the past four weeks she had kept her manner brisk and impersonal. She had pretended not to notice those occasional sidelong glances of his, when his fabulous dark eyes would rest speculatively on her face. She had taken extra care to downplay what she wore. Anyone would have been forgiven for thinking that the only components of her wardrobe were faded jeans, tee shirts, shapeless jumpers and trainers. Now that the weather was getting warmer, and spring was edging tentatively into summer, the jumpers had been set aside, but the jeans, the tee shirts and the trainers were still fully in evidence.
Sarah was determined to make sure that her relationship with Raoul remained detached and uninvolved. She knew that she couldn’t afford to forget what had happened in the past.
She had thrown herself into the task of helping him get to know his son, and she had to admit that it was no longer the uphill struggle it had initially been. Oliver was gradually opening up and losing some of his restraint, and Raoul, in turn, was slowly learning how to relate to a child. Like a teacher struggling with troublesome pupils and finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, she could now cautiously tell herself that her role of mediator had been successful.
And that accounted for the glow in her eyes and her flushed cheeks.
Oliver was actually looking forward to seeing Raoul. In fact, he was dressed and ready to go.
She clattered down the stairs as the doorbell buzzed and smiled at the sight of Oliver in the sitting room, kneeling on the chair by the bay window, eyes peeled for Raoul’s arrival. He had been treated to several rides in Raoul’s sports car, and had gravely told her that he would buy her one just as soon as he had saved enough money. He had two pounds, and considered himself well on the way.
‘Am I dressed correctly for a day out at a theme park, Miss?’ Raoul laughed at her exasperated expression.
‘You know I hate it when you call me that.’
‘Of course you don’t! It makes you feel special. And besides … I enjoy watching the way you blush when I say it.’
On cue, Sarah felt her cheeks pinken.
‘You shouldn’t say stuff like that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because … because … it’s not appropriate …’
And because it threatened her. She had been walking on thin ice for the past four weeks as he dug deeper and deeper under her defences with his easy charm, his wit, his willingness to tackle head-on a situation that must have rocked his world. She desperately wanted her one-dimensional memory of him back, because it was so much easier to deal with him as the man who had ruined her life.
‘Now you really are beginning to sound like a schoolteacher,’ Raoul said softly. ‘Should I expect to be punished any time soon?’
‘Stop it!’
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and laughed, throwing his head back, keeping his velvety black eyes on her face.
Sarah glared at him. This couldn’t continue. Raoul didn’t know what he was doing to her, but she was mentally and emotionally exhausted. She would talk to Raoul today. Begin the process of sorting out visiting arrangements. She couldn’t foresee any problem with Raoul now taking Oliver out for the day without her having to be there as chaperone.
In other words it was time to acknowledge that her brief stint at usefulness was over and Raoul had been right. It had been essential for them to present a united front to Oliver so that his confidence in Raoul could be built. Would it come as a shock for him to accept Raoul as his father? Certainly it would be a lot easier now than it would have been a month ago, when Raoul had been an intimidating stranger bearing expensive gifts who had landed in their midst from nowhere.
The gifts had all been stowed away and Raoul had not repeated his mistake—although he warned her he would definitely be christening the new house he had bought for them with something spectacular in the back garden.
When Sarah considered the speed with which her life had changed in a matter of a month, her head spun.
Raoul back on the scene. Oliver slowly beginning to bond with his father. A house which she and Oliver had seen only two weeks previously immediately purchased by Raoul on the spot, with enough money thrown at the deal to ensure that it closed with record speed.
‘You like it. Why hang around?’
He had shrugged with such casual dismissal of the cost that Sarah had stared at him, open-mouthed. That had been the point when she had thought that the attainment of wealth was the most important thing to Raoul, and instinctively she had shied away from what that implied about his character. Very quickly, however, she had realised that the only thing wealth represented to him was freedom. Money gave him the ability to do as he liked without reference to anyone else. It was the opposite of the way he had grown up.
In fact, and only by accident, she had recently discovered that he gave large sums of his vast fortune to charity—including the very same charity which had originally brought them together all those years ago. She had been in his penthouse with Oliver, waiting for him while he finished a conference call in his office. Oliver had been wandering around, gaping at the high-tech television and then experimenting with the chrome and black leather stools at the granite-topped kitchen counter, swivelling round and round with childish enjoyment, and there on the table by the massive window that overlooked a private park had been a letter of gratitude, thanking Raoul for his contributions over the years.
Sarah had not mentioned a word of what she had inadvertently seen, but she had filed it away in her head, where it jostled for space with all the other bits and pieces she was unconsciously gathering about him. In every way he was the most complex man she would ever meet. He was driven, ambitious, and ferociously single-minded. But the way in which he had applied himself to the task of getting to know his son showed compassion, patience, and an ability to roll with the punches.
There was no question that he used women, and yet there was nothing manipulative about him. He had big Keep Out signs all around him, and yet she couldn’t help feeling that she had seen something of the boy who had become the man—even though when he talked about his past it was only through necessity, and in a voice that was utterly devoid of emotion.
Five years on and Raoul Sinclair still fascinated her. Although that was something that Sarah barely recognised. She just knew that she was becoming dangerously addicted to his visits, which were frequent, even though she kept telling him that she didn’t want to disrupt his work schedule.
She felt as though she was seeing him through the eyes of an adult as opposed to the romantic young girl she had once been, and she wondered what life would be like when their relationship became normalised. When he popped over on a Wednesday evening and took Oliver out, leaving her behind, or when he had Oliver for a weekend and she had her much espoused free time to do as she liked.
She immediately told herself that it would be brilliant. She would be able to build some kind of life for herself! She no longer had the excuse of lack of money, lack of time and lack of opportunity.
Raoul had insisted on opening a bank account for her, and when she had tried to assert her independence he had turned her determination on its head by quietly telling her that it was the very least he could do, bearing in mind that she had been a single mother for all those years when he had been rapidly building his fortune. Had he been more aggressive she would have taken refuge in
