and Daniel stared, helpless to stop.

  They talked. Actually talked, just like the old days. He’d forgotten how much they’d once laughed together. They stuck to safe subjects—work, Max, John and Max’s upcoming birthday. And Daniel relaxed and actually enjoyed himself.

  Daniel served the dessert—a melt-in-the-mouth chocolate mousse—and then they moved to the lounge for coffee.

  ‘Port?’ Daniel asked as he placed her mug on the coffee-table along with a plate of colourfully wrapped chocolate mints.

  ‘Mmm, sure,’ she said, feeling very relaxed from a full stomach and the excellent wine.

  They sipped at the fiery liquid in silence, only the steady thrum of the waves intruding into the quietness. She realised how much she had missed this aspect of their friendship. The intimate conversations. Even the comfortable silences.

  She stared at him over the rim of her glass, aware suddenly of his intense blue stare. The queerest sensation started burning between her hipbones and she felt a pressure flare to life. A very familiar pressure.

  Her eyes fell on the chessboard that sat on a low table in front of the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that separated the deck from the house. She’d never felt so much like kissing an inanimate object. They needed to keep occupied. Something was happening that shouldn’t be.

  ‘How about a game?’ She indicated the board with a nod of her head.

  Game? Sure. He could think of plenty. Strip chess sounded good, he thought as the butterfly swung tantalisingly against the swell of her breasts. When had the night gone from companionable to combustible? ‘Sure,’ he said, clearing his throat.

  They moved to the other table and sat opposite each other.

  ‘White or black?’ she asked, admiring the familiar, intricate wooden pieces.

  ‘Your choice,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll draw for it,’ she said picking up a white and a black piece and shifting them between her hands behind her back.

  The action thrust her chest slightly forward and emphasised the glorious outline of her breasts. The butterfly got caught in her cleavage temporarily and Daniel suppressed the urge to lean forward and release it from its fleshy prison.

  She thrust her downturned fists towards him. ‘You pick,’ she invited.

  He tapped her right hand and she turned it over to reveal a white rook. ‘You go first.’ She smiled.

  He was grateful to get the game under way, desperately needing a distraction. Not that it seemed to work. The damn butterfly messed up his concentration and it was no wonder she checkmated him quite early in the game.

  ‘Rematch?’ he asked.

  What the hell? thought Sophie. Why not? It was great to play chess with someone who wasn’t such a stickler for strategy. She and John still played quite a bit but he was very rigid and didn’t like a lot of chat while playing, preferring to concentrate. At least with Daniel they could play and talk at the same time.

  The second game was over quickly. Daniel shut down all thoughts other than victory and had her beaten in ten minutes.

  ‘Checkmate,’ he said triumphantly.

  She eyed the board sceptically from every angle. She hadn’t even seen that one coming. How had he done that? Her concentration was broken by Daniel’s laughter.

  ‘You haven’t changed one bit.’ He chuckled. ‘Still as competitive as ever. Still disbelieving that anyone could beat you. Just like when we were kids.’

  ‘Watch it or I’ll tip the board up,’ she threatened lightly. ‘John’s not here to pick on me for being a bad sport.’

  They laughed together and Sophie couldn’t help but be flooded by memories. They’d had such great times once. She sobered a little at how different things were now. How simple everything had been when they’d been younger.

  She felt absurdly like crying and felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked them away but to her dismay one fell down her cheek unchecked. She turned away from Daniel, getting out of the chair and moving the short space to the bank of windows that led to the deck. The moonlit ocean shimmered through her tears.

  Daniel rose, cursing himself as he went to comfort her. Her tears were surprising but, then, she’d had an emotional day. And he’d gone and brought up their childhood—memories that must still cause her heartache.

  ‘Sophie,’ he said quietly, coming up behind her and touching her shoulder.

  She turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.’

  She looked so confused and they were so close. Close enough for him to wipe away the next tear that spilled from her lashes. Even though he knew he shouldn’t.

  Sophie felt strangely energised as his thumb moved across her cheek, gently capturing the tear. Something was happening. She held her breath as his fingers reached out and gently lifted the silver butterfly off her suddenly burning skin. He fingered it gently for a few moments and then placed it back onto the swell of her breast.

  She sucked in a breath as his fingers lingered there, stroking the feverish skin lightly. Hot desire lanced her like a thrust from a dagger. She felt a tingling deep inside her and knew with sudden clarity that she needed him inside her like she needed her next breath.

  Daniel’s eyes widened at the pure sexual need reflected in her eyes. He really shouldn’t be doing this. He needed to stop. Now! Somewhere inside him there was still a skerrick of sense telling him to step back.

  But her skin felt so soft beneath his fingers and her perfume was mixing with another powerful essence—that of a woman ready for pleasure. His nostrils flared as they filled with the intoxicating scent. Even so, he knew he still possessed enough control to walk away.

  ‘Danny,’ she half groaned, half whispered, her voic
e husky, her lips moist and swollen as her teeth bit into her bottom lip.

  Now he was lost. No one but his grandfather called him Danny. But the way she said it, full of need and aching and promise, totally undid him.

  He swooped his head down and claimed her mouth, closing the distance between them in an instant. Crushing her sweet skin against his. Desire exploded inside him as she opened her mouth to the urgent demand of his tongue. Fireworks sizzled and sparkled behind his eyes as his need to feel every inch of her against him had him pushing her hard against the glass. Closer. He had to get closer.

  Sophie understood his need to get closer as she yanked his shirt out of his trousers and tore at the buttons until she could feel the glide of his smooth naked flesh under her hands.

  ‘Oh, Danny. Danny!’ she groaned, as the feel of his chest stirred her primal lust. She wanted him, needed him, and only the feel of him hard and hot and thrusting was going to obliterate it. ‘I need you, Danny. Now!’ she gasped, and fumbled with his belt buckle.

  His kisses were driving her mad. His hand up her shirt, yanking her bra aside and rubbing her impossibly erect nipple, had her screaming for more. ‘Help me,’ she cried in frustration as desire rendered her fingers useless.

  ‘Slow down,’ he gasped, and laughed huskily as he helped her with his belt and zipper.

  ‘No, Danny. If you don’t come in me right now, I’m going to die.’ And she kissed him again. Hot and long and deep, thrusting her hands into his underpants and grabbing his erection triumphantly. ‘Danny,’ she whimpered softly.

  For heaven’s sake, they were both standing half-naked up against a glass wall like sex-crazed teenagers. ‘Sophie…slow down,’ he panted into her neck covering her hands where they were stroking him.

  She shoved him half away from her. ‘I’m serious, Danny. I need you like I need oxygen.’

  ‘I want you, too,’ he gasped, his chest heaving.

  ‘Please, Danny, now,’ she breathed, and pushed aside his clothing until he was blissfully free of any restrictions and completely hers to touch.

  Sophie couldn’t explain it. She didn’t understand it. All she knew was that if she didn’t feel the hardness she held in her hand inside her in the next second she would scream. She didn’t care whether she orgasmed or not. This was beyond the need for gratification. This was something primal. And it was such a turn-on she could hardly see straight.