Читать книгу His Cousin's Wife - Lynsey Stevens, Lynsey Stevens - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

‘HOW’VE you been, Shea?’ he asked huskily.

How did he think she’d been? she wanted to scream at him. Did he imagine a broken heart was fatal? Did he think she’d fallen apart, so far apart that she’d never be able to pick up the pieces? Well, she hadn’t. She very nearly had. But the pieces had been back in place long ago, super-glued, and she’d never let anyone do what he did to her again. Not ever.

‘I’m fine.’ She shrugged, her voice only slightly constricted.

‘You look,’ Alex paused, ‘great,’ he finished and Shea thought she sensed a tightness in his deep voice.

She must have been mistaken, she decided, for if she wasn’t—Shea swallowed quickly, cutting off the entry into that small part inside her that she suspected would begin to tremble with excitement, would threaten to race madly, wildly away. No. She had to keep herself under firm control and not allow the fascination of the old Alex Finlay to tempt her.

‘Thank you,’ she replied tritely, and continued when she realised her voice sounded almost steady. ‘Let’s just say the years seem to have been kind to both of us.’

Alex made no comment on that but Shea noticed his hands clenched on the steering wheel for a moment before he reached out to switch on the ignition. He put the Jag into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, the scrunching of the gravel beneath the wide tyres easily drowning out the low purr of the engine.

‘So, what are you doing these days?’ he asked as they turned onto the bitumen roadway. ‘My father told me you own your own business.’

‘Yes.’ The monosyllable sounded harsh and she took a quick, steadying breath. She had to be cool. Aloof. He meant nothing to her anymore. ‘Yes, I have my own fashion boutique.’

They were being so very civilised. Shea barely suppressed a bitter laugh. Good manners were reflected in polite conversation. They’d both been well taught.

‘I design and make my own range of clothing,’ she added with continued decorum.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. You always were interested in that sort of thing.’

No! a voice inside her threw at him angrily. Don’t talk about always. Don’t dare talk about that. He, of all people, had no right to do that.

She clutched at her slipping composure and fixed her gaze on the dark outlines of the trees beyond the road, not really seeing their shadowy shapes. But the murkiness of night seemed synonymous with what had happened back then.

Silence extended between them again and Alex sighed. Shea was unable to prevent herself from looking at him then and, for fleeting seconds before his attention returned to the road, his eyes met and held hers in the semi-dark cocoon of the car’s cabin.

‘How’s your business going? Are you doing well?’ he asked and she had to consciously drag her concentration back to the theme of their conversation.

‘Quite well,’ she replied, suppressing the urge to tell him she had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams, that her business last year had trebled, that this year she’d extended her premises and, with the new children’s range under way, she’d definitely need to relocate her factory into larger space.

‘Where’s your shop?’ Alex was asking.

‘Where the old café used to be, up from the pub on the corner. The shop next door recently became vacant so I extended and combined the two.’ Her voice died away.

‘Have you been there long?’

‘About eight years. I started out on a small scale working from home, then tried the markets. Luckily it’s gone ahead from there.’

Why was she telling him all this when she had no desire whatsoever to inform or impress him?

‘Are you still working for the Rosten Group?’ After a moment’s pause her question seemed to escape of its own volition and Alex hesitated, too, before replying.

‘In absentia. I do some freelance work for the company now and then. But I’ve taken a break from the full time rat race,’ he finished and a heavy silence fell between them until he swung the car into the driveway of Shea’s house.

She barely suppressed a sigh of relief that she could at last escape. ‘Thank you for bringing me home,’ she began but Alex was already out of the car and striding around to open the passenger side door for her. She climbed out and repeated her thanks.

‘No worries,’ he replied lightly.

‘Well, I’ll say goodnight.’ Shea started walking towards the front door only to pause when she realised Alex had joined her. She gazed inquiringly at him and in the glow from the outside light Norah had left on for her, she saw him grimace slightly.

‘I told you I wanted to see Norah,’ he said, and Shea stood her ground.

‘It’s late. Norah’s most probably in bed,’ she began, and Alex held his wristwatch to the light.

‘Norah in bed at this hour? I seem to remember she never used to go to bed before midnight:

He was right, but Shea wasn’t inclined to tell him so. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you came back in the morning?’

‘Better for whom?’ he asked softly. ‘For Norah? Or for you?’

‘I—’ Shea swallowed. ‘I really don’t know what you mean,’ she got out, and Alex continued to hold her gaze.

‘I think you do, Shea. Something tells me you aren’t that pleased to see me.’

‘Should I be?’ The words slipped out before she could draw them back and she made herself continue to the foot of the stairs. ‘Eleven years is a long time. People change,’ she said as she retreated.

‘They do that.’ The edge to his voice made her step falter. ‘But it doesn’t necessarily take eleven years,’ he added flatly.

Shea stopped then, her hand going to the railing to steady herself, and she heard him sigh.

‘Look, Shea, we used to be friends. Can’t we simply try to be that again?’

His deep voice struck more raw and tender chords. ‘Can’t we try to be friends?’ Didn’t he realise each word was a sabre thrust opening old wounds that had taken years to heal?

‘Friends?’ Shea bit off a sharp incredulous laugh as she turned back to face him.

‘Would that be so difficult?’ His eyes burned into hers across the few feet separating them and then he ran a strong hand through his fair hair.

And Shea’s eyes were drawn to the movement, to the line of his forearm, the long sensitive fingers enmeshed in thick strands of hair. Almost mesmerised, she watched as he then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, drawing the material tautly across his thighs, and she felt her stomach lurch in that old familiar way.

For all those long years that section of her emotions had lain dormant. No man since had stirred her in that purely physical way. Not even Jamie.

No! Not again! She wouldn’t allow him, or any other man, to have such a hold on her again. Physically or emotionally.

Yet her blood raced through her veins, her traitorous senses paying no heed.

‘I’d have thought we could both act like rational adults after all these years,’ Alex was saying.

Rational adults? Shea clutched at her composure and her chin rose. Did he really think their ages had anything to do with it? If they were seventy she’d still feel the same. It was called betrayal.

‘Look, Shea—’ Alex stopped and sighed. ‘OK, let’s leave it that you’re not overjoyed by my return. Although why—’ He made an irritated movement with his hand. ‘No matter. The fact remains that I am here and I plan to stay here for some time.’

Shea’s heart twisted painfully. Well, she told herself brutally, if she’d been subconsciously harbouring any illusions about this being a flying visit home he had just nipped them in the bud. She’d simply have to get used to having him turn up now and then. She’d have to steel herself. And her heart. Especially her heart. Because she knew if she let him get close to her and he ran true to form, she’d never survive it all the second time around.

‘We’re pretty much family,’ he continued with a shrug. ‘We’ll have to see each other occasionally.’

‘I’m sure we can manage to keep those occasions to a minimum,’ she said with an evenness she was proud of. ‘You’ll be working, I take it, and so will I. If we’re careful we needn’t see each other at all.’ She made herself hold his gaze and his jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed.

‘I’d prefer not to orchestrate any sidestepping. I think we should just behave as normally as possible.’

Shea could almost laugh at that. Normally? What did he mean? ‘Normal’ for Alex and herself had been spending every moment together, talking, laughing, making love. However, as she was trying to decide how to answer his comment, Norah called from the hallway.

‘Is that you, Shea?’

‘Yes. It’s me,’ she said and climbed the remaining stairs to the door. But Alex was there before her.

‘And she’s brought a guest,’ he said into the opening.

‘Alex!’ Norah’s hand went to her throat in surprise. She shot a quick, startled look at Shea.

‘Hello, Norah,’ Alex replied with a faint touch of uncharacteristic reticence in his deep voice.

Then Norah’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. ‘Alex,’ she repeated softly, a catch in her voice, and she opened her arms welcomingly.

Alex stepped into them, lifted her off the ground and swung her around before setting her back on her feet. ‘I wondered if you’d recognise me after all this time. Or if you’d want to.’

‘As if I wouldn’t,’ she admonished him. ‘And I’ve known you too many years to forget your face now.’ Norah patted his cheek and looked into his eyes. ‘But, Alex. You’ve changed.’

‘That’s to be expected, isn’t it?’ Alex gave a soft laugh. ‘But I hope that frown doesn’t mean you think I’ve changed for the worse, does it?’

‘Of course not. Those looks of yours would still charm birds out of trees.’

Alex’s grin widened, the creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and Shea felt her own mouth tighten in disgust. Norah couldn’t have spoken truer words. Other girls had succumbed, she knew. But she had been the one who’d fallen the hardest.

‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Alex joked, ‘because you never know when you’ll need a few birds to come out of the trees.’

Norah and Alex laughed easily and somehow they had gravitated into the hallway, moving naturally towards the kitchen instead of the living room where they would normally take a guest. But Alex was family, so they went into the kitchen. As though he’d never been away, Shea thought with a stab of irritation.

Norah subsided into her favourite chair and Alex looked at Shea, obviously waiting for her to be seated before he himself sat down.

‘I think I’ll make some coffee, shall I?’ she asked quickly, hovering just inside the doorway.

‘To tell you the truth I’ve been dying for a cup of true Finlay coffee,’ Alex said amiably. ‘Haven’t tasted one as good since I left.’

‘I’d just brewed a fresh pot.’ Norah made to get up again but Shea motioned for her to remain where she was.

‘No. You stay there and talk to Alex. I’ll get it.’ Shea crossed to the old-fashioned dresser, busying herself taking Norah’s fine china mugs from their decorative hooks.

But she couldn’t prevent her eyes from slipping across to Alex as he seated himself at the scrubbed wooden table. She experienced a stabbing pain at the completely natural way Alex had drawn up that particular chair. He’d done so for as long as Shea could remember.

Until he left. Her lips tightened. She couldn’t forget that. He had betrayed them. Betrayed her.

She tried not to listen as Norah inquired about Alex’s flight home, then about his father and stepmother. She couldn’t stay and listen to Alex’s easy tone when she wanted to lash out at him, fling over him some of the anger and pain that burned inside her.

Automatically she set their mugs of coffee on the table, adding the sugar bowl and the milk jug, along with a plate of Norah’s freshly made cookies. Alex used to love them, too...

‘Aren’t you going to sit down, Shea?’ His words broke in on her unsettling thoughts and she moved forward to disguise the start of surprise his voice had caused her.

‘Yes. Of course. But if you’ll both excuse me for a moment. I’ll just, um, the bathroom,’ she muttered disjointedly and made her escape. Once she’d reached the safety of the hallway her step faltered, and she gulped shallow, calming breaths.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t managed to get home sooner,’ Shea heard Alex say and her hand went to the wall to steady herself. ‘Once Dad moved to the States I lost all contact apart from an occasional note from Jamie.’

‘Jamie wrote to you? I never knew that.’ Shea heard Norah say and her own lips tightened. Well, she, Shea, hadn’t known, either, and she felt a numbed surprise that Jamie had deceived her.

‘About the funeral, Norah,’ Alex was continuing. ‘I got the message you left about the accident and I was about to fly home but,’ he paused, ‘something came up.’

Shea didn’t stay to hear any more. She made herself hurry towards the bathroom.

So something had come up to prevent him attending Jamie’s funeral, Jamie who had been more than a brother to him. Some business deal no doubt, she thought bitterly. How could she think it would have been any other way? Alex hadn’t changed. He had been interested only in himself eleven years ago and he was still the same. Alex-oriented. Something she would never be again.

She automatically splashed her face and towelled it dry. Her reflection, face devoid of makeup, gazed back at her from the mirror above the vanity basin, and her frown deepened.

She rubbed at the slight indentation between her eyes. She looked—Well, she looked every bit of her twenty-eight years, and then some. She was definitely no longer the fresh-faced teenager Alex had left behind. He couldn’t help but notice the difference in her.

Shea shifted agitatedly, hanging up the towel and grasping her hairbrush. Did it matter what Alex Finlay thought? she asked herself derisively.

Her fingers loosened the knot of fair hair at the back of her head and she raked the brush through the tangles. Then she rewound it into its confining bob and rubbed at her throbbing temples.

There was nothing now to keep her from rejoining her mother-in-law and their guest so she walked back along the hallway. However, she hesitated again before she reached the kitchen doorway as she heard Norah’s words.

‘And is Patti with you?’

‘No.’ Shea thought she heard Alex sigh. ‘Patti and I aren’t together anymore. We divorced. It just didn’t work out.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Alex,’ Norah said softly as Shea’s entire body seemed to stiffen at Alex’s bombshell.

A tiny flicker of hope caught Shea unawares and she berated herself derisively.

‘We should never have married, Patti and I,’ Alex was saying.

‘That’s easy to say with hindsight,’ Norah put in sympathetically.

‘I suppose so,’ Alex agreed tiredly.

Realising she had been holding her breath Shea made herself exhale as her chest tightened painfully.

‘Our marriage lasted barely a year. We were finally divorced a couple of years ago and Patti’s remarried. She seems happy enough now.’ The chair creaked as Alex moved. ‘That’s the way things go sometimes.’

‘I suppose sometimes they do,’ Norah commiserated. ‘But I think it’s sad when young marriages break up. There seems to be so much of it these days.’

Alex made a noncommittal remark as Norah continued to decry the modern phenomena and Shea tried to analyse her own feelings at Alex’s revelation.

So Alex’s and Patti’s marriage hadn’t lasted. Shea could recall quite vividly the devastation she’d experienced when Alex’s father had told her of his son’s engagement to Joe Rosten’s daughter. And the pain of having to pretend to everyone that it meant nothing to her, for she had supposedly been a happily married woman herself at the time.

Donald Finlay had left for the States to attend his son’s wedding and when he eventually returned to Byron Bay he had packed up his belongings, rented out his cottage, and gone back to the States to marry a widow he’d met at the wedding. Shea had had no news of either Donald or Alex since that time. Neither Norah nor Jamie had spoken of them.

A tiny spark remaining inside Shea had died knowing Alex was married and only Jamie had known how badly the news of his cousin’s marriage had affected her.

Poor Jamie. He’d consoled her, knowing she could never feel for him what she had felt for his taller, smarter, more handsome cousin. Even though she’d tried so desperately for the six years of their marriage to do just that.

All things considered, she felt she could have been forgiven for feeling some delight at learning that Alex and Patti had parted. But she simply felt desensitised. Well, she could care less if Alex was married or single, she told herself and with a major clasp at her composure, Shea made herself re-enter the kitchen.

Alex immediately stood up and passed her her mug of coffee as she sat down on the opposite side of the table, as far from Alex as she could. But that was a strategic error, for now she only had to raise her eyes to look at him.

‘Coffee’s not cold, is it, love?’ Norah smiled at Shea and she shook her head, determinedly taking a placating sip.

She glanced across the rim of her coffee cup to find Alex’s hooded eyes resting on her and she stilled, her fingers tightening around the handle.

With precision timing the telephone jangled and Shea was hard put not to slosh her coffee into her lap.

‘I’ll get it.’ Norah was up and out the door before Shea or Alex could make a move.

And with Norah’s departure the tension recharged between them. Their eyes meshed and neither seemed able to break the hold.

How long they sat like that she couldn’t have told but she thought she saw a pulse beating erratically in Alex’s smoothly shaven jaw line. And was that his pain or simply a reflection of her own in the glittering darkness of his eyes?

Deep inside her she knew what she really wanted. She wanted, needed, yearned to throw herself into his strong arms, have his body mould itself to hers. She could almost feel him, smell the male scent of him, hear the murmur of the sea on the sand below them, see the moonlight dancing on their damp bodies.

Yes, she’d loved him then. Yet when she’d needed him most he had left her.

She dragged her gaze from his. Why, Alex? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? The words echoed so loudly inside her head she thought she must have voiced them and she glanced quickly back at him. But he showed no sign that she had spoken.

His expression was guarded now, making him seem somewhat detached, light-years away from the Alex she had known so well, loved with such intensity and innocence.

Perhaps she had even imagined that earlier momentary fire. But her imagination wasn’t to blame for the remembered feel of him, the remembered taste of him...

Her hunger was a physical pain and she lowered her lashes in case he saw just how vulnerable to his nearness she really was. When she raised her eyes he had leaned forward in his chair and an entirely different anguish caught her, for all dispassion had left his face.

‘Shea!’

Her name seemed to be torn raggedly from him and his hand moved towards her. Shea felt herself drawn capriciously forward, only to check as Norah rejoined them, her quick glance going from her daughter-in-law to her nephew.

Shea hoped the telltale colour that had flooded her pale cheeks wouldn’t betray her previous lapse in control. Her nerves were jangling like mechanical puppets gone mad. If Norah hadn’t interrupted them Alex would have...

Would have what? she asked herself bitterly. Touched her? Kissed her? No! Never again. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, be able to bear it.

‘It was David,’ Norah said. ‘On the phone,’ she added, seeing the blank looks on both Shea’s and Alex’s faces. ‘He was just checking to see Shea got home all right.’

‘Oh.’ Shea swallowed. ‘That was thoughtful of him.’

‘Yes. Very thoughtful,’ Alex agreed drily, and Norah smiled.

‘It’s so kind of him to drive Shea to the meetings. David’s a pleasant young man.’ Norah beamed and Alex’s smile barely shadowed the corners of his mouth.

‘I’m sure he is,’ he said evenly, but before Norah could extol David Aston’s virtues any further a sound at the doorway drew their attention.