Innocent Sins

by Anne Mather

  ‘Thomas is not my partner, he works for me,’ stated Oliver, clearly irritated by her description. ‘And, as I told you last night, I’d just got back from Singapore that afternoon.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Laura refused to be intimidated. ‘Whatever. He certainly got under your mother’s skin.’ She paused, and then asked reluctantly, ‘What were you doing in Singapore, anyway? Photographing the Prime Minister or some other dignitary?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve been in Malaysia,’ replied Oliver mildly. ‘I’d been invited to join an expedition going into the Kasong Gorge. You’ve probably never heard of it, but it’s virtually inaccessible except down this narrow defile. I went with a party of naturalists who wanted me to film some of the rare plants and flowers that are found there.’

  ‘And I suppose it will give you enough material for another book,’ commented Laura offhandedly, and Oliver gave her a wry smile.

  ‘It sounds as if you’re jealous,’ he remarked, arousing her indignation. ‘Hey, how about if I give Neill and O’Roarke first refusal when the manuscript’s ready?’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ replied Laura carelessly, her initial inclination to refuse tempered by the knowledge that Conor’s uncle, who owned the company, would not approve of turning an obvious best-seller down. Besides, she’d never been jealous of Oliver’s success, despite everything that had happened. She hadn’t advertised the fact that he was her stepbrother, of course, but that had had nothing to do with his work.

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ he ventured softly, and Laura wished he’d continued baiting her then; it was easier to deal with. ‘I did wonder if you would,’ he added. ‘The weather’s been so atrocious, apparently. What did Ma say when she gave you the news?’

  ‘She didn’t,’ said Laura swiftly. ‘Give me—give me the news, I mean. It was Aunt Nell who phoned.’ She refrained from mentioning the fact that she’d wondered if her aunt had called with or without her stepmother’s endorsement. Judging from the greeting Stella had given her, she was still persona non grata in this house.

  ‘I see.’ Oliver’s dark brows had drawn together, and she sensed he didn’t like his mother’s attitude towards her any more than she did. ‘Well, you’re here now, that’s the main thing. Stella will have to get over it.’

  ‘Get over what?’

  Laura was confused, but with another of his lightning shifts of mood Oliver changed the subject again. ‘You’ve filled out,’ he said, his gaze on her mouth almost palpable in its intimacy. His eyes lowered to her rounded breasts and a kernel of heat ignited inside her. ‘Yes, you’ve definitely changed since I last saw you.’

  ‘If you mean I’ve put on weight, that’s hardly a compliment,’ said Laura tightly, using anger to hide the turmoil that was seething inside her. She wasn’t sixteen now, she thought resentfully, or even twenty-one, as she’d been at her wedding, which was the last time he’d seen her. ‘What gives you the right to make personal remarks?’

  ‘It was supposed to be a compliment,’ he protested. ‘When you got married, you were as skinny as a rake.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better.’

  Oliver blew out a breath. ‘I mean it.’ His eyes drifted over her again and she had to steel herself not to glance down. But she was sure her peaking nipples were visible despite the serviceable bra she was wearing. ‘You look—good,’ he continued huskily. ‘You’re not my little sister any more.’

  ‘I was never your little sister,’ retorted Laura. And then, realising she was in danger of saying too much, she forced herself to rein in her emotions. ‘Anyway, where’s Aunt Nell? It’s not like her to let anyone else use her kitchen.’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’ He pressed down on the bar and got up from the chair as he spoke. ‘Tell me about you, about what you’ve been doing since you got your divorce. I still don’t know what happened between you two.’ He paused. ‘Was there someone else?’

  Laura drew back into the rocker, wrapping the folds of her shirt across her breasts. She was half afraid he was going to touch her as he had the night before, and she felt a treacherous moistness between her legs.

  ‘I’m sure you’re not interested in me,’ she declared, aware that in spite of her efforts her voice was sharp. ‘Any more than I’m interested in you and your girlfriends.’

  ‘I don’t have any girlfriends,’ responded Oliver, a little impatiently. ‘I have one girlfriend. Her name is Natalie Harlowe. You may have heard of her. She’s a model.’

  ‘Surprise, surprise!’

  Laura couldn’t prevent herself from looking up at him, her eyes rolling expressively as she mocked his words. Oliver’s face darkened with annoyance, and she quickly returned her attention to the dregs of coffee in her mug, but she was aware of him gazing down at her, and her stomach quivered with remembered pain.

  ‘You’d like her,’ he said, after a moment. ‘If you got to know her, that is. Or are you so cynical after your own experiences with marriage that you can’t face the fact that some couples do succeed?’

  Laura’s lips trembled. If he only knew, she thought bitterly. It wasn’t her marital experiences that had made her cynical, no matter what he thought. She wanted to tell him then, wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face with what was real. But she couldn’t. She had never told anyone. And he was the last person she’d confide in, anyway.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said now, but although she managed a careless glance in his direction there was little apology in her tone. She took a steadying breath. ‘But the famous photographer and his model,’ she added, trying to make light of it. ‘Isn’t it just the tiniest bit of a cliche?’

  ‘I don’t photograph models,’ Oliver countered tightly, and to her relief he strode away to deposit his empty mug in the sink. Then, with his back to her, he continued flatly, ‘You and I need to talk, Laura. I think you’re still carrying far too much baggage from the past.’

  How dared he?

  Laura uncoiled her long legs from the chair and stared at his broad shoulders resentfully. Just like that, he thought he could dispose of their history in a few words. If he’d cared about her feelings at all, he’d never have said such a thing to her. What the hell was he implying? That he thought she’d messed up his life?

  ‘I don’t think we have anything to talk about,’ she retorted, before she could prevent herself. It was all right telling herself she shouldn’t stir up all those old feelings, but here, in this house, the past seemed unpleasantly close.

  ‘There you are.’ He swung round. ‘You are harbouring some kind of grudge against me. For God’s sake, Laura, don’t you think I’ve suffered enough over the years?’

  ‘You’ve suffered?’ For a moment, for a long, shuddering moment, she was tempted to tell him. As he stood there, staring at her with those cold, accusing eyes, she desperately wanted to tear his shallow world apart. But then common sense—and a dogged sense of pride—came to her rescue, and, shaking her head bemusedly, she said, ‘I—don’t think anything either of us can say can change how we feel about the past.’

  Oliver’s shoulders sagged. ‘I had hoped you’d have forgiven me. God knows, it’s taken me years to forgive myself.’

  Laura swallowed. ‘I have forgiven you,’ she asserted. ‘I just don’t want to talk about it.’ She turned towards the door. ‘And now I think I’ll go and find Aunt Nell. There may be something I can do to help her.’

  ‘To help her—but not to help me,’ said Oliver roughly, coming after her. And, before she could guess his intention, his fingers closed about her arm. ‘God, Laura,’ he groaned, and she was almost sure he bent his head to inhale the fragrance of her hair. ‘Don’t do this to me. Last night you said we could be friends.’

  Friends!

  It was all she could do not to utter a stifled sob of hysteria at his words. The violence of his reaction had shaken what little self-control she had. ‘Let me go, Oliver,’ she managed unevenly. ‘I think you’ve forgotten why we’re
here.’

  ‘I’ve forgotten nothing,’ he retorted, and now she was sure he was dangerously close to exposing her charade. His hand slid down her arm, his thumb finding the sensitive inner curve of her wrist. ‘Damn you, Laura, it wasn’t all my fault.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘So when is the funeral?’

  Natalie was obviously trying to be understanding and Oliver wedged himself more comfortably against the headboard of his bed and switched his mobile phone to his other ear.

  ‘Tuesday, ‘I think,’ he said, trying to respond with an equal warmth, but it was difficult to put that scene in the kitchen with Laura out of his mind. It was just as well her aunt had turned up as she had, he thought savagely. God alone knew what stupid stunt he might have pulled if her arrival hadn’t interrupted them.

  ‘Tuesday!’ Natalie groaned. ‘But that’s almost the middle of next week.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Oliver managed to infuse some sympathy into his voice. He was loath to tell her he didn’t actually know what arrangements his mother had made yet. She hadn’t got around to telling him.

  ‘But didn’t he die on Wednesday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then isn’t six days rather a long time to...?’

  ‘I believe there had to be a post-mortem,’ broke in Oliver reluctantly. ‘And the weather’s pretty lousy, too.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Natalie sighed. ‘I suppose so.’ She paused, and then added more optimistically, ‘But they say a thaw is on the way.’

  ‘Oh, good.’

  Oliver knew his voice was lacking in enthusiasm and he was hardly surprised when she picked up on it. ‘You don’t care, do you?’ she accused him indignantly. ‘You know I’m leaving for Antigua next Thursday. I had hoped I might be able to persuade you to come with me, but now it sounds as if I’m not even going to see you before I go.’

  ‘I didn’t plan it this way, Nat.’ But he did feel guilty. He’d forgotten all about the Antigua shoot. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you?’ She didn’t sound convinced. There was a pregnant pause. ‘I suppose she’s there.’

  ‘Who?’ He knew exactly who she meant, but he needed a few moments to get his thoughts in order.

  ‘You know who!’ she exclaimed shortly. ‘Laura.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘How long is she staying?’

  Oliver could feel an unpleasant tightening in his stomach. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked with what he hoped was casual indifference.

  ‘Of course it matters.’ Natalie sighed. ‘I’d like to meet her. If she’s coming up to town when the funeral’s over—’

  ‘I neither know nor care what her plans are,’ retorted Oliver, with rather less discretion. ‘In any case, I doubt if she’ll have time to come to London.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Why not indeed?

  He gritted his teeth. ‘Her father’s just died, Nat. There’ll be—things to do; matters to attend to. Not least, her father’s affairs to put in order.’

  ‘But won’t your mother be doing that?’ asked Natalie in surprise, and Oliver had to acknowledge that it was a reasonable question.

  ‘She—may need some help,’ he said, cringing at his own duplicity. ‘Look, you know what solicitors are like. These things can be—complicated.’

  ‘In other words, you don’t want to ask her.’

  ‘Ask her?’ Oliver felt blank. ‘Ask her what?’

  ‘To come and stay with you,’ replied Natalie impatiently. ‘Honestly, Oliver, why couldn’t you just come right out and say it? You don’t like her, that’s obvious. I’m beginning to wonder exactly what did happen all those years ago.’

  Oliver stifled a groan. ‘Nothing happened!’ he exclaimed. ‘For God’s sake, Nat, stop making a drama out of this.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All right. If it’ll please you, I’ll ask her if she wants to come and stay for a few days before she goes back to the States. How about that?’

  Natalie sniffed. ‘You don’t have to sound as if I’m forcing you to do it.’

  ‘For Pete’s sake—’

  ‘All right.’ She expelled a hurried breath. ‘That would be nice. So—so long as you promise we’ll have some time alone together after I get back.’

  Oliver was tempted to say she couldn’t have it both ways, but he had no desire to start another argument so he assured her that he had no plans for leaving town again in the immediate future. Then, desperate to end the conversation before he said something more incriminating, he added, ‘I must go, baby. I want to let Thomas know what’s going on and there are still arrangements to be made.’

  ‘I know.’ Thankfully, Natalie seemed to accept this. Then, just when he thought he was home free, she cried, ‘Hey, I’ve got a marvellous idea. Why don’t you invite your mother up to town as well as Laura? It would be a break for her, wouldn’t it? It might help her to put the funeral behind her. And you know how much I’ve wanted to meet your family.’

  Oliver’s lips twisted. ‘I’ll—think about it,’ he said tightly, aware that Natalie had no idea what she was suggesting. ‘Bye, sweetheart. Speak to you soon.’

  ‘See you do.’ Natalie suppressed what sounded suspiciously like a sob. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Yeah. Me, too.’

  Oliver gave the automatic response, but he felt a shameful sense of relief when the call was disconnected. God, he thought grimly, when had his life become so complicated? It didn’t use to be. Before he’d left for Malaysia, everything had seemed so simple. He had a job doing something he loved; he owned a house that was the envy of many of his friends; and he was in love with a beautiful woman who, amazingly, loved him in return. He’d thought nothing could change that. Dammit, how wrong he’d been.

  Yet, if he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that nothing had changed. Not outwardly, at least. He still had his work; he still had his house; he still loved Natalie and she loved him. So why the hell was he feeling as if everything he had achieved, everything he’d believed in all these years, was suddenly on shifting sands?

  Laura.

  He scowled. He didn’t have to look far to find the answer. It was the way she’d looked at him earlier that morning, the—what? Pity? Revulsion? Contempt?—in her expression that had cut the ground out from under him. She despised him, that much was obvious, and believing that they might be able to forget the past and start again was as futile as hoping that his mother might have had a change of heart.

  But she couldn’t put all the blame on to him, dammit. What had happened had been as much her fault as his. If he’d responded to what had proved to be an irresistible provocation, then so be it. But he hadn’t initiated that provocation. She had. And the sooner she stopped condemning him for something that had been inevitable from the moment she opened his bedroom door—

  His breath caught in his throat as someone knocked at his door. God, he thought, raking back his hair with a slightly unsteady hand. History couldn’t be repeating itself. Could it? Did he want it to?

  Angry at the sudden quickening of his pulse, he swung his legs to the floor and got to his feet just as his mother put her head round the door. ‘You decent?’ she asked, and without waiting for a reply she slipped furtively into the room.

  Oliver regarded her with a jaundiced eye, aware that it would have been all the same if he’d been stark naked. As always, Stella put her own priorities first, and she offered no excuse for invading his privacy.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ she said, closing the door with what he considered an unnecessary measure of caution. ‘What are you doing up here?’

  ‘Do I have to answer that?’ Oliver regarded his mother’s negligee-clad figure without emotion. He tossed the mobile phone on to the bedside table. ‘I was making a call.’

  ‘To Natalie?’ For some reason, Stella had decided to endorse their relationship. Probably to ensure that he wouldn’t be tempted to make a friend of Laura, decided Oliver cynically. ‘You must bring her to meet me some time. She’s a very beautiful young woman. As
a matter of fact, she reminds me of myself when I was younger.’

  ‘Really?’ Oliver gave her a retiring look.

  ‘Yes, really.’ Stella huffed a little, and gathered the two sides of her negligee closer together. ‘Brr, it’s cold in here. I told Griff that these radiators weren’t powerful enough. But he always insisted that he couldn’t afford to change them.’

  ‘Perhaps he couldn’t,’ murmured Oliver drily, walking across to the windows and gazing out at the amorphous shapes in the garden. ‘This place must eat money.’

  ‘Not that much.’ Stella glided over to the bed, seating herself where he had been sitting to make his call. ‘Mmm, that’s better,’ she said, drawing the quilt over her shoulders. ‘So— what did Natalie have to say?’

  Oliver turned, resting his hips on the ledge behind him. ‘Don’t pretend you’re interested.’ He lifted his shoulders in an indifferent gesture. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ Stella was abrupt now. ‘What time have I had to think about the future? I’ve been too busy trying to come to terms with the present.’

  Oliver blew out a breath. ‘So what do you want?’

  ‘Oh, Oliver, don’t be so callous. Can’t I come and have a private word with my own son without him thinking I want something?’

  Oliver’s mouth compressed. ‘Do you want me to answer that?’

  Stella pursed her lips. ‘You don’t care, do you? I’m your mother and you don’t care that I’m about to be thrown out of my home.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ replied Oliver flatly. ‘You’re only guessing what Laura might do.’

  ‘Well, I don’t need a crystal ball to see how she’s going to react when she finds out,’ retorted his mother harshly. ‘You’ve got to help me, Oliver. I’m relying on you for your support.’

  Oliver sighed. ‘I’ll do what I can, of course, but—’

  ‘But what?’ Stella was emotional now. ‘Are you telling me you won’t help me?’