She looked up from twirling the pasta around her fork. “How big is this place?”
“Two levels. The main part is upstairs which is big enough, but the underneath is enclosed as well. Just for storage and a laundry but they did it with stone external walls so it’s quite solid. I’m thinking a pool and gym and an entertainment area. It could open up to the back yard for barbeques.”
“Do you do a lot of entertaining?”
“Not at the moment. But once…once the renovations are done, I might do more.”
“It sounds awfully big for a man on his own.” She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth, trailing strands of spaghetti. A ruddy stain marred her cheeks and she looked…almost guilty. For a moment he thought she might mention the past, about… “I forgot, you have a girlfriend.”
He wanted to swear but he had to control himself. It was like the weekend one of his Californian colleagues took him on a canoe trek in one of their national parks. There’d been a faun, just like the one in that movie he saw as a kid. They’d tried to get close, to take a photo but it skittered away every time. “You mean Angela? The woman in Jimmie’s newspaper?”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“She is. But we don’t live together, if that’s what you want to know.”
“It’s none of my business.”
He watched her stabbing at the plate and suppressed a smile. “It could be.”
Her startled response and quick shake of the head made him want to throttle her. Or himself. Was she being deliberately obtuse? Maybe he was jumping the gun. But he wanted her. Physically, anyway. The other stuff he needed to figure out. He wouldn’t be trusting her with his feelings any time soon. “Why not, Harry? Give me one good reason.”
“It just wouldn’t work. I just know. I’m just not interested in anything like that.”
“That’s a lot of ‘justs’. Don’t tell me you just aren’t interested in the sex, Harriet. Even you aren’t that good a liar.”
“That’s different.”
“How different?”
“It would be just…” She flushed at his snorted response. “All right, it would be simply sex. Just…simply…I mean.” Throwing down her fork she glared at him. “People like me don’t get to have long term relationships.”
“You’re wrong, I know several guys in wheelchairs who are happily married for the long term. A couple even have children.”
“I bet their wives are their carers too. I bet none of them have high powered careers.”
“You’d be wrong. Yes, a couple are like that, but not all.”
“It must be the exception that proves the rule. I know for a fact how hard it is.”
“Then tell me. I expect data, statistics. Convince me.”
“I don’t have statistics, but I do have empiric data. Like the girls I play basketball with. Three of them were in relationships when they were injured, and their boyfriends didn’t hang around.”
“That only proves they weren’t the right men. Did any of them dump their boyfriends after the accident?”
“They…I don’t know.” She stared back at him and he knew the message went home. She took a deep breath. “I could send you information, research that shows strains on families with a child with a disability or severe illness result in a higher level of family breakdown.”
“I’ll take your word for it. All the same, it doesn’t mean you should write off any chance of a relationship. How do you know the relationships you mention would have lasted, even without the complications of one of them having a disability of having a child with a disability?”
Her temper flared, sparking her eyes and flagging her cheeks with colour. “I don’t. But I know my parents nearly divorced.”
“Jack and Caro? I can’t imagine it.”
Harriet shifted her gaze to her glass of wine. How did she get out of this one if he asked for more information? She didn’t want to talk about her childhood. Hopefully he would assume it was recently.
His brows were drawn together as he scanned her face. “Seriously? They seem devoted.”
“They are. They managed to get over it. It doesn’t always have anything to do with how much you love each other.”
She saw his mouth twist, drawing down the harsh lines. “That at least I can understand.” Her stomach turned over as he continued. “But parents of a child are one thing. I imagine there is a level of anxiety for any parent. Why should a couple who know what they’re getting into be at risk?”
“All kinds of things. Going out becomes a pain. Some restaurants say they are accessible but if you want to use the toilets they aren’t. There is also the intimacy thing. Having to help your lover go to the bathroom pretty much wrecks any romance.”
“You need help to go to the toilet?”
“Not usually. But sometimes if my knees are playing up, I need help to move from the chair onto the pedestal.”
“So, you reckon that if I get to see you pee it will destroy our relationship?”
Flushing, she evaded his sceptical gaze. “Yes…No…It’s just an example. It’s about being a carer instead of a husband. It changes the dynamic.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I suppose it does.” The finality in his tone ended the subject as he poured more wine.
She should be pleased she’d managed to shut him up. But Harriet didn’t feel any satisfaction. She sipped at the wine, puzzled at her own reaction. She’d wanted to convince him, didn’t she? She shouldn’t feel disappointed when he accepted it. He’d go away now and cut the last ties and she wouldn’t have to be reminded, wouldn’t have to feel guilty about the things she should have done but somehow never had. Because she hadn’t wanted to lose that final connection?
“So, what about friendship?” He waved his wine glass in the air and she wondered how much he’d had. The bottle was only half empty, so not much. “We could be friends with benefits. Isn’t that the latest fashion?”
Quick recovery much, and what was with the peculiar smile? “I don’t get it”
“You say you can’t do relationships because they will inevitably crash and burn under the circumstances. What about friendships?”
Was it a trick question? “Friends would be all right.”
“How do you feel about us being friends?”
“Is that even possible? You hated me not so long ago.”
“I could give you an orgasm. That’s the act of a true friend in my opinion.”
“You have such an ego.”
“No thanks to you.”
He was right. She’d cut him down ruthlessly at their final meeting. She shouldn’t have been surprised he never came back. Even though she’d wanted him to overrule her, to demand the truth, to stay with her through all those miserable months. Like she wanted him to overrule her now, demand they start again. Push aside her reservations and make her believe that for them, it could work. It would be nice to pretend, for a little while that it could work. That love would be enough.
“Harriet, I’m serious.”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“Couldn’t we try?”
“What about Angela?”
“She’s a work colleague, we aren’t in a relationship.”
Harriet wondered what that meant. Was she a ‘colleague with benefits’? They looked like more than friends in the photo. But she could hardly blame him for sleeping with other women. She’d sent him away. It wasn’t until her best friend from school visited the hospital after the breakup that she realised what sending him away could mean. But the thought of him going out with Sondra, gorgeous titian haired Sondra who’d always fancied Lucas, just about sent her crazy. She’d told the redhead the most atrocious lies about Lucas, yet the girl had still pursued him. He encouraged her too, all the way to the States.
“I don’t know, Lucas. I didn’t expect this.”
One eyebrow quirked upwards. “It’s not that you object to me pawing you? Mauling you? Fumbling around like a dork who didn’
t know what to do.”
“What?” How did he know? “Sondra told you what I said?”
“No, Harriet, my little deceiver, I heard you telling her.”
“You were there, at the hospital, that day?”
“Fool that I was I thought maybe I should come and see you. I wondered if you’d been out to it on painkillers that day and didn’t know what you were saying.”
“You came back?” He hadn’t abandoned her without a second thought. She suppressed the surge of joy that bubbled up. That was then.
“Yes. But I didn’t appreciate the comment about my pencil dick. That at least I recognised as a lie. Why the hell would you want to humiliate me in front of your friends?”
“Not all my friends. Only Sondra.”
His brows had drawn so close together they were almost one line. “Why Sondra in particular?”
“Because she told me she was going to shag you.” She was almost yelling, and she fought to bring her voice under control. “Because she told me she’d been waiting for us to break up because she knew you had a thing for her.”
“And you didn’t want me to shag her?”
“No. But it didn’t make any difference did it. You still took her to the U.S. with you instead of me.”
She sucked in a gasping breath. There seemed to be no oxygen in the air. The screech of the metal chair across the tiles grated like fingernails on a blackboard as Lucas came to kneel beside her. “Look at me. Harriet, look at me. What’s wrong, what can I do?” His eyes captured hers, ferocious in their intensity. Her chest eased immediately. She clutched at his hand, squeezing it as her breathing deepened. “Is it asthma?”
Shaking her head, she kept her grip on his hand. His other hand rubbed her back, bringing him closer. “Garlic breath.” It came out in a wheeze, but he heard it and laughed.
“Pot…kettle.” He kissed her, lightly, on the corner of her mouth. Maybe it would be possible. For a little while. Until he realised how much it would limit his life. Until then. She released his hand and he moved away, standing in a graceful movement she envied. “Shall we adjourn to the interior my faerie queen?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Very well, my lady.” He bowed low with a flourish and a wicked grin. “I’ll bring this stuff in while you go and start on dessert.”
Safe inside, Harriet found some bowls and spoons. It was like riding a roller coaster. One minute he was all chilly or stormy and aggressive, the next he was laughing, just like the old Lucas. Which could she believe? Or were they all real? Was he as confused about his emotions as she was?
Piling the dishes in the sink, Lucas seemed very much at home. “I like the layout of this kitchen. Plenty of room without having to trek to Nepal to reach things.”
“Since when did you become a kitchen aficionado?”
“I’m renovating remember. I think you’ll like my house. Remember the Jacarandas on the street outside my old digs? This place has them too.”
She remembered well enough. The streetlight behind them sent a lavender glow into his louvered veranda bedroom. With the deep green and gold embroidered quilt it had made the room an enchanted place.
At his insistence, they both sat on the soft leather couch to eat the cheesecake, his legs and elbows brushing against hers as they ate. He talked about his work and, hungry for information, she sat rapt, watching his mobile face come alive with enthusiasm. “So, it was the security software that you were working on for your masters that started you off?”
“Yes. The government agencies were all over it. They didn’t have that deep level of encryption on what they were using. From there it just mushroomed.”
Which meant it had all been worth it. His hands shaped dreams as he talked, describing fresh fields to conquer and new visions to pursue. She couldn’t go there, because she would be a lead weight, slowing him down. But for a little while perhaps she could taste something of what he’d become before drawing the line in the sand.
“Am I boring you?” His voice was serious, but he smiled down at her.
“Never.”
Emerald eyes searched her face. “Can I believe it?”
“Of course you can. I never lied about my interest in what you do.”
The frown creased his brow and she wanted to smooth it away. “It’s hard to remember what was true and what wasn’t anymore.”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. I know this matters.” He swooped to kiss her, catching her with the last mouthful of cheesecake. Hastily she swallowed as he lifted his head to examine her face. “Yes. This matters.”
He took the plate and spoon from her limp hold and placed them on the coffee table. Fascinated, she let him slide his arm under her legs to turn her onto his lap, careful not to jar her. It was as if he knew already how easily an unwary movement could damage her knees.
To have his strong arms around her again was almost unbearable. Her heart immediately signalled readiness for what must follow, thumping heavily behind her ribcage. His fingers pressed lightly against her collarbone and tracked a trail of heat up the side of her neck until he cupped her cheek with his palm. The first touch of his mouth almost didn’t register, a faint whisper, more breath than skin, across her lower lip. A nip of teeth, then, followed by soothing tongue and the pressure to open, to welcome him in.
From there she fell into sensation, a vortex of moist warmth and taste, accompanied by the stroking of a large hand over her body, teasing a nipple, massaging the whole before moving down. Down to the bare skin of her leg, a soft squeeze and then gliding up the muscle…Time spun out of control as she delved under fine silk to do a recount of those abs and brush softly over flat nipples, pinching them into miniature peaks. Time…the alarm? Ringing. Ringing. She dragged herself back to reality. “The phone.”
“Leave it, they’ll ring back.” He kissed her again, a long drugging kiss that made everything fade.
Struggling from his hold she shook her head to clear it. “No, I have to answer.”
He lifted her into the wheelchair and she zipped across the room to grab the cordless phone, turning away as she answered it, slightly breathless. Who on earth was so darned important? She spoke quickly and low, so he couldn’t hear. Meanwhile, his dick was just about jumping out of his jocks. He tried to adjust it with the heel of his hand without much success, so he stood and undid his fly.
“Put that away.”
She looked sexy as hell with her hair all rumpled, and mouth swollen from his kisses, but the somnolence had gone from her eyes leaving them a brittle blue.
“Hey, you were with me, sweetheart.”
“My dad will be here in about seven minutes and I don’t want him walking in to find that…thing…hanging out.”
Crap. “Your dad? What’s going on?” Hanging out was an exaggeration, it was still confined, mostly, by his jocks. He tucked himself away as neatly as he could and zipped his pants, tucking his shirt in. Vengeful fathers had the advantage of deflating…things.
“I couldn’t convince them there was nothing wrong because I was out of breath. He insisted on coming over to check. So, pack up your stuff and get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m not afraid to face your father.”
“Why should you be afraid? I don’t want to have to explain your presence. That’s all.”
“Why shouldn’t I be afraid? I’m the lout who had his daughter out on a motorcycle in the middle of the night. If it weren’t for that…” He waved vaguely in the direction of her wheelchair.
“No-one blames you for that, Lucas. It was an accident.”
“It was my fault we were on the road. I insisted on taking you home.”
“I know. But you were right. They would have worried if I didn’t go home. If we’re going to apportion blame, what about the time we wasted while I argued. If we’d left when you wanted to, that truck wouldn’t have been there, we wouldn’t have been there.”
“You were still my
responsibility and I didn’t take care of you.”
Her face softened. “Lucas, you always looked after me.” She manoeuvred the chair closer, reaching up to take his hand. Her fingers were swallowed by his, large and warm and comforting. “No-one could have looked after me better, been more caring. You respected my parent’s wishes which a lot of guys your age might not have.”
Apart from marrying their daughter without letting them know. Having sex with her. And look how that turned out. “Until the day of the accident. I didn’t look after you properly then.”
“That was my choice, Lucas. And you came back. Even after I told you to go. I wish I’d known.”
“I wish…” The beep as someone used the card entry on the door distracted him. “Your father has a key?”
“You really didn’t think they’d let their disabled daughter manage on her own. They live in the apartment block second along the street from here. That was about as far as the umbilical cord would stretch.”
“Seriously? You let your parents make those kinds of decisions for you?” It didn’t sound like her. She’d always been independent before. Almost too much so.
“There are reasons. Sometimes you have to compromise.” There was a shadow in her eyes as if memories haunted them.
She was smoothing her hair as Jack Emerson entered the room, his eyes, so reminiscent of Harriet’s, going straight to the visitor.
“Well, well. Lucas Hall. What a blast from the past.”
Harriet grimaced behind her father’s back as she rolled her eyes and he had to smile. “That’s exactly what Harriet said when I walked into her office. Hello, Jack.” He extended his hand and after a momentary hesitation the older man gripped it.
“What brings you to this part of the world? I understand you’ve been in the U.S. all this time.”
“I’ve been back in Australia around twelve months. The government offered some very favourable terms to move my company back here.”
Tell Me No Lies Page 7
