Читать книгу The Australian Affairs Collection - Margaret Way - Страница 61

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WAS SHE IN any way envious of her sister and her fiancé’s happiness? Dressing for her sister’s engagement party, Shelley couldn’t help but question herself about love, life and relationships. Her answer? Maybe.

Not that she wished she had Keith for herself—he was a very nice man but she wasn’t the slightest bit attracted to him. He was perfect for Lynne—they complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Above all they were head over heels in love. Keith was a jeweller and had given Lynne a lovely ruby ring he had designed just for her.

It wasn’t the engagement ring that Shelley envied. The envy thing happened when she’d witness her sister and her guy planning their wedding, the family they intended to have, their future together. They were so darn committed to that future. So certain of each other.

And her? Teetering on the edge of falling in love with a man who had said point-blank he had nothing to give her.

Her sister’s joy brought Shelley’s own situation into focus. She was twenty-eight. Marriage. Children. They were something she’d always thought would happen in the future. When her career was established. When she’d met the right man. But that man had proved to be elusive.

There’d been one proposal—from a guy she had dated during her final year at university. He’d come from a prominent horse-training family and they’d met through their common love of horses. She’d been very fond of him but she’d known fond wasn’t enough even though he’d been what her grandmother had called good marriage material.

More recently there had been Steve—the married man she hadn’t known was married. Afterwards she had beaten herself up for having been so easily deceived. But it had certainly seemed like love at the time. And it had hurt.

And now there was Declan. Not married. But—in a way—still married.

Maybe she needed to have a good long look at herself—did she have a thing for unavailable men? And what could she do about it? Accept steady, nice Mark’s long-standing and often repeated invitation to dinner?

She sighed. How could she when she was already in so deep with Declan even though it seemed impossible? How could she give another man a thought? Declan eclipsed anyone she’d ever met. And it wouldn’t be fair on Mark—or any other man whom she might date.

Her hopes for the future did include marriage and children. But not for the sake of it. No settling for second best, no settling for fond because she feared time was running out. Women had children well into their thirties, their forties even. There was no need to panic. But children were definitely on her wish list, which brought to mind another question. Would Declan ever want to have another child?

But she couldn’t have Declan and she’d better get used to the thought. Even though every time she closed her eyes she saw him bare-chested down in that gym, his powerful muscles, the look of intense concentration on his face she found so sexy. She ached for him.

Lynne was right: she should get out and have some fun.

She viewed herself critically in the mirror, twisting and turning to see the back of her new dress. The cobalt-blue colour alone drew attention but it was the cut of it that had her wondering was it a tad too sexy for an engagement party.

High-necked in the front, it swooped outrageously low in the back, secured by two heavy silver chains that started from the back of her neck and fixed to each side. Thankfully it had a built-in bra, otherwise she’d be too nervous to move in it—let alone dance and party. The stretch jersey fabric was ruched and shaped and very figure-hugging.

But Lynne had insisted she wear it to her engagement party, which was to be held at the luxurious harbourside home of one of Keith’s school friends. ‘There will be lots of single guys there,’ her sister had said. ‘Wear that sassy dress and get your mind off that reclusive boss of yours.’

Shelley had protested but Lynne had spoken over her. ‘Don’t try to hide your crush on Devastating Declan from me.’

Shelley had protested that she did not have a crush. And she hadn’t been lying. She had way more than a crush on Declan.

For a passing moment, she wished Declan could see her in this dress. It wouldn’t hurt for him to see she was more than a down-to-earth gardener in khaki work clothes and an old-fashioned homemaker in an apron who baked pies.

Tonight she didn’t want to look in any way like that person. The dress was a start. Now she had to get her hair right. She ended up with a low side ponytail, secured with a glittery holder, that rested over her left shoulder and left her back uncovered.

With such a bold dress, she took more care with her make-up, darkening her eyes, slicking on deep pink glossy lipstick. She usually wore fairly low heels so she didn’t tower over many of the men she met. But her sister’s engagement party was certainly the occasion to christen the silver stilettos she had bought on a whim but had never worn.

She had promised Lynn she would be early. So she wrapped a light shawl around her bare back and shoulders and picked up a silver evening purse.

Cautiously, in her spiky-heeled shoes, she picked her way over the gravel to where she had parked her car in Declan’s driveway. She muttered a curse when she saw there was a car parked behind it, blocking the way out to the street—a new-model luxury coupe that put her ancient 4x4 to shame. Her car was not just second-hand, it was more likely tenth-hand and the other car made it look like every one of its years.

In the weeks she been working in Declan’s garden she had never seen a car parked here except when the cleaners came. Who drove this car?

Cranky that the delay was making her late, she teetered on her high heels around to the front door of Declan’s house. No time to text. She just wanted him to ask his guest to move that car immediately.

Declan answered the door. She lost all the words that she had prepared to politely ask could his visitor help her out and move the car. It was all she could do not to gawk at him in blatant admiration. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive and her knees felt distinctly wobbly. How could she have ever imagined she could talk herself out of her attraction to him?

Declan looked hot in his black jeans and cashmere sweaters. He looked especially hot in those gym shorts. But he had never looked more darkly handsome than now in a more formal charcoal wool double-breasted jacket over a black T-shirt and black trousers, clean-shaven and hair brushed back.

She felt a moment of feminine satisfaction that he was getting to see her in the gorgeous blue dress, looking more womanly than he had ever seen her. Reading other people might not be her greatest skill but she was sure he had noticed.

But who was he so dressed up for—the owner of the coupe? She heard a feminine voice from behind him and her heart fell to the level of her silver stilettos.

A wave of nausea made her want to double over. Declan had a woman there? This man who had said he was closed to any feminine presence in his life? He had lied to her. He opened the door wider, stared at her for a long moment before he seemed to find his voice.

‘Shelley,’ he said, hoarsely, then glanced over his shoulder. Glanced furtively over his shoulder, it seemed to Shelley.

She still couldn’t see who was there—but his action made it very clear he did not want that woman, whoever she might be, to see her.

She gritted her teeth, injected ice into her voice. ‘There’s a car parked in the driveway that’s blocking my car. Could you please ask your guest to move it?’

The voice from behind him called out, ‘Who’s at the door, Declan?’

A woman came into view behind him. She was older, elegant in a simple wine-coloured dress, with her hair cut in a short grey bob and a expression of curiosity on her face. Declan opened the door further.

He cleared his throat. ‘Come in, Shelley. I’d like you to meet my mother. Judith Grant.’ He turned to the older woman. ‘Mother, can I ask you to please move your car as Shelley can’t get her car out?’

His mother! Shelley was so relieved she had to hold on to the doorframe for support. The action made her light shawl slip to her waist. Rather than make a big deal about putting it back on again, she gathered it up and tucked it over her arm. She shivered as the chilly evening air hit her bare back. But was then met by toasty centrally heated air as she took the few steps she needed to take her into the entrance hall.

Declan’s mother took in her appearance with interest and frank curiosity.

‘Mother, this is Shelley Fairhill, my gardener,’ Declan said.

The older woman’s eyebrows rose in such a similar way to Declan’s, it made Shelley smile. She could see the resemblance between mother and son—the same deep blue eyes and lean face. Though the mother didn’t have Declan’s very masculine cleft in his chin.

Shelley put out her hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Grant.’

His mother’s handshake was brisk and firm. Again Shelley felt self-conscious about her callused hands—but they were a badge of honour of her job. ‘Nice to meet you, Shelley.’

Mrs Grant looked accusingly at Declan. ‘You didn’t tell me the gardener who is doing such wonderful work at this place was a beautiful young woman.’

Because he doesn’t recognise me as such, Shelley thought with a pang.

* * *

Maybe because I wanted to keep her to myself, Declan thought. He was finding it difficult to think straight he was so knocked out by the sight of Shelley in a short, tight blue dress that accentuated every curve and showed off her sensational legs. Legs that went on for ever.

Shelley turned slightly to better face his mother. Declan gasped in admiration, which he quickly had to disguise as a cough. The dress was backless and revealed all of the toned, smooth perfection of her back before swooping so low it was practically indecent. The fabric was softly shaped and had some kind of central seam in it so it clung intimately to the gorgeous curves of her bottom.

Was she wearing underwear? He had to swallow very hard. And keep his hands fisted by his sides to stop him from reaching out to her and pulling her close to find out.

If his mother weren’t here, he might have done just that.

His mother addressed Shelley. ‘I’m sorry I blocked your access in the driveway. I had no idea who owned the old workhorse of a 4x4.’

‘It is old but it serves me well and I can keep all my equipment safely in it,’ Shelley said.

Declan sensed the defensive note in Shelley’s voice and in turn felt immediately protective of her—he did not want his mother criticising her in any way.

But his mother was smiling. ‘Shelley, of course you need a tough car in your line of work. You’re doing an absolutely amazing job on the garden. Who knew that something so superb was hiding under all that mess?’

‘Thank you,’ Shelley said.

But Declan could sense the anxiety underlying her politeness. Then she glanced up at the big grandfather clock standing beneath the stairs.

‘Mother, Shelley has to get going somewhere,’ he said. ‘I think she needs you to move your car right now.’

Shelley shot him a grateful look. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Mrs Grant, but I’m on my way to my sister’s engagement party so I can’t be late.’

‘Skip the Mrs Grant, call me Judith,’ his mother said, much to Declan’s surprise. ‘I’ll go get my keys and move the car for you.’

Then his mother paused and her eyes narrowed. She snapped her fingers. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said. ‘You can’t drive a battered old 4x4 wearing that gorgeous dress and looking like you just stepped off a catwalk.’

His mother directed her gaze back to him. ‘Declan, let Shelley drive one of your sports cars. Heaven knows, you’ve got a garage full of them.’

Declan automatically went to say no. Why would he let anyone drive one of his valuable European sports cars? But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Shelley. And her eyes were lit with a gleam of excitement. Of course she would be the type of woman who would love to get behind the wheel of a performance car.

He took a deep breath. ‘Good idea, Mother.’

Shelley did a little jig of excitement in her sky-high heels. ‘Really, Declan, you’d let me drive your car?’

He rolled his eyes in a pretence of reluctance. ‘There are conditions,’ he said. ‘The car turns into a pumpkin at midnight. You have to have it home by then.’

Shelley’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Not about the pumpkin, I mean. Well, of course, I know you’re making a joke about that. But about the midnight thing. I mean, it’s Lynne’s engagement party and I have to stay to the end. She and Keith are party animals so heaven knows what time they—’

Declan smiled. ‘Relax. You can bring the car back any time, as long as you drive it carefully—’

‘Because it’s so valuable?’

‘There is that,’ he said. ‘But it’s a very powerful car and I don’t want you injured either.’ She was way more valuable than any car.

She smiled. ‘I’m a good driver. I grew up in the country, remember. I was driving around the property when I was twelve, long before I legally got my licence at seventeen. I’ll take extra-special care with your car, I promise.’

‘I’m sure if you can drive that beast of a 4x4 of yours you can drive anything.’

She nodded in acknowledgement of his words, then turned to his mother. ‘Thank you, Judith, for suggesting this. How did you know how much I would love to drive a sports car?’

‘A princess can’t drive a pumpkin,’ said his mother.

Shelley did look like a princess—even more of a princess than Estella—glamorous and enticing. ‘I’ll go get the car key,’ he said.

When he returned it was to find Shelley laughing at something his mother had said—and his mother laughing too. He didn’t know how he felt about them getting on so well.

He jangled the keys in front of him. ‘I’ll take you out to the garage and introduce you to the car,’ he said.

‘How exciting,’ said Shelley, her eyes gleaming. ‘I can’t wait to see my sister’s face when I drive up in it.’ She turned to his mother. ‘Thank you again, Mrs... I mean, Judith, this is going to be such a treat,’ she said.

‘It’s my absolute pleasure,’ said his mother with speculative eyes as she looked from Shelley to Declan and back again. ‘And remember, I’ll be coming over during the week for a guided tour of the garden. With my son’s approval, of course.’

Shelley flung her shawl around her shoulders as he led her through the connecting door to the garage. He was tempted almost beyond endurance to slide it off her. Her back view was sensational and he would have been more than happy to admire it for longer.

He stood back and let Shelley enjoy her first sight of the sleek silver sports car that was to be hers for the evening. She was unable to contain her excitement and made throaty little murmurs of pleasure as she walked around the car admiring it from every angle. She actually stroked the bonnet. He couldn’t be jealous of a car.

‘I can tell you like it,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed.

‘The black device opens the garage door,’ he said as he handed her the key ring.

She stood close by, her high heels bringing her closer to his eye level. Her sweet scent filled his senses. ‘Declan, this is really good of you,’ she said. ‘I hope you didn’t feel pressured into letting me drive the car.’

‘I don’t get pressured into doing anything I don’t want to,’ he said hoarsely.

Their eyes met for a long time. ‘I wish...’ she said wistfully, her voice trailing away.

‘You wish what?’

‘I wish you could come to the party with me,’ she said. ‘Of course, you could drive your car if...if you were able to come with me.’

Declan had a sudden, fierce desire to say yes. He sure as hell didn’t want her to go to her sister’s party alone where she would be a magnet for any red-blooded male in the room—he wondered if she had any idea how outrageously sexy she looked. He had the urge to take off his jacket, fling it over her shoulders and tell her she had to keep it on all evening. He wanted her for his eyes only.

‘If I could come—and I can’t—you would be driving, not me,’ he said.

She pulled one of her endearing faces. ‘But, of course, you have your mother with you. Who seems very nice, by the way.’

Declan sucked in a quick breath. Nice wasn’t the word he would ever use to describe his barracuda barrister mother.

‘She’s okay,’ he acknowledged. ‘She insists on bringing her laptop over every few weeks for me to help her with it when I know very well she doesn’t need help.’

‘No doubt she wants to see if you’re okay on your own,’ she said. ‘My mother checks in with me at least once every few days.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. He didn’t want to waste time talking about his mother. Not when Shelley’s shawl was slipping off her shoulders again. This time he reached over and took it right off, sliding his hands down her bare arms. She trembled—from the cold in the garage or his touch?

‘One more thing,’ he said.

‘About the car?’ she asked, eyes wide.

‘About this,’ he said. He kissed her, hard and hungry and demanding—making sure she went to that party branded by his kisses. With a throaty little murmur of surprise and pleasure, she opened to him and met his tongue with hers, tasting, exploring, pressing her body to his—until want for her ignited through him in a flare of need. He broke away from her mouth, pressing hot kisses down her throat, tasting her, breathing in her sweet, arousing scent, sliding his hands to cup the enticing side swell of her breasts.

She moaned and wrenched herself away from him. ‘Declan. No. Stop. If...if it was anything other than Lynne’s party I wouldn’t go, I’d stay here and we—’

‘Don’t say it,’ he groaned. ‘Go. Just go.’

She stared at him for a long moment, her breasts rising and falling as she struggled to control her breath. ‘I wish... No. I have to go.’ She planted a quick kiss on his mouth and went to step back but he snaked out his arm to tug her back and kiss her again. Only then did he wrest back control of his willpower and release her.

‘Whatever time you get home, let me know,’ he said, fighting to regain his breath in great, tearing gasps.

‘Even if it’s three in the morning?’ Her lipstick was smeared from his kisses, the pupils of her eyes so dilated he could scarcely see the colour, a pink beard rash around her chin. Good. Those other guys at the party would know she’d been thoroughly kissed and be warned off his woman.

His woman. When had he allowed himself to think of her as that?

‘I’ll be awake and waiting for you,’ he said.

She slid behind the wheel of his car, as if she drove a high-performance sports vehicle every day, her dress sliding tantalisingly high up on her thighs. She laughed in exhilaration as the car started with a low, throaty roar.

‘I am so going to enjoy this,’ she called out to him.

He watched as she drove his favourite car, which no one else but he had ever driven, out of the garage and into the night, then he slammed his fist on the wall of the garage. He wanted to be with her. But here he was, surrounded by expensive cars in the garage of his multimillion-dollar mansion but cold and alone.

Only then came the full realisation of the prison he had created for himself.

* * *

Declan knew the second he got back in the house, his mother would grill him. She did not disappoint.

‘Who is Shelley Fairhill and where did you find her?’ she demanded, getting up from the sofa in the formal living room that was only used on her visits.

Declan shrugged. ‘She found me,’ he said. ‘She knocked on the door and asked could she help me with the garden.’

‘And you didn’t glower and send her on the way?’

‘Yes, I did,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘But she persevered.’ He added glowering to the list of words people used to describe him. Forbidding was still his favourite.

‘I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall for that encounter. Did she—?’

‘Long story.’

‘And one I’m unlikely to hear the details of,’ said his shrewd mother. ‘She’s beautiful, Declan. And obviously very talented at what she does.’

He nodded. What he felt about Shelley was his own business—he did not want to discuss it with anyone, certainly not his mother.

‘Have you even noticed how beautiful Shelley is?’ She put up her hand. ‘Don’t answer that. I saw the way you were looking at her—and the way she was looking at you.’

‘What do you mean, the way she was looking at me?’

His mother laughed. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I haven’t seen you smile so much for...for a long time.’

‘You’re imagining things,’ he said stiffly.

‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get to be where I am without being able to read people. By the way, why was her car parked in your driveway?’

Reluctantly he replied. ‘Because she’s living in the apartment.’

‘Oh,’ said his mother with raised eyebrows.

‘Nothing like that,’ he said too hastily. ‘She just needed somewhere to stay.’

His mother sighed. ‘I believe you. But for your sake I wish it were otherwise. She’s lovely, Declan—warm, open and she has kind eyes. I had a really good feeling about her.’

Declan gritted his teeth. ‘She’s all that and more,’ he said. ‘But what is it to you?’

His mother stilled. ‘Despite what you think, I’m desperately concerned about you. Lisa was the best thing that ever happened to you, to the family. But she’s gone, Declan. You’re young. You can’t let yourself just shrivel up and die inside because we lost Lisa. She would never have wanted you to lock yourself away like this.’

Declan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. ‘You know I—’

‘You blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault. Lisa died of a sudden embolism. Nothing could have predicted it or prevented it. And baby Alice? That precious little girl was just born too soon. You mustn’t let the tragedy of their loss cut you off from happiness in your future.’

Declan shifted from foot to foot. ‘It’s not like that.’ He had convinced Lisa to get pregnant when she’d wanted to wait and she’d died in childbirth. His fault.

‘Isn’t it?’ His mother persevered, much as she must do in court. ‘I know I didn’t love you enough when you were that fiercely intelligent, questioning little boy who had his own agenda from the word go. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I’m doing my best to make up for it. You need love more now than you did when you were that little boy.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘But you must,’ she said. ‘Don’t close yourself off from the possibility of love. I saw how you looked at Shelley. I saw how she looked at you. You deserve love, no matter what you might think.’

Her voice caught in a tremor and he realised how difficult it was for his mother to be talking to him like this. He also saw how sincere she was.

‘I’ll take that on board,’ he said, relenting.

‘Whatever you might have thought in the past, whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’m on your side and I always will be. But I don’t want to grow into one of those old women protecting her sad, middle-aged son who never got over his wife’s loss. There’s a beautiful young woman there who might help you move on. Shelley won’t wait for ever, you know. Not a girl who looks like she does.’

‘It’s not just the way she looks,’ he muttered. ‘She’s kind, honest, good. So much more than just beautiful.’

He decided to tell his mother about the new bed of roses Shelley had planted in honour of Lisa and Alice.

‘What an incredibly sensitive and inspired thing to do.’ His mother’s voice was choked and she paused to wipe tears from her eyes. ‘The tragedy of it comes rushing back. I wish they were both still with us. I loved Lisa like a daughter. But this Shelley, she’s a rare one, Declan. Don’t let her go. Trust me, it will be like another little death for you if you do.’

Declan thought about what she’d said long after his mother left to go home. All through the long, lonely evening as he worked on the background of the Estella portrait and waited for the sound of his car bringing Shelley back home.