know that men might pester her, but she kept her distance because as sure as hell she wasn’t going to be hurt so badly again. Nor was she going to tell him. But she’d give as good as she got.
‘So it’s OK for you to take women-friends and Gemma skiing or lazing on beaches in the Caribbean,’ she said, sweetly poisonous, ‘but I have to live like a Carmelite nun?’
‘I should be so lucky.’ He grunted. ‘If you did, at least I’d know Gemma would be cared for and protected.’
‘She is cared for and protected when she’s here!’
‘Huh.’ He sounded utterly unconvinced. ‘What exactly did she tell you about our holidays?’ he asked warily.
Ellen winced. He obviously had things to hide. ‘Not a word. She never speaks about you. Or your home,’ she replied, feeling suddenly mournful. ‘I developed a roll of film for her when she was here in August.’
Seeing the holiday pictures had driven home some painful truths. Luc had no hang-ups about his shattered marriage. The photos had shown him with Gemma, laughing and fooling around and totally at ease with two gorgeous women. She made a face. Was there any other kind where Luc was concerned?
She’d pored over the snaps when Gemma had gone to bed. The intense happiness in her daughter’s face had made her cry. She knew she could never have that effect on her child. It had been a terrible moment, one she’d never forget.
And it was bad enough that she couldn’t afford to take her daughter anywhere exciting, let alone seeing her child being cuddled by a couple of Miss Worlds. One day, Miss World would become Miss Right.
And then Miss Right would gracefully take on the role of the second Mrs Luciano Maccari. Gemma would have a mother to tuck her up in bed and read stories… Hastily Ellen shut off that line of thought. It was an inevitable development but she wasn’t ready for it yet.
As for Luc—he was a hypocrite! He saw nothing wrong in letting women paw him in front of his daughter, she thought indignantly. One of them had been sitting on his lap, the other had flung her arms around his neck and was kissing him on the cheek while he grinned in smug delight.
Yet he was condemning her for entertaining nonexistent lovers! She steamed with the rank injustice of it. Justifiably aggrieved, hurting at the memory of those lovely women, she stood up for herself.
‘Let’s make a pact. You lead your own life,’ she told him tightly, ‘and I’ll do what I damn well like with mine!’
‘Not when my daughter’s around, you won’t!’ he countered.
‘She’s mine too!’
‘Barely!’ he shot back
Ellen sucked in a painful breath. He was determined to inflict wounds. The brute.
‘You hate not having control over everything that happens to her, don’t you? For heaven’s sake, Luc, don’t carp. She’s yours for most of the time. I only see her for one week, four times a year!’
‘Ye-e-e-s.’
There was a significance in his hesitation and she blanched, fearing what would follow from that ‘ye-e-e-s.’ Nervously she said, ‘Why did you ring?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve changed my mind.’
Her jaw tightened ominously. He’d ruined her evening for nothing! ‘Right,’ she said tersely. ‘Fascinating chat. Goodbye, Luc—’
‘Wait…’ There was a long and tense pause, as if he was trying to broach a difficult subject. And then he said in a tired voice, ‘We need to meet up, Ellen.’
‘No, we don’t. Anyway, what happened to your declaration when you threw me out that you never wanted to see me again?’
‘I said ‘‘need’’, not ‘‘want’’,’ he drawled sardonically.
‘It makes no difference. I’m not interested in seeing you.’ But she couldn’t stop her curiosity prompting her to add, ‘Why on earth should we need to meet?’
‘Things to talk about.’
‘Like…what?’ she asked guardedly, warning bells ringing in her head.
It could be about access. Or… She thought of the women in the photographs and the blonde one in particular, who’d been gazing adoringly at him as if he was the source of all life.
Perhaps he wanted a divorce. He wanted his freedom to remarry. Her heart swooped and dived as if she were inside an elevator.
‘I’m not discussing it on the phone,’ he replied stubbornly. ‘This is something we need to do face to face. What are you doing this evening?’
Her mouth dropped open in amazement. ‘This…! Oh, my God! You—you’re in England?’ she croaked, her throat as dry as dust.
No. She couldn’t see him. She was getting stage fright at the very thought. He’d talk about the woman he loved and his eyes would melt with love and she’d be dying inside.
‘Sudden business came up.’
‘Yes, well, I’m working, so put your comments in writing,’ she told him flatly.
‘Working…tonight?’
Stung by the wealth of suggestion in the way he’d said that, she primmed her mouth and then said with laboured patience, ‘Relax, Luc. I’m not patrolling the back alleys of Southwark in fishnet stockings and very little else!’
‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ he bit, and she wondered what had happened to his wonderful sense of humour. ‘Did Daddy find you a lucrative job?’ he murmured insolently.
She sniffed. As if she needed help from anyone! ‘I found my own. Your sidekick Donatello must have told you I don’t live with my parents any more.’
‘Got thrown out for impossible behaviour?’
‘Got sick and tired of being pushed around by yet another bossy man!’ she retorted hotly.
Luc grunted. ‘What are you doing to earn your living, then?’
‘I stack shelves in the local supermarket during the day and…’ She chickened out. She couldn’t tell him about her evening job! Being economical with the truth, she said, ‘Three times a week I work at the community centre in the evenings. That’s where I’m going tonight.’
There was a long pause. A hectic colour flushed her neck and face and she was glad he couldn’t see it. He wouldn’t think much of her progress since she’d left him. He wasn’t to know she’d been fighting depression for more than five years.
He’d never enquired after her welfare. The break had been brutally clean. She’d refused his offer of money and he’d washed his hands of her. Out of sight, out of mind.
‘A…supermarket.’ His disapproval was plain to hear.
‘I love it,’ she told him honestly, springing to her
