Aunt Lucy's Lover

by Miranda Lee

  Not like you, came the voice of self-disgust. He only has to look at you and your veins fill with a liquid heat.

  She looked away quickly and busied herself eating so that by the time Evie returned with a tray of tea and cake, she'd finished her roll and gathered her composure.

  'That's what I like to see,' Evie said happily. 'An appreciative eater. Look, I might dash off to the shops now. Just stack the dirty things in the dishwasher after you've finished. Be back by five. Oh, and I don't want to hear you two have been squabbling while I'm gone.'

  The atmosphere between them seemed to thicken appreciably with Evie's departure, though maybe it was Jessica's imagination. Perhaps it was simply because it was difficult to talk with mouthful after mouthful of banana cake. Truly, the square Evie had given her was enormous. The cake was delicious but quite heavy. One needed two cups of tea to wash it down.

  'Having trouble with the cake?' Sebastian asked, breaking the awkward silence that had developed.

  'A little. I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. My stomach must still be on Sydney time.' She'd had to put her watch forward two and a half hours before leaving the plane. On daylight saving time, it was only ten-thirty in the morning back home.

  'You'll soon adjust. Well, do you want to start with the questions? I can give you half an hour before I have to get back to work.'

  'That's not very long.'

  'Then don't waste any of it,' he said quite sharply.

  Surprise at his tone sent her eyebrows arching. 'Why are you angry at me?'

  'I'm not,' he denied.

  Oh, yes, you are, she decided. You definitely are. I wonder why?

  'Get on with the questions, Jessica,' he drawled, his anger under control if his cold eyes were anything to go by.

  'Very well,' she returned tersely. 'Why don't you tell me about yourself to begin with? Give me a brief autobiography.'

  His laugh was disbelieving. 'Sorry. I'm not in the habit of telling a perfect stranger my entire life story.'

  'But I'm not a perfect stranger!'

  'Of course you are. I know as little about you as you know about me.'

  'But...but...'

  'Stop stammering. It doesn't suit you. Now do you want to know about my book or do you want to start giving me the third degree about your aunt and myself again?'

  Jessica opened her mouth then snapped it shut. She eyed Sebastian closely, all her doubts about his relationship with her aunt resurfacing with a vengeance. She suspected she could ask questions till the cows came home, but that didn't mean he would tell her the truth. About anything. All she could do was ask away and watch his body language.

  'How did you come to meet Aunt Lucy?' was her first question. His shoulders visibly relaxed at the question, showing he had been a little tense over what she might ask. 'I came here for a holiday three years ago,' he said lightly, 'and I simply stayed on.'

  'You came here for a holiday? To Lucy's Place?'

  'Yes. What's so surprising about that?'

  'Were you alone?'

  'I certainly was.'

  'But why?'

  'Why was I alone?'

  'No, why did you choose Norfolk Island, if you were alone? It's not the sort of place a good-looking young man would go for a holiday on his own.'

  'Firstly, I wasn't all that young. I was thirty-five at the time.'

  Jessica was startled. Thirty-five three years ago. That made him thirty-eight now. He didn't look a day overthirty, even if there were some lines around his eyes she hadn't noticed before.

  'I wanted to get right away from the rat-race,' he went on. 'I'd been working very hard for years and I was burnt out.'

  'Working hard at what?'

  'As a dealer in an American-owned bank in Sydney. If you know anything about dealing, and about American banks, you'll know how stressful such a job can be. On top of that, I was having personal problems.'

  'What sort of personal problems?'

  He flashed her a look that indicated that was not a question he wanted to answer. 'Money troubles,' he said brusquely. 'Amongst other things.'

  'You still had enough for a fancy holiday,' she fired at him. 'This place wouldn't come cheap.'

  He seemed taken aback for a second before smiling a slow smile. 'I managed,' he said.

  'How long was the holiday for?'

  'Three weeks.'

  'At the end of which Aunt Lucy invited you to stay on, free of charge?'

  'Not exactly. A couple of days after I arrived I fell ill with a virus. Apparently that happens sometimes when workaholics suddenly stop work. Perversely, their immune systems go down, instead of up, and they get sick. I was in bed for a week, then spent the rest of the three weeks recuperating. I had barely enough energy to do more than read a book. Lucy felt sorry for me and offered me another three weeks holiday, free of charge.'

  'Which you jumped at.'

  'Naturally. Wouldn't you?'

  'I suppose so. So what happened at the end of that three weeks? Did Aunt Lucy invite you to stay on indefinitely, free of charge?'

  'No, of course not. But by then I'd fallen in love with Norfolk Island and wanted to stay, so I offered my services to your aunt in exchange for my bed and board.'

  Jessica's eyebrows arched and Sebastian scowled.

  'You have a dirty mind, do you know that?'

  'I'm merely trying to imagine what kind of services a big city banker could offer my aunt. Financial consultant and adviser, perhaps?'

  'No, a painter, Miss Suspicious.'

  Her eyebrows shot up further. 'Painter? What do you mean? Do you paint portraits?'

  'No, walls. Your aunt happened to mention she was going to hire someone to paint the house inside and out during the winter break. She never had guests in the house from the middle of May till the middle of September. Since by then April was already fast drawing to a close, I suggested she hire me to do it in exchange for my board.'

  He chuckled at the memory. 'I said I'd painted before. Which I had... technically. I painted a bike once when I was a kid. I figured it didn't take a genius to paint flat surfaces and that I could learn on the job. I admit I was a bit slow at first, but frankly, I think I did a better job than a professional painter would have, simply because I cared about the place so much.'

  'You did a good job,' she had to admit. It was the first thing she'd noticed about the place—the splendid paintwork.

  Sebastian gave her a look of mock shock. 'Careful now, Miss Rawlins, that almost sounded like a compliment. Next thing you know, you'll start believing I had no ulterior motive in staying on here.'

  Her returning look was droll. 'As much as you'll start believing I've come here for my health, and not my inheritance.'

  This time, his laugh sounded almost amused. 'True, but perhaps, in the interests of Evie's peace of mind, we should at least agree to be polite to each other.'

  'I am being polite, believe me.'

  'God help me if you ever decide to get vicious.'

  Jessica pulled a face at him. 'So how come you started writing a novel?'

  'That was Lucy's idea. She said I should do something with my brain to stop it atrophying. She'd noticed how much I liked to read so she suggested I try my hand at writing a novel. I scoffed at the idea at first; said I was a typical male who only ever used the right side of his brain. Or is it the left?'

  He frowned.

  Damn, but he was even gorgeous-looking when he frowned.

  'Whatever,'

  he

  continued,

  shrugging.

  'The

  non-creative,

  non-communicating side. You know what I mean.'

  'Indeed, I do,' she said dryly. Most of the men she'd ever known had lacked creativity and communication. They hadn't even been good liars!

  She surveyed Sebastian's sexy face and body and thought he'd make a good liar. A woman would be too busy lusting after him to notice the bull he was feeding her. Poor Aunt Lucy would not have stood
a chance!

  'No one was more surprised than me to find I had a real knack for it,' he was saying. 'Moreover, I enjoyed it. That winter was marvellous. I used to paint every morning, write every afternoon and play games with Lucy every evening.'

  Jessica barely had time to react before Sebastian laughed.

  'Yes, I appreciate how that sounded. Sorry, but I still can't satisfy your craving for decadence. Lucy was a game addict. Cards, board games, word puzzles, crosswords. I'm sure you've noticed there are no television sets at Lucy's Place. Lucy claimed people came here to get away from that sort of thing. She entertained herself and others with simpler, more old-fashioned pastimes.'

  Jessica hadn't noted the lack of television. Now she was quietly appalled. Television had become her main backup for companionship and entertainment over the years. She could not imagine life without it!

  'By the time I'd finished painting the house,' Sebastian went on, 'I'd told my story idea and received an advance, so I asked Lucy if I could stay on till I'd finished the book.'

  'Free of charge still?' Jessica asked archly.

  'Of course not. Lucy was kind, but no fool. Renting out rooms was her source of income. Though I admit she did give me a reduced rate for being a longstanding guest.'

  'As well as her loyal and loving companion,' Jessica added dryly. His glance was sharp. 'Back to that again, are we?'

  'Not just now. Are you a good writer?'

  'I think so.'

  'Are you going to make a fortune out of your book?'

  'Probably. It's a damned good book.'

  She had to laugh. 'I see modesty is not one of your virtues.'

  'Nor yours,' he said, his eyes dropping to her cleavage.Jessica pulled another face at him.

  "Don't take offence. There's nothing wrong with being proud of one's... achievements. You've obviously done very well for yourself. I take it your childhood was poor?'

  Her astonishment showed in her face.

  'Takes one to know one,' he drawled.

  'You were poor as a child, too?'

  'Dirt poor.'

  Jessica digested that for a good minute or two. If he was anything like herself, then financial security would mean a lot to him. Perhaps that was why he was quick to think badly of her, because he himself put money above all else.

  There was a time when Jessica had been ruthlessly ambitious in her aims to get ahead so that she would never be poor again. Now, she was content to do a good job and be-paid well for it.

  'What happened to all the money you earned as a dealer?' she asked. Jessica had dated a dealer once and knew the sort of salary they commanded, not to mention the bonuses they received.

  'I invested it.'

  'Badly, I presume.'

  He chuckled. 'I could have done better.'

  Which meant he'd lost it all. She could understand how that happened. Dealers were basically gamblers who usually only played with other people's money. It seemed Sebastian had started playing with his own, with dire results.

  She was surprised that he wasn't more devastated. Maybe he had been, but selling his book had helped him pick up the pieces. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so grateful to Aunt Lucy—because she'd put him on the road to a second fortune. And maybe that was why he wasn't concerned over not being left anything in her will. Because he believed he would soon be pretty rich himself.

  And maybe I'm guessing all wrong, Jessica thought ruefully.

  'What kind of investment was it?' she asked. 'The money market? Futures?'

  His blue eyes flashed with sudden irritation. 'Must we talk about money?' he flung at her. 'If there's one thing I've learnt since coming to Norfolk Island it's that money doesn't make you happy. Far from it. Let's just say I invested in the property market in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wasn't the only optimistic idiot who got his fingers burnt, but I sure as hell can guarantee I'm the best adjusted to the consequences of my greed and stupidity. I haven't thought about those bad investments since coming here, and I don't want to now.'

  Jessica raised her eyebrows. Hard to believe that a man who'd once been dirt poor could dismiss being broke so easily, or pretend he could be happy without any money at all! Maybe he was just saying that because he was on the verge of making a stack more with his book. Or maybe he'd already lined his pockets with cash gifts from Lucy over the past three years. Jessica felt frustrated that she couldn't simply ask and know she'd get a straight answer. Still, she wasn't about to let him totally off the hook.

  'Very well,' she said. 'We'll talk of other things. How would you describe your relationship with my aunt?'

  His glare carried exasperation. 'I thought I'd already made myself clear on that score. We were friends. She helped me and I helped her. It was a give-and-take relationship. We enjoyed each other's company. We liked each other. It was as simple as that.'

  He still hadn't denied he'd taken her to bed, she noted wryly. It seemed he wasn't going to, either. He was going to let her stew about it. Jessica decided to approach the question from a different angle.

  'Why didn't she leave you something in her will, Sebastian? Why leave everything to me? She didn't even know me, whereas you and she were obviously very... close.'

  'You were still her niece. Her flesh and blood. It was right that she leave everything to you.'

  'You don't resent it?'

  'Why should I?'

  'You might be forgiven for expecting some kind of legacy yourself.'

  'She did leave me a legacy.'

  Jessica was taken aback. 'Surely you're not talking about the car!'

  'No, I'm talking about my soul.'

  'Your soul!'

  'That's right. When I came here I'd totally lost mine. She gave it back to me.'

  'But... but...'

  'I can appreciate your confusion, Jessica. And your suspicion. But I strongly suggest you stop trying to make me fit the role you've selected for me in your city-cynical mind. You'll be much happier if you do. Now I think it's time for me to get to work,' he pronounced firmly.

  'But you haven't told me anything about your book yet,' she blurted out, though her mind was still on his last remarks. Had she been misjudging him? Was she being cynical?

  'There's not much to tell, really. It's an adventure action novel set partly on this island at the time of the convict settlement last century. When I take you sightseeing tomorrow morning, I'll take you down to the old gaol and explain the characters and the plot. Then it will make more sense.'

  But nothing else is going to make sense, she thought bitterly as she watched him stand up and start stacking the plates. Not my aunt's actions. Or yours. Or mine.

  Why did she have to be so attracted to him, against all the dictates of common sense? Why? Dear God, the thought of spending the whole morning with him tomorrow, alone, doing things lovers and honey-mooners did on this island, was already sending her into a spin. Once again, her eyes were drawn to the classical lines of his perfect face and perfect body, and the unconscious sensuality of his movements. His hands moved with a fluid grace, his fingers long and elegant, his fingernails spotlessly clean and neatly clipped.

  Yet for all that, there was a primitive edge about him. A sense of the wild and untamed.

  His lack of clothes, she supposed. Plus his long hair.

  She watched it fall forward as he leaned over the table towards her, her eyes following his hands as they lifted to impatiently rake it from his face. The image came of her own hands sliding into his hair, of her drawing his mouth down to hers, then down to her breasts. Then lower...

  Her stomach twisted with a raw jab of desire, and she almost moaned out loud.

  God, but she had to get away from him, had to get him out of her sight.

  'I'll finish that,' she offered as she jumped to her feet. 'You go back to your writing.'

  She reached out to take the pile of plates, but in her haste their fingers brushed together, which was the lastthing she wanted. It took all her willpower not
to snatch ->er hand away. But the contact still sent a shudder rippling through her. The hair on the back of her neck and arms stood on end.

  When her eyes flew to his face in panic, Jessica was stunned to catch a blazing blue gaze glaring at her.

  It wasn't desire heating his eyes, however.

  It was resentment, a bitter burning resentment.

  He hid it quickly. But not quickly enough.

  He said a brusque thank-you, turned and walked into the house before she could blink, leaving her staring after him.

  So he did resent her over the will, she realised with a rush of.. .what? Disappointment? Dismay?

  My God, that was telling, wasn't it? She'd almost begun to believe his assertion that he was an innocent party in all this, that he'd come here, shattered by some sort of personal crisis, then had the pieces put together by dear kind Aunt Lucy, after which he'd stayed on, stony-broke, yet wanting nothing from this lonely and very wealthy widow but friendship. Silly Jessica. When was she going to learn that men lied when it came to sex and money? Of course Sebastian had been Aunt Lucy's lover. Only a fool would believe otherwise. And of course he'd received presents from her. But they hadn't been enough, had they? He'd wanted it all. But he hadn't got it all. A long-lost niece had popped up at the last minute to snatch his hard-won inheritance away from him.

  It was no wonder he resented her.

  So why had he bothered to lie to her? Why had he been so nice on the telephone, but not once she arrived? Perhaps he had been planning to seduce her, only she hadn't turned out to be quite so gullible as Aunt Lucy. He'd taken one look at her and known he had no chance in hell of conning such a city-smart broad.

  Which was so ironic, it was almost funny!

  Oh, if only he knew!

  Jessica shuddered with self-disgust. How could she want a man to make love to her, suspecting he was nothing but a cold-blooded con man? She'd heard that everyone had a dark side, but this was the first time she'd encountered hers. In the past, she'd made love to assuage her loneliness or to feel loved. The feelings she had for Sebastian had little to do with loneliness or love, and everything to do with lust.