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 an argument. But, brilliant judge of character that he was, he had known the most efficient way to get exactly what he wanted.
Sarah sighed and tried not to think. Aside from the disturbing melee of her own feelings, there was the very simple reality that they would be moving soon, and Oliver would need to be told who Raoul really was.
Today they were going to a theme park. Oliver had never been to a theme park. Nor had Raoul. She had only learned this after a great deal of questioning, during which she had been determined to prise from him what he had longed for as a kid but never had. She had asked him in the crisp voice she made sure to use in order to reinforce that their relationship was entirely impersonal, and he had adopted the slightly sardonic, lazy drawl which he always used when referring to his past. But then he had said, in a voice that contained a certain amount of surprise—maybe because the memory had come from nowhere—that he had missed the big annual treat of the year when he had been nine years old and his age group were taken to a theme park. It had been a celebration of sorts, to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the place, but he had been laid up with flu and had spent the entire weekend cooped up in the sick quarters.
There and then Sarah had decided that a visit to the theme park was essential.
Lagging behind as Raoul and Oliver walked towards the car, Sarah mentally took in the picture they made. Raoul literally towered over his son, who had to walk at a smart pace to keep up with him. From behind, she noted the similarity of their hair colour and the trace of olive in Oliver’s skin tone that would burnish and darken over time—just as Raoul’s had. Oliver was proudly carrying his backpack, which was a new purchase, and wearing his jeans, also a new purchase.
Her eyes drifted across to Raoul and she felt suddenly dizzy, because he just continued to take her breath away. Without fear of being observed watching him, she feasted on the length of his muscular legs, the low-slung faded black jeans, the white shirt, sleeves slightly pushed up even though it was still quite cool. However good she was at being adult and detached when she was in his company, she still knew that her indifference was a long way from being secure.
Raoul popped the boot of his car and Sarah glanced in and said, surprised, ‘What’s all that?’
Raoul gazed down at her upturned face and shot her a crooked half-smile.
‘What does it look like?’
‘You’ve made a picnic?’
‘I haven’t made a picnic. My caterer has. I’ve been assured that there’s an ample selection.’
The past few weeks had been a massive learning curve for Raoul. Having never seen himself in the role of father, he had found himself having to adapt in all sorts of ways that were alien to him. Defined through his staggering ability to work, he had had to sideline hours in front of his computer or at the office in favour of the soul-destroying task of trying to edge responses out of his son. Accustomed to having every word he spoke treated with respect, and every order he gave obeyed to the letter, he had had to dig deep and find levels of patience that were foreign to him—because small children frequently disobeyed orders and often lacked focus. Ferociously against ever asking anyone for help, he had found himself in the uncustomary position of having to take guidance from Sarah, so that his path to a relationship with Oliver was eased. He had had to learn how to jettison his very natural inclination to command. But it had all paid enormous dividends because Oliver was gradually warming to him.
And alongside that he’d been witness to a new side of Sarah, so wildly different from the impressionable young girl she had been years ago. There was a core of strength in her now that intrigued him.
‘I’m impressed, Raoul,’ Sarah murmured, staring down at the wicker basket and the requisite plaid rug, and the cooler which was full of ice-cold drinks.
She imagined that when he decided on a certain course of action he gave one hundred percent of his energy to it. His course of action, in this instance, was winning over the son he’d never known he had, and he had approached the task in hand with gusto. This elaborate picnic was evidence of that. All kids loved a picnic. She loved a picnic.
He slammed shut the boot on Sarah’s dismayed realisation that in the process of charming Oliver Raoul had inadvertently been doing exactly the same with her.
‘Of course I would have been more impressed if you’d prepared it all yourself …’ Her voice sounded forced.
‘Never satisfied …’ But he was grinning in a way that made her skin warm. ‘You’re a tough taskmaster.’
‘You don’t need a caterer to prepare food for you. I know that you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind for next time,’ Raoul murmured.
‘Next time? There won’t be a next time,’ she told him in a fast rush. ‘Don’t forget that all of this is … you know … part and parcel of your learning curve.’
‘Theme park—tick. Picnic—tick. Homecooked food eaten at the kitchen table—tick. Fast food restaurant—tick. When did you get so regimented?’
‘I’m not regimented. I’m practical. And isn’t it time we left? Oliver’s already in the car. Have I told you how excited he was about today? He could hardly get to sleep last night!’
‘I found sleeping pretty difficult myself.’
Sarah’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a shaky breath as he braced himself against the car, circling her so that she had to half sit on the bonnet.
‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked.
‘I’m tired of trying to kid myself that I don’t want you, Sarah.’
‘You don’t want me. I don’t want you. I know we’ve been getting along, but it’s all because of Oliver—because … because … Don’t look at me like that!’ But her body was betraying her protest. ‘This isn’t part of the plan. You like plans. Have you forgotten?’
‘Which just goes to show what a changed man I’m becoming.’
‘You haven’t changed, Raoul.’ She flattened her hand against his chest to push him back, but just touching him weakened her defences. ‘I told you—we’ve been there. We’re not good for one another. We just need to be … to be friends …’
‘Okay.’ He straightened, and his voice was mild, but there was a glitter in his eyes that made her pulses race. ‘If you’re sure about that …’
He let his hand slide over her shoulder in a caressing, assured move that made her stomach flip and her breath catch in her throat. Then he backed off, and she was gulping in oxygen like a drowning person breaking the surface of the water.
Her heart was beating madly as she slipped into the passenger seat and turned to make sure that Oliver was strapped into his car seat. Over the years, her memories of Raoul had taken on a static form. Faced once
