by Sandy Curtis
The sob came again. A pitiful, shuddering sob that tore at Jenna’s heart. This time she could orientate the sound. It was coming from the room next to hers. She waited for someone to come and comfort the child. A minute or two passed and the sobs intensified. Jenna started to worry. She had always had a soft heart, especially where children were concerned. Why was the child being allowed to continue crying like that?
Jenna padded back to the bed and sat down. More minutes passed. Still the crying continued. Now she was getting very concerned. Surely someone could hear the child? Her patience, an ill-controlled virtue when she suffered from jet lag, snapped. She strode out of the room, blinked in the darker hallway, waited until her eyes adjusted, then walked into the adjoining bedroom.
But for two single beds replacing the double bed, the bedroom was a twin of the one she had just left. A small body lay curled on a bed in a tight ball, only the deep shuddering sobs moving the rigid back.
Jenna bit back her cry of compassion. Her footsteps silent on the thick carpet, she walked over to the bed. She leaned across and stroked the dark hair, making soothing, hushing sounds learnt from her own mother. The child’s sobs gradually lessened.
Suddenly the child drew sharply away and sat up, reaching for the bedlamp. As the soft glow outlined the child’s face Jenna could make out grey eyes similar to Braden Fleetwood’s. His daughter? Jenna tried to think, but she had no memory of Jeff having mentioned that Braden was married.
The thin face pinched in fear. Jenna’s heart contracted. Poor little thing, she must wonder who this stranger was coming into her bedroom in the middle of the night. In one gentle movement, Jenna sat on the edge of the bed, placed her hands in a non-threatening gesture on her lap, and smiled.
“It’s all right, Possum. I heard you crying and I was worried. I didn’t mean to startle you. I used to cry in my sleep when I was little, too,” she said softly.
At this shared secret the small face relaxed. The grey eyes, luminous with tears, looked beseechingly into Jenna’s. Even a heart of stone would have melted at the sadness in such young eyes, and Jenna’s heart had been marshmallow from birth. She held out her arms. The child hesitated, then, as though unable to bear the burden of being alone any longer, she collapsed against Jenna, the slight arms holding onto her with fierce determination.
Gentle, comforting words spilled from Jenna’s lips while her hands soothed the thin body. Poor child, so much torment. Jenna’s instinct and training told her that this display of despair was more than a normal upset.
The girl was only slight in build but Jenna judged her to be about four or five years old. She felt a surge of anger at Braden Fleetwood. How could he not have heard the girl crying. And what had happened to cause such pain to one so young? All Jenna’s protective instincts raged against the man who had apparently allowed this situation to occur.
Gradually she became aware that the child’s body was lying heavily against hers, the thin arms dropping away from her waist, her breathing was soft and regular against Jenna’s breast. She eased the slight body back against the pillows, then tenderly brushed the dark hair from the tear-stained face. She turned off the lamp, waited a few more minutes, still gently stroking the small forehead, then tiptoed from the room.
It was a swift, powerful dive. It took Braden more than half-way along the pool length. He surfaced, flexed his tense shoulder muscles, then relaxed into the strong measured strokes of a thousand ritualled mornings. He cursed the smallness of the pool, his body craving the more intense workout he gained in the larger pool at his Brisbane apartment.
The steady rhythm gradually eased the frustration the last week had brought. After Caitlin’s last disastrous meeting with her mother the doctors had urged him to give her a change of environment. Perhaps a change of scenery, new faces, new things to keep her mind off her mother would help ease the child’s traumatized emotions. Braden doubted that.
What the girl needed was a mother who could look at her with acceptance and joy, not with guilt and anguish. But he did as the doctors had advised. Luckily the work that had arisen in Sydney had been an ideal excuse for getting Jeff out of the penthouse so he could move Caitlin out of Brisbane.
He frowned as he ploughed through the water. It hadn’t worked. The girl had become more withdrawn, uncooperative. The doctors had warned him if she didn’t do her exercises the damage caused in the accident would become permanent. But try as he might to explain this to her, his cajoling, his promises of treats had made no difference. She allowed him to move her thin little body around but she refused to put in the effort needed to make the exercises a success.
He had hired a physiotherapist but the child had shrunk away, allowing no-one but Braden to touch her. Each day his frustration level grew. Heaven help him, he wasn’t very good with children, but he loved her and it broke his heart not to be able to help her.
Yesterday his housekeeper, Mrs Jenkins, had received word that her daughter had undergone emergency surgery. Her departure couldn’t have happened at a worse time. He had to go back to Brisbane today. He had a meeting that was crucial to the development of one of his companies' holdings in south-east Asia and there was no way he couldn’t be there. Which left him no alternative but to take Caitlin with him and have one of his secretaries look after her for the day.
Even this solution would present problems - Caitlin had become afraid of strangers. When he took her anywhere she clung to him like a limpet, her expressive eyes showing the fear of rejection he knew she anticipated. Which was why he could see no point in contacting the employment agency for a replacement housekeeper. Caitlin had only accepted Mrs Jenkins because she had always known her.
Well, at least he’d be able to give Jeff’s sister a lift back to Brisbane Airport. That was another problem he hadn’t needed yesterday. Jeff was a good employee, and Braden genuinely liked him. They had worked closely together at times and on business trips had socialized, though Jeff had never tried to take advantage of their burgeoning friendship, a fact Braden appreciated and approved of.
Jeff’s only problem was he liked women - and they liked him. Three of them had come looking for him this week, the last one crying when she’d been informed Jeff was gone and not likely to return. By the time Braden had calmed her and bundled her into a taxi he had lost patience with Jeff’s love life and was quite prepared to physically throw out the next female to turn up on his doorstep.
So when the sight of the curvaceous auburn-haired stranger in his doorway caused a reactive jerk in his groin, his frustration had erupted in anger, an anger that had him disgusted at himself for feeling aroused by one of Jeff’s girl-friends. That she had turned out to be Jeff’s sister was worse.
The image that had been left with him by the photo in Jeff’s wallet and the tales Jeff had told under the influence of a few drinks had no resemblance to the woman whose eyes had caught at his soul and left him breathless. Eyes so exactly the colour of a clear ocean on a sunny day he felt he was drowning in them. And her voice had a slightly husky timbre that sent shivers of desire up his spine.
When he had steadied her after she'd fallen asleep on his lounge he’d had to forcibly restrain his hand from creeping upwards to the temptation of her full breast. And when he'd covered her with the throw, her blouse had fallen to the side, and at the sight of creamy skin swelling from a lacy bra desire so intense he couldn't control its effects had erupted through him. It was a long time before he was able to get to sleep.
A movement at the side of the pool caught his eye. As though his thoughts had conjured her up, Jenna walked over to the high railings surrounding the perimeter of the penthouse courtyard.
CHAPTER THREE
As Jenna neared the railings and turned back to look at Braden, he reached the end of the pool and pulled himself from the water in one swift, graceful movement.
The sight of his near-naked body was like a physical blow. Her throat constricted and her stomach tensed into a knot. Spirals of heat fl
ooded through her, her nipples springing to life beneath the folds of silk. Never had she reacted this way to a man. Never with such instant need, such desire. She felt the colour rising in her cheeks and turned away as he walked over to a chair to pick up a towel.
She struggled to regain control over her body as she looked over the vertical railings to the wide expanse of river below. Virgin scrub and mangroves lay dark and mysterious on the opposite side. She concentrated on several small boats motoring along the river, breathed deeply in the cool early morning air, and waited for the blood to stop racing through her veins.
When she felt sufficiently in control of her body again she turned to face him. A large blue towel wrapped around his waist only seemed to accentuate the tanned, well-muscled chest and flat stomach. She pushed away the memory of the brief black swimmers and muscular thighs now hidden beneath the towel.
“I want to apologize for falling asleep like that.” How did her voice sound so normal? Nothing else about her felt normal, especially the erratic beat of her heart. “And thank you for giving me a bed for the night.”
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You were obviously exhausted. Jet lag and lack of sleep can do that to you.”
Jenna hesitated. She wanted to tell him about the girl’s crying, but she was a stranger here and it was really none of her business. And he didn’t look the kind of man who would take kindly to being told he was failing to notice his daughter’s needs. So she just nodded.
“Would you like to freshen up?” he offered.
“Yes, thank you.”
They walked back into the penthouse, Jenna acutely aware of every dark hair on his chest, the litheness in his walk, the power in the muscles under the gleaming tanned skin. Just as they walked through the dining room Braden turned to her.
“I have a business meeting in Brisbane this morning. I’m driving down so I’ll be able to give you a lift to the airport. You can phone before we leave and book a flight.”
Jenna realised her surprise was showing on her face. By what she had heard last night he needed a housekeeper to live-in to look after the girl. It was too early in the morning for him to have contacted an employment agency so how could he be leaving today unless he had found someone last night.
“Have you been able to get another housekeeper already?” she blurted out. “The girl ...” she faltered.
He raised a dark eyebrow at her.
“No, I’ll have to take Caitlin with me. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Jenna knew he was right, but he scowled at her again and her temper, already frayed from jet lag and being awake since she’d left Caitlin, flared.
“It might not be any of my business, but you can’t drag that child around to a business meeting. She’s far too upset.”
“What would you know about it?” Anger darkened his grey eyes and iced his voice and Jenna realised she was treading on dangerous ground. She tried to make him understand her concerns about the child.
“She was crying in her sleep last night. I waited for someone to go to her but when no-one did I couldn’t stand it and I went in. She woke up. She looked so miserable, poor little thing. So sad.”
A look of anguish wiped the anger from Braden’s face. He spun round and strode into the kitchen, then looked around as though trying to find an answer to his own and the child’s pain. He pulled open the refrigerator door, grabbed a container of orange juice, filled a glass and drank it without stopping, his face still turned away from Jenna.
Jenna was at a loss to know what to do. Whatever pain the child felt was shared by this man who was so obviously unable to find a solution for both of them. She stood, irresolute, then glanced down in surprise as a small warm hand slipped into hers. Caitlin was looking up at her, the grey eyes huge in her small face. A rush of affection melted through Jenna. She dropped to one knee and scooped the child into her arms.
“Hello, Possum.” She felt the small body let out a shuddering sigh and Caitlin’s arms slid around her as she rose.
She glanced up to see a look of sheer amazement on Braden’s face. Puzzled, she looked a question at him. But he said nothing, just continued to stare as Caitlin held Jenna in a tight hug. Jenna could almost feel the vibrations emanating from him. Baffled, she walked to the table and sat down on a chair. She eased Caitlin slightly away from her.
“Would you like an orange juice, Possum?” she asked. The child nodded. Jenna looked across at Braden. He appeared to have recovered his composure and swiftly poured the juice and handed the glass to Caitlin. He sat down on another chair.
“Caitlin, do you like Jinx?” he asked softly. Jenna glared at him. “... ah, Jenna.” he amended. The child looked at him, then at Jenna, her expression serious. She nodded emphatically. Braden let out a soft sigh. Jenna sat quietly, aware that something very important had happened but perplexed as to what it was. Tenderness softened the strong angles of Braden’s face as he looked at Caitlin and Jenna was astounded to find herself wishing he would look at her like that.
Braden waited until Caitlin had finished the orange juice, then spoke quietly to her. “How about changing out of your pyjamas and dressing while I get breakfast ready.”
Caitlin nodded again. She slid gently out of Jenna’s arms and steadied herself gingerly on the floor. Jenna watched the child limp from the room, her right leg dragging slightly across the tiles. She turned to Braden. He was looking at her with the suspicion and incredulity of someone who had just seen witchcraft performed - seeing but not believing.
“Why did you call her Possum?”
“My mother used to call me that when I was little,” she replied, bewildered by his strange reaction. “She said I clung to her like a little possum. Why?”
“Alicia calls her that.” He saw Jenna’s face lift in query. “Alicia is Caitlin’s mother.” He sat for a minute, deep in thought, while Jenna contemplated the suddenly dismal fact that Braden was, as she suspected, married.
“Do you have to fly back to Sydney today?” he asked.
Startled by his sudden change of topic Jenna shook her head. “There’s no urgency. Why?”
“I’d like to hire you to stay here and look after Caitlin until Mrs Jenkins returns. Caitlin obviously likes you, and God knows you’re the first person she’s related to since the accident.” He rubbed at his forehead as though immeasurably weary and Jenna felt the same compassion for him as she had for the child.
“I like your daughter, Mr Fleetwood, but ...”
“Caitlin’s not my daughter.” he interrupted. “She’s my niece. Look, I’ll explain fully later. But I must know before she comes back. Will you stay? I’ll pay twice the going rate.”
Jenna hesitated. With her parents away there was no pressing need to fly to Sydney straight away, she wouldn't be starting her new position for six weeks, and the child obviously needed someone to care for her. She remembered the pain and sadness in those young eyes.
But the thought of living under the same roof with Braden Fleetwood was fraught with problems. How could she maintain a cool employer/employee relationship with him when the very sight of him sent her body tingling all over. No, it was impossible. But still she hesitated, the feel of Caitlin’s little arms still warm around her neck.
He apparently took her silence as affirmation because he stood up and spoke with evident relief.
“Mrs Jenkins won’t be back for five weeks. I’ll show you the layout of the penthouse after breakfast and then I’ll have to leave for Brisbane.” He hesitated. “You should also be aware that Caitlin hasn’t spoken since the accident. I’ll fill you in on the details later,” he finished quietly as Caitlin limped back into the room.
Caitlin's grey eyes looked trustingly up at Jenna. Jenna felt an overwhelming urge to hug the child to her and soothe away the sadness from the small face. She glanced across to Braden, and her heart lurched, her compassion joining with another, more intense emotion, a yearning, a need, to know more about this man. As Br
aden reached down and smoothed the dark hair from the child's forehead, Jenna knew she'd made her decision. She would stay.
“Alicia, Caitlin’s mother, is my sister. She was married to David James. Caitlin is their only child. Some months ago they were driving home at night when a drunk ploughed his four wheel drive into their car. David was killed outright. Alicia had minor injuries. Caitlin sustained injuries to her hip and right leg.”
Braden’s voice was almost impersonal as he stood in the courtyard between the dining room and the swimming pool. Only a muscle clenching in his jaw betrayed his feelings as he looked back inside to where Caitlin was propped on the lounge watching Sesame Street on television.
“Alicia was in the room when the doctor came to change the dressings on Caitlin’s hip and leg. Alicia’s always been over-sensitive, nervous. I think she was still in shock from David’s death. When she saw Caitlin’s injuries something snapped in her mind. She started screaming. She just stood there screaming until they dragged her from the room and sedated her. She had a complete breakdown. Caitlin hasn’t spoken a word since.”
He turned and looked at Jenna. “I booked Alicia into a private mental hospital and she appeared to be making good progress. Caitlin was refusing to co-operate with the physiotherapist - she wouldn’t do the exercises necessary to rebuild the muscles in her leg."
Jenna watched his eyes flicker with pain, and her heart clenched in sympathy. Then, in a voice that betrayed his inability to keep his emotions so tightly leashed, he continued.
"Passive resistance. No protest, no kicking, no screaming, she just lay there and let her body go limp. So the psychiatrist thought it might help if she saw Alicia, saw that her mother was getting back to normal."
He paused so long Jenna realised he was mentally reliving those events. She could sense his frustration at being unable to prevent the tragedy that had happened to his loved ones.
"It was a disaster. As soon as Alicia saw Caitlin limping she started crying. Perhaps she felt guilty that she had survived intact and her daughter was scarred for life. Who knows? But it made Caitlin retreat even further into herself. She wouldn’t even look at her mother.”
