The Single Mom and the Tycoon

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘He thinks that?’ he said, stunned.

  ‘Amongst other things. Well, what did you expect, David? You’ve been avoiding us like the plague—you won’t answer your phone, you don’t ring—you’ve been better the last few months, but only because we’ve had the wedding to talk about and plan, but without it I doubt if we would have heard a squeak out of you. You hole up on the other side of the world, out of touch—I mean, what were we supposed to think? Get real!’

  ‘Real? You want real?’ he said, his voice hollow to his ears, and he made an effort to soften it. ‘You want to know why I don’t limp? Because it doesn’t hurt any more, Georgie, because I no longer have it. My leg was amputated last summer.’

  She stared at him, trying to make sense of his words, then she sucked in her breath, stared at his feet and covered her mouth with her hands.

  ‘No-o-o!’ she wailed and, jumping to her feet, she ran for the door, just as Nick came in.

  ‘Georgie? Darling, what on earth—? What the hell have you said to my wife?’ he demanded, turning on David with rage in his eyes.

  ‘I told her the truth—at last. And I need to talk to her—’

  ‘Leave her alone!’

  Nick blocked his way, but a brick wall wouldn’t have stopped him at that point. Grabbing his shoulder, he thrust him out of the way and pushed past, following the sound of sobbing along the hall and up a narrow little staircase. The tower? He came out at the top into a room overlooking the sea, and found Georgie slumped in a heap on the sofa, great rending sobs tearing her apart.

  ‘Georgie?’

  He knelt awkwardly beside her, pulling her into his arms, and she burrowed into his chest, the sobbing escalating until he thought she’d damage herself.

  ‘Georgie, sweetheart, stop it, it’s OK.’

  ‘It’s not OK,’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve been so cruel to you—why didn’t you tell me? Why did you shut me out? I’m your sister, I should have been there for you—’

  ‘How? You were here with Dad, doing what I couldn’t do, supporting him, saving his business, taking the workload off him—you couldn’t have been with me, and nor could Dad. I had no choice but to shut you out.’

  She pushed herself upright and looked at him, her eyes filling again. ‘You went through all that alone,’ she said tearfully, biting her lip, and he shifted so he was sitting beside her and drew her gently back into his arms.

  ‘I was OK. I was off my head on morphine for the first few weeks, and then I realised I was getting addicted so I stopped taking it. Stopped taking everything. Which made the next two years pretty dire, but then I met someone who’d had an amputation, and I realised it was the only way forward. They couldn’t do anything for me that would make it right, and I’d always known that in my heart. So I had it amputated—on the day you phoned to tell me Dad was getting married again. You know I told you I was going into a meeting and I’d be out of touch for a few days? The nurse was in the room waiting to take me to theatre.’

  ‘No.’ She lifted a hand and cupped his cheek gently, her face soaked with tears. ‘Oh, David, no. I didn’t have a clue.’

  ‘That was rather the idea,’ he said wryly, and she punched him gently in the chest and then snuggled back against him.

  ‘When are you going to tell Dad?’

  ‘After the wedding.’

  ‘I think you should tell him before. He’s really worried. His imagination’s been running riot.’

  ‘Damn.’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t want to upset him—’

  ‘David, he’s already upset. We all are. It’s the only way to put it right. And it will put it right, because look at you. I didn’t have the slightest idea, so obviously it’s not restricting your life drastically—unless you were lying about taking a group of guests diving the other week when we spoke?’

  ‘No. No, I wasn’t lying. I can dive. I can do most things.’

  Including making love, apparently, he thought, but that wasn’t for Georgie’s consumption.

  ‘So tell him. I’ll help you, if you like. I know it must be really hard.’

  He hugged her. ‘Actually, it’s a relief. It’s been killing me for years. I hate lying to you all. I think you need to tell Nick, though. He was ready to kill me.’

  ‘Nick won’t kill you.’

  David wasn’t so sure, but then he lifted his head and looked towards the stairs, and met Nick’s sombre eyes through the banisters. He must have followed him up. Of course. He would have done the same.

  ‘May I join you?’ he asked quietly, and David nodded.

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. Georgie, are you all right, darling?’

  He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his and, as David watched, her eyes filled with tears again and she nodded. ‘I’m fine. I feel such a bitch.’

  David patted her shoulder and stood up. ‘Don’t beat yourself up, kid. It isn’t your fault, it’s mine. You stay here with Nick for a bit, get yourself together. I’m going to see Dad.’

  ‘No! I’ll come. I’m all right, David. It was just the shock, but I think I should be there with you. I want to be.’ And, getting to her feet, she hugged him hard, and led the way back downstairs.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  He smiled a little crookedly.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said softly, coming up the steps to the veranda where she’d been waiting for him, and now he was in the light she could see that his eyes were red-rimmed, but the strain was gone from the corners, and his smile, although crooked, was relieved. ‘A bit wrung-out, but OK. How did you get home?’

  ‘Liz gave us a lift. She said you all needed to talk, and Nick was putting the children to bed. Was it OK?’

  He nodded. ‘He knew something was going on, he just didn’t know what. If I’d realised that, I would have told him ages ago and put him out of his misery. He’s been waiting for three years for me to confide in him, and there were a lot of tears, but I feel so much better and I’m really glad I’ve done it.’

  ‘Good. I thought you would be. Have you eaten?’

  ‘Not much. It was all a bit fraught for food and Georgie was exhausted. I wouldn’t mind a sandwich and some coffee, but I can make it.’

  ‘Let me,’ she said and, leaving him on the veranda, she went into the kitchen and put the last of the smoked salmon left over from breakfast into thick slices of the wholemeal bread he’d bought that morning. There was nothing elegant about it, but he didn’t need elegance, she thought, he needed comfort, and that was exactly what she intended to give him.

  She made a pot of tea—not coffee, because she didn’t want to keep him awake—and piled it all on to a tray and took it out to him. It was cold out there, but somehow she knew he needed to be out in the open tonight, and she had already been wearing her coat to sit and wait for him.

  ‘Here,’ she said, putting the tray down.

  ‘Aren’t you having any?’

  ‘I ate with the children,’ she told him. ‘It was all ready when you disappeared with your father and Nick and Georgie, and I took Liz on one side and told her. I hope you don’t mind. I could see from Georgie’s face that you’d told her.’

  ‘Yeah. Not very subtly, unfortunately, but it’s a bit hard to be subtle about something like that. Thanks for telling Liz. She needed to know, so she could be there for my father. So, what’s in this doorstop?’

  She laughed. ‘Smoked salmon and a squeeze of lemon juice.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ he said and, picking it up, he sank his teeth into it and groaned. ‘Oh, great,’ he mumbled, and she sat back and watched him with a smile on her face that wouldn’t go away. He drank two big mugs of tea, disappeared into the kitchen and came back with some of the leftover pastries and shared them with her, feeding her little bites of soft, gooey apple Danish and strips of cinnamon whirl.

  And then, when he’d finally come to a halt, he took the wreckage of the tray out to the kitchen, came back and held out his hand to her.


  ‘Come to bed with me,’ he said softly, and she couldn’t have denied him if she’d wanted to.

  They went down to the cabin, and he undressed her slowly, kissing every inch of her as it was revealed, and then thoroughly, meticulously, he kissed her all again, his mouth hot and hard and hungry, until she thought she would scream.

  And then he moved over her, and she did scream, but he caught her cries in his mouth and they mingled with his own, and as they died away he rolled to his side and took her with him, wrapping her in his arms and cradling her against his chest until her heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal.

  And then he did it all over again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘MOLLY, it’s Liz.’

  ‘Oh, hi, Liz,’ Molly said, tucking the phone under her chin and wiping paint off her fingers on to a rag. ‘Thanks for the lift last night. How are you all?’

  ‘Actually, we’re fine. George is very shocked and saddened, but he’s hugely relieved it’s none of the other things he’d been afraid of, and he says he can deal with it now he knows, it was the not knowing that was so hard. How’s David?’

  ‘Still asleep,’ she said, remembering him as she’d left him, sprawled out on the bed as the first fingers of dawn had reached out across the sky and brushed him with gold. She hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he was so heavily asleep she thought he’d be there for hours and she didn’t want to be out there still when Charlie woke. ‘I think he’s exhausted.’

  ‘I’m sure. He’s really been through it, and George is gutted that he wasn’t there for him, but he understands, I think. Can you ask him to call when he’s up? We need to talk to you both about the wedding. We were going to do it last night, but events got a little hijacked. It’s just a few last-minute details, and George thought maybe you could both come for lunch and bring Charlie, too, if he’s not busy.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ she said. ‘I’ll get David to ring you when he emerges.’

  She looked out of the back bedroom window, but the curtains in the cabin were still closed. She could take him tea, she thought, but that was probably just being selfish. And then she saw the curtain move, and with a light-hearted smile she couldn’t suppress, she ran downstairs and tapped on the cabin door.

  ‘Well, hi,’ he said, drawing her in and closing the door behind her, his smile matching her own. ‘Where’s Charlie?’

  ‘Crabbing with Bob.’

  ‘Good. That means I can say good morning properly,’ he said and, tunnelling his fingers through her hair, he eased her closer, lowered his mouth to hers and brushed it softly, lightly with his lips. ‘Good morning,’ he murmured, and then kissed her again, little sips and nibbles that made her legs go weak and her blood turn to fire in her veins.

  Then he lifted his head and smiled down at her. ‘I missed you when I woke up,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Me, too,’ she murmured, and she cradled his jaw in her palm, loving the feel of stubble against her skin. He was dressed, but he hadn’t shaved yet, and there was something intensely erotic about the sensation that drove common sense out of her head.

  She lowered her hand before she forgot what she was meant to be doing, and eased away from his big, hard body. ‘Liz rang about the wedding. She wants you to call her when you’re up.’

  ‘I’m up,’ he said with a lazy, sexy smile, and she slapped his hands where they had settled, warm and possessive, over her breasts.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she said, laughing. ‘They want to talk about some last-minute details. They’ve invited us all for lunch.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘The three of us.’

  ‘Did you say yes?’

  ‘I did—provisionally. Is that OK?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s fine. Actually, I’m really looking forward to spending time with them. And I’ve been thinking—we ought to tell Charlie about my leg. Georgie’s kids are bound to know, so he has to, really, if you don’t have a problem with it.’

  She felt a flutter of nerves. ‘I don’t, and I don’t think he will, but I’m not sure about you. He’ll be insanely curious, you do know that, don’t you?’

  He laughed. ‘Of course he will. He’s an eight-year-old boy. He’ll want to know how it all works, but that’s cool. I can show him all my different legs and tell him how they work.’

  ‘You have different ones?’

  He smiled gently. ‘I have three. You can be insanely curious too. I’ll let you.’

  Charlie was fascinated.

  He wanted to try them on, but that, of course, was impossible. He could, however, play with the crutches and he scooted up and down the garden while Molly tried not to hover, then came back to the cabin door and put his head on one side and said, ‘Is that why you don’t play football?’

  David’s smile was wry. ‘Pretty much. I haven’t actually tried, but I’ll probably fall over.’

  ‘You could try—carefully,’ Charlie suggested tentatively, and Molly could see he was absolutely desperate for his hero to have a go.

  David sighed and grinned and got to his feet. ‘OK. But I might miss a few balls.’

  ‘That’s cool. I miss lots!’

  And she watched them kick the ball around the garden for a few minutes, until the inevitable happened and he tripped and fell on to the grass. But he came up laughing, and got to his feet again and kicked the ball back to Charlie, and then after another couple of minutes he looked at his watch. ‘We ought to go for lunch.’

  ‘Can we take the football?’ Charlie asked eagerly, and David grinned and rumpled his hair.

  ‘Yes, sure. I don’t know if I’ll have time to play with you, but I’m sure Dad won’t mind if you kick the ball around. I did it for years. I nearly wore a hole in the back wall of the garage.’

  So they went, in his mother’s car, and when George answered the door he welcomed them all in and gathered his son into his arms, his eyes over-bright, while Molly stood and watched and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. ‘Come on in,’ he said, releasing David at last, and they went through to the kitchen and found Liz busy with a mixing bowl.

  She waggled floury fingers at them in greeting. ‘I’m making apple crumble for pudding,’ she said, and Charlie bounced over to her and asked if he could help.

  ‘Sure. Wash your hands first.’

  He went over to the sink, but he couldn’t quite reach the tap so David turned it on for him. ‘OK?’

  ‘Yup. That’s enough.’

  And, scrubbing his hands dry on his T-shirt, he ran back to Liz. ‘Did you know David’s got three legs?’ he said matter-of-factly as he plunged his hands into the bowl and started rubbing in the butter.

  ‘Three?’ Liz said in surprise, turning to David, and he gave a wry grin.

  ‘Well, actually, I’ve got four, if you count the right one,’ he corrected with a chuckle, and his father’s face contorted for a second, the big, gruff man reduced almost to tears by his son’s gentle humour.

  ‘Hey,’ David said softly and, putting his arm round his father’s shoulders, he gave them a quick squeeze. ‘What does a body have to do to get a drink round here?’ he added, breaking the tension, and, clearing his throat, George headed for the fridge.

  ‘Tea, coffee, juice, beer, wine, gin and tonic—?’

  ‘Molly?’ David prompted.

  ‘Oh, G and T, please! I haven’t had one for ages. Just weak, though.’

  ‘Yes, don’t get her tiddly, we can’t have us both falling over.’

  ‘Falling over?’ Liz asked David, and Charlie laughed.

  ‘We played football, but he tripped. He fell over the other day when he was chasing me, too, and the tree hurt him.’

  ‘Not much,’ David put in quickly, seeing his father’s face. He added, ‘It’s an occupational hazard. I fall over all the time—only because I do stupid things. It’s getting better—maybe I’m slowing down a bit, but when I first got up on my feet again it was such a relief I just got on with it, and it takes a
bit of getting used to.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ George said, his face awash with emotion, and Molly felt so sorry for him that they hadn’t been together at the time and he hadn’t been able to share the highs and lows of his son’s recovery. If it had been Charlie…

  She couldn’t even bear to think about that. He was deeply engrossed in the crumble now, his little fingers squashing away at it while Liz supervised and intervened from time to time.

  ‘So—why three legs?’ George asked, handing David a can of beer.

  ‘One for the beach so it can get wet and sandy and stuff,’ Charlie said, ticking them off on his floury fingers, ‘and one for proper swimming—that one’s really cool, it’s got a sort of pole in the middle and the foot’s got a hinge so it can point down so he can wear flippers for diving. Mum, I want to go diving, it sounds really cool.’

  ‘You have to be older,’ she said quickly, and caught David’s smothered smile.

  ‘And his everyday leg,’ Charlie finished triumphantly, ticking off the third finger. ‘Oh, and his proper one. Is it ready yet, or do I need to do more?’

  ‘No, I think it’s fine,’ Liz said, rescuing the crumble before it turned to shortbread. ‘Right, we need to bake it first,’ she said, helping him to tip it out on to a baking sheet, and then she put it in the oven.

  ‘You’ve refitted the kitchen,’ David said, watching her, and Molly wondered if he resented Liz’s influence.

  His father smiled ruefully. ‘Well, it needed it. It hadn’t been done since we bought the house before you were born, and you’re—what now? Thirty-two?’

  He nodded. ‘Thirty-three in October.’

  ‘Well, then. Time enough, I think. And Liz needed a raised oven because of her leg.’

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, it looks great, and it was high time. I’m just surprised you didn’t move to somewhere more sensible,’ he said, but his father just smiled again.

  ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘It’s a happy house, and we have a lot of grandchildren. Maybe more, one day. It’s nice to be able to have everybody here.’