could contact him and ask—’
‘He’s dead,’ she interrupted harshly. ‘He died before Ben was born. Chloe is getting married, that’s why she feels that now is the time to have Ben live with her.’
‘Who’s the lucky man?’
‘Ian Osborne.’
Rafe’s brow wrinkled. ‘That name seems familiar.’
‘Ian Osborne the actor…?’
Rafe shook his head.
‘He’s got his own series…’
Rafe nodded. ‘The medical soap.’
‘Drama,’ Tess corrected automatically.
‘A canny career move on Chloe’s part rather than true love, I take it.’
‘Actually, she’s besotted,’ Tess told him gloomily. From their telephone conversation she had the impression that Ian Osborne had a lot to do with Chloe’s change of heart.
‘You’re such a cynic, Rafe.’
‘Better than being a victim.’
His casual contempt really hurt. ‘I am not—!’
He was pleased to see the spark of anger in her eyes; anger was way better than that awful dull, despairing blankness.
‘Whatever,’ he drawled. ‘You could convince this Osborne guy he doesn’t want a kid around.’ With a thoughtful expression he drew a hand slowly through his thick hair.
Tess stared at him. Only Rafe could come up with an idea like that and make it sound reasonable. ‘I don’t think I want to know what machiavellian schemes are running around in your warped little mind. I need to do what is best for Ben,’ she responded firmly, trying to sound braver than she felt. ‘I need to do what I should have been doing all along, I need to prepare Ben to go live with his mother.’
If it was going to happen she’d have to put her feelings on the back burner and make this transition as painless as possible. And if Chloe and this Ian person made him unhappy she’d make them wish they’d never been born!
‘You can’t prepare someone to lose the only mother they’ve ever known!’ His hooded eyes were veiled as she stiffly turned away from him. ‘What we need is inspiration. In the meantime, will you settle for coffee?’
‘I don’t want coffee.’
‘You need it; you’re drunk.’
She opened her mouth to deny this when it occurred to her he was probably right. If she weren’t drunk they wouldn’t be having this conversation. If she weren’t drunk his shirt wouldn’t still be damp from her copious tears.
‘Don’t move, I’ll make it.’
Tess, who hadn’t been going to offer, retained her seat. If she hadn’t felt so dog-tired she might have asked Rafe since when he’d made her problem his crusade. She already knew, of course, even if he didn’t recognise the reason himself at least consciously. The parallels might be tenuous, but she could see exactly why he was so fired up.
Rafe had doted on his own mother; he still did. The reasons that had made her run away, leaving her two young sons behind, had been wide and varied depending on who you listened to in the small community—everyone had their own pet theory.
To say Rafe’s relationship with his stepmother had been bad would have been like saying he was quite tall and fairly good-looking. A child of seven or eight didn’t have the weapons required to prevent a clever, manipulative woman from alienating him from his father. These days Rafe wasn’t short of weapons, or overburdened with moral qualms about using them. In short, Rafe could be pretty ruthless. Maybe that was what the situation called for…? She firmly pushed aside the tempting idea of letting Rafe have free rein.
A few minutes later Rafe returned carrying two mugs of strong black coffee. ‘Do you take sugar? I couldn’t remember…’
The small figure on the rocker stirred restlessly in her sleep, but didn’t waken.
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