“Curtis didn’t,” she said.
“Didn’t what?”
“He never came into the grove, never worked here,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Curtis’s interests lay only in Curtis. He didn’t help anyone, except himself.”
The twig in Mac’s fingers snapped in half. “And yet you stayed.”
“We had a daughter.”
Mac wished she would look at him. He wanted to see…
What? He shook his head. Damn. He was getting too…sentimental. Too involved. That was the problem. You’re going soft, Grainger.
Truth? Some of what Leah said about Curtis he would grudgingly admit was true. Curtis had always been a selfish bastard.
As the silence stretched between them, Leah stood and went back to the house, leaving Mac alone. He continued working, though his thoughts remained firmly on Leah and the urgent need building inside him.
He wished he could banish the image of her and stay focused.
Knowing he needed to call the investigator to check on progress but with the cell phone coverage not clear because of the surrounding hillsides, he eventually headed back toward the house.
Nearly to the gateway, he heard the crunch of tires over the gravel drive. As he reached the porch, an SUV drove beneath the rose bramble arch, the dangling faded pink blooms brushing against its rooftop.
No sooner had the engine been switched off than a rear door was thrust open and out popped Charlee, blonde curls bouncing and her little legs running in a lopsided gait toward the stairs, only to come to a halt at the bottom. “Mummy, I need you.”
The screen door kicked back against the house, and Leah raced to meet her daughter. Joy lit her face, eyes sparkling with love as she scooped Charlee up.
Mac’s stride halted, shock hitting him squarely in the gut as he witnessed the beauty of Leah’s love for Charlee. Then it got worse. Charlee’s tiny hand clutched onto Leah’s, and guilt tugged at his conscience. Mother and daughter. Together. And you’re trying to tear them apart.
“Oh darling, sorry I wasn’t here for you. I was preparing a snack.”
The driver’s door opened, and a young woman about Leah’s age exited. “Sorry we’re late. We went to the stream and fed the ducks.”
Leah smiled. “How lovely…” But her voice trailed off as she spied him walking forward.
“Hey,” he said as he came to stand beside her. He ruffled Charlee’s hair, and she stared up at him. Just then another child scrambled out of the vehicle and beckoned to Charlee. “Come on.” And together, childish laughter filling the air, the pair raced over to the swing set.
The little girl’s mother, a slender brunette with a dusting of fine freckles across her nose and almost violet eyes, held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Matty, and you’re…?”
“Mac,” he said, purposefully leaving off his surname as he shook her hand. “Leah’s…ah…” He hesitated. What on earth was he supposed to say? Brother-in-law? Business partner?
Matty misunderstood the pause, and her surprise couldn’t have been more evident. She turned to Leah. “You sneak. You never told me.”
Heat infused Leah’s cheeks, and he could see she struggled to speak. On the spot, he decided to play along. He wrapped an arm around Leah’s shoulders, hugging her to him, and though he felt her stiffen at his intimacy, he didn’t let go. He’d been wanting to know how this felt for what seemed like ages.
“Took us both by surprise, really, a spur of the moment thing,” he said, giving Matty a cheesy grin.
“Oh, how romantic.” Just then, her mobile beeped, and she dug it out of her pocket, answered it and walked a few meters away.
Using the moment of respite, Leah twisted from him, giving him a death glare at the same time. “You had no right to say that.”
“What did you want me to say?”
Her jaw dropped.
“See, even you don’t know. I could have said I was Curtis’s brother. Did you want that?”
Her attention shifted to her friend and then jackknifed back to him. “You’re a blackmailer and a…”
“That’s Kane,” Matty interrupted, smiling, “I have to go. Freddie’s ready to be picked up. Just my luck,” she said, flicking Mac one of those “darn it, I want to get the gossip” looks. “Later, Leah. I want all the details.”
“All?” Mac teased. Okay, so he was a bad boy, but he couldn’t resist.
“Well, maybe not all the details, but heck, this is the stuff romance books are made of. You deserve that, after Cur… Oh.” She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, head titled slightly sideways, and she shrugged. “Darn it. I have to scoot, Mum’s taxi service is on order, and that, my dear friend and your gorgeous new friend,” she said winking in Mac’s direction, “is definitely not romantic.” She called to her daughter, then buckled her into the car seat and backed out of the gate, leaving them with only a cloud of dust and the buzz of cicadas for company.
Charlee managed a lopsided skip up the steps, and without saying a word, Leah picked her up and retraced her path into the house. The door banged closed.
About to follow her, Mac halted as a delivery truck trundled to a halt in front of the house. “This place is getting like Victoria Station.”
“Delivery for Mr. Grainger,” the driver said as he exited the truck cab, holding out a delivery note.
“That’s me.”
“Sorry it took a couple of days. Needed to get it from the warehouse. Where do you want the bed?”
The front door slammed back on its hinges. “Bed? I think you’ve made a mistake.” Leah bounded down the steps. “I haven’t ordered a bed.”
“It’s no mistake.” Mac softened his tone. Having furniture delivered to her house would not go down well, and his instinct proved correct.
“Tell him he’s made a mistake,” she huffed, pointing to the vehicle. “That bed—”
“Is mine,” he interrupted. “A single bed is not my idea of luxury.”
“Could be cozy,” the driver piped in.
Leah shot him a withering glare, then turned back to Mac. “If you want comfort, go back to your fancy high rise or a hotel or…” She shook her head. “Anywhere. You don’t have to stay.”
“Can’t, and you know why.” He stifled a chuckle as he noted her small hands fisted on her hips. The scowl on her face told him she was about ready to kick the delivery man right back to the city and Mac along with him. She glanced over to the truck, then back to him, eyes wide and glittering.
He knew it. Leah was thinking the same thing as him—there was definitely room for two.
He tossed the driver a grin. “Let me give you a hand.”
“Oooh.” Leah stomped right back up the front steps.
“The missus looks a tad angry, mate,” the driver said as he hefted the mattress from the back of the truck.
“Could say that.”
“Bunch of roses, always works for my wife.”
“You reckon?”
“Yep, then she’ll join you on this new bed of yours.”
Mac’s mouth curled up at the corners. Nice! “Could be a good idea.” He grabbed the other end of the mattress and directed the driver inside.
With his bed in place, grateful he’d not be hanging over the end by at least six inches, he headed back to the grove and worked for several hours without a break. Finally, he went in search of Leah and found her in the kitchen preparing dinner, her hostile mood unabated.
“Today broadband and a bed,” she snapped, refusing to look at him. “Tomorrow you’ll move into my office.”
“My laptop is as much office as I’ll bring here,” he said, thumbing in the direction of the small case beside his briefcase on the dining room table.
“Good. No need to get too comfortable.”
He watched his niece as she stood to get a toy, and noted the stiffness of her limbs, the way she threw her hip and upper body sideways as she moved each leg forward. It wasn’t bloody fair. She was just a kid wanting
to play and… The lump in Mac’s throat choked his airways and he turned away.
At least Charlee wasn’t aware of the friction between her mother and him, and he sure as hell intended to keep it that way. He wasn’t about to repeat his childhood, but he also wanted some answers.
“When were you going to tell me about Charlee?”
Leah stole a horrified glance at her daughter, wariness walking across her face. When she spoke, her voice was clipped and spiked Mac’s suspicions further. “It’s none of your business, and,” she said, levering herself away from the bench, the short paring knife she’d been using to chop tomatoes still gripped in her hand and pointed dangerously close to him, “don’t say one word. If you intend to use that doting-uncle rubbish on me, then… Well, just don’t.” With an uneasy swipe, her gaze shifted back to her daughter. “Charlee has a disability, but don’t you dare take it out on her.”
Damn it. He’d made one hell of an impression. “What sort of guy do you think I am?”
She sniffed, put down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, I know what sort of guy you are. Who you are. Tough. Determined. Single-minded. In some, those are qualities that could be deemed admirable. But in a Grainger? Since I’ve been married to Curtis, I’m not so sure.”
Mac leant against the kitchen bench, hands in his jeans pockets, one ankle hooked over the other. He watched Leah, witnessed her anger and fear, a strange combination when a mother talked about her daughter, surely? “You haven’t answered my question about your daughter.”
Leah visibly trembled, and Mac knew his instincts were correct. Something wasn’t right.
“A year ago, Charlee developed a hip disease called Perthes disease. Mostly boys get it, and usually around the age of six or so.”
Mac’s gut hit bottom. “But she’s only four. I noticed her limp but figured she’d just hurt herself playing.”
Tears brimmed in Leah’s eyes. “I know. I did too, at first, but the limp didn’t go away. She kept saying her knee hurt, but it wasn’t until the doctor started talking about referred pain that it all fell into place. Her knee hurt, but the disease is in her hip.”
He turned toward Charlee and swiped newly calloused fingertips across his jaw. “Bloody hell. I can’t imagine how hard it is for her.”
“She manages.”
“Manages? But she’s a child,” he said. “Kids are meant to be able to do what kids do. Play rough-and-tumble games, run and jump.” He turned back to Leah. “What’s the prognosis?”
“It’s imperative she keep active to keep the muscle strength up, even though the ball and joint need time to heal. In the past, they would operate, or she’d be in one of those spinal beds for years, encased in a plaster cast from her waist to her toes. I have to keep up her physical therapy.”
Mac heard the desperation in her voice and understood it. He wasn’t that heartless. “Has the therapy been a problem?”
Her mouth parted as if she were about to speak, but she said nothing. He noted her guilt. It scored deep in her eyes and told him everything. “Bloody hell. Leah, what sort of mother are you? You haven’t kept up with the physiotherapy, have you?” Mac knew he was right. Rage boiled deep inside him. “Your child needs help and you…you can’t be bothered.”
“I never said that.”
“You haven’t taken Charlee to therapy since I arrived. Instead, you spend all your time in the olive grove, ignoring your daughter’s most important need. You’re just another mother who doesn’t care enough. A mother like…”
“Of course I care. I love her.”
“Really? It seems to me that the grove so important that you would neglect your child. That you won’t put money aside for the extra therapy.” He fisted his hands. He wanted her to deny it, but she didn’t, adding fuel to the proverbial fire. “Why haven’t you sold the place?”
“It’s all I have. It’s my security.”
“What’s the use of security if your child is ill, hurting? Why can’t you see that? What about Curtis?”
“What about him?”
“He was her father.”
“In name and DNA only. Being a parent wasn’t part of his plan.”
The invisible king hit to Mac’s gut slammed brutally. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Your beloved brother didn’t care about his family. Sound familiar?”
Bitter guilt resurfaced, and he turned to his niece playing with her dolls in a house made of chairs and blankets. The simplicity of it all tugged at his heart. She was so sweet and innocent.
Though Charlee was his only family, he’d never thought he’d care so much. He hadn’t until now. Watching her stirred a sense of protectiveness in him that scared him.
Mac hadn’t wanted this new responsibility. He’d been content with the way he’d mapped out his life, but something inside him wouldn’t let him walk away. Curtis’s death had forced it. There was only him and Charlee, the last of the family, and his brother’s email had made him face up to that responsibility, made him realise after all these years how important family was.
Leah pulled out one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen table and slumped onto the seat. “I could cope with Curtis hating me,” she said, rancor tainting her voice, “but how could he hate his own daughter? It was almost as if he disowned her because she wasn’t perfect, because she was disabled.” She dabbed at her eyes, angling herself away from Charlee’s view. Mac strained to hear her next words and then wished he hadn’t.
“He called Charlee damaged goods.”
“Shit!” His response flew from his lips before he had time to think. “She’s my niece. I’ll pay for whatever she needs. Let me know who to send the check to.”
Leah blinked, relief washing away the guilt. “Thank you.”
Just then, Charlee called out. “Mummy, can you get me a drink, please?”
“You know the rules, Charlee.”
“But…”
“No buts, darling,” she said, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. “If you want something, you have to get it yourself. Remember we discussed this.”
“Woman!” Mac couldn’t believe what he heard and threw up his hands in disgust. She couldn’t even do something as simple as getting a drink for Charlee? “Are you that lazy?”
Leah rounded on him, her fury instant. “No. I’m not lazy. But you just don’t understand. No one does.”
“So how about you tell me.”
“It’s part of her exercise.”
“Exercise! She wants a drink, for God’s sake.” He couldn’t handle this. Leah said she loved Charlee, but then she wouldn’t even help her with a small task. It didn’t make sense, and the more he thought about it, the more it confused him. Bitterness tangled with memories of his own mother’s neglect until he felt as if he would explode.
He spun away from mother and daughter. He had to get out. Now! Leah was like his mother after all, saying one thing but doing another.
Without a word, he headed out the front door, seeking the seclusion of the valley and the beckoning darkness beyond, embracing the solitude it offered. Hands deep in his pockets, head down and shoulders hunched, he strode the length of the driveway. But his brain whirred and the memories wouldn’t stop. He damned his mother, and he damned his brother for putting him in this predicament, forcing him to have a conscience.
He walked and kept on walking, trying to make sense of everything, anything. His brother had hated his own daughter. What was…had been wrong with Curtis? Curtis had been the devoted son, cosseted and indulged.
Mac scowled at that thought and continued walking and thinking.
The precious son. The precocious son. Everything Curtis had done had been perfect. And everything Mac had done had been wrong. The more he’d tried, the harder it had become, until hormones and attitude got in the way, and he’d walked out and not come back.
For years he’d escaped the familial bond and ignored his family. Then Curtis’s emails had come. His brother had vilified Leah
, and Mac had believed him. No reason not to, he reminded himself, though somehow that thought didn’t seem quite as sound as it once had.
He kicked at the pebbles beneath his feet and shrugged his misgivings away. Besides, he thought, trying to subdue the escalating doubt, his investigations corroborated Leah’s debts. He’d witnessed her signature as bold as brass on every mortgage document. But—and it was a big but—he’d also seen… What?
Devotion to her daughter?
Something didn’t make sense.
Mac swore into the darkness, adding a few extra curses in languages he’d picked up over the years. Damned if he knew what was going on, but he sure as hell would find out.
Chapter Four
Two nights later, Leah sat at her desk, paperwork scattered across it. It couldn’t be right. Just couldn’t be. Leah scanned the figure work again, praying the amount of the repair bill was a mistake. Instinctively, though, she knew it wasn’t. Rewiring an old villa like hers wouldn’t be cheap. And according to the second quote she’d received in today’s mail, it wasn’t.
With a resigned sigh, she tucked the quote back into its envelope.
“Something wrong?” Mac leaned against the kitchen doorway, hands jammed into his jeans pockets.
“You’re back.”
“Yeah, a bit of quiet time never hurt anyone,” he said, offering a half smile.
Leah’s heart did a tandem of butterfly flutters. There was something different about him at that moment. Strong and capable. Unthreatening. And yet she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But trust had nothing to do with the heat that zinged between them, a sizzling electrical current connecting them that nothing seemed to be able to break.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Leah heard the taint of a lie in her voice as she clutched the quote to her chest. If Mac found out more money was required to rewire the house, another problem she couldn’t sort out, it would only give him more ammunition against her.
Soon she’d get it done. Soon. When the harvest came in, she would pay him back and get him outta there. Then she could sort out the house’s dilapidated wiring. Then life would get back to normal, and she wouldn’t be so nervous every hour of the day or have to look at his far-too-sexy face and meet his probing gaze. Then, at last, she could bury her growing attraction to him and keep her secrets hidden.
Secrets and Seduction Page 5
