Charlee’s face lit up. “I love camping.”
Once Leah had Charlee settled, his niece’s bubbling chatter echoing from the bedroom, she returned. Frustration burgeoned inside Mac. He wanted answers. “Who the hell is the bad man?”
Leah refused to look at him, busying herself with dishing up the dinner. “Nobody.”
“I heard Charlee talk about the bad man the evening I arrived. Are there other men in your life I need to know about?”
A plate slipped from her fingers and clattered back onto the bench. “And I told you, no.” With shaking fingers, she righted the plate and wiped up the spilled food.
Mac’s gut churned; his suspicion spiked. “Is that why Curtis called you neglectful? The night I arrived, you’d left Charlee alone while you worked. You abandoned her. Hell, maybe you go out on the town looking for fun.”
“Charlee was asleep.”
“She was alone,” he corrected.
“I was outside. I had work to do.”
“Ah…work. The all-important.”
“Yes, Mac, it is important. It brings in money so we can survive. But then, you’ve got so much, you don’t have to worry. You haven’t a clue.”
“Don’t try and turn it around, Leah. You left her alone, just like Curtis said you did.” The thought sickened him. He sank onto his chair, and for a moment he stared ahead, at nothing really, while memories plagued him. She’d left her child alone. It reminded him too much of his childhood, of being alone, sometimes not physically, but emotionally, cut off and separate.
He didn’t want any of it to be true, for Charlee’s sake. But it was. He could see the guilt etched across Leah’s beautiful, kissable face.
“I only go out at night when I know she’s asleep. The work has to be done. I’m never very far away. And,” she said, stepping forward and towering over him, “let me tell you, I do not go out and have fun, as you call it.” Her chest heaved, her breathing rapid. For several silent seconds she just stood there, then suddenly she spun on her heel and hightailed it to Charlee’s room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Mac stared after her. This was definitely about Charlee now. She was a Grainger and his responsibility. He didn’t want to believe that the woman in his arms last night was any of the things Curtis had vilified, but right now he wasn’t quite so sure. Nothing seemed to fit.
However, he would keep his promise, though he realized he’d already crossed the invisible barrier. No matter what he knew, he still wanted Leah in his bed.
Leah needed to go back out and see Mac, face her nemesis. Trouble was, now she’d slept with him, everything had become far too personal.
All day in the grove, he’d been on her mind, and time after time she’d caught herself staring into space at nothing in particular, though her imagination focused on something very particular.
Mac. And the things he had roused in her last night.
Fever-pitch would have been an apt description, one that lasted all night and day, and the moment he’d arrived home, that fever had scooted way up the temperature gauge to boiling point.
Then he’d reiterated Curtis’s persecution. None of it was true, not in the sense he wove it. That Mac didn’t believe her hurt, but what shamed her was that she still wanted him, lusted after him, despite his condemnation.
Before facing him, Leah decided on a shower and retreated through the connecting door of Charlee’s room to their adjoining ensuite, grateful her daughter had finally fallen asleep.
Half an hour later, forced from the soothing cascade before her skin turned to a wrinkly mess, she donned her robe. Trepidation wrapped itself around her nerves.
She had one more job to do before she could retire. She had to defend herself and make Mac understand.
Hands entrenched in the deep pockets of her robe and with her stomach churning, she ventured into the kitchen, only to come to a sudden stop. Shirtsleeves rolled up, a tea towel tucked into the belt of his very expensive designer suit trousers, Mac stood at the bench, elbows deep in soapsuds.
He glanced over at her, clearly aware of her surprise, and chuckled. “I can do this, you know.” A plate slipped from his fingers and plopped back into the water, sending a shower of soapy bubbles skyward.
Leah burst into laughter. “Oh, Mac. You could have used the dishwasher.”
“Soap suds are easier.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t know how the dishwasher works?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and offered her a lame grimace.
“You make business deals in your sleep but can’t use a dishwasher.”
He held up soapy hands in defeat. “Never had one when we grew up. Besides,” he said, his rumble of laughter joining hers, “this is kinda fun, doing the normal couple stuff.”
Couple stuff.
Doing the dishes hadn’t been the only couple thing they’d done.
He finished off and dried his hands. “How about a nightcap?”
Leah’s breath caught. All day she had wondered what would happen tonight, and now tonight had arrived. While part of her knew she should be setting him straight, defending herself, she found herself hesitating while her heart raced, body zinging. Heck, he only had to be within a couple of paces and she reacted like a wild flame burning.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. She should hate him, but she didn’t. Not really. She didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t hate.
Lust?
Definitely lust, but it felt different too. More than that.
Barely an hour ago, she’d declared last night had been a mistake. Could something so wonderful ever be termed an error?
Tomorrow, she thought. She’d fix things tomorrow.
Without saying a word, she walked past him and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, staring at the vastness of the inky harbor view. She sat on the edge of the leather sofa, the coolness of the textile doing absolutely zilch to calm her heated body. Every inch of her was aware of him. Excited. On fire.
From behind, she heard the clink of crystal as he poured them both a brandy. Suddenly she seemed tongue-tied like any schoolgirl experiencing her first crush. Except this wasn’t a first anything. She was a widow and a mother. And they’d already made love.
This was temporary. She had to remember that.
Mac handed her a brandy, and Leah made sure her fingers didn’t touch his. If she could get through the next few minutes without touching, then she’d survive the night and survive him. She sipped at her drink, and the amber liquid burned as it slid down her throat.
“Funny, this,” he said, sitting down beside her.
“What is?”
“Us. Sitting here.”
“You mean not biting each other’s heads off?” she added.
His dark eyes held hers. “It even feels kinda normal.”
Normal. There was that word again. “Oh?”
Head back, Mac swallowed the last of his brandy and placed his glass on the coffee table in front of them. He turned toward her, one knee brushing hers.
No touching. Not one little itty bit. Zip. Nada. Remember, Leah.
His cologne snagged at her senses and held her in a sensual trap. So much for ignoring him.
“I like it when you do that ‘oh’ thing. Your mouth goes all round and soft.”
Her breath stilled.
Then he did something she said she didn’t want him to, but really she did. He reached out and rested tip of his finger on her mouth.
Almost of their own volition, her lips curved upward. “Oh.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, glittering with teasing humor. “You said it again.”
Expectation heightened, overloading sensible thought. “I did.”
“Then,” he said with considered seriousness, “I really have to do this.” And he reached over and kissed her.
“Oh.”
“You said it again,” he murmured against her mouth. “So I guess I’m allowed to repeat it.”
A
bubble of joy settled across Leah’s heart. “I guess.”
So he did. He kissed her again, while thought and time and the universe dissolved into nothing that mattered, because kissing Mac was too good to miss.
But an hour later, after a repeat performance of the previous night, which Leah said wasn’t going to happen but did, reality caught up with them.
Mac stretched out, a powerful sleekness, all strength and muscle as he climbed out from the big, rumpled bed. “It’s time I left,” he said.
Leah opened sleepy eyes, her body languid from Mac’s lovemaking. His mouth found hers, and she linked her arms around his neck. His kisses acted like a drug, and she was definitely addicted.
But the moment didn’t last, and he pulled away and straightened. “I’ve a deal to complete with Japanese buyers. It’s the only time I can get hold of them. I have to go.”
Her disappointment surprised her. “What if I asked you to stay?” she said.
“Tempting.”
She answered with a smile “Just call it payback. You’re a tempting man, Mac Grainger.”
He offered a throaty chuckle and bent over to dot shivery kisses across her bare abdomen. “Try this, then.”
The man made her lose her concentration as exploratory fingers found her core wet with wanting. Lost in the erotic pleasure of his ministrations, tension spiraling beyond the here and now, Leah felt her world blow apart, unable to temper her orgasm that took her to the brink and over. Then one last kiss, a kiss that branded her without words, and he left.
The moment the door closed, Leah realized she felt as if she’d been abandoned, which, to her mind, really was a very bad thing.
See how quickly you could get used to this man…
Chapter Eight
Over the next few days, Mac fulfilled his promise to Charlee and took them out to buy the tallest Christmas tree Leah had ever seen. They spent hours together making paper decorations for the tree, and as she’d watched Mac with Charlee, she coulnd’t help but remember other Christmases where Curtis had never been involved.
But mostly she found that her brain revisited the passion Mac stirred in her, and her body hummed. These feelings and emotions weren’t meant to be happening.
Mac watched her, tested her. It was as if his gaze feasted on her. She tried to ignore it, but the worrying niggle that he still didn’t believe her innocent of Curtis’s accusations wouldn’t go away.
Christmas morning arrived, and Charlee woke them before even the birds had stirred, dragging her Santa sack overflowing with presents and promptly unwrapping each one, squealing with delight. Seeing Charlee so happy filled Leah with joy. It wasn’t the presents, though Mac had certainly outdone himself in that department; it was the pure happiness on her daughter’s face. It had been a long time since Leah had witnessed it.
Pleased to be able to take a few days off from work, they spent them at the beach, having picnics and barbecues in true summer style. But as Christmas and New Year came and went, life got back to normal, and Charlee’s kindergarten, which shut down only for the short New Year break, was back in full swing, just like she was at the farm and Mac back to doing business deals.
After the first week back to what had become their normal routine, Matty had phoned on Friday morning to say she would pick up Charlee from kindy for a playdate. Grateful for the respite, Leah settled herself down in the luxurious lounge of Mac’s apartment, trying to ignore the distraction of its magnificent views, and used the extra time to get on with the marketing she’d been putting off. Despite having lost most of her paperwork in the fire, she had managed to recreate her client list.
Two hours later, she gathered her scattered notes into a pile and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d booked several appointments with gourmet stores who were interested in stocking her oils. The small success gave her great satisfaction, and with the harvest quota looking promising, the pre-orders for the oil increased daily. Life was looking better. She had a future and could pay off her debt. Soon.
Part of her wanted soon to come faster, but the other part of her wished it never would, because then the part of her life that involved Mac would be over, and where would that leave them?
Was there even a them?
Lordy, how stupid could she be? Another Grainger! Shaking her head, she rose from the sofa, stretching out stiff limbs, fingers massaging her neck, only to have the peal of the phone jangle her from such wistful, preposterous thoughts. “Hello.”
“You thinking of me?” Mac’s velvety tone echoed down the phone line, and Leah instantly found herself smiling.
“Maybe.”
“Only maybe. I’m disappointed.”
“Just call it keeping you on your toes, Mr. Grainger.” A Grainger. Remember!
“So how about dinner and a show?”
This was new, Mac taking her out.
Showing you off. Making it real.
Leah realized this would take their relationship to a new level beyond sex. Sure, they talked. They even laughed. But this was out in the open, in public. Did she want that?
She didn’t know the answer to that question, in part too scared to actually think it through just yet, but found herself answering anyway. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve already spoken to Betty,” Mac said of his housekeeper who had returned from her short break. “She loves spending time with Charlee, says she reminds her of her grandkids. She’s agreed to babysit. I’ll be finished here by seven, and I’m already thinking about dessert,” he said and then hung up, leaving Leah with a breathless gasp.
Dessert? She knew he wasn’t talking about crème brûlée or Pavlova, the meringue-and-marshmallow-like concoction that had become an iconic New Zealand classic.
Nope. This was something far sweeter.
With all her clothing destroyed in the fire and wanting to wow Mac, she set off to shop till she dropped.
Thankfully, the Mackenzie International building was in the heart of the city, and she headed to the small cobbled street that housed rather avant-garde boutiques. She wanted something different, something sexy.
Sexy? Really? Leah halted mid-stride and caught sight of herself in a store window. Her hair was in disarray, her eyes wide with excitement.
Just the thought of going out with Mac set off a fiesta of bubbles in her stomach, and her mouth curved into a tiny smile. This would be like a very first date, yet they’d already gone way past first base.
Two hours later, however, she was frustrated. Every dress she tried on, she found herself wondering what he would think of it.
For goodness’ sake, what was wrong with her? Wanting to please him was just so ridiculous.
Then she spied a dress direct from heaven. Waves of scarlet hung in a dream of shiny silk. She couldn’t wait to try it on. She knew it would be perfect.
And it was.
It clung to her in all the right places, the diamante straps glittering like tiny jewels. Their sparkle matched the twinkle in her eyes.
“This is it.”
“It certainly is, madam,” the shop assistance assured her. “He’ll love you in it.”
Leah twirled, loving the way the handkerchief-pointed hem fanned out around her legs. “You think so?” She hoped so.
“Oh, absolutely. It’s a dream.”
A dream? Definitely that. Every day and night captured in dreamlike qualities. A fantasy bubble.
Careful. Bubbles burst.
By four thirty, Leah had taken Charlee downstairs to Betty’s suite. The pair greeted each other like long-lost friends, which went some way toward alleviating Leah’s mother’s guilt.
Back at Mac’s apartment, doubts firmly squashed, Leah determined she would enjoy the moment. She was tired of being on guard and defensive. Surely she could prove to Mac she was a good mother, responsible, by letting him watch her with Charlee. She just didn’t have to tell him the truth about the source of the debts, though why she was still trying to protect Curtis, she didn’t know. The man had
been cruel, heartless, a prime manipulator.
And Mac’s brother.
Determined just to enjoy the moment, Leah headed for the bathroom only to be interrupted by the shrill peal of the phone.
Perhaps it was another order. Or better yet, Mac! She missed him, missed his voice, his touch. Their evening out couldn’t come fast enough. She snatched up the phone. “Hello.”
“Is this Leah Grainger?”
Leah tried to place the voice but came up blank, and a sudden uncertainty hitched in her chest. “Yes…”
“My name is Frank Harcourt. I’m…”
That name! The one she never wanted to hear ever again splintered her world. “I know who you are,” she cut in, stomach heaving instantly.
“We want to see Charlee. Have her to stay. She should have come to us, not that loser of a husband of yours.”
Leah wanted to scream, to say no, go away, but couldn’t utter a sound.
“She’s our granddaughter,” Harcourt reminded her.
Her hands began to shake, and it took all her energy to focus, to drag her mind from the dread she had known would come someday. One day. Today.
Swallowing back the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, she clasped the phone with two hands, closing her eyes for a fraction as she steadied her voice, taking comfort in the support of the wall at her back. “Charlee is my daughter.”
A gruff burst of laughter rattled down the phone line to her. “Now you know that’s not true.”
Denial slammed against her heart. “It is. I’m her mother.” Too late. Her past had finally caught up with her.
“But not legally.”
A frigid chill slithered down Leah’s spine, and she sank to the floor, hugging her free arm across her stomach, pressing at the stab of pain there. “But I’ve cared for her, got up in the middle of the night. She believes I’m her mother. I am her mother.”
Would this never end? All she wanted was a place to call her own to bring up Charlee and to be left alone. She’d already lost her home. She wouldn’t lose Charlee too.
Secrets and Seduction Page 12
