“Sure thing, Mr. Grainger.”
“Just make sure she doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“No problem.”
Reassured Leah wouldn’t be able to run out on this one, he disconnected the call, pushed up from his chair, stretched and surveyed the view of the downtown.
One hundred and fifty years ago, the area had been ocean, until the city’s forefather’s reclaimed it from the sea so the shallow harbor could host the large ships bringing immigrants from across the globe. Now it bustled with life and vitality.
As Mac took in the view of a city built on volcanoes, he couldn’t help but wonder what his forefathers would think now of this sprawling metropolis with its Polynesian flavor.
From his vantage point he spied the Sky Tower, and a sense of satisfaction settled over him. A mecca for casinos and fine dining, the tower was the only building taller than his. Years ago when he’d first left school and traveled to the city from his family home on the northern shores of the city the only high rise in the city was four stories high. How life had changed. And he too had come a long way in a few short years. The bad boy had definitely done good.
He was an uncle now and had responsibilities.
He turned from the million-dollar view. Yes, he’d achieved everything he’d set out to do. Almost.
Now it was time to put part two of his plan into place.
Chapter Two
The drive home passed in a blur of tears.
Why did Mac Grainger want to get to know Charlee?
A tumble of reasons scattered around in Leah’s brain.
He said he wanted to rekindle family ties, but what concerned her more was what Curtis might have said in his email.
Married as a naïve twenty-year-old consumed by her first passion, she’d been oblivious to the real Curtis until it was too late. “What a fool I was,” she sniffed as she directed her battered pickup to the freeway off-ramp.
A blind fool. She’d believed everything Curtis had said. She’d signed everything, and look where it got her. Dead broke, with her olive grove mortgaged to the hilt, praying that as the crop reached maturity at last, she would be able to pay off the crippling debt.
But Charlee always came first.
From the day her daughter had arrived, Leah declared she would give the little girl the security and sanctuary of a stable home, something Leah had never had.
Now Curtis’s brother wanted to be a part of her daughter’s life. Could she trust him? Trust a Grainger? How like Curtis was he?
Through the winding countryside that was in fact only thirty minutes from the heart of the city, Leah ignored the beautiful setting. Normally the sway of the towering palms and the sight of the luxuriant scarlet flowers of the Pohutukawa trees brought a smile to her face, but today she could see only Mac Grainger’s cold eyes and her future being torn from her. She cruised the last fifty meters up the driveway and brought the vehicle to a halt in the courtyard outside her tumbledown villa. She switched off the engine, but nothing could stifle her mounting panic.
What was she going to do?
Stay and fight? Or run? And where to?
With more questions than answers, she scrambled from the vehicle. Charlee would be home soon after an extended playdate with her friend Matty’s children, and she had to get rid of her tears. There was no way she’d let Charlee see she’d been crying.
In a brain fog, Leah cooked dinner for the two of them, and once she’d settled Charlee for the night, she headed outside. An evening hush had settled over her tiny part of the world, the last heat of the day sending up rippling waves from the verdant valley. Row upon row of olive trees stood sentinel, their dusky green leaves sparkling under the sun-shower they’d had earlier. She found herself smiling at the leafy acres spread out before her, relishing the tranquility of it all. It refueled her determination. She would do her grandfather proud.
Just for a moment, she shut her eyes, the scratchy sound of cicadas her only companion.
“Enough daydreaming…” Her eyes flicked open. Climbing onto the deck of the pickup, she began to unload the last of the olive shrubs she’d not had time to shift the day before. It was time to put aside big problems like Mac Grainger. She needed to think, and hard work had always helped her think, or else the rising terror would take over.
After hefting the first of the bushes from the pickup, she placed it by the fenced entrance to the grove, then climbed back up on the vehicle for the next one. She hoisted it on her hip and turned to get off.
“Need a hand?”
Mac Grainger leant against the porch railing, arms folded across his broad chest. He stared at her, full mouth curling at the corners.
Leah swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat.
He’d changed from the suit he’d worn at his office into a pair of jeans and Polo shirt, making him appear deceptively approachable. Almost—because Leah knew Mac Grainger wasn’t a man to toy with.
A few yards behind him, parked beneath the copse of cabbage trees, was a red Ferrari. Expensive, classic, with a hint of the devil. She shouldn’t have expected anything different.
Leah backed up a step, hoping the shadow cast from the overhanging trees would hide the shock she felt heating her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“Exactly what I said I would. I take my role as uncle seriously.”
The bush she’d been holding slid from her grip and landed at her feet. “You can’t just walk in here any time you like. This is my property. I’ll…”
He stepped away from the porch and took a few steps toward her. “I’m not going away, Leah. We need to talk.”
She glanced to the house. Charlee, please stay asleep. “Not now. Not here,” she countered.
He came another step closer. “You can’t run away.”
Could he read her mind?
“You don’t get a choice, Leah,” he reminded her.
Choice. That word highlighted their differences. Rich versus stone broke.
“We can talk here,” she prevaricated.
“We could, but we won’t.”
“Pardon?”
“Look, why make this harder than it has to be?”
“It’s already hard. I don’t want you here.”
“And I told you I’m not going away. So I guess we’re at an impasse.”
For the count of several heartbeats, his dark eyes held her captive. He wasn’t about to budge. Somehow she had to get him on her side and appeal to his better nature.
Did he have one?
Of that, Leah wasn’t certain. He was, after all, Curtis’s brother.
Steadying her nerves, she exhaled a choppy breath and wiped her hands down her jeans. She hooked her gaze with his, tilting her chin up a tad higher. “Five minutes. That’s all. Then you go.”
She jumped off the back of the pickup and walked right past him, refusing to offer a whiff of weakness, even though resignation soured in her stomach and desperation constricted every breath. She took the front steps two at a time up to the wooden porch, where she peeled off her gumboots, entered her house and switched the light on in the entry hall.
A crackle of electricity exploded above her, a current shooting from her fingertips and up her arm. “Ouch.” She yanked her hand back. The bulb above flickered momentarily, then a loud popping sound bounced off the walls, and the bulb died, sending the hall into darkness. “Damn.”
“Problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she snapped. Darn it. How many more bulbs would blow? “I might as well take out shares in the company that makes those blasted bulbs,” she grumbled. “It’s an old house and dates back to the eighteen hundreds. There’s bound to be…problems,” she said, unsure why she was trying to explain the shortcomings of her dilapidated house.
“So get them fixed,” he countered.
If only it were that easy.
“Follow me.” She beckoned to Mac and led him down the hallway and into the welcoming kitchen-cum-dining-an
d-lounge area, grateful no more bulbs exploded overhead.
Leah knew he followed. She felt him right behind her, just as she’d done when she’d left his office. It was a sensation that was disconcerting and scarily exciting at the same time. Mac Grainger didn’t exactly frighten her, though she was uncertain what he really knew or didn’t know about Charlee. But she did, however, fear his power and what he could take away.
A coffee, a chat, then she’d see him out. Easy.
Confident she could cope with at least that, she washed her hands at the sink, wiped them on the towel she kept close by and busied herself in the kitchen. She reached for two mugs from a cupboard and, without asking him, tossed a spoonful of coffee into each. “Sugar?” she queried, holding a sugar bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.
He shook his head.
He stood at the entrance to her tiny kitchen, so close that heat burned off him. Her mouth dried, and she slid her tongue across parted lips, only to catch him watching her like a falcon focused on its prey.
“You don’t have to stand guard, Mr. Grainger. I’m not running.”
“Yet,” he answered smoothly.
Nerves spun taut, her fragile control tilted precariously. She directed her attention to the steam rising from the kettle, though her awareness of him burgeoned as she tried desperately to remember what, if anything, Curtis had said about him. Though in truth, her husband’s brother had barely rated a mention during their marriage, and while Curtis had been good-looking, charming her easily, Mac doubled the quota in the good-looks department. She peered at him through the wispy steam rising from the kettle.
He was tall, imposing and sexy as hell, and even though it shouldn’t, her heart did a flurry of flip-flops.
Don’t let him charm you, Leah!
The kettle’s reedy whistle echoed across the silence, breaking her thoughts, which was just as well. Those sorts of thoughts weren’t a good idea, and she chastised herself for even noticing him.
She filled both cups and handed one to him, holding hers with both hands so he wouldn’t see them shaking. She walked right past him and back into her tiny lounge and stood beside the rough-hewn table. “I’m not letting you walk in here on a whim, so you can get that idea right out of your head, Mr. Grainger.”
He took a sip from his coffee, his expression unreadable. “Tough. Curtis asked me to look out for her.”
Leah’s heart constricted. “Why?”
“Because I’m his brother and Charlee’s uncle.”
Focusing on keeping her voice calm and controlled, she put her cup down on the table. “And I was his wife. As far as I’m aware, you’ve never been around, too busy for family. Curtis died weeks ago. Where were you then?”
Instead of answering her, he scanned the room, and Leah found herself bristling, knowing what he saw: the faded and peeled paintwork, a tired house in need of repair.
She challenged him with an upward flick of her chin. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
His gaze returned to her, his mouth severe. “Not quite.”
“Pardon?”
“Running this place must take a lot of time, energy and money.” He pointed toward her mail scattered on the table. The mail she didn’t want to read. Bills she couldn’t pay.
“I’m not complaining.”
“Borrowing money, spending it when you know you can’t pay it back.” He wagged a finger at her as if she were a spoilt child. “Tut, tut.”
A sting of heat curled across her skin. “That’s not true.”
“I’m no fool. You’re Curtis’s wife.”
“His widow,” she corrected.
“He said you never had enough money.”
Leah met Mac’s gaze full on. Big mistake. He stepped closer. Not so close that he touched her, but still too close, his expression unyielding and full of condemnation.
But it was her reaction to him that scared her the most. The awareness that fired up all over again. She shook her head, willing away thoughts that had no right being there, and backed up.
“I’ve seen the loan documents, Leah. Your signature is quite clear, and according to an interesting conversation I had with Curtis’s solicitor, your big problem runs into five digits.”
Leah’s shoulders slumped, and Mac bit out a harsh laugh, his tone as arrogant and brutal as the expression he wore. “Finally, I’ve got your attention.”
“You have no right to nose into something that doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re wrong. As Charlee’s uncle, I’ve made it my business. I promised Curtis to look out for his daughter.”
“His… Curtis barely registered her existence.”
Mac frowned, but even her uttering the truth didn’t swerve him from his self-proclaimed purpose. “I always keep my promises. Your husband insinuated certain…allegations.”
Her heartbeat skidded to a standstill. “Rubbish.” But she had to ask. “About what?”
“That you’re not a fit mother.”
Leah threw her hands up, then shoved back the hair that had fallen across her eyes. Her palms were sweaty, and a sticky sheen of nervous perspiration slicked across her pores. “That’s ridiculous. Curtis was sick and not in his right mind.”
“That’s your story, but don’t worry, I intend to find out the truth.”
“Charlee is my daughter,” she said glancing toward the closed bedroom door where she prayed her daughter would stay sleeping. Her heart ached for her little girl. “I would never harm her.”
He leaned toward her, his voice a threatening rumble, and Leah’s breath stalled in her chest. “You’d better not. I’m not prepared to watch my niece suffer because of your negligence.”
Negligence. She jerked back bodily, anger spiraling to every part of her. “How dare you! Charlee has never suffered. Never. She has security here.”
“Are you sure? You owe thousands you can’t repay. How secure is your home when the bank is on your tail?”
Money. Always about money. Leah shook her head, and her eyes shuttered for a moment, a brief chance to wish it all away. To be safe.
“The bank is about to foreclose, Leah. You need me.”
Her eyes flashed open. “Like hell. I’ll never need a Grainger again.”
“Such protest. But then what would you do to save Aroha Farm?”
Anything! She’d stayed, despite the years of Curtis’s abuse, his threats to take Charlee from her. Didn’t that prove it?
And now Curtis’s brother seemingly spoke the same language.
“Taking a moment to decide?” he berated her.
But Leah refused to rise to his bait. She didn’t know how he’d react. Curtis would have taunted her, and she’d learned early in their marriage that reaction brought brutal consequences. How could she know his brother wouldn’t react in the same way? She couldn’t take the chance. “The farm is all I have.”
“And if you lose that, how will you care for Charlee?”
Yes, how? Leah had asked herself that question in the quiet hours of night when the worry wouldn’t go away. So far, she’d come up with no real solution.
“You need my money.”
She glanced through the french doors in the darkening of the summer evening, and her heart swelled with pride as she viewed row upon row of her olives. “What I need is to bring in my harvest. Then I can settle the debt.” And she would be free at last. She turned back to face him, grim determination holding her steadfast. “I don’t want Grainger money.”
For a moment, Mac’s dark, almost obsidian gaze bored into her, but with the downward slice of lashes as jet black as his hair, every ounce of emotion evaporated. “Then you’ve a problem,” he said, pulling himself to his full height, “because you see, you’ve no choice. I’ve bought your debt from the bank. I’m your new business partner.”
Shock clamped around Leah’s heart. She couldn’t breathe, too scared to. She clutched at her throat as if that would release oxygen into her lungs. It didn’t. “You can’t
do that,” she finally exhaled as his words slammed into her conscious.
“Says who?”
“But why? I’m nothing to you. We’ve never even met.”
“Call it taking precautions.”
“Against what?”
“Against you doing a disappearing act with my niece. Now all you have to worry about, sweetheart,” he said, his breath scalding a path over her icy skin as he leaned close, eyes glittering with the satisfaction of the hunt, “is me.”
The butterflies in Leah’s belly sank to the bottom. “Why? You’ve had no contact for years. You can’t be serious.” Her raised voice echoed the length of the compact lounge. “Is this some sort of familial revenge?”
“As I said, it’s a done deal.”
Leah reined in her fury, trying for reason. “Then undo it.”
“No can do. When I set my mind to something, I follow through. You might have been able to fool my brother, but not me. You used to owe the bank; now you owe me. You see, I don’t gamble unless it’s a sure thing.” His lips curled. “I’m not going anywhere, Leah. And since I own half the land and half the house, I intend to stick around and keep an eye on you. Oh, and just to make sure, I’m moving in.”
“What? That’s impossible.”
“No it’s not. This document” —he reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a piece of paper, then waved it in front of her— “says exactly that.”
Leah snatched it from his fingers, scanning words that barely made sense. She tossed it to the table where it landed across her bills, an irony she didn’t miss despite her fractured nerves and the imprisoning disaster unfolding with each breath. “What do you know about olive growing?”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“When the harvest comes in, I can pay you back. You don’t have to move in.” Her voice cracked with incredulity while the roar in her head escalated. Aroha Farm was her solace against the world, against her past, for both her and Charlee. Having Mac Grainger in her house was unthinkable.
“Mummy, Mummy.”
Charlee!
The walls of Leah’s sanctuary came crashing down as the cry she had so desperately not wanted to hear reached from behind a closed door. She shoved past Mac, ran down the hallway, pushed open the door and turned on the light. She hunkered beside the pink-painted wrought-iron bed, gathering her daughter in her arms and breathing in her sweet innocence. “What is it, darling?”
Secrets and Seductions Page 2
