The Single Mom and the Tycoon

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Charlie said after an age, but he didn’t look up and he carried on filling, so she put down her roller and stood back.

  ‘How about I go and cook supper?’ she suggested, but David had a better idea.

  ‘How about we order pizza?’

  Charlie looked up at that, eyes sparkling at his hero. ‘Pizza? Mum, can we?’ he begged, his eyes swivelling to her, the pleading in them unravelling her resolve.

  This was getting tricky. She didn’t let him have pizza usually, partly because of the cost and partly because of the lack of decent nutrition, and yet here was David, up there with the angels in Charlie’s estimation, offering it without consulting her.

  So what to do? Give in, and let Charlie have a treat, or refuse and cook something else and explain to David later?

  Apparently her hesitation was enough.

  ‘Charlie, could you be a star and run down to my car and see if I’ve left my phone in the pocket in the middle? You won’t need the keys. Thanks, mate.’

  ‘Mind your fingers,’ she called as he ran down, and David turned to her as the thundering footsteps faded.

  ‘OK, let’s have it.’

  ‘We don’t do pizza.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because it’s expensive, nutritionally appalling and I don’t want him getting used to junk food.’

  He sighed. ‘Sorry. I just thought—all kids eat pizza.’

  ‘Charlie doesn’t. Well, not very often, and not here. And, anyway, the deal was that I feed you.’

  ‘I thought it would save you cooking,’ he added. ‘Give us more time to get this done.’

  ‘I’ve got food in the fridge,’ she said, feeling like a heel now and wondering if it was worth making such a fuss over. And of course the answer was no, but it was the principle, and he should have asked her in a different way—suggested it. Although, scrolling back through the conversation, that was exactly what he’d done, she realised, and she could quite easily have said something about food in the fridge and maybe another day.

  And it would only be once, for goodness’ sake!

  Charlie erupted back into the room as only an eight-year-old could. ‘It wasn’t there. Do you think someone’s stolen it?’

  David looked down at her son, a rueful smile teasing his lips, and shook his head. ‘No, I’m sorry, I’ve just found it in my pocket. Thanks for looking for me, though.’

  ‘S’ OK,’ Charlie said and looked at her with those wide, appealing eyes. ‘So can we get pizza now?’

  She opened her mouth, caught David’s shrug and smiled. ‘Yes. Just this once, if David’s treating us—but don’t get any ideas!’

  ‘I won’t!’ he said, and went back to his filling without a murmur.

  ‘I’m sorry about the pizza.’

  ‘Don’t be. It was a really nice gesture. I’m just being silly.’

  ‘No, you’re not. He’s your son, you’re entitled to your rules. I didn’t even think about it, and I should have done.’

  ‘Well, you probably should, but family dynamics isn’t exactly your strongest point, is it?’

  ‘Ouch. That’s not fair.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  David sighed. ‘Maybe a bit. I do screen Georgie’s calls sometimes, but only because she nags. And since my accident it’s been even harder. I hate lying to them. Avoiding them’s easier.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell them?’

  ‘When Dad had just had his heart attack? How?’

  ‘Hmm. OK, I take your point.’

  They were sitting on the floor again, drinking tea and staring out into the night. Charlie was in bed, the walls had had their second coat and Molly had brought up the tea as he’d finished off the woodwork. It was late, they’d been working for hours and he was ready to drop, but the room was taking shape and all that was left was cutting in the emulsion around the edges, and the top coat of the woodwork.

  He couldn’t believe how tired he was, and how satisfied. He hadn’t done anything hands-on like this for ages and getting back to brass tacks was curiously therapeutic.

  Or it had been. And now Molly was getting at him.

  ‘Tell me about your mother,’ she said softly, out of the blue.

  He shrugged, not really knowing where to start, not sure he wanted to discuss his mother with a woman who thought so little of his family skills. ‘She was cheerful and homely and she cooked a lot. She was a good cook. And she worked hard. She ran the office side of the business for Dad, and she kept us all in order, and she never turned anyone away. She was a trooper.’

  ‘You must miss her.’

  ‘I do. I can’t really believe she isn’t still around.’

  ‘That’s because you’ve not been here. Maybe it’s easier to pretend it’s all still going on if you aren’t face to face with it.’

  Was that what he’d been doing? Pretending it was all OK? First his mother’s illness and death, then his father’s heart disease? More recently he’d thought he was protecting his family from the gruesome reality of his accident, but had he simply been refusing to face up to the hell his own life had become?

  ‘I still miss Robert, even after nearly seven years,’ Molly went on quietly. ‘I expect I always will, just as Liz misses her husband, and your father misses your mother, but they’re getting older, and they’re both lonely, and she’s a lovely woman.’

  Like you, he thought immediately, and wondered about her still missing her husband after all this time. The thought was curiously unsettling.

  ‘She is lovely. And I think Mum would have liked her, which is a really odd thought. Did you realise they aren’t living together till after the wedding?’

  ‘Yes. Didn’t you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I just assumed they were. I didn’t think of the grandchildren, but then, as you said, family dynamics aren’t my strongest point.’

  Did he sound bitter? Maybe, because she reached out her hand and gave his fingers a little squeeze. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘That was mean of me.’

  ‘But maybe true.’

  ‘So—where did you go for lunch?’ she asked, changing the subject, and he felt his shoulders relax.

  ‘Orford. We put the car in the car park and wandered along the river wall opposite Orford Ness. I didn’t realise the old munitions testing station was now open to the public.’

  ‘Yes, it has been for a while. The National Trust owns it. Charlie’s been on a school trip.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He shrugged. ‘I wondered if Charlie would be interested in going. I thought we could take a picnic, but it doesn’t matter,’ he said, and then wondered what on earth he was thinking about, contemplating entertaining Molly’s son, taking him on days out and picnics and so forth. Nuts.

  ‘Maybe we can go somewhere else?’ she suggested, and he made a non-committal noise and fell silent, and she didn’t follow it up.

  They sat there quietly for a while, then Molly turned to look at him. ‘You look tired,’ she said, studying him, and he smiled.

  ‘It’s a good tired,’ he told her. ‘A normal sort of tired, from doing normal, everyday things. We had a long walk, and it’s been a while since I did anything like decorating.’

  ‘I guess it must have been. I suppose you’ve spent most of this year getting over your operation.’

  He laughed. ‘Actually, no. That was surprisingly easy. I’ve spent most of the year making up for all the time I had off and giving Cal a break. God knows I owed him. I’ve been working overtime on admin and dull stuff like that, and the only light relief has been taking the guests out to dive the reef.’

  She rested her head back against the wall and turned to look at him. ‘Tell me about the reef,’ she said softly. ‘Is it beautiful?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Absolutely. There’s something stunning about diving it, coming nose to nose with a shark or a giant potato cod or a manta ray, and the tiny little fish are just so striking. The
colours are wonderful—I can’t describe them. And it comes virtually up to the beach. You can’t dive there, because of the crocs and the stingers, but you can see it from the glass-bottomed boat, and if you go out on the dive boat you can snorkel or scuba-dive on the outer reef. And the rainforest is fascinating. You’d love it. It comes right down to the water’s edge there, and it’s just amazing. But the diving’s my favourite.’ He swivelled to look at her. ‘Can you swim?’

  ‘Me? Yes, but I’ve never dived. Well, only off the side of a swimming pool.’

  ‘You ought to come over—try it.’

  She laughed softly, and he said, ‘No, I mean it. You’d love it. You should bring Charlie and come over for a holiday.’

  ‘With what, dear Liza?’ she said incredulously. ‘I think I’m doing well if I sell a painting before we run out of food. How on earth am I going to get us to Australia?’

  ‘Easy. I’ll pay for your flights,’ he said without thinking, and she just looked at him and smiled ruefully and stood up, dusting herself off.

  ‘I don’t think so, David. Didn’t you hear the pizza argument?’

  ‘It’s different.’

  ‘You’re damn right it’s different. It’s a whole different ball game, and I’m not playing. I’d love to see it, but if and when I do, it’ll be under my own steam.’

  He got to his feet, staring down into her eyes and wondering if there was any way he could persuade her, but from the look in her eyes he didn’t think there was, and all he’d done by bringing it up was drive an even greater wedge between them.

  He sighed softly. ‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Missed the point.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’d feel the same in your position.’

  She smiled then, a proper smile, and, reaching up, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘David, you’ll never be in my position,’ she murmured and, turning on her heel, she went downstairs and left him to switch off the lights and follow, kicking himself all the way while the imprint of her lips burned on his cheek…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE shouldn’t have been so hard on him last night, Molly thought. She was pretending to paint the window frame while she watched Charlie help David to wash the car on the drive behind the house, and frankly she wasn’t getting a lot done.

  She could just see them over the fence and, as she watched, David pointed to something on the bodywork, then squeezed a cloth out and wiped it, waited while Charlie did it, then tousled his hair and grinned at him. Teaching him how to do things. Treating him as his father would have treated him if he’d still been alive. And Charlie was lapping it up. She couldn’t believe the difference he’d made to their lives in such a short time, and he was brilliant with the boy.

  Still, he wasn’t his own family, so maybe that made it all easier. Less complicated. Well, for him, anyway. It was going to get pretty complicated for Charlie when he went, she thought, and wondered if she should have a word with David about spending so much time with him.

  No. Charlie would be back at school from Monday, and it was Thursday now, so his hero-worship would be naturally curtailed.

  She sighed and dipped her brush again, trying to concentrate on something other than the man and boy outside the window. She wasn’t getting on very fast, what with all the watching, but the room was nearly done. David had finished painting the woodwork this morning, all except the windows which were her job, if she could only concentrate.

  The walls were now emulsioned a lovely muted duck egg blue, and the sloping ceilings were off-white, just to soften them. And it was looking lovely. She would have moved the furniture up here today, but she’d run out of time because tonight was the opening of the spa.

  And he was taking her.

  She felt a little flicker of panic, but told herself not to be so ridiculous. It was hardly a date. He didn’t want anything like that to do with her. He’d been politeness itself and, except for that one occasion when he’d hugged her, he’d kept his distance.

  Just as well, really, because Charlie was staying over at Georgie and Nick’s with all the other kids tonight, and they’d arranged a babysitter to keep order so all the adults involved in the project could go to the opening and have a good time.

  And they’d be alone.

  She chewed her lip a little worriedly, and told herself not to be ridiculous. With all those glamorous women there, he wouldn’t give her a second glance.

  It was a black tie do, so it was bound to be a really dressy affair, and there was no way she could compete with Georgie and Emily and Iona in their designer clothes. Well, Iona was all right—she refused to surrender to pressure and bought clothes anywhere she felt was ethical.

  Molly didn’t even do that. She bought them where she could afford them, and just hoped some poor child hadn’t been responsible for making them. And that meant she didn’t have a single thing to wear tonight that wasn’t cheap rubbish or second-hand.

  Apart from the dress Liz had bought her for the wedding next week, but that was only because she would be her matron of honour and she couldn’t afford to buy her own.

  The only other thing in her meagre wardrobe was a vintage beaded dress from the twenties that she’d bought for her first exhibition after Robert died, and she didn’t know if she’d simply be laughed at if she wore it. She shrugged. Tough. Let them laugh. She loved the dress, and it hardly ever got an airing.

  If she’d got the room finished so she could have advertised it and had more guests in, of course, she wouldn’t have been in this position.

  Except then you wouldn’t have David, she reminded herself, and glanced back out of the window just as Charlie chucked a sponge full of water right into David’s face.

  She gasped and held her breath, then laughed till tears streamed down her face when David grabbed the bucket and hurled the contents at her delighted son. He ducked and ran, David hard on his heels and, just when she thought he was about to catch Charlie, he tripped over the verge and fell, rolling on to the grass and coming to an abrupt halt with his back up against a tree.

  The laughter drained from her and, dropping the paintbrush, she ran downstairs and out of the gate, arriving just as he got to his feet, his hand on his side.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He gave her a cock-eyed grin and breathed cautiously. ‘I’ll live, I think. It was the tree that got me.’

  ‘Was that my fault?’

  ‘No way, mate, I was just clumsy,’ David reassured Charlie, ruffling his hair, and hobbled back to the gate, Charlie eyeing him worriedly as Molly tried not to hover and fuss.

  ‘Charlie, could you pick the sponge and bucket up and bring them into the kitchen on your way to change into something dry?’ she said and, while he was occupied, she turned to David and met his eyes.

  ‘Are you really all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, wincing as he lowered himself on to a chair on the veranda. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘I’m not surprised ouch. That was quite a whack you took against that tree,’ she said worriedly. ‘Let me see.’

  He just raised an eyebrow, but he pulled his shirt out of the way to reveal a hard bluish bump slowly appearing on his ribs, and she winced.

  ‘Stay there, I’ve got some arnica gel,’ she told him.

  ‘I’d rather have a cup of tea,’ he murmured, so she put the kettle on and fetched the gel, and then had to try not to think about the warm, firm skin of his back as she smoothed it into his ribs. ‘There,’ she said, straightening up with a sigh of relief mingled with disappointment as he dropped his shirt down so she couldn’t see that smooth, tanned, muscular back any more.

  Get a grip, she told herself. This is a business arrangement.

  But it didn’t feel like one, not when he looked up and smiled his thanks and her body went into hyperdrive.

  Thank God for Charlie, coming back into the kitchen in a fresh set of dry clothes, and for the car, which still needed finishing off.
>
  ‘Pass on the tea, we’ll crack on,’ David said, getting to his feet, and he went back to the car with Charlie, carrying the bucket of hot water and moving a little cautiously, and she went back upstairs to finish her window frame and try and get her thoughts back in order.

  Or just watch him until she was sure he was all right.

  ‘Mum’s ready!’

  David checked his bow-tie in the mirror, scooped up his DJ, opened the door of the cabin and stepped out, shutting it behind him.

  Charlie was dancing from foot to foot, eyes alight. ‘Mum’s wearing a dress!’ he said, as if it was the rarest thing, and David realised he’d never seen her in anything but jeans or jog bottoms. Not that four days really counted as never but, from the look on Charlie’s face, it was clearly hugely significant.

  Then he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head and stopped breathing.

  Stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped everything except staring at Molly open-mouthed. She looked like a mermaid. The dress was incredible, beaded all over so that it clung to every curve and dip and swell of her body, shimmering blue and green in the light as she moved. And he wanted her.

  ‘Does it look really stupid? It does, doesn’t it? Totally inappropriate. I thought so. I’ll go and change.’

  He realised his jaw had dropped, and shut his mouth hastily. ‘No!’ He managed to make his legs work, and walked to the bottom of the steps, staring up at her incredulously and wondering how the hell he was going to keep his hands to himself all evening. ‘You look—stunning. It’s fabulous.’

  She relaxed a bit. ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, really. Really very fabulous.’ He swallowed, and cleared his throat. ‘Um—well, I suppose we’d better be off, then.’

  ‘Charlie, get your bag,’ she said, and Charlie shot past her and darted inside, leaving them alone. She nibbled her lip, drawing attention to the fact that she had lipstick on. Well, gloss, really. Shiny and slick and wet and—dear God, he wanted to kiss her. Kiss those soft, full, glossy lips until she screamed.