The Forbidden Mistress

by Anne Mather

  Adler, he’d found, behaved like an old woman, and he’d spent at least half the time they were together gossiping about other local bureaucrats. There’d been little discussion of a useful nature and Oliver suspected he shouldn’t have shown the old man the bottle of Scotch he kept for visitors. Adler had accepted more than one glass to lubricate his ramblings, and Oliver felt significantly hyper now with the amount of Diet Coke he’d had to consume for courtesy’s sake.

  His car was parked in the basement garage. A twelve-year-old Porsche, it had been Oliver’s gift to himself when he’d first gone to work for Faulkner Engineering. It had also been the only luxury he’d refused to sell when Sophie left him. The house they’d shared had gone and most of his possessions. A necessity, in any case, as the loft apartment he’d moved into just didn’t have room for most of them.

  Before the divorce, he and Sophie had lived in an exclusive housing development north of Newcastle. It hadn’t been far from the garden centre, which was also situated in a village north of the city, and they had seen quite a lot of his parents and brother then. However, since his father’s retirement, his parents spent at least half the year abroad. They’d bought a villa in southern Spain, where his father’s ancestors had originated, and the old man always boasted he was returning to his roots.

  Now, reminiscing about his parents inevitably brought Oliver’s thoughts back to his brother. It hadn’t been easy persuading him to leave quietly, and even now Oliver wasn’t entirely clear what his visit had been about. What had Tom anticipated? he wondered. That he’d be so delighted that Tom and Sophie had parted, all would be forgiven? It was the most naïve kind of reasoning and Tom wasn’t that stupid.

  So why had he come? What motive had he had for making the trip? Oliver doubted they could ever be friends again. Not after all that had happened. And if Tom was expecting a different reaction, he was going to be disappointed.

  It briefly crossed his mind that Sophie might have sent him. If they’d separated, as he’d said, perhaps she had some idea of resurrecting their relationship. Which was equally ludicrous. Besides, he was flattering himself if he imagined she was hedging her bets.

  In any case, he had no desire to rekindle his relationship with his ex -wife. Whatever she thought, whatever interpretation she’d put on the emotional trauma he’d suffered when she left him, he was over it now. And it had never been wholly about Sophie. His brother’s betrayal had meant equally much, he realised now.

  Nevertheless, he’d had to agree to see Tom again. It had been the only way to get him out of the office before Adler turned up. Considering Adler’s penchant for gossip, Oliver had had no desire to learn that he’d provided juicy fodder at the next party conference.

  They’d agreed to meet the following lunchtime at The Crown in Tayford. It was years since Oliver had visited the pub, which was just a short distance from his parents’ home. Fortunately, his mother and father were away at the moment so there’d be no question of them getting involved. He knew his mother worried about his estrangement from his brother, and she was bound to think they were healing their differences if she knew.

  On impulse, Oliver turned in the opposite direction to his quayside apartment. A desire to see the garden centre again had him driving north out of Newcastle, heading towards the airport. But before then, he turned west towards Belsay on the road that delved deep into the Northumbrian countryside.

  Although Oliver had been born in the area, it was some years since he’d enjoyed making this journey. But with the rain giving way to the watery sunshine of a May evening, he felt an unaccustomed sense of well-being.

  Before reaching Belsay, he turned left yet again onto a narrow country road with high hedges on either side. The garden centre had been signposted from the major road and it was only about a quarter of a mile farther on, on the outskirts of Ridsgate, the nearest village to Tayford itself.

  Ferreira’s Plant World looked an impressive place viewed from the road. It had built up a fair reputation in recent years and people came quite a distance to wander round its gardens and greenhouses. As well as the usual ranks of hothouses, there were a shop, a café, a florist and a play area for children. And, although it was already after six o’clock, it was still doing a thriving business.

  There were several cars in the parking area and, although he hadn’t intended to stop, Oliver found himself easing the Porsche into a convenient space. He sat for a few minutes, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, wondering what the hell he was doing here. And then, deciding he couldn’t leave without satisfying himself that Tom really wasn’t in financial difficulties, he switched off the engine and got out of the car.

  He saw her as he was locking the Porsche. She was standing near one of the greenhouses, apparently supervising the loading of sacks of compost onto a flatbed utility truck that she obviously intended to drive to another part of the site.

  She was tall, easily five feet nine, and he told himself it was her height that had attracted his attention. But with long legs encased in the tightest jeans he’d ever seen and a trim yet shapely body, she was instantly noticeable. And that without taking into account her warm, luminous beauty and a mane of red-gold hair, secured in a single fat braid that had an impact all its own.

  Perhaps it was the intentness of his stare that made her aware he was watching her. Eyes fringed by long, dark eyelashes turned in his direction and for a moment a quizzical expression crossed her face. Then one of the two men loading the truck spoke to her and she looked away, but not before a faint smile of inquiry—invitation?—touched her generous mouth.

  Deciding he was definitely letting his imagination run away with him, Oliver pocketed his keys and strolled towards the gardens. By avoiding the shop, he was hoping to avoid being recognised by the older members of Tom’s staff.

  There was no sign of Tom, however, and he couldn’t decide if he was glad or sorry. Now he’d have no excuse for not keeping their appointment tomorrow. At the bottom of him he supposed he’d hoped he could find out what was going on without wasting a couple of hours in futile discussion.

  He walked to the far end of the site, noticing that his brother had been as good as his word. Already work had started on digging up the land immediately adjoining the garden centre. An excavator was residing amid a clutter of other machinery, and in the distance what used to be the home of the previous owner was being levelled to the ground.

  ‘It looks pretty ugly, doesn’t it?’ remarked a husky voice behind him. Oliver turned quickly to find the girl he had seen earlier relaxing against one of a pair of stone sundials abandoned beside the fence. Closer now, Oliver could see that her skin was creamy soft, like a peach, her nose straight and not too prominent, wide eyes an incredible shade of green.

  Gathering his wits, he said, ‘I guess it does.’ He pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and tried to dilute his gaze. ‘But all building projects are like that in the early stages.’

  ‘And you’d know,’ she said, surprising him. ‘You’re a design engineer.’ And at his raised eyebrows, she added easily, ‘You’re Tom’s brother, Oliver, I think. He said he might be seeing you today.’

  Oliver sucked in his breath. ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes. He didn’t say you were coming here, though.’ She smiled, revealing a row of even white teeth. ‘I’m Grace Lovell, by the way. I know he’ll be pleased to see you,’ she went on, returning to her earlier theme. ‘Mrs Ferreira said you’ve been estranged for some time.’

  ‘Mrs Ferreira?’ Oliver frowned. He hadn’t realised Sophie was still calling herself by that name.

  ‘Your mother,’ explained Grace, apparently sensing his confusion. ‘I know your parents quite well. They spend a lot of time in San Luis.’

  Oliver revised his original opinion. ‘You’re Spanish?’ he asked incredulously, but she shook her head.

  ‘Not at all, I’m afraid. My father’s an American, actually. But he works for the British government, so I’ve spent most of m
y life in England.’

  ‘I see.’ Oliver paused. ‘And the San Luis connection?’

  ‘My parents own a villa in San Luis, too. That’s where I met Tom, actually. And how I persuaded him to give me this job.’

  Oliver absorbed this. ‘And do you like it? The job, I mean?’

  She shrugged, straightening away from the sundial, and he was once again struck by her height. But unlike a model, she was built on more generous lines, and, despite the fact that she didn’t appear to be wearing a bra, her breasts were firm and high—

  And where the hell had that come from? he wondered, arresting himself instantly. He was getting far too interested in her altogether. Dammit, it was years since he’d noticed a strange woman’s breasts. It was no excuse that the cold air had made them more noticeable. She was probably frozen, he decided, aware of the hard peaks against her thin tee shirt. It was also obvious that the heat he was feeling was definitely not climate-induced.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, and it took him a minute to realise she was answering his question and not excusing his too-personal appraisal. ‘I thought I wanted to teach when I left college, but after six years working in an inner-city comprehensive I decided I needed a change of scene.’

  Oliver made a gesture of assent and they started back towards the main building, Grace falling into step beside him with a lithe, easy stride. As he walked he realised he had to revise his estimate of how old she was as well. He’d guessed twenty-two or twenty-three, but now thirty didn’t seem so far off the mark.

  Not that it mattered. Just because she was older than he’d imagined didn’t change his own position at all. He, after all, was thirty-four, with a history no one would envy and a current girlfriend. Besides, she probably had a boyfriend. She was far too attractive to remain unattached for long.

  ‘Have you been here long?’ he asked now, wishing he had an excuse not to go into the shop. He hadn’t corrected her when she’d assumed he hadn’t seen his brother yet, and it was going to be bloody awkward if Tom turned up.

  ‘Seven months, give or take,’ she said. She grimaced. ‘All through one of the worst winters on record! Two of the greenhouses were flooded. We had to come to work in wellington boots!’

  Oliver managed a faint smile. ‘A baptism of fire.’

  ‘Well, of water,’ she remarked humorously. Then she laughed. ‘What an idiot! Baptisms are usually in water, aren’t they?’

  Oliver grinned, and he was just about to ask her what she thought about the north of England when her face changed. Her cheeks turned a little pink and he thought at first how charmingly unaffected she was. But then another female voice spoke his name and he stifled a groan as he turned to acknowledge his ex-wife.

  CHAPTER TWO

  S OPHIE —Sherwood now, he assumed—was striding towards them from the direction of the car park. ‘Oliver,’ she said warmly, before her gaze shifted to his companion, dismissing her. ‘I thought I recognised the car. Oh, Oliver, it’s so good to see you.’

  It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. And the most incredible. They’d hardly parted on friendly terms. Oliver had been disgusted by the fact that her affair with Tom had been going on for months before he’d learned of it. And Sophie herself had been eager to blame him, to accuse him of neglecting her and thinking more of his rotten business than he did of his wife.

  To meet her now, to have her announce it was good to see him again, was ludicrous. He’d hoped never to have to meet her again. He wouldn’t have come here today if he’d suspected his ex-wife might be on the premises.

  With a sideways glance at the young woman beside him, he realised he couldn’t speak freely in front of her. Instead, suppressing his irritation, he inclined his head. ‘Sophie,’ he greeted her noncommittally. Then, because he couldn’t think of anything else to add that wouldn’t be construed as contentious, ‘I didn’t know you worked here.’

  ‘I don’t.’ Sophie’s scornful denial was revealing. ‘But your brother owes me some money. Did he tell you?’ She cast another look at Grace. ‘What are you waiting for? I’d like to speak to my husband in private.’

  Husband? Oliver winced, but Grace seemed unperturbed by Sophie’s implied rebuke. Turning to Oliver, she said, ‘Perhaps I’ll see you later. Tom shouldn’t be long.’

  ‘If he can drag himself out of the pub, you mean?’ remarked Sophie coldly. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

  ‘Tom’s not at the pub,’ Grace retorted evenly. ‘He had an appointment at the bank, as you probably know. Besides, he won’t be long when he knows his brother is waiting for him.’

  But Tom didn’t even know he was there, Oliver reflected, though he was unwilling to admit it. He didn’t want to say anything to give his ex-wife more ammunition. He didn’t know what was going on here, but it was obvious Sophie didn’t like the younger woman. Why? Was she jealous of her? He decided he’d prefer not to pursue that thought to its obvious conclusion.

  ‘Whatever,’ Sophie said, now moving forward and slipping her arm though his. And, although he carefully detached himself, she insisted on staying close to his side as she edged him towards the pools that exhibited tropical fish. ‘That’s better,’ she murmured with satisfaction as a glance over his shoulder saw Grace look after them for a moment and then walk away in the opposite direction. Her tone grew suddenly venomous. ‘I don’t know how that woman has the nerve to speak to me!’

  ‘Why? Don’t you like her?’ Oliver halted abruptly, refusing to go any further without an explanation. ‘What’s going on, Sophie? What has Grace done to you? And why the sudden urge for my company? I know you and Tom have split up so, please, don’t pretend it has anything to do with me.’

  Sophie stared at him. ‘You’ve seen Tom?’

  ‘This afternoon.’ Oliver’s tone was flat.

  ‘Then he must have told you about Grace.’

  ‘Told me what?’ But Oliver suspected he already knew. Sophie wasn’t particularly subtle when it came to personal matters.

  She sniffed and shook her head, looking at him appealingly. ‘You don’t know what it’s been like for me,’ she exclaimed. ‘Since that woman came to work at the garden centre, things have gone from bad to worse.’

  Oliver looked about him critically. ‘I’d have said the place was thriving,’ he remarked, and she uttered a most unladylike expletive.

  ‘In our relationship,’ she corrected him tersely. ‘Tom and I were already having problems before she came along. I’ll admit it. But I never dreamed he’d already found my replacement.’

  Oliver felt a depressingly familiar sense of déjà vu. Not that he’d been seriously considering getting involved with someone who worked for his brother, he assured himself, but the news that Grace Lovell was Tom’s latest conquest wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She was too good for his brother, he thought grimly. Tom had already wrecked his marriage. He wouldn’t like to see him wreck her life as well.

  He should have known, he grumbled silently. When Tom came to see him that afternoon, he should have guessed there was someone else involved. From the age of puberty, Tom had slept with countless women. He’d never married any of them, of course. Not even Sophie. So why should he, Oliver, have imagined that their relationship was any different?

  ‘He met her in Spain last year,’ Sophie was going on now, evidently under the mistaken impression that Oliver might be interested. ‘He’s gone out there before, when I’ve been unable to go with him. Not that your mother and father really want to see me, in any case. I’m persona non grata where they’re concerned.’

  ‘Sophie—’

  ‘He used to make the excuse that he needed to talk business with your father,’ she went on seamlessly. ‘I had no reason to doubt him. He and George often have their heads together when your father’s at home. I admit, he did seem a bit detached this time when he got home, but I put it down to his health. He’d said he was feeling a bit under the weather before he went away.’

  Oliver held up
both hands now, palms out to silence her. ‘Is this going somewhere, Sophie?’ he asked. ‘Because if not, I’ve got other things to do.’

  Sophie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t be unkind to me, Oliver. I couldn’t bear it if you abandoned me. I know I’ve behaved abominably in the past, but you have to believe I regret it now.’

  ‘Sophie—’

  ‘No, listen to me. Perhaps it’s partly my fault that Tom found someone else. I kept comparing him to you. Yes, I did.’ This as Oliver gave her an incredulous stare. ‘It’s true. Tom and I were never meant to be together. I don’t know why I ever listened to his lies.’

  ‘That’s it. I’m out of here.’

  Oliver had heard enough. Any minute now, she was going to say that she’d never stopped loving him and that she hoped he’d take her back.

  As if.

  Oliver scowled. When he’d had the—what he now acknowledged was a crazy—notion to make this diversion, he’d had no idea he’d be opening this can of worms. He’d wanted to see the garden centre. He’d half hoped he’d encounter his brother and get it over with. Now he didn’t know what to think. What did Tom really want from him?

  Sophie had burst into tears at his words, her pale, delicate features stark and drawn. She’d aged, too, Oliver mused, resisting the comparison to Grace Lovell. But he knew his ex-wife well enough to realise that most of her distress was just an act.

  ‘Don’t go like this, Oliver,’ she begged now. ‘Please. You’ve got to help me. Tom says he can’t give me back the money I invested in the business, and I can’t support myself on what I earn at the charity shop.’

  The money she’d invested in the business was her divorce settlement, but Oliver didn’t remind her of that. ‘Get another job,’ he said carelessly, heading towards the car park. He’d had enough of other people’s problems for one day.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Sophie desperately, trailing after him. ‘I don’t have any qualifications. You surely wouldn’t like to see your wife working behind the tills in some supermarket?’