‘We’ve been worried!’ Her mother’s thin face still wore signs of anxiety.
‘Mum, I’m an hour late. Not even that!’
‘You know what your mother’s like, pet. If you’re five seconds late she’s wondering if you’ve had an accident and complaining about the state of your car.’
As usual they were both formally dressed, her mother in a pair of slacks and a pink jumper, her father in grey trousers, a blue jumper and a tie. She had frequently tried to introduce them both to the concept of comfortable jogging pants and sweaters but had never been able to make much headway. They were both in their sixties and old habits, as they always smilingly told her, died hard. Now they were ushering her in, already beginning to tell her an anecdote about a fox that had taken a liking to their garden, asking her opinion on whether it was a pest or a pal of sorts. She stopped them.
‘I…I…er…there’s someone I’d like you to meet… Gabriel’s here….’ It all came out in an embarrassed rush and she winced at the pleasure that spread across her mother’s face.
She had no idea how to proceed. The fact that Gabriel was around changed everything. She’d had her little speech planned, had worked out what she intended to say. Did she trust him to follow her lead, as she had instructed? Did Gabriel Diaz ever listen to instructions or follow leads?
While she frantically debated all possible scenarios he was already edging himself through the door behind her, and all of a sudden she was swept along into an impromptu situation where he was being pulled inside and led to the sitting room and she loitered behind like a spare part.
She hardly dared cast her eyes in his direction. What was he thinking? That he had stepped into his worst nightmare? Being forced to meet the man who had defrauded his company? Father of the woman who had ditched him? How much worse could it get for him?
She traipsed into the sitting room in a daze, to find him seated and with a drink being pressed into his hand.
The bungalow, whilst spacious for two, and certainly having benefits from its one floor because her mother had no need to tackle stairs while she was still recovering from her stroke, was small. Lucy thought that the entire bungalow would fit into the downstairs of Gabriel’s massive London townhouse.
She knew that if she didn’t get a grip very soon the conversation would run away and it would be difficult to rein it back. She had told Gabriel to follow her lead. She fancied he must be cringing at the ongoing assumption that they were an engaged couple. But before she could launch into explanations and apologies her mother was tugging her towards the kitchen and whispering that they should ‘leave the boys alone for a little while…your father would like a quiet word with Gabriel…’
‘You should have warned us that Gabriel would be coming!’ was the first thing her mother said once they were in the kitchen and out of earshot. ‘I’ve only done something simple for us. Beef pie. I know it’s your favourite, but it’s really not fancy at all. Plus there’s no champagne in the house!’
‘Mum, please stop fussing,’ Lucy said awkwardly. ‘Um…champagne won’t be necessary anyway…’ Once again she bitterly regretted the lies that had thrown her into this situation.
‘Of course champagne’s necessary, darling. Not only to celebrate, but because we’re both so grateful for Gabriel’s generosity… Not many employers would have looked so kindly on your father’s situation. In fact, I think that’s what they’re talking about now. Your dad contemplated writing him a letter, but I told him it would be so much better to thank Gabriel face-to-face. He would have gone up to London to see him personally, but when you two started dating he thought he would wait until he visited. Neither of us guessed for a minute that he would be visiting as our future son-in-law!’
‘Well, here’s the thing, Mum…’
But Celia Robins was in full flow. She ordered her daughter to peel more carrots and to fetch a recipe book, because she could remember seeing a recipe with carrots that would elevate them from boiled with butter to something a little fancier—and what about the crockery? Should they get their best out or stick to casual?
‘I’m as nervous as anything,’ she confided at one point, ‘but I can tell that he’s a wonderful person. Kind-hearted. And good-looking, too!’
Lucy had to stop herself from bursting into laughter. The truth was that her mission seemed to be fraying miserably at the edges and her mother had taken up her pen and asked where to sign to become a full-time member of the Gabriel Diaz fan club!
‘Look, Mum…there’s really no need to go out of your way. In fact, maybe you’d like to sit down for what I have to tell you…’
‘Sit? Now? When I’m in the middle of these carrots?’ She sat. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you, darling?’ Celia Robins went a deep shade of pink. ‘These things happen. Of course they do. I just want to say that your dad and I will be here for you….’
‘Mum! Of course I’m not pregnant! Look…I know you’re very excited about this…um…engagement thing…but I’ve taken a step back in the past few days and, well…I’ve had to be realistic…’
She couldn’t quite meet her mother’s eyes. Instead she sought inspiration from the kitchen clock, the old-fashioned range cooker, the pine table, the little row of spices in bottles neatly lined up on the shelf her father had put up only a year ago.
‘There are loads of differences between me and
Gabriel….’
‘Opposites attract,’ her mother said promptly. ‘It’s a cliché, but it also happens to be true.’
‘Yes, well…’ Lucy cleared her throat and looked at her mother with what she hoped was an expression of sincere regret. ‘It’s not just that we come from two completely different worlds…’
‘Are you talking about…money?’
‘There’s that,’ Lucy said cautiously. ‘I mean, Mum, you should see his house. It’s huge. It’s full of silk rugs and expensive paintings…’
‘I didn’t raise you to be concerned about things like that,’ Celia admonished her daughter gently.
‘And I’m not! But it’s all symptomatic of the bigger differences between us.’ Lucy sighed. ‘I mean, he’s a sophisticated, wealthy man. He’s good-looking, clever, urbane… In comparison I’m just a simple country girl who has problems when it comes to menus in foreign languages…’
‘I’ve told you that you should never be concerned about that!’
Lucy and her mother both looked up in surprise to see Gabriel lounging in the doorway, dwarfing the kitchen and filling it with his indefinable presence.
He strolled forward and placed his hands firmly on Lucy’s shoulders. She smiled weakly, rested one hand over his and gave it an over-firm squeeze to remind him that she was supposed to be in charge of the break-up conversation with her parents.
‘Your daughter seems to think that there’s something shameful in asking a waiter to translate a menu, even though I’ve told her often enough that it’s their job,’ he said, and bent to feather a kiss on her neck.
Lucy stiffened in confusion but maintained the rictus grin on her face.
‘It’s flattering to know that you think so highly of me…you should say it more often. A man likes to hear these things…’
He moved round so that he was looking at her. With all four of them now piled into the kitchen Lucy was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She knew she was perspiring. She desperately wanted to know what
was going on—but now the meal was being brought to the table and everyone was chatting…
Exhausted from the effort, she finally threw in the towel and announced that she was tired.
‘Long week,’ she muttered vaguely. ‘All sorts of heavy-duty lifting at the garden centre because Pete and Jake are both on holiday.’
Only when they were safely out of the house and in his car did she turn to Gabriel—but he spoke before she could open her mouth.
‘I feel I owe you something of an apology.’ He started the engine and the powerful sports car slowly pulled
away from the drive and into the street outside.
‘Sorry?’ Like a helpless moth drawn to a flame she stared at him in the darkness, drinking in the hard angles of his face.
‘It’s possible that I may have jumped to certain conclusions regarding your father’s character. Don’t get me wrong, in no way do I condone theft of any kind, but that said, your father was…er…somewhat emotional about what he did and why he did it.’
‘Oh?’
‘In fact, tearful might be a more accurate description…’
‘You hate tears.’
‘That’s perfectly true, but it was obvious that his regret is sincere. He explained about your mother’s illness at the time, and his desperation.’
‘He wasn’t thinking straight. I could have told you all that if you had given me half a chance, Gabriel.’
‘It’s not in my nature to give credence to sob stories. I’ve learnt from experience that anyone can rustle up a heart-warming tale of woe if they think there’s a pot of gold to be gained at the end of it.’
‘You are so cynical.’
‘And yet open-minded when it comes to admitting that I may have made a mistake.’ Gabriel glanced across at her. She was as rigid as a plank of wood.
Lucy grudgingly admitted to herself that there was an element of truth to that. In the time she had known him she had come to realise that underneath the ruthless demeanour was a fair-minded guy who did all sorts of things no one would ever have guessed just by looking at him. He was a generous contributor to charity, and respected by all the people who worked for him—Nicolette included. She had told Lucy in passing that the profit-related bonuses awarded to his employees, from the bottom up, were second to none in the City. He made generous donations to a dogs’ home because, he had confided in one of the rare moments when his vulnerability had made her love him all the more, he had always wanted to have a dog. Of course he had never had the chance as a boy, and now he just travelled too much for the responsibility.
‘Well, I’m really happy that you’ve heard Dad’s side of the story…but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘No?’
‘You said that you’d let me take the lead in this whole business….’
‘You mean the phoney engagement that’s encouraged your mother to start talking with the vicar and buying bridal magazines for tips on how to hold the perfect reception?’
‘She hasn’t?’ Lucy blanched. ‘But I only told her this…this…’
‘Outrageous lie…?’
‘…a week ago!’
‘Excited parents can be fast movers. Your father confided that he had seen a formal black suit on sale in the local department store…he was tempted to buy it… My thoughts here are that this engagement is just a formality, with the marriage due any second now—at least as far as your parents are concerned…’
‘You’re making this stuff up!’
‘No, I leave the fabrications to you.’ But he was strangely lacking in fury at this unexpected development. He decided that the creative way to play it would be simply to go along for the ride and see where it led him.
‘This is terrible.’ Lucy’s voice wobbled. ‘I never thought…’
‘Hoist by your own petard, is the expression that springs to mind…’
‘Well, you didn’t make things any easier,’ Lucy was constrained to point out. ‘I told you to leave all the talking to me. I was going to break it to Mum in the kitchen that it was all over…’
‘Because you’re just a simple country girl and I’m such a devilishly good-looking, sexy, sophisticated man of the world…well-versed in the art of reading complicated menus…’
He could see her cottage approaching. For the first time he wondered what she must think of his townhouse, with its über-expensive furnishings and its
ultra-modern feel. Less than impressed, he surmised. So different from all the women he had ever gone out with. Sure, she had oohed and aahed in all the right places, but this country cottage was what she was unashamedly all about. He thought he might like to see that garden centre of hers, meet those people she worked with. She had told him enough about them over the months.
‘You realise that I’m going to have to stay the night with you?’ Gabriel said gravely as he pulled up outside the cottage. He swung round to face her. ‘We still have a conversation to finish, and it’s far too late for me to contemplate driving all the way back to London….’
‘Yes, well…’ she stammered.
‘But…’ Gabriel held up one hand to interrupt her,
‘…you needn’t fear that I’m going to make a nuisance of myself. You can point me in the direction of the spare room….’
‘It’s called the sofa in the living room, and you might have Freddy for company. If he knows that you’re in the house and sleeping in the living room he’ll make sure he informs you that the kitchen isn’t good enough for him.’
‘I like dogs. You know that.’
Freddy, released from the kitchen, bounded out like a bat out of hell. After a few seconds of astonishment at seeing a new face, he proceeded to demonstrate all the ways he had of enlisting Gabriel as a new friend. Gabriel, returning the favour, didn’t seem to care about getting his hands and face licked. Nor did he care about the paw prints all over his expensive designer clothes.
From the sidelines, Lucy watched—hating him for being there and sending her into disarray, and loving him for being there because, as always, he was a sight for sore eyes.
He looked up when she offered to get him a cup of coffee, but it was a while before Freddy calmed down and reluctantly agreed to take his favourite spot in front of the fire, where he was asleep within minutes.
‘Your father went into some detail about your mother’s health.’ Gabriel relaxed back on the sofa and glanced at his surroundings for the first time since he had entered the cottage. There was a higgledy-piggledy charm to the room, with photos in frames, lots of plants and flowers in rustic pots and vases, three small prints of old movie posters, and a big basket by the open fireplace, in which wood had been placed in readiness for when the weather turned cold. The furniture was dated, but comfortable.
‘She’s never fully recovered,’ Lucy admitted. She had taken up position in the comfy chair by the fire, legs tucked under her—a good vantage point from which to observe Gabriel, who now sprawled on the sofa, one arm stretched out along the back, legs crossed ankle on knee, a man at home in his surroundings. It seemed to be a talent he had. He had looked equally at home in her parents’ house, even though his own surroundings were so wildly different.
‘When you told me that they were old-fashioned I have to admit that I had trouble swallowing it. It didn’t quite tally with the embezzler scenario. But I’m seeing your point of view now. And I’m seeing why you plumped for fabrication when your parents started asking questions about us. You thought there would be no harm in taking the path of least resistance.’
‘And it was a big mistake. I know that. Now you’ve been dragged in. I’m very glad that you haven’t exploded, but I’m going to set this whole thing straight.’
‘And risk your mother going into a meltdown?’
‘She won’t. I think she’s stronger than Dad and I have given her credit for. It’s just been so easy to worry… She might be disappointed, but she won’t go into a meltdown.’
‘And the vicar and the bridal magazines?’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Lucy cried.
In front of the fire Freddy shifted, opened one drowsy eye, and promptly decided that sleep was a better option.
She leapt to her feet and began pacing the room, feverishly trying to keep calm.
‘If you want to take the decision to spill the beans and damn the consequences then go ahead, but I won’t be part of that decision. I don’t intend to have anyone’s hospitalisation on my head,’ he said.
‘And yet you would have slept like a baby with Dad’s incarceration on your head!’
<
br /> ‘Different set of circumstances—as you’re all too well aware.’
‘So what are you saying?’
Gabriel shrugged. ‘We could always let this one play out for a little while.’
‘Play out for a little while?’
‘I looked at your mother over dinner. She’s jumpy, anxious, she worries about you, but when she talks about this engagement she lights up like a Christmas tree. I’ll be frank: I remember my own mother only in snatches. She wasn’t around long enough…and my various stepmothers never left much of a mark. I don’t want to be the one who interferes with the relationship you have with her. It’s obviously a good one. You’re the golden child they had when they were old enough to have given up hoping…’
‘Stop trying to make me feel guilty…’ But her voice was not quite as convinced as it had been half an hour before.
Was he right? Had this engagement given her mother something positive to hold on to? Lucy thought that the vicar and the bridal magazines might be a worrying indication that she had underestimated the value her mother might place on the announcement. And her
father had been checking out a suit? All that in the space of a week? Lucy was appalled.
‘Not my intention.’
‘We broke up.’
‘So we did. Because you overreacted to a picture in a trashy magazine.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘Would you have decided to call it a day if you hadn’t come across that picture?’
He looked steadily at her and Lucy was suddenly thrown into confusion. Would she? Had seeing that photo been a blessing or a curse? She wanted to ask him why he couldn’t just respect her decision. Now he had shown up on her doorstep in a moment of impeccable bad timing and found himself drawn into a drama he hadn’t initiated. Could she lay into him because he wasn’t reacting the way she had told him to? Because he happened to be in possession of a conscience?
‘You should never have shown up here,’ she countered weakly. ‘I don’t even know why you came.’
The Notorious Gabriel DiazRuthless Tycoon, Inexperienced Mistress Page 13