spoke quickly, putting down the tray, giving out the cups, trying not to slop the coffee everywhere with her shaking hands.
‘Mum…I’m sure Mr Cameron doesn’t want to hear about my banger. He did me a favour. I grew out of that long ago.’
‘But Maggie, only a few weeks ago you told me—’
‘More dessert, Mum? More coffee?’
‘We haven’t drunk it yet, Maggie,’ Caleb said dryly, an assessing gleam in his eyes as he took in Maggie’s all too obvious discomfiture.
She managed to distract her mother with something else and prayed that Caleb wouldn’t have taken too much notice. A short while later they stood up.
‘Mr—I mean, Caleb…’ Maggie’s mother laughed almost girlishly—the effect of a couple of glasses of wine. Maggie cringed; she was practically flirting with the man. And while she loved nothing more than seeing this more relaxed, peaceful side to her mother, she wished it could have been with anyone else. Not the all too dangerous Caleb, who would be sizing up every word.
‘I’ll give you the guided tour…’
‘Mum, we should really be going.’
Caleb smiled dangerously, confirming her fears. ‘Nonsense, Maggie, there’s nothing pressing and I’d love to see the house.’
He extended a gallant arm to Mrs Holland, who looked at Maggie triumphantly.
‘See? Now, why don’t you get started on the washing-up and let me show Caleb around?’
They were gone for what felt like ages. Maggie’s brain was working overtime when she thought of her bedroom, which hadn’t been redecorated since her teens, with all her teen idol posters still up and the flowery bedspread. With the move to London for college and only intermittent visits since, she hadn’t had the time. Or inclination, after returning from London.
Then Caleb walked into her line of vision in the garden. Alone. He stood there with hands in his pockets, surveying the view. Spectacular in a black sweater and dark trousers that hugged every bit of his tall, lean length. She sighed. And jumped when her mother appeared.
‘Well, love. Now there’s a man.’
I’ll say…
She joined Maggie at the sink and started to help dry the dishes. Caleb disappeared from view and Maggie felt scared suddenly, imagining when he’d be gone for good.
Her mother put an arm around her shoulders and Maggie leant into her, taking refuge for a moment.
‘We’re okay, love. Thanks to that man, we’re going to be fine.’
Maggie nodded and leant her head on her mother’s shoulder so she wouldn’t see the bright glitter of her tears. Her mother would be fine and that was all that mattered, but she…she knew she wouldn’t be fine at all. And it was thanks to that man.
Caleb came back through the house, his footsteps muffled on the carpet, and halted in his stride when he saw through the open kitchen door. Maggie had her head on her mother’s shoulder, their arms were around each other. There was something in the scene that was so primal and private that he couldn’t intrude. He walked away and waited for a few minutes before coming back, coughing as he did so to make them aware of his presence. He could have sworn he hadn’t just seen what he had when Maggie turned around to face him with a bright smile on her face.
‘We’d better get going.’
‘Fine, dear. I’ve held you young people up long enough.’
They said their goodbyes and finally left.
As the car pulled out of the drive, Maggie turned to Caleb. ‘That day—the day you came to the house—you said you wanted to use it as a bolt-hole…Would you really have moved in?’
Caleb had the grace to look sheepish for a moment. It threw Maggie.
‘I never really had any intention of using it. Most likely I would have sold it…I think I wanted to get a rise out of you.’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say, Maggie? You bring out the worst in me.’
After that she was tight-lipped and distant. He’d never had any intention of moving in, redecorating. And she’d risen to the bait beautifully.
He cut into her thoughts after a while. ‘Maggie…I believe you about your mother.’
‘Good.’ She just felt weary when he said that. She could feel him flick her a probing glance, could feel it heat her skin. Why did she have to be so aware of him?
‘What’s up?’
She took a deep breath and looked at him. ‘Nothing, I’m just a little tired…’
And drained and heart sore…
‘There’s a ball we’re meant to attend tonight, but if—’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m absolutely fine. We’ll go.’
The rest of the journey was made in silence as Maggie fell asleep and Caleb wrestled with countless disturbing thoughts and feelings. Something just didn’t…fit. When he’d walked around the house with her mother, all she’d talked about was her first husband, as if he were the one who had just died…and not Tom Holland. Maybe it was some form of self-protection? But he didn’t think so. He’d mentioned Tom Holland once and she’d gone pale and changed the subject immediately. All in all, she seemed far too…happy…for someone who’d just been bereaved and not only that. She was far too happy for someone who’d just been disinherited of millions of pounds.
He shook his head grimly. Felt as if he was in new territory, somewhere he’d never wanted to be. The boundaries were shifting. He took in Maggie’s sleeping form and stretched out a hand to tuck some errant hair back behind one delicate ear. She moved slightly against his hand and smiled a tiny smile. Something didn’t fit…at all. But did he really want to find out what that was?
When they returned to the apartment that night after the ball Maggie kicked her shoes off just inside the door—her feet were aching. Her nerves were on a knife-edge. All evening Caleb had been watching her, scrutinising her. It was making her nervous. She went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. She sensed Caleb come in and lean against the door frame. Finally she couldn’t stand it any more and whirled around. ‘What…what is it? You’ve been staring at me all night.’
His eyes ran up and down her body, leisurely and explicit, and she felt a hot flush invade her skin.
‘I don’t like it.’
‘Yes, Maggie, you do.’
He strolled towards her. She couldn’t go anywhere. She was backed against the counter and suddenly remembered that other night in the kitchen when she’d practically ravished him. She went even redder.
‘My, what blushes. What could possibly be going through that head of yours?’
He was almost touching her. His hand lifted and cupped her jaw, caressing, moulding, his fingers tracing the line.
He
