“How are you managing?”
“Mum comes over at night to help me shower and Dad comes in the morning to get me out of bed into the wheelchair.”
“And in between?”
“I manage. They want me to move back home. They don’t want me to live alone.”
“I think I’ve solved that problem.”
“How? They’ll never stop nagging until I give in.”
“I’m moving in.”
“You? Moving in?”
“Only until my house is ready for occupancy. Another three weeks and you’ll be moving in with me.”
“Why? The doctor said I shouldn’t lie on my back. And you won’t be able to lift me either. I’m not so stupid I’m going to give up my home so I can watch you come and go with all your women.”
She edged back as he leaned closer, his expression intimidating. “We will deal with this, right here, right now.”
“We will?” Her voice came out squeaky and she wished somebody would kill her already.
He didn’t seem to notice, his hands coming up to frame her face, cool on her flushed cheeks. His eyes bored into hers, the green vivid with the intensity of his emotion. “I have never, and I repeat never, cheated on you.”
“Never?” It came out in a strained whisper as he rested his forehead against her brow, his warm breath mingling with hers, tasting of coffee.
“Never. Not once. Angela was a colleague. I did her a favour, so you can get that idea out of your mind. I’m not some animal who can’t control his libido. If we can’t have sex while you’re pregnant, we live with it. Or we adapt. There are other ways to reach orgasm. As you should recall. Very pleasurable ways. Would you like me to demonstrate?”
She shook her head. Her heart palpitating in a way it shouldn’t be able to do.
“Another time, perhaps?”
What could she say to that? Freaking hallelujah but pity about the sex?
Apparently, a response wasn’t necessary. He moved away, packing up the contents of her box. She saw him put the small velvet ring case away with a sudden choking feeling. Had he even looked inside?
“Can I have the teddy box?”
He turned sharply, black brows forming a vee of surprise. “Of course. It’s your property. Your mother handed it to me this evening before I came.”
“You spoke to them? What about?”
“You.”
Well, duh. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’m an adult. I make my own decisions. A long time ago I learned that even well-intentioned people don’t know what’s best for someone else.”
“Yet you did exactly the same when it came to the important things.”
“What do you mean?”
“When it came to us, you made a unilateral decision without ever consulting me. From now on, no more decisions that affect both of us without consulting each other.”
“This from a man who just informed me I was moving into his house, whether I liked it or not.”
“But you did like it. In fact, you told me you loved it. It’s beside the point. As of tomorrow, my housekeeper, Mrs. MacAlistair, will be coming in while I’m at work. She’s a fully trained nurse and when the baby’s born, will be able to assist you.”
“There you go again. Walking all over me again. What if I don’t like her? Can I fire her?”
“I wouldn’t suggest you try it. She’s the best housekeeper I’ve had.”
“You would choose your housekeeper over my wishes?”
He actually had the effrontery to laugh. “Don’t you know? Housekeepers are far less expendable than…lovers…”
“What about wives?”
The beautiful mouth quirked into a mocking smile. “What about wives?”
“If I could walk. Which incidentally I can’t. I would come over there and smack that smirk off your face.”
“Are we working up to a pity party?”
“No. How dare you suggest…” She stumbled to a halt as he thrust his face close to hers, kneeling on the bed.
“So, the mountain must come to you…Smack away.”
“Don’t you dare make me laugh. Don’t you dare…” It was too much. The laughter defeated her. Her stomach ached from it, her jaw felt tender to the touch. And the culprit just sat there on his haunches with a smile on his face.
“Feel better now?”
“No.”
“They say laughter is the best medicine.”
“My stomach hurts and my face hurts. Maybe I overdosed.”
“Too much of a good thing? We’ll have to break you in gently.”
She stared at him, bewildered. “When I was talking to your tech team, they told me you had no sense of humour. I didn’t believe them, but they assured me it was true.”
“Maybe I haven’t had much to laugh about. Computers may be the subject of internet humour but there’s not much to laugh about in scripting millions of lines of code.” His smile curled downwards. “Or maybe the simple truth is, I was the Laurel to your Hardy. Every comedian needs a straight man.”
Her eyes prickled, and she shut them tightly. When she opened them, he was looking down at his hands, lying limply on his knees. His lashes shadowed his eyes and the dim lamplight burnt harsh lines around his mouth hiding the dimple. “Oh…”
His head jerked up at her exclamation and she recognised the emotion in the brief glimpse before his eyes became shuttered. The pain behind the grimness, behind the laughter. But she’d seen something earlier, just as important, and almost missed it. Not when he’d been laughing. It had been her laughter that brought out the dimple for one brief moment in time.
“Lucas.” She reached for his hands, twining her fingers through his, palm to palm. What could she say that wasn’t inadequate? “I’m so sorry.”
Lucas hadn’t expected the nerves to hit him in the gut. He was regretting the bacon and eggs already. Harriet sat slightly forward on the seat, looking for her first glimpse of the house in over six months. The last few weeks had gone well. Better than expected. He’d slept in her bed, with her curled up against his back. That way her braces didn’t cause problems by digging into his legs. Her stomach made other positions awkward.
It had taken a few nights to get that sorted. Sometimes he could feel the baby kick against his kidneys. Just a flutter of movement, hardly registered before it was gone again. It made it real. Sometimes he deliberately stayed awake in the hope of feeling that small connection with his child.
He’d given in about the housekeeper. Harriet had been so frustrated at his high handedness, he’d decided a few weeks wouldn’t matter. She had a cleaner in a couple of times a week and her mother promised to pop by for any personal things. Today was crunch time. The house, everything.
It would have been nicer later, in the spring. The Jacarandas looked stark and bare at this time of year.
“Is this it?” The surprise in her voice was evident. Whether good surprise or bad surprise, he wasn’t sure. He pulled in off the street to the new raised carport.
She stared at the freshly painted building. “This is different. I was thinking I’d be getting carried everywhere.”
“We can go with that if you prefer.”
Her smile lit up his morning. “Maybe sometimes.”
Once in the wheelchair she moved onto the veranda, looking at everything. “This is amazing. It’s almost like you made it for me.” She stopped with a jerk, her face flushing. “That sounds awfully conceited. It’s convenient for you too I suppose. No lugging groceries across the yard and up the steps.”
“The architect said accessibility made for good resale value.” He softened it with a sly smile that told her he’d done it with her in mind.
“And you’re all about the dollars.” She said it with a grin as she made her way to the front door. “I’m dying to see what you’ve done inside.”
“Not a lot in the bedrooms. Painted and polished but you might like to decide the soft furnishings.”
“Trying t
o turn me into a good little house-frau?”
“I live in hope.”
She had no answer to that, speeding off to look at the lounge area. In her thorough way, she scoured the place, open mouthed. “I can’t believe it.” Her hands stroked the granite bench top in the kitchen. “I can’t believe it. This is more than just standard accessibility. You’ve allowed for a wheelchair.” The expression on her face became thoughtful. “You know this dropped bench will be no good for people in electric wheelchairs. It’s too low.”
The stairs earned him a dirty look. “Have you finished renovating downstairs?”
“Sure. You want to go down and see what’s been done.”
“Will you take me down?”
“You can take yourself. Check out the glass door on the other side of the stairs.”
Her squeal of delight eased some of the tension and he jogged down the stairs to wait for her. The slow lift must have given her time to think because the subdued Harriet that emerged brought the nerves back again.
“Why did you do it, Lucas?”
He demanded truth from her. No evasions.
“I had the plans drawn up last year, while we were going out together.”
“You were planning this back then?”
“I bought the house when I first came back to Australia with settling down in mind. I…hoped with you. It took longer than I expected to find you.”
“We’d all moved.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know then about the wheelchair.”
“I thought of selling. Getting something on flat ground, but that’s not as easy as it looks in Brisbane. Especially close to the city.”
Hunching her shoulders, she studied her hands. “I thought you hated me back then.”
“You were right. But I still wanted you.”
“When did it change?”
“The hating lasted about five minutes. The wanting never stopped”
“Even before you knew.”
“I think I was lost the moment I heard you laugh. I was jealous of Jimmie because you were his friend.”
“Poor Jimmie.”
“Lucky Jimmie, to be working with you all this time.”
“He’s not that keen on basketball you know. He prefers movies.”
“Poor Jimmie, in that case. You were using him.”
“I never expected him to invite you along. Now, you’re best buddies.” She waved a hand at the entertainment area. “He’ll expect an invite to the barbeques.”
“If you’re trying to put me off it isn’t working. I like him.”
She shook her head. “You win.”
“I always win.”
The smile was small, but he caught it.
“You’re delusional, Lucas Hall. Show me the pool and then I want to see where I sleep.”
“As you wish, M’lady.”
The bed was the same, the purple velvet with the mounds of cushions. She glanced over at Lucas, knowing he was thinking about the same things. The smirk had to go. He looked far too smug. “You need to get rid of some of these cushions.”
“Don’t you like them?” He sounded wounded but there was a spark in his eye.
“What’s that saying, ‘All things in moderation’? There is nothing moderate about that pile of cushions.
“What do you suggest I do with them?”
With a shrug, she headed for the en-suite bathroom. “The doghouse?”
“And me with them?” There was definitely a wicked lilt to his voice.
“If the shoe fits.”
“I have exceptionally large feet.”
“Boasting ill becomes you.”
“Drama Queen.”
He followed her into the bathroom. Which would have mattered once, but like the Tardis, there was a lot more room inside than appeared on the outside. If the Tardis had been lined with white marble tiles and fitted with polished brass lever taps and support rails.
“It’s lucky I’m a well brought up young lady or I would have said a really nasty word.”
“What’s wrong with it? I made it just how you like it.”
“It’s big. I mean ginormous big. Where did the space come from?”
“There was a funny back corner office. Knock down one wall and hey presto. It didn’t get any light and I prefer my office closer to the kitchen.”
“Always hungry.”
“You know me so well.”
“I know for sure this is going to amuse you. Junior is pressing on my bladder.”
With an enthusiasm that was a little wearing, he had her on the pedestal in no time flat. “You can leave now.”
He looked down his long nose, with brows raised until she could have throttled him. Or kissed him. Or both. Just as well she wasn’t into erotic asphyxiation.
“This is about the, seeing you pee isn’t romantic thing, isn’t it?”
She dragged her mind back from a vision of Lucas Hall splayed naked on the bed apart from her favourite emerald green scarf around his throat. “Romance. Not happening here. Go.”
He was waiting right outside and could probably hear every last tinkle. She was sort of getting used to it after all these weeks. Come Monday when his housekeeper returned, he’d probably abdicate the responsibility and find himself at the other end of this mansion when she needed to go.
He did leave her alone when she was back in her wheelchair, muttering something about the meal. Even the walk-in robe was big enough to throw a party in. All her clothes were neatly hung on the low rails or folded onto easily accessible shelves. If a man could write an encryption program in hot demand by the leaders of the free world, he better be able to design a walk-in-robe. Or presumably instruct the renovator on what he wanted.
Sitting on the veranda, she reluctantly admitted he was winning her over. But it was only three weeks. Holidays don’t last that long and everything is a novelty. Now she was in his house it would be interesting to see how he handled it.
A low rumble of sound drew her attention to the garden. She’d noticed the mix of herbal scents as soon as she got out of the car. The whole front yard appeared to be devoted to herbs. Lucas moved around gathering bits and pieces. She recognised rosemary and something that looked like basil. If basil grew in the winter? It didn’t surprise her. He always used herbs in cooking, a legacy of his Italian grandmother. The weirdest thing was the humming. No-one could ever call him musical.
The sound stopped as he caught sight of her, elbows on the low rail of the veranda. “Would you like a posy?”
“What do you have?”
“I’ve got something for everything. Lavender?”
“Lovely.”
“If I remembered my Shakespeare I could stand here and quote the balcony scene.”
“You can remember forty zillion lines of code and can’t remember some of the most romantic lines in literature. Couldn’t you at least try? After all, you said you’ve been practicing conversation.”
“I’ve been watching a lot of cable in the U.S. as well. Oh well, here goes.” He struck a pose, one arm outstretched with a handful of leaves and the other on his heart. “But soft, what light though yonder window breaks. It is the East and Harriet is the sun.” He stopped, laughter in his eyes. “Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”
“It’s enough.” She blew him a smiling kiss and turned away, afraid to let him see how much he affected her.
Later that night, she wrapped her arm around his waist, listening to his regular breathing. He’d given her such a shock that evening in the shower she hadn’t known where to look. She expected him to leave once he settled her on the shower seat. When he’d unzipped and wandered over to the pedestal, she’d thought he was joking, until the sound of him urinating made it clear it wasn’t.
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No. It’s a solution to a dangerous problem.”
“How does that work?”
He’d sauntered back to lean on the wall by the shower, zipping u
p his fly as he came and washing his hands in the spray from the shower. Watching as she scrubbed. And not in a clinical way.
“It’s like this. I saw how you looked at me this afternoon after I did that romantic Shakespeare thing. You were ready to jump over the balcony and do me in the tansy.”
“How do you manage to make that sound even dirtier than it should be?”
“Natural talent.”
“I still don’t see how going to the bathroom with me in the same room is going to solve my…my uncontrollable lust for your…poetry.”
“Simple. You said seeing someone peeing makes them unromantic. Problem solved. I’m now totally unromantic. You can look at me, probably even totally naked, and all you would think is, I saw him pee in the bathroom. Not interesting.”
Totally naked. For a math genius he was great at painting pictures. “I think I’m going for the throttling.”
“Is that before or after?”
“Before or after what?”
“Kissing me.” He grinned lasciviously.
It was getting harder and harder not to laugh at him. “Are you reading my mind?”
“I hope so, if it involves kissing.”
“There’s no point.”
“You do remember there are other positions apart from missionary? You don’t have to have sex lying on your back.”
All sorts of erotic images raced across her mind, like a slide show of flesh tinted statuary. Mentally she crossed off anything that required kneeling. It still left some tantalising possibilities. Lucas never minded trying something new out in the past. He could laugh his way through the most awkward positions and still make her feel good.
He leaned over and pinched her nipples already beading with arousal. “I take it the whole peeing thing didn’t work.”
“Mentioning it is extremely unromantic.”
“I suppose pure unadulterated lust has nothing to do with romance. So, we’ve just proven the whole argument flawed.”
“If that’s your idea of scientific method, I’m surprised your program didn’t blow up the Pentagon.”
“If that’s what I wanted it to do, it would have. But I’m a peaceable man. I prefer to make love, not war.”
“I’m quite interested. Can you show me some empiric data to support that statement?”
Tell Me No Lies Page 17
