by Jennie Adams
He hadn’t. He’d been searching for ways to occupy himself!
She waved a hand. ‘At any rate, I’d rather keep tomorrow as a surprise. It will give you something to anticipate.’
‘You think so?’ He leaned forward, just close enough to inhale the scent of her.
Delicate shoulders beneath the orange cheesecloth blouse tightened into immobility as their bodies all but brushed. She swallowed. ‘Um…’
His hand rose. He clasped her shoulder, gritting his teeth as his body absorbed her nearness, the sweet, lovely scent of her, the touch of soft cloth and the knowledge of softer skin beneath it.
She couldn’t seem to shift her gaze from him. Instead, she lifted her free hand to fiddle with the garland of wild flowers around her neck.
His gaze followed. Naturally. He let his head bend towards hers as the bands of control loosened and slipped. ‘You’re torturing me.’
Soph’s head lifted at the same time. Her fingers gripped his shoulder. ‘You’re doing it to me—more.’
‘This won’t mean anything,’ he cautioned. ‘And I won’t take it too far.’
Her chin tipped up. ‘Nobody asked you to make it mean anything, or to be my keeper.’
‘I warned you.’ But the warning was to himself, really, and he couldn’t heed it anyway.
Instead, he closed the distance, closed his lips over hers, took one deep, lingering taste. There was nothing special here, nothing to lift this above any other intimacy he had experienced, he assured himself.
Her taste put the lie to that assurance immediately, exploded on his tongue, burst through him and flooded him. Everywhere. Senses, nerve-endings, feelings.
She drew back before he was ready. Her eyes were wide, the lush mouth soft and vulnerable.
Grey felt…almost overwhelmed. What was wrong with him? What had happened to the feelings he had guarded so well and that now were in disarray, fractured all through him until he didn’t know what he wanted any more?
Before Grey could work it out, if that was even possible, a sound impinged. It took moments for his mind to clear enough to recognise the noise as cars, more than one, approaching on the road that led to the house.
He glanced over his shoulder in time to see those cars, three of them, draw to a halt outside his home. An involuntary groan escaped him.
‘What’s the matter?’ Soph followed his gaze and stared, as Grey did, at the flotilla of three brightly coloured convertibles that now sat outside his house.
Metallic blue. Fire engine red. Flashy green. Three women emerged from those cars, each dressed in colours to match. As one they swarmed on the house, knocked on the door and waited, and moments later, after dismantling one of his window-frames and putting it back again, disappeared inside.
‘Are we being burgled in primary colours?’ Soph murmured the words but, even as she said it, he watched her put it together in her head. ‘Those are your stepmothers, aren’t they? How did they know to get inside the house like that?’
‘I once advised them that if they insisted on leaving a key outside their homes, the inside of a window-frame was a better place than under the mat.’ He shouldn’t have done such a thing, himself, but this was the middle of nowhere. He’d considered it safe enough.
‘No doubt they’ve decided we’ve gone away somewhere, and chosen to wait inside in comfort until we get back.’ All he wanted was to forget their presence and go back to kissing Soph, but look where that had got him. A whole lot of frustration, and an even greater urge to make her his and damn the consequences and the future and any guilt or caution he might feel.
‘Do you want to go somewhere? Want to avoid them? You assigned me your protector from visitors when I first started with you.’ She sat up, that protectiveness there in full glory for him to see. And appreciate, even though he didn’t need it.
She was cute and sweet and desirable when she wanted to look out for him. It made him want to protect her twice as much. Trouble was, he appeared to be her worst enemy at the moment.
Soph chewed that luscious lower lip of hers. ‘If their presence will make you stressed—’
‘They won’t make me stressed.’ They may have just saved him from doing something really, really stupid, though, and, despite the fact that Soph had been the first to draw away, he knew she would have let him.
He rose awkwardly to his feet and held out his hand to help her up. His fingers continued to grip hers for a moment after she stood and then he made himself let go. ‘Shall we go meet them?’
‘Together.’ She spoke it as a decree.
Grey smiled, though he had no idea what he had to smile about. ‘Yes, we’ll go together.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘LEANNA, Sharon, Dawn. I’m surprised to see you all here.’ Grey spoke the words in a quiet tone.
Soph searched the faces in front of them, all of them surprised, a little guilty. The stepmothers all rushed forward and then stopped just shy of touching him.
‘You are all right, Grey?’
‘Your injuries are recovering as they should?’
‘The country air and isolation are helping you?’
Soph thought the latter was kind of moot right now, but she softened a little at the concern in each face before it was carefully masked and the women began to chatter as they had over the phone—about trips and borrowing company transportation and paying off overdue bills.
‘My injuries are healing as expected,’ he answered when they finally all came up for air.
Grey gestured towards the sofa and chairs. ‘I would have checked on you all when I returned to Melbourne, but now that you’re here…’
They all sat. Thanked him. Explained their problems in detail and looked at him expectantly as though waiting for his answers. It almost seemed as though they found a secure familiarity in bringing their troubles to his door.
Grey settled on to the sofa and Soph sat beside him. He glanced towards her. Let his arm brush against hers. She drew a deep breath and sighed it out again. She truly had totally and utterly no idea what she was going to do.
‘This is Sophia Gable, my assistant while I’m recovering.’ He glanced towards each stepmother in turn. ‘Sophia, these are Sharon, Dawn and Leanna, my late father’s ex-wives.’
Nods and hellos were exchanged.
‘Would you make some tea, Soph?’ Grey’s thigh pressed against hers as he asked the question.
In the moment it took for Soph to shift her attention from that touch, he went on, ‘Actually, could we have cardamom coffee? Would it take long? And maybe some of those interesting cookies you made last night?’
‘I’ll do it now.’ Though she didn’t want to leave him, he probably wanted to answer his stepmothers’ questions privately. He’d called her Soph again too. She liked it far too much when he did that.
Soph got to her feet. She would prepare the food and if she heard raised voices or anything she would come to his rescue. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes, but if you need me—’
‘Don’t tempt me.’ He spoke the words in a low rumble none of the others would have heard.
Soph’s jaw dropped and she scuttled off like a…rabbit, conscious that any distance she may have thought she had gained since they’d returned from the meadow had disappeared.
Grey couldn’t keep the smile quite at bay as he watched Sophia’s backside swish all the way to the kitchen. Eventually he turned his gaze back to his stepmothers, who all observed him with differing degrees of interest and curiosity in the depths of their guarded eyes.
In fact, they were always guarded around him, and he around them, and it only just hit him that this was so as he compared that behaviour to Soph’s utter openness and to what his stepmothers used to be like, once upon a time. Well, Soph wasn’t always an open book, but she was about some things.
A sigh passed through his lips. He listened to Soph clang things around in the kitchen and decided to get this over with before she came back. She seemed determined to p
rotect him. Well, Grey had demanded she push any visitors off the doorstep, hadn’t he, at the start. This was a little more complicated. It always felt complicated with the stepmothers.
‘We’ve covered all this ground a number of times in the past.’ Even the opening gambit was well used. He went on anyway. ‘Though I understand your concerns, I don’t believe it’s in anyone’s best interests for me to pay off credit cards or pay other amounts outside your stipends. The company’s equipment, the use of planes and such, my yacht, which is often reserved for business—those things are not available to any of you personally for good reason. Work is work, play isn’t. So, basically, you all need to learn to live off your allowances.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’
‘I know, dear. I will try harder.’
‘Perfectly fair. I suppose I wasn’t thinking when I asked for a charter plane.’
They accepted his response. They always did until the next time they brought up something similar. Grey didn’t really understand this, but he didn’t want to upset them, and maybe he could afford to bend a little?
‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll have my solicitor pay some extra money into each of your accounts.’ He named a figure. ‘I won’t make a habit of it, but that should tide you over. And I’ll get each of you some financial counselling sessions as well. Perhaps then we won’t have to go through this time and again.’
He gazed at each of them, expecting to at least see some relief, if nothing else.
The all looked disappointed.
‘Oh, well, naturally you won’t want to continue dealing with these matters—’
‘I can manage. I don’t need to see a financial counsellor—’
‘I just like to consult with you…’
Soph came forward with the coffee and cookies on a tray then, and Grey mentally shook his head, confounded and not sure why. Maybe he was destined to feel that way since coming into contact with his confusing and desirable assistant?
The stepmothers sipped the coffee and nibbled the cookies and were oddly subdued. Indeed, they all seemed to have lost their appetites and set the food and drinks aside after just moments.
‘I suppose we should be going.’ Leanna got to her feet. The sparkle that had risen in her eyes when she’d first arrived and greeted him had disappeared again.
Dawn followed. ‘We’ve disturbed your peace long enough.’
Sharon set down her coffee and slightly nibbled cookie as though glad to be rid of them. ‘Thank you for seeing us. We’ll…get out of your way.’
‘I’ll show you all out.’ Soph stood.
Grey followed suit and they all moved to the front door while tension arced down his spine. He felt completely inadequate and bewildered.
‘I really do need isolation.’ He spoke the words in uncharacteristic disclosure, but it was the only thing he could think of that might soothe this… ruffled impression he got from his stepmothers. ‘The doctor has discovered elevated stress levels. I have to get them down and he feels if I’m alone out here it will give me the best chance.’
Leanna swung to face him. ‘Your father didn’t take proper care. I kept telling him he needed to—’
Dawn frowned. ‘And your mother had that heart attack. We all know about that.’
‘You need us to stay away.’ Sharon seemed to say it for all of them. She drew herself up and gave a determined nod. ‘We understand. What matters is that you get better. You won’t be troubled again while you recover, Grey, be assured of that. In the meantime, please take care.’
‘I…uh…I will.’ Their obvious concern left him floundering again. When first Sharon and then Dawn leaned forward to kiss his cheek, Grey floundered more. Then Leanna patted his shoulder as she had done when he’d been a small boy missing his mother. He’d forgotten…
They left and Grey turned back to Sophia, making an excuse to get out of her company because he didn’t know what he was doing any more. He didn’t know at all, in any way, shape or form, and he really needed to get his head pulled back together. ‘I think I’ll take a nap before dinner.’
‘I thought you might like to talk about your stepmothers. They all seemed quite concerned—’
‘Yes. No. I mean…they did…but I don’t need to talk about them.’ His voice had a desperate edge that appalled him. He cleared his throat.
‘You go to bed, then.’ She gave the advice with a kind smile that made him grit his teeth. ‘Everything will seem better once you’ve rested, you’ll see.’
Just as though she was completely in control of her life and everything in it and not the slightest bit off-kilter as a result of what had happened out there in the meadow before they had been interrupted.
You mean you were interrupted when you were longing to make love to her.
Yes. Fine. He meant that. Grey stamped so hard on his good foot that it jarred all the way to the hip joint. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he growled and took the stairs at an irritated, uneven clip. Maybe he’d soak his head under the tap before his nap.
Would a blast of chilly water do anything to straighten out his thoughts?
Somehow, he doubted it.
She wore green nail polish and a glittery green scarf over her hair, à la that carefree woman who drove around in the vintage convertible and pretended to be a movie star. But Soph wasn’t a movie star and, frankly, life didn’t feel all that carefree from her viewpoint just at the moment.
Even Alfie had an unexpected problem. When she’d gone to return him to his cage this morning she’d found the covering blanket in a heap halfway across the yard. It had appeared to have been chewed.
The most probable cause was a straying farm dog or some other animal, and it meant Soph had to shut her pet safely in the big old shed, cage and all, to make sure he stayed safe while she and Grey weren’t at the house.
Her rabbit didn’t seem to mind too much. The shed had a high gate on the front, so at least Alfie wasn’t locked away in the dark.
Soph sighed and turned her attention back to the moment. She had coloured portions of her hair green to match her scarf and nail polish. It was just a wash out. Blonde and green tips stuck out around the scarf and fluttered in the breeze and she should have felt powerful and in control of her world.
But she didn’t.
They were at a wild flower farm about a forty minute drive from Grey’s country home. This was day two of Grey relaxing utterly and detoxifying his stress levels—she hoped that would happen, anyway, despite the fact they’d been creeping around each other since the meadow incident and the stepmothers yesterday.
Well, today was a new day. Soph had driven up a narrow, winding road far into the mountains to get them here—some of it with only a flimsy guard rail between them and a great deal of free space below.
She mostly had experience of driving in Melbourne, yet she had given Grey breathtaking views, had made an effort, but, darn him, all he’d done was pull out his cheque book and pay the tour fee when they’d arrived and had not looked at her or shown either surprise or pleasure that she’d planned this treat to surprise him.
And did she want him to look when they couldn’t do anything about the looking? She stifled a scream.
‘You don’t seriously expect me to climb on that thing and be carted all over the place?’ Grey glanced at the odd piece of machinery a few feet away from them.
It was a morph somewhere between a quad bike and go-kart, with room to seat a driver up front and two behind. The farm owner waited patiently on it to take them on their tour.
‘It’ll be fun.’ Soph hauled a pair of oversized sunglasses out of her tote bag, shoved them on to her nose and strolled forward.
She made sure she took her time so Grey could keep up on the uneven ground of the farm’s main yard without any risk to his ankle. The way he’d taken the stairs yesterday before his nap, she’d worried he would hurt himself.
‘Haven’t you ever wondered about this particular industry? It’s right on your doorstep, virtu
ally. Now you’ll know how it all works. We could buy some wild flowers. Make some dried arrangements for your place. I’m certain deep down you’re pleased with your surprise.’
He stopped dead still in the middle of the yard and his face first tightened into a frown and then he cursed and came closer. ‘I am pleased with the surprise. Thank you for thinking of it.’
Melt, melt.
That was her annoyance dribbling away and getting soaked up by the dry earth packed beneath their feet, not a starburst of happiness.
He moved past her and greeted the farm owner with a few polite words and a handshake and climbed aboard.
Soph caught up, but her heart took a little longer.
‘All ready?’ The man turned. He was young, around her age, and attractive in a rugged, outdoorsy way. ‘My sister’s busy in one of the sorting sheds, but you’ll meet her later.’ He gave Soph a slow, laconic, close up examination that ended in a toe-curling smile.
Grey bristled.
Soph returned the man’s smile rather absently and wondered if, at another time, she might have been attracted by the deep countryman’s drawl, the tanned face and a pair of sky-blue eyes fringed with thick brown lashes. All she could see, hear or feel with all her senses was Grey.
She sighed, whipped her tote bag open again, hauled out a cushion and plopped it under Grey’s foot before he could do anything to prevent her. Well, that was what tote bags were for—carrying everything and the kitchen sink in case you wanted to use it. ‘Ready. I look forward to learning all about your flower production.’
‘From around April to after Christmas is the busiest time of year for us.’ The man moved the vehicle forward and began to point out various sheds and buildings.
He drove them towards the panorama of flower-bedecked fields to the north. ‘We produce fifteen different kinds of Australian native wild flowers and sell them to florists in Melbourne and to wholesalers throughout Australia. We also sell direct to a number of foreign markets.’
It took Grey about two minutes to get truly interested, three before he started to pepper the conversation with questions, and five before he sat bolt upright in his seat so he could see better.
