Teardrops glistened on her daughter’s flushed cheeks. “Dreams, Mummy, angry dreams. It was the bad man.”
“Oh, sweetie, hush.” She brushed her daughter’s damp hair from her forehead. “You know what we say about bad dreams,” she reminded Charlee, gentling her tone. She reached for her daughter’s pillow and turned it over, patting it down. “Now it’s your turn.”
Charlee’s tiny hand bunched into a fist, and she punched the pillow several times. “Squash, squash, go away.”
“That’s right. Turn the pillow. Squash the bad dream and it will go away.”
Tentative eyes the image of her father’s, and Mac’s, searched Leah’s face for reassurance. “It is gone, isn’t it, Mummy?”
Leah kissed the top of her daughter’s blonde curls, inhaling the sweet fragrance she knew so well. It fired every protective bone in her body. No one would hurt her child ever again. She offered Charlee a reassuring smile. “Sure is. Now down you go, back to sleep. I’ll leave the side light on, and that bad dream won’t dare come back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Mac’s strong voice reached from behind. “It wouldn’t dare come back with me here.”
Leah stiffened and instinctively shielded her daughter with her body. “Please keep your voice down.”
A wide-eyed Charlee stared at him. “You’re big.”
“So they tell me. Thought you might need some help. Bad dreams sometimes need a couple of warriors to vanquish them.” He offered Charlee a smile as he stepped into the room, and a tiny part of Leah melted. Why couldn’t Curtis have been more like him? Kind. Gentle. Fatherly. Charlee deserved that.
Then Leah remembered the real world.
With a soft sigh, Charlee settled, dark lashes shadowing her tiny face, her acceptance of another man in the house surprising Leah. “All gone now, Mummy.”
Leah’s heart swelled with love for her daughter. “Yes, sweetie, all gone. Back to sleep, but remember, I’m only in the kitchen if you need me.” Leah rose and walked to the doorway, bitter tension coiling inside when she thought of Mac’s unwelcome intrusion. Wasn’t that just like a Grainger? He walked in as if it was his automatic right to be there, and could be as charming as the devil when he wanted something. Just like Curtis. Leah wanted Mac gone. “Time to go,” she said to him with a soft plea.
“Sure, now that the demons are gone.”
She stepped into the hallway, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar and only the bedside lamp on. She flicked him a withering glare. “So how come you’re still here?”
“You know why.”
Even with Curtis, Leah had never felt so awkward. Mac loomed large and overpowering. She didn’t know what to do with him and certainly didn’t want him anywhere near Aroha Farm. Secrets had to be protected.
He talked about choices, but right now Leah knew she had none left. A heavy sigh slid from her chest as she turned toward the spare bedroom. “I’ll make up the spare bed.”
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. He just offered a suggestive slight arch of one brow.
That was enough to set her off. Hands on her hips, she rounded on him. “Just because you want to fulfill some familial role, don’t go getting any ideas of making it permanent, Mr. Grainger.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “As if I would.”
And that was her problem—the man made her more than nervous. A little frisson of heat sparked through her every time he came near, a sexual awareness she didn’t want to acknowledge. The man was a Grainger, and Grainger men were not reliable as far as she was concerned. She wanted safety and security, not the erotic surge of excitement he generated.
She jabbed a finger toward the closed door to the spare bedroom. “In there.”
Mac pushed open the door, and if Leah hadn’t been so darned furious, she might have laughed as she witnessed his horrified expression.
“You expect me to sleep in here?”
“I do.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, looking to the bed, then to her and back again to the bed. “It’s…”
“Small,” she finished for him.
“Try minute,” he countered.
With delight, Leah envisioned his long legs dangling over the end of the single bed. She forced her lips into a stiff smile. “You wanted to play happy families. I, however, did not promise it would be comfortable.”
Chapter Three
Nightmares filled Leah’s sleep, fears escalating and countering all reasonable thought, and as morning edged over the horizon and shards of light filtered from behind the curtain, exhaustion racked every part of her. Her head ached, her muscles were stiff and uncoordinated, yet she couldn’t take the day off. She had a debt to repay, and the faster she paid Mac Grainger, the quicker he would disappear from her life.
She hauled herself from bed, walked through to the kitchen and spied the door to his bedroom wide open.
“Mac?” Her call echoed through the expanding silence, his name uncomfortable on her tongue. At the doorway to his bedroom, she switched on the light, only to see the bed made, corners tucked in hospital-style, but no Mac. She turned to face her small kitchen. “Mac?”
Still nothing.
And he’d talked about her doing a runner. Perhaps the thought of hours toiling under the hot sun had turned him off the idea of familial fun after all. She smiled. Good. Now she could carry on and relax.
With no sign of him, nerves that had been stretched to breaking point finally eased, and she busied herself with her normal morning routine.
An hour later, with breakfast out of the way, she readied Charlee for kindergarten. She locked up the house and was down the front steps before she realized what was different. Mac’s car wasn’t there.
She breathed deeply. He truly had gone.
“Mummy” —Charlee tugged at her hand— “where’s the big man?”
“Gone, sweetheart.” They were safe, just the two of them.
“But he helped you fight my bad dream. Why can’t he stay?”
“Because…” Because in less than twenty-four hours, he made her want things she wasn’t sure she could cope with—things like passion and heat, and when Curtis died, she had vowed never to trust those feelings ever again.
Relieved that Charlee didn’t keep questioning her about Mac’s appearance and disappearance, she dropped her off at kindergarten, then returned home and headed straight into the grove to check the crop.
At this time of the year there was only a little light pruning to be done to remove small branches that grew toward the centre of the bush to allow the light to get to the fruit and help ripen it. She had no choice but to manage it on her own for now, but she’d be grateful when Howard Parker’s crew arrived to help with the picking.
She glanced toward the heavens and prayed the weather would stay warm and dry. The last thing she wanted was rain at harvest time.
About to walk through the small white wooden gate that led to the grove, already able to smell the pungent fragrance of her olives, Leah stalled at the intrusion of a shrill whistle that pierced the quiet.
But this was no avian morning chorus. Mac stood in her grove. Working! Whistling!
Her fingers curled over the fence posts as she watched him. Already stripped to the waist, he reached beneath an olive bush, tugging at the undergrowth, a soft sheen of perspiration slicking his taut muscles.
Leah’s insides did a flip, her mouth suddenly desert dry. Then she remembered what was most important. Where she was. Where he was. She stormed down the path. How dare he? She didn’t want him here. He had to go. This was her home, her safe place, and having Mac Grainger here made everything topsy-turvy. She came to a halt in front of him. “What are you doing here? Your car is gone.”
He offered her a cocky grin as he straightened and arched back, large hands massaging the base of his spine.
Leah swallowed as heated awareness tingled through her body. She tugged at the hem of her T-shirt
, suddenly out of her depth. She didn’t want to feel this. Or… Her gaze slid lower. Stop it!
“Morning to you too, sweetheart. I parked it out back.”
“You had no right. I thought you were gone. Why aren’t you? And don’t you sweetheart me. This is my grove, my house, my…”
His smile slipped. “Not quite.”
Leah’s hands curled as she wrestled to rein in her temper. “Damn you, Mac Grainger. You storm in here, take over. You may hold the debt, but this is my olive grove. I work here.”
“And I can’t?”
“That’s right.”
He shrugged, his attention abandoning her for a moment as he viewed the grove. He dragged a hand through his hair, an action he did often when he seemed to be considering his reply. It was also an action that highlighted his six-pack torso.
Stop. Stop. Leah found herself focusing on a tiny bead of sweat as it inched down his chest. Please stop!
Oh, this was bad. She was bad.
“Why not? You look like you need the help. This is too much work for one woman.”
Yeah, why not?
Leah shook her head. What was wrong with her? Twenty-four hours, and she was beginning to agree with him.
“From what I understand,” Mac said, “it’s only going to get busier. You need extra help.”
“I have a crew coming soon, so I don’t need you.” She also didn’t need to be seduced by another Grainger’s good looks and charm. His help came with far too high a price.
However, she could protest all she liked that it was because she wanted to protect Charlee, but truth was, she desperately needed to protect her heart. “Oh…you…you… Go away, Mac.” She waved her hand at him, as if, like a magician waving a wand, she could simply make him disappear. Trouble was, it didn’t work. “Just go. This is my home. I can’t work with you here, hovering, watching, waiting for me to make a mistake.”
“Tough. I’m not going anywhere. So get used to it.”
Between Mac’s stubborn refusal to back down and the constant uncertainty of whether she’d be able to keep the roof over their heads, Leah couldn’t take any more. And what about her secrets? They had to be kept, for Charlee’s sake.
Everything crowded in on her brain, overwhelming her. Too many things to do, too many bills, and all the time Mac checking up on her, his powerful presence a threat not just to her security, but to the part of her she had locked away.
She sank to her knees, dropped her head to her chest and just sat there. Then the tears launched.
Tears for everything.
For death. For the loss of hope and love, and what could have been. Dreams she had thought would come true. For loving a man who had failed her too many times to count.
And for how hard it had been.
She tugged her scarf from her head, and a tumble of curls fell across her eyes, mixing hair with tears.
Lost in misery, she barely noticed the touch of warm hands on her shoulders, drawing her from the bleakness.
“Leah?” Mac pulled her to her feet. Not one iota of humor shone in his dark eyes, but something strangely comforting that wrenched at the tenuous grip she had on her emotions. Suddenly, it became easier to simply give in to the strong arms holding her as warm fingers, their tips surprisingly roughened, threaded through her curls, cupping her head so that she snuggled into the curve of his shoulder.
Leah inhaled the hint of his masculine scent manipulating her olfactory senses, offering a hint of a life so different from the musky aroma she knew of earth and plants.
Then his lips slanted across hers in the barest of kisses, caressing the side of her cheek. Her eyes shuttered, fingertips trailing across his bare chest, sensitive to the race of his heartbeat, lost to a world of sensations she hadn’t felt for…
“No!” What the hell was she thinking? Doing? Leah stiffened her spine, every inch of her aware of the hard body against hers, the warmth it offered…and the comfort.
Cold comfort.
She backed up a fraction, shivering.
From shock? Or was it from lust?
She wouldn’t go there. The man shouldn’t be here. And she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be kissing him, kissing any man. And certainly not…liking it.
She needed him gone. “You can’t work here. You know nothing about this life. My life.”
He didn’t move but remained cool and calm, which only deepened her irritation. His jaw set, and the cold, hard businessman returned. “Who says? I’m not afraid of hard work. I know what’s involved. I always check out my opposition. Don’t you?”
Oh, dear God. She had to get rid of Mac Grainger, not think about his kisses. Definitely not those. And allowing him to work here, live here? She’d be nuts to agree.
“A little hard work never hurt anyone.” His gaze drifted down the path that led through the grove, then returned to her. Leah wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, because the moment he did, her body heated beyond boiling point, and despite her all her willpower not to let him affect her like that, she failed miserably.
“I’ve worked in worse places. I can learn, Leah. Teach me.”
After that day, Leah made sure Mac kept his distance. Each time he came close, she backed away. It didn’t stop the awareness, though she made sure she thrust that back to where it belonged, which was nowhere.
She didn’t want to teach Mac anything other than that she didn’t need him around, but she also realized the futility of arguing with this imposing stranger.
Because he was a stranger.
Oh, he’d kissed her…and to her shame and annoyance, she’d actually kissed him right back, but that didn’t mean she liked having him there. It had been a mistake, a temporary lapse of judgment, and no part of her admitting that she liked his kiss would make it right. It had been a bad move, very bad. One she was determined she wouldn’t repeat.
Several days later, Leah woke to a beautiful sunrise, and despite herself, she smiled. As she worked in the grove, she found herself singing.
Mac came up beside her and emptied his sack of cuttings into the bin several meters away. “You sound happy.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” she answered with a lightness in her voice that surprised her.
“And all is right with the world?”
“Soon will be.” As she stood in the grove, the sky cloudless, the sun a burnished gold high over the valley, everything seemed perfect. Beside her, Mac rested his hands on his hips, a broad smile on his face. Leah couldn’t help but admire the strength of him. He was sexy, muscled perfection. And so far, she’d managed to hold in check those pesky emotions that stirred big-time whenever he came close. She felt safer now…safer from her own wayward reactions.
Besides, she had to admit he worked hard, which in turn cut her workload down. And for that she had to be grateful.
She smiled up at him. Trouble was, he smiled right back, and an instantaneous jolt of heat galloped up and down her spine. Oops, and here she had been thinking she was in control. Apparently the wall she’d erected between them wasn’t as solid as she’d hoped.
She had to try harder. Had to keep her distance.
She stepped away, hugging her arms across her middle, as if a physical barrier might work better. “I’ve…got to get going.” Without looking back, because she so didn’t want to witness what was on Mac’s face or mirrored in those dark eyes of his, she hurried down to the far end of the row they’d been working in. This…this lust wasn’t allowed to happen. She wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t let her guard down. Or kiss him. Not again.
At different ends of the aisle, they worked in silence beneath the heat of a burgeoning summer. The fronds on the Pohutukawa trees brushed by the slight breeze lay scattered in a scarlet carpet around them. It would soon be Christmas.
At first Leah was grateful Mac didn’t try to talk to her, and she lost herself in her conundrum.
What had just happened?
Awareness, Leah. You reacted in that m
ale-versus-female way. It was natural and real.
No. No way. But as time ticked on, the silence got to her. He got to her.
She should have been stronger, known better and kept it business. No laughter, no light chatter, and definitely no smiles. Because when she smiled, he smiled back, and that was not good at all. Mac Grainger’s smiles did something to her. They reached inside her all the way to her heart.
“You can’t ignore me, Leah, I’m not going away.”
“Shame,” she said wrinkling her nose at him, “It’d be nice to be able to blink and poof, you’d disappear.” Then she wouldn’t have to think about kissing him or wanting to.
“Yeah, I know.”
Leah tugged at a stubborn weed beneath a bush.
“But you’re not angry just because I’m here, are you?”
“I…” She shot him a quick glance, then regretted it instantly as she noticed the sure knowledge in his eyes.
“You kissed me back,” he said.
Her cheeks colored, and it wasn’t from the heat of the sun. “I didn’t.”
“Did too.” His smile broadened.
She tugged harder at the recalcitrant weed and it finally sprang free. “You’re imagining things. The sun’s addled your brains, Mac Grainger.” Oh, you are such a liar, Leah.
She grabbed her weed bag and emptied the contents into the portable compost bin. “I do not want to talk about this.”
“Scaredy cat.”
“Oooh…” She turned away from him. Scared? Definitely.
Mac didn’t understand Leah.
So what’s new?
Having her in his arms had touched something deep, a vulnerability he hadn’t known before. His jaw tensed, and he hemmed in his errant emotions. Dumb-ass…
Maybe it was that he didn’t quite understand himself either!
She’d ignored him for days, which should have been a good thing. She was his brother’s widow, and knowing Curtis, Mac didn’t doubt that his brother was partially to blame for Leah’s attitude toward men. Toward him.
Secrets and Seductions Page 3
