Any hope that Luca might not have heard was dashed when Polly had a quick peep in the rear-view mirror and met his enigmatic dark gaze. She had the eerie feeling that he could see inside her right to her soul. Frightened, she dragged her gaze away and tried to compose herself.
‘You didn’t ask for this to happen, Kate,’ Polly murmured after a moment, focusing on the road and reminding herself not to look at Luca again. ‘And there was nowhere else I would have wanted to be but here with you when you were going through this.’
‘Bless you, my love.’ Kate’s voice sounded heavy with emotion. ‘You can deny it all you like, but you’ve done so much for me these last weeks.’
‘A mere blip compared with all you have done for me all my life, not just as my godmother but my friend,’ Polly replied, hugely relieved when Kate changed direction.
‘Jem was my main worry. How can a ten-year-old get to grips with something like this? But he’s been tremendous.’ Kate half turned in her seat to bring Luca into the conversation. ‘Having raised my son alone, I have every admiration for you, Luca. I understand you have twin girls? I imagine that’s double the trouble.’
‘They can be a handful. And they gang up on me to get their own way!’ he confided with a chuckle.
Polly heard the amusement and the love in Luca’s voice and a new, even larger lump formed in her throat. Staffroom gossip had furnished the information that Luca’s wife had died having the twins. She had tried not to think about the pain he had gone through, tried, too, not to think about two girls without their mother, of the parallels—and differences—with her childhood, and of now and what never could be. Countless times she had told herself not to think of Luca at all, or of his girls, forcing herself to ignore and resist the undeniable attraction she felt but which she knew could never come to anything. But nothing worked. She could not put him out of her mind.
‘How old are your girls, Luca?’ Kate was asking now, and Polly braced herself against the smart of hurt that she knew would come, along with the despair and the longing and the insidious nagging guilt.
‘Rosie and Toni are three—and they’d insist I add the allimportant “three-quarters”.’ Another throaty, sexy chuckle rumbled from his chest, and despite the riot of emotions roiling within her, the sound teased her, inflaming every nerve ending. ‘They’ll be four in January.’
‘Ah. I see.’
Polly heard the tone of Kate’s voice and knew she was looking at her, but she stared studiously ahead, refusing to react, scared in case she made a fool of herself in front of Luca. A silence fell, one that now felt charged, and Polly was uncomfortably aware of Luca behind her, concerned in case anything Kate had divulged would register with him. Her pulse was rapid, she could feel it throb at the base of her neck, and her chest felt tighter and tighter as she tried to contain the confusing mixture of feelings that threatened to press in on her. Old memories and old pain, stirred up by her return to Penhally, clashed with more recent heartbreak and turmoil. And now, thrown into the cauldron to be jumbled up with the rest, was everything relating to Luca…
The unwanted attraction.
The assault on her senses.
And his daughters.
She needed desperately to be alone right now to sort things through in her head and get her emotions and her memories under control. Hopefully the remainder of the journey back to Penhally would be completed quickly and without further incident. But they had barely covered another mile when Kate spoke again.
‘Lilacs!’
Taken completely by surprise, Polly frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your scent. I knew I recognised it, but it’s been such a long time since I smelled it,’ Kate told her. ‘It’s just hit me. Lilacs—it’s what your mother used to wear.’
‘Yes.’
The whispered word escaped her lips. So many things about her mother had faded from her memory and she hated it that she could not draw on more, that she had nothing more of her to touch and to remember, that she could not even recall her face. But she had only been four when her mother had died. She did remember the lilacs, and all her life their scent had reminded her of the mother she had loved so much and lost so young. It was something she could wrap herself in, like an invisible comfort blanket. She had worn it since she had struck out on her own when she had been seventeen, trying to keep what she could of her mother close to her.
Kate reached out again and lightly brushed her arm. ‘Yvonne would have been so proud of you, my love. Just as I am. As if you were my own daughter.’
Polly was unable to force any response past the restriction in her throat, and her fingers tightened around the steeringwheel as she fought back the sudden tears that threatened to blur her vision.
‘When I feel up to it, Rob’s going to help me go through the stuff I’ve been hoarding in the attic,’ Kate continued, resting her head back against the seat, her tiredness evident. ‘There are some things there that I packed away a long time ago—now you might like to have them.’
Polly sucked in a ragged breath, trying to steady herself and not be too hopeful in case of further disappointment. ‘Kate, do you have any photos of my mother?’
‘I know there are some amongst the attic treasures. If there are any you haven’t already got, I can get you some copies done,’ Kate offered.
‘I don’t have any.’
Sitting cramped in the back of the too-small car, Luca had to strain to hear Polly’s words she was talking so quietly. Kate turned to look at her and, in profile, he saw her frown of confusion. ‘Your mum had albums full of photos. She loved them. You used to sit on her lap and beg her to tell you the stories behind each one. Don’t you remember?’
Polly nodded, but Luca saw her knuckles whiten as she clung to the steering-wheel. From where he was sitting, he could see the reflection of part of her face, but he was well aware of her tension, could hear it in her voice. It had been there when Kate had asked him about the twins, increasing when he had spoken of their ages, puzzling him, but it had now intensified and he felt the emotion coming off Polly in waves. She hid it well, but it unsettled him that he knew how she was feeling, unsettled him, too, that despite knowing he should leave well alone and keep away from Polly, he wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to unravel her mysteries and find out what was wrong. He had no idea what was upsetting her but it felt, to him, as if she was at the end of her tether.
‘I’d love to see those albums again,’ Kate continued, apparently oblivious of Polly’s inner distress, although it was shouting out at him. ‘Do you have them?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. Whatever could have happened to them?’ Kate mused.
Luca wanted to tell Kate to stop. Could she not see that her questions were upsetting Polly?
He leaned forward, catching the sweetness of Polly’s scent, able to identify it now, learning the significance of it for Polly. Her hands were still tightly clenched and her face was pale. She headed the car down the hill and into the centre of Penhally to the sea, before turning left out of Bridge Street and into Harbour Road, driving around half of the horseshoeshaped seafront. As they neared the surgery, Polly turned left again and, within moments they had covered the short distance up to Kate’s house and were drawing into the kerb outside.
‘Polly? What is it?’
The anxiety in Kate’s voice alerted him, and Luca shifted closer.
For a moment Polly sat still, staring straight ahead. Then she spoke. ‘The albums. He burned them.’
Although the words were whispered, they seemed to echo loudly in the confines of the car.
‘Oh, Polly.’ Kate sucked in a breath, pressing one hand to her throat, her other hand once more going out to rest on Polly’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, my love. I never thought.’
Polly shook her head and scrambled out of the car. As Kate rummaged in her handbag, Luca opened the rear door and, feeling a bit like a sardine escaping a tin can, he eased himself out and stretched his l
imbs. He and Polly reached for the passenger door’s handle at the same moment. The brief brush of flesh on flesh before Polly snatched her hand away was enough to leave him feeling singed, sending a charge of electricity and desire shooting through him. Dio! He had to get a grip.
As Polly stood back, clearly not wanting a repetition, any more than he did, he opened the door for Kate and held out his hand to help her out. ‘Thank you, Luca.’ The older woman smiled up at him, but he could see how exhausted she was.
He was surprised when Kate lingered, maintaining her hold on his arm. In her free hand she had her keys, and she held them out to Polly.
‘Would you mind getting the front door open for me?’ she asked.
Polly looked puzzled but did as Kate asked. ‘No problem,’ she agreed, taking the keys.
When Polly had crossed the pavement and opened the gate, Kate turned to him. ‘Luca, watch out for Polly.’
No matter how many times he told himself he wanted nothing to do with Polly beyond a friendly working relationship, with each moment spent in her company, he wanted to know more about her. The nagging feeling persisted that beneath her serene exterior something wasn’t right—and now, hearing Kate’s concern, he knew he would not be able to keep his distance.
The relationship between Polly and Kate was a very close and special one. From the conversation in the car, and the fact that Kate was Polly’s godmother, it was obvious that Kate had been friends with Polly’s mother and, of course, had known Polly as a child. What had happened back then? Why was Polly upset? And who had burned something Polly had treasured?
The more he found out about Polly, the less he knew and the more questions he had that needed answers. Why had Polly left the village all those years ago? All this time later, Kate had persuaded a reluctant Polly to come back to Penhally. Why now? And why had Polly needed persuading?
‘Kate?’ Polly called from the porch at the front of the pretty, whitewashed cottage.
‘Just a minute, my love.’
Luca looked round at the exchange, his gaze resting on Polly. Even across the distance that separated them he could see the confusion and anxiety evident on her face. She looked small and fragile and exquisitely lovely. The heart he had been sure would never feel anything again clenched inside him. He should walk away. Before the twins got involved or anyone was hurt. Now, while he still could.
‘Luca?’
Dragging his gaze from Polly, he looked down into Kate’s eyes, seeing the worry and the plea in their depths, and he found himself nodding his head without making a conscious effort to do so.
‘Thank you.’
Having secured his acceptance, Kate walked slowly up the path to join Polly. At the door, the two women hugged and as they drew back he saw Kate rest the palm of one hand against Polly’s cheek. He couldn’t hear what words were spoken, but everything about Polly’s tiny frame screamed of aloneness and inner unhappiness. He had enough to contend with, coming to terms with what Elaine had done and giving everything to care for the girls as they began this new chapter of their lives in Penhally. There was no room for anything or anyone else.
But as Polly walked back down the path towards him, sapphire-blue eyes reflecting her confusion, unease and the awareness she was fighting as hard as he was, he knew he was already in too deep and that it was now too late to turn back.
CHAPTER FOUR
TOSAY she’d had reservations when Nick had sprung the young persons’ drop-in clinic on her so soon after her arrival would have been an understatement, Polly admitted. Aside from being new to the medical team and not wanting to step on anyone’s toes, there had been a nagging concern in the back of her mind that working closely with young teens here in Penhally might trigger memories she would sooner remain buried in the past where they belonged.
Having once committed to the project, however, Polly had thrown herself into it wholeheartedly. The surgery’s community room was used for various groups and activities on different days of the week, including the new rape crisis centre, which Nick’s niece, Charlotte, ran on a Wednesday. Furnished like a common room or large living room, with sofas and armchairs and occasional tables, it was an ideal venue for the teenagers, helping them feel relaxed and comfortable.
From the first day the clinic had opened in early August, it had been obvious that it had struck a chord with the local youth. More people came each week, and while some just looked around and took a few leaflets, others stayed, asked questions and joined in group discussions. A few took the opportunity for an informal but confidential chat in the private room next door about a wide range of things bothering them, from medical or emotional issues to family, friends or school problems.
Distracted, Polly stared out of the window, wondering what she would have done had a clinic like this been available when she had been a teenager. Her throat tightened, and she wrapped her arms around herself. There had been no similar resource back then. And with Reg preventing her from having regular access to Kate, the one person she might have been able to talk to, Polly had coped alone. With hindsight some of her choices had been poor ones, but she had survived. Sort of. She struggled to push back the past, refusing to let it take hold of her.
She dragged her focus back to today. It had been the busiest Saturday so far, and she had been grateful for an extra pair of hands…even though they had come in the disturbing form of Luca d’Azzaro. His presence had allowed her more one-on-one time with those who needed it. But when just so much as thinking of him made her blood heat and squeezed the aching knot deep inside her, having him around all the time kept her nerves jangling and her senses on red alert.
Frowning, Polly reflected on the situation with Luca. She was increasingly confused, especially as there had been a subtle change since Thursday’s car journey with Kate. It was nothing she could put her finger on, but the charge between them felt more electric, and she was even more on edge and aware of him. She had met him less than a week ago and had tried hard to keep things on a purely professional footing, refusing to ask any personal questions or acknowledge her growing curiosity about him.
But no matter how much she reminded herself of the misjudgements and mistakes she had made in the past, and of her promise to herself never to trust anyone again or give herself up for any other man, it was becoming more and more diffi cult to ignore her attraction and growing feelings for Luca. Which made her fearful that the shield she had worked so hard to create around herself was not as impenetrable as she had hoped. At least when it came to Luca.
Polly glanced up as the door of the community room opened and the object of her thoughts stepped into the room. Immediately she felt warmth bloom across her cheeks and hastily dragged her gaze from his, busying herself tidying up the stacks of leaflets to file them away and leave the room ready for the next group to use it.
‘Hi,’ Luca greeted her. ‘That’s the last of them away. I’ve just locked the main door.’
Polly nodded in acknowledgement, then looked down. She had left her hair loose today, hoping to appear more approachable for the youngsters, and now she welcomed the effect as it fell forward to screen her face. But her hands shook, betraying her, so she pulled them away, clasping them behind her out of sight.
‘Thanks for your help, Luca. It’s been a busy day.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it. They’re nice kids. And they’re gaining so much from what you’re doing for them,’ he praised her.
‘It was Nick’s brainchild, not mine.’ She frowned, still puzzled by the whole thing. ‘I just wonder why he didn’t set it up before.’
‘Nick didn’t have you before.’
The huskily accented voice, laced with both amusement and appreciation, made her chest feel tight. It was almost impossible to draw enough air into her lungs as Luca perched casually on the arm of a two-seater sofa nearby and smiled…a rare, slow, sexy smile that ought to come with a government health warning. Polly swallowed, trying not to notice the way faded jeans hugged the length of athlet
ically muscled legs or how his grey jumper accentuated his colouring and masculinity.
Her blood pressure rose as she recalled how the hem of the jumper had risen several times during the day as he had stretched, exposing a tantalising sliver of olive-toned skin—smooth at the back and sides but with an intriguing line of dark hair running down from his navel to disappear below the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers had itched to touch him and, feeling hot and bothered, she had to clench them together now to prevent them giving in to temptation.
Feeling jumpy, she longed to escape, but the only route to the door would necessitate her pushing past Luca. So she held her ground and tried to focus on the topic at hand and not on her runaway thoughts.
‘I don’t know that I have anything to do with it,’ she protested.
‘It has everything to do with you, zingarella.’ Her heart throbbed under her ribs as he chuckled, and she bit her lip, wondering what he had called her. ‘You may not recognise it, but you have a special gift with people. And the youngsters gravitate to you and feel comfortable with you. That’s what Nick saw—it’s what I can see,’ he added, dark eyes watching her intently. ‘You have an instinctive knack of getting to the heart of what is troubling the teenagers, and you set them at ease. You have a natural empathy and ability to listen, you take on people’s problems, and you inspire trust and confidence because you make them feel as if they matter.’
‘Luca…’
Flustered, Polly broke off. She had no idea what to say. Aside from Kate, no one had ever believed in her before and that Luca, who had known her less than a week, could say these things with apparent sincerity confused her completely. It also made keeping him at a distance ever more difficult.
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