by Margaret Way
“Okay, you’re probably right.”
“Probably?”
She grabbed his arm tightly. “All right, elitists. Why don’t you stop there? Leo got something right. He took on a trusteeship on your behalf.”
“Sure he did,” Josh freely admitted. “Clearly saving little Ella had a lot to do with it, otherwise I’d have been written off as a delinquent. Anyway, I thanked Leo many times over. I even made more money for him. I know had I done anything to discredit him I would have landed back in serious trouble.”
He was right about that. “Whatever you say about my family, Josh—”
“Does that include Jezebel Keeley?” he asked suavely.
Clio’s heart lurched. She was still recovering from Keeley’s surprise visit. “Please, God, she and Dad will divorce.”
“I’m sure that’s the best outcome,” he said smoothly. “I know it’s not in the best of taste but could I ask how in hell your father married her in the first place?”
“What does it matter now?” Clio sighed. “Are you going to accept my apology or not?”
His wide brow knotted. “You have to give me a chance to think about it.”
She clenched her small fists in her lap. “Well, you’d better think fast because I’m out!”
His bluer-than-blue eyes rested on her highly expressive face. “Clio, Clio, you need to lighten up.”
Her heart was racing. “That’s good, coming from you. You can’t even produce a smile.”
“No one’s perfect,” he said.
Clio couldn’t resist it. She punched him in the shoulder.
He caught her hand, carried it to his mouth. “Now, wasn’t that a good feeling, Clio? Even you have a violent streak.”
“I didn’t have one until recently,” she said tartly. “And it’s all about you. I’ve never punched anyone before. I’m a fervent advocate of non-violence.”
He released her trembling hand. “I don’t know if I believe you, Clio.” With a mock grimace, he began rubbing his shoulder. “Do you want to have dinner tonight?”
That shocked her into silence. Even staring at him, she didn’t know if he was serious or not. “Where?” she asked eventually, sitting transfixed.
“My place.” He reached out to stroke her luminous cheek with its bright shimmer of blush. “You weren’t able to get in the last time, remember?”
“On that occasion I was trying to be helpful.” She put her hand over his. Just a touch yet her centre of gravity shifted. “May I bring someone?” She tried a joke when hot prickles of excitement rolled up and down her spine.
“No. Just you. Up for it?” He was watching her closely, as if she was being put to the test.
“I was serious, Josh, when I said you’re my hero from way back.”
“I’m talking about now,” he responded, a shade tersely.
She looked down at her lap again. “You might terrify me, Josh, from time to time, but I trust you. Will you be kissing me?”
He eased back in the driver’s seat. “Good God, no! Not in the main street with so many people passing by and staring avidly.”
“It didn’t bother you, kissing me in front of Jimmy Crowley?” she flared.
“A good reason there. Crowley has to drop any idea of winning the hand of the most beautiful girl in the world.”
She felt real heat in her cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not the most beautiful girl in the world or anything like it.”
“Jimmy and I know differently,” he said.
“Sounds like you’re both biased. Anyway, I didn’t mean kissing me now in the car, which you very well know. I meant what you have in mind for tonight, always supposing I say yes.”
He smiled at her, sending all her defences flying. Then he spoilt it. “Well, I’m not asking you to move in,” he drawled sardonically.
Clio’s dark eyes flashed. “It wouldn’t do you any good if you did.” Her voice was icy. “I won’t keep you a moment longer.” She opened the door, then slid swiftly out of the passenger seat.
Josh lowered his head to call after her. “Seven o’clock suit to pick you up?”
Clio slammed the door hard, such a sparkle of mixed emotions on her face two dear old ladies of the town, approaching, gave her a little wave, but a wide berth. “Fine,” she said.
Josh watched her move off with such spirit on her lovely long legs, then he put back his head and gave a laugh of pure, uncomplicated joy.
Joy?
He had thought he had lost it for ever.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WASN’T until the lift had taken them up to the penthouse that Clio posed the burning question. “How far did my stepmother actually get?”
“What do you mean—how far did she get?”
She recognised the daunting look down his straight nose. “Just interested.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly.
“She didn’t get very far at all. I met with her trying to get up while I was going down. I wasn’t exactly angry, I was disgusted.”
“Quite rightly.”
“So I escorted her to the ground floor.”
“Then walked her companionably to the door, but decided not to see her to her car.”
“Well, you were sitting right across the street, watching it happen,” he pointed out, moving across the carpeted corridor to his door. “Are you going to ease off now?”
“Yes, of course I am.” Clio looked around her. “I feel honoured that you asked me to your classy abode. Could you please tell me why it has taken so long?”
He stood back to allow her entry, his nostrils tantalized by her lovely perfume. “You know perfectly well Leo didn’t want me to ask you here.”
Momentarily dazzled by the double-height living area that flowed seamlessly onto the broad terrace, Clio turned abruptly. “That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?”
Josh moved to the panel that controlled the lighting in all its different modes. “Wake up, sleeping princess. Leo put a lot of effort into seeing the initial bonding went no further. We had to function independently.”
She had no good answer to that. She felt terribly conflicted. “But Leo loved you!”
Josh shook his head. “Something about me appealed to Leo’s nature. I reminded him of the young man he was. I’m impelled to succeed. So was he. He could have sat on the money like your father, but he built greatly on the family fortune. He admired some quality in me. Our minds met at many levels. But Leo thought he owned me as well as you. I suspect he feared the day would come when he wouldn’t.”
“But he left you Aquarius. Money?” Surely that alone would take away all suspicion Josh and her grandfather had argued that fatal night. Or would it? Leo’s will had already been made. “Aquarius was his island, Clio,” Josh said crisply, as though he was reading her mind. “Leo knew I could handle the kind of project he had in mind. Architect to the Pharoah, as it were. It was to be Leo’s memorial.”
She sought a sofa. Sank into its plush depths. “God, Josh, that’s the way you think of it?”
“Don’t you see it yourself?” he asked bluntly, choosing the sofa opposite. She was wearing a colour, a soft orange, in a gossamer fabric many women would have found difficult, but it suited her Mediterranean colouring beautifully. No other young woman could challenge her. She remained his ideal. His voice in no way betrayed the freight of hurt and humiliation he had felt for all the generosity Leo had heaped on him. “Leo kept us moving in different directions. You had to be guarded from the likes of me. He knew I wasn’t someone he could always control. Leo was a control freak.”
His words had a heavy impact. Since she had lost Leo, she had been forced to confront that knowledge.
“That’s why he didn’t mind Jimmy Crowley hanging about. Jimmy’s a good-looking guy. He’s not totally stupid. He would have done until someone Leo deemed suitable came along.”
“Like I wasn’t allowed to have a choice?” Clio asked with disillusionment. She was seeing her past life very differently now.
“Certainly not me,” Josh said, meeting her eyes. “He believed in bloodlines and all that. Who knew what defects were in my genes? My father had to be despicable, leaving my mother young and pregnant. She didn’t have the strength to survive. She was a fragile person. I wasn’t, even though I was booted from pillar to post. You, on the other hand, have led a privileged life.”
“Are you going to condemn me for that?” she asked.
“I don’t condemn you, Clio. I don’t envy you either.”
Everything in her wanted to address the question, like a physician trying to make the right diagnosis. “You say your father must have been a despicable person, Josh, but you know nothing about him? It’s even possible he knew nothing about you.”
He grimaced. “I know you want to help me, Clio, as much as possible, but this isn’t helping. My mother never said a word about the man who fathered me. So leave it, please. I despise him. We all have dark places in our souls. Unfortunately I have more than most.” It would be much safer for her to be free of him, he thought. He still suffered short periods of intense misery, the lacerating flashbacks, the memories of brutality. No one knew better than he that people in positions of trust were not always trustworthy.
“There are always ways of finding things out, Josh,” Clio persisted. “You told Leo you remembered your mother as being a small person with beautiful long dark hair.”
He was on guard at once. “So Leo shared that with you, did he?”
“Don’t be like that, Josh,” she pleaded. “We’re friends. That means—”
“I know what it means, Clio,” he clipped out, addressing his own big issue. “You don’t still suspect Leo and I had some sort of argument that brought on his heart attack?” He pinned her gaze.
She shook her head. “My heart tells me no.”
“What does your head have to say?” he retorted bluntly.
For a moment there was no response from her. Was that an answer?
“Tell me,” he insisted, plunged into a kind of despair.
He looked so formidable she could hardly get out the words. “My head says no as well, Josh.” She knew she had to tread very carefully. “Leo left you the island.”
“Which isn’t all that much of an answer,” he responded. “Leo’s will was already made, as you know.”
She couldn’t bear to have any yawning gulf between them. She changed the subject. “I’d love you to take me to the island in your yacht. Word is you’re a splendid sailor.”
“Leo again?” he asked. “I’ll take you to the island, Clio. It might do you good to have me explain why Leo over time changed tack and became enthusiastic about the right kind of development. We had discussed Aquarius in the past, never in any combative way.”
“I’m sure.” Her tone was conciliatory. “I didn’t know Aquarius had come under discussion. Leo never said.”
“Which is a great pity. Now, would you like a drink?” He stood up. “I have a perfectly chilled Dom Perignon.”
She sank back against the sofa. “Lovely! Where is all the food?”
“Where else but the kitchen?” Josh called, returning a few moments later with two crystal flutes. He handed her one, raising his flute to her. “To a pleasant evening, princess.” They went through the ritual of clinking glasses. He sat down again, outwardly totally composed, inwardly controlling all manner of rising emotions. “I don’t like kitchen areas intruding into the living areas,” he said on a level note, “however much they’re designed to recede into the background.”
“I agree. You really are an amazing man!” Clio sipped at her champagne. “This is perfect. May I look around?”
“That’s why you’re here.”
Josh set off for the kitchen while she moved across the living room to admire a striking abstract painting, which had to be eight feet wide. She had no idea what it was meant to represent, but the Asian influence was in evidence, and a wonderful intermingling of colours highlighted by gold leaf that caught the eye. “Is that the sole purpose of your invitation?” she called. Surely that was provocative?
You want to provoke him.
“I’m not going to ravish you, Clio, as ravishing as you may look,” he called back dryly. “By the way, I love you in orange. It casts a glow. But to reassure you, my job is to feed you, entertain you, escort you home. I have a limo lined up. I can’t afford to lose my licence.”
“Spoken like a law-abiding citizen. This abstract?” she queried. “It’s wonderful. Owes a bit to Ian Fairweather?” Clio named one of Australia’s greatest painters, born in Scotland. Fairweather arrived in Australia in his early forties after studying and travelling all over the world. In his final years he lived as a recluse in a hut he built on beautiful Bribie Island in Moreton Bay. These days she knew the island was connected to the mainland by bridge. “I can’t see any signature.”
“There isn’t one. I never knew it—how could I?—but it seems I have an artistic bent. I wanted a big knockout painting for that wall. I couldn’t find one that grabbed me so I painted my own. As you so cunningly detected, with Fairweather in mind. I couldn’t do a real painting, of course. Just slapped paint around in homage to the great Fairweather.”
“Were he still alive instead of long gone, I think he would have agreed to speak with you had he seen this. Maybe even given you a few lessons. I couldn’t do this. Most people couldn’t do this.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t arrogance. It was a plain statement of fact. Where had this talent come from? It would be more than her life’s worth to touch on the subject tonight, despite the fact she had spent a lot of time wondering who and what exactly Josh’s father had been? “Did Leo ever see this painting?” she asked.
“Actually, he did, but it wasn’t his cup of tea.”
“Leo was a traditionalist,” Clio said. “You’re becoming quite a collector, aren’t you?”
“Don’t patronize me, Ms Templeton.”
“What was I thinking? I meant your skill at choosing what is really good is well in evidence.”
“You mean you grew up amid beautiful things. I grew up in pretty grim foster-homes and institutions?”
“There is that, Josh,” she said gently. “But this apartment has great style.”
All that abundant energy he possessed had to be channelled into all kinds of enterprises, she thought. “Do you need a hand?” she called. The most delicious aromas were wafting from the kitchen, redolent of the superb local seafood.
“No. Just give me another few minutes.”
Clio was happy to. The experience of being here with him in his amazing apartment was far more intoxicating than any vintage Dom Perignon. She drifted out onto the spacious terrace, which was really a genuine patio, imaginatively lit. Beautiful big springy golden canes stood in tall, black ceramic planters, complemented by a fragrant line-up of flowering gardenia bushes in smaller matching pots. The outdoor furniture was black rattan. The custom-designed sofa could seat a dozen easily, upholstered in an expensive white fabric with black and white scatter cushions. A long, low occasional table separated the sofa from matching armchairs on the other side. Matching dining settings as well, one to seat eight, the other to seat four.
The smaller setting had been chosen for dinner. Just looking down at it gave her a rush of pleasure. He had gone to a lot of trouble. For her. The centrepiece was really lovely—three exquisite pink lotus flowers and their pods floating in a shallow-lipped glossy black bowl. The tablecloth and napkins were pristine white linen, a choice of sterling silver cutlery or black chopsticks tied together with fine twine featuring a small ceramic square with Chinese lettering on it. The pure white china was at the luxury end. Perfect attention to detail.
She was enormously impressed and suddenly realized that could be construed as patronizing as well. She had to be very careful not to gush with Josh, though she certainly felt like applauding him. It was clear Josh was one of those people who liked to get things right. It was part and p
arcel of the man.
“Aren’t the stars beautiful tonight?” Clio exclaimed, gazing up at the great vault of the sky. The Milky Way was a broad river of sparkling diamonds. The Southern Cross, never brighter, hung over the tip of the complex roof. It was perfect to be here alone with Josh on such a glorious night. She hoped Josh was just as happy having her with him. Leo’s death, great grief that it was, had nevertheless cancelled out all the restraints he had put on her. Josh seemed to be prowling around the idea as well.
Across the table Josh was thinking how beautiful she was with her charm, all her graceful little gestures and style of conversation. Once it would have been beyond all imagining to have her sitting here across the table from him. He had done everything in his power to become someone, to become successful, to be someone. He had always known at the back of his mind it was for Clio, the only woman in the world who he felt could ease the deep ache inside him and control the powerful tensions with her gentleness. He felt he had reached high ground just having her over for dinner, having her attention, having her wander about the apartment admiring things.
He had known nothing about music, literature, art, but he had learned, studying rigorously. Once Leo had got him started he had burned with ambition and he had lived up to Leo’s very high expectations. Leo would not have approved of his granddaughter having dinner with him tonight.
Only Leo isn’t around any more. High time you recognized that and broke down those boundaries your old mentor set in place.
With any other woman he would have done so long before this. But Clio was very special to him. She always had been. He felt he had to approach her as one would a young goddess, with something like reverence. He had understood that from the moment she had kissed him on the cheek when she was nine years old.
Clio praised the various platters Josh brought to the table. She knew from her travels that most Asian cultures didn’t serve entrées in the Western way. Josh had followed suit. “This all looks wonderful,” she said with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t rate beside you as a cook.”