shrugged. ‘Age can be used as an excuse for many mistakes. And no, the twins were not conceived until after the wedding,’ she added dryly, knowing that was the next question that would occur to most people.
'But surely——’
‘I don't like to talk about my marriage—Sin,’ she at last managed to say his name, wondering if other women felt as she did when they said it, a thrill of wicked delight shivering down her spine. ‘It was all in the past, and life has to go on.’
‘Even that seems too cynical coming from such a young and beautiful woman,’ he frowned.
He wasn't flirting with her, she could tell that, he genuinely found it disconcerting that she should have found such cynicism in her life at such a young age. ‘Do I seem bitter to you?’ she cajoled.
‘No,’ he acknowledged.
‘And you find that surprising,’ she realised.
‘A little,’ he nodded. ‘I've known Brad on a casual basis for over ten years, and he never spoke of a wife and children. We've never been bosom buddies or anything, there isn't time for that in reporting, but even so most men talk about their wife and families at some time.’
‘Brad is totally dedicated to his job,’ she dismissed without emotion.
‘So was I once, but——’
‘What made you make the change from reporting to writing novels?’ she cut in interestedly.
He looked at her for several minutes, her own gaze unflinching. ‘You want to change the subject?’ he grimaced ruefully.
‘I think it might be a good idea,’ she said without rancour. She knew his interest in her marriage was mainly caused by the fact that he was surprised at who her husband had been more than a real need to pry. It hadn't occurred to her that Sin and Brad would know each other, although she had always known that the world of the press was a pretty closed one, so much so that even the spouses lost out to it.
‘It's a small world, isn't it?’ Sin obviously echoed some of her thoughts.
‘Sometimes it would seem to be,’ she agreed softly.
‘Do you ever see him now?’
She didn't pretend to misunderstand. ‘He comes down to see the twins.’
Sin shook his head. ‘I'm prying again,’ he apologised. ‘And I've also forgotten what you asked me.’
She smiled her sympathy with his confusion. ‘Why you became a writer instead of a reporter.’
‘It seemed a natural progression from what I was doing,’ he shrugged. ‘The type of reporting I was involved in is for the young; I would have been given a permanent desk job eventually, anyway.’
‘You make it sound as if you're ancient,’ she teased.
‘Thirty-seven,’ he supplied. ‘I made the decison to get out of the rat-race five years ago.’
And it had obviously been a wise decision. She would have put him at much younger than his years, younger than Brad when he was actually three years the other man's senior. ‘It's obviously been a successful decision,’ she said noncommittally.
‘Luckily,’ he nodded. ‘I could quite easily have disappeared into obscurity along with a million other would-be-writers. I never forget to be grateful I'm one of the lucky few who made it.’
‘Surely your success is due to a lot more than just luck,’ she chided.
'Maybe you're right, if I couldn't write the public wouldn't still be buying my books. But at the same time a lot of it depends on whether your style of book is in fashion when you start out; tastes change all the time.’
‘I suppose so,’ she agreed. ‘And never having read one myself I have no idea whether you're talented or just lucky,’ she teased. But she did know, knew that he would be extremely talented, that this man, with his quiet air of confidence, would be good at whatever he chose to do.
‘Shame on you,’ he grinned, the mood of seriousness forgotten. ‘Even my mother has read one or two of them, and she isn't interested in anything but gardening!’
Robyn's mouth twisted. ‘I'm sure she's interested in her son.’
His smile deepened. ‘I'm sure she is too,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘And all this time I thought she actually liked my books,’ he added self-derisively.
‘Do you have any other family?’ she asked interestedly.
‘A father and an older brother,’ he nodded, the blue eyes twinkling merrily as her eyes widened at the latter. ‘Don't I come over as the baby of the family?’ he mocked.
He ‘came over’ as a man so sure of himself and his own capabilities that he had no need of the charm he had also been endowed with, although he could also use that to great advantage when he chose to. The twins had been fascinated by him, and not just because he had once done the same job as their Daddy. They had even solicited a promise from him that he would take them swimming some time. Kim and Andy loved to go to the pool at the Hall, but as the invitations to use the small indoor pool there, understandably with Caroline's aversion to them, weren't too plentiful, they had to make the trip into town to the public pool if they wanted to swim. Robyn knew that the twins’ desire to spend more time with Sin Thornton didn't come just from the fact that their own trips to the pool were governed by finances; that they genuinely liked the man.
And she wasn't so sure that was a good thing. With the lack of a permanent father figure in their life the twins were apt to find the company of any available male something to be prized above everything else. Sin Thornton could just find himself in the role of surrogate father for the time he was here.
‘Not particularly,’ she answered his question in a preoccupied voice. ‘What does your father do?’
‘Now? Nothing,’ he shook his head. ‘He's a retired newspaperman.’
‘I didn't think they did retire,’ her voice had sharpened perceptively. ‘I thought they just got old—or killed.’
‘Robyn——’ he broke off as the forlorn voice of her daughter called down to them, frowning his concern at the sound.
‘Don't worry,’ Robyn dismissed lightly, rising slowly to her feet. ‘This is a nightly ritual,’ she mocked. ‘I even know to take the glasses of water upstairs with me now to save myself a second trip.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Sin grinned.
‘One of these days they're going to realise that I've caught on to their little game,’ she drawled. ‘I shouldn't be long,’ she added before leaving the room.
'Don't hurry on my account,’ he called after her softly. ‘I'm perfectly comfortable.’
She was aware of that. In fact, he was slumped so comfortably in the chair she was beginning to wonder if he were ever going to leave. And she wanted him to. Already he had touched on subjects she would rather not discuss. If he didn't leave soon who knew what outrage he
