know what they call a window cleaner?’
‘Please enlighten me.’
‘A vision clearance executive.’
He laughed, making his megawatt attractiveness zoom even higher.
‘A teacher is a knowledge navigator,’ Laura rattled on, trying to ignore his effect on her. ‘And a librarian is an information retrieval specialist. I can’t remember the rest of the list. All the titles were very wordy.’
‘So putting it simply, you’re a receptionist.’
‘Part-time at a local medical practice. I’m still at uni, doing landscape architecture. It’s a four-year degree program and I’m currently making my way through the last year.’
‘Working and studying? Your father doesn’t support you?’ he queried, obviously not quite in tune with a wealthy man who wouldn’t finance his children’s full education.
She slanted him a derisive look. ‘My father doesn’t support what he doesn’t approve of. You should know that since you work with him.’
‘But you’re his daughter.’
‘Who was expected to fall in with his wishes. I’m allowed to live here. That’s as much support as my father will give to my career choice.’
‘Perhaps you should have sought complete independence.’
It was an odd remark, coming from a man who had to have made an art form of falling in with her father’s wishes. However, she wasn’t about to discuss the dynamics of her family with an outsider, particularly not someone who specialised in siding with her father.
‘My mother needs me.’
It was a brief reply and all he was going to get from her. She opened the back door and ushered him out to the patio, quickly announcing, ‘Your Jake is here, Dad.’
‘Ah!’ Her father rose from his chair at the patio table, which was strewn with the Sunday newspapers. His whole face beamed a welcome at the man who was undoubtedly performing up to his expectations in every respect. ‘Good to see you here, Jake. Beautiful autumn day, isn’t it?’
‘Couldn’t be better,’ he agreed, moving forward to shake her father’s offered hand.
Confident, smooth, at ease with himself and the situation … and Laura definitely wasn’t. She felt dreadfully at odds with the strong tug of attraction that wouldn’t go away. It was wrong. It had to be wrong. The last thing she wanted was a man like her father messing with her life.
‘Go and fetch your mother, Laura. She’s showing Eddie the latest innovations in the garden. You can tell them both to come and meet our guest.’
‘Will do,’ she said, glad to leave the two men together, though knowing that the stirring of the family pot couldn’t be delayed for long. Her father expected instant obedience to his call.
The garden was her mother’s refuge. She was never happier than when discussing what could be done next to it with Nick Jeffries, the handyman who shared her enthusiasm for creating wonderful visual effects and did all the heavy work for her. Laura loved this garden, too, loved every aspect of landscape design, making something beautiful instead of tearing something down … as her father did.
And as Jake Freedman did.
It would be stupid to forget that. She could never, never be in tune with a mind that dealt with destruction.
‘Mum, Eddie …’ she called out. They were by the rockpool, where Nick had installed the new solar lights. ‘Dad’s guest is here.’
Her mother’s smile of pleasure instantly drooped into a grimace. She darted an anxious look at her son, worried about an imminent clash of personalities.
Eddie hugged her shoulders, smiling reassurance. ‘I promise I’ll be good, Mum. No bad boy today.’
It won a wry little laugh.
Eddie made a great bad boy in the soap opera he currently starred in. The wild flop of his thick black hair, the designer stubble along his angular jawline, the dimple in his chiselled chin, the piercing blue eyes … all made him a very popular pin-up, especially on his flash motorbike. He was wearing black leathers today, though he was now carrying his jacket, discarded because of the heat of the morning. His white T-shirt was emblazoned with a Harley-Davidson. He played a bikie and he looked like one, much to her father’s disgust.
The three of them started strolling back towards the patio, son and daughter flanking their mother, determined to keep a happy ball rolling for her. Why she stayed with their father was beyond their comprehension. There was no joy in the marriage. Having a very dominant husband who controlled everything seemed to have sapped her of any will for an independent life.
Laura always thought of her mother as a lady, never anything but beautifully dressed and groomed, imbued with gracious manners, doing everything correctly and tastefully, making a special ritual of keeping fresh floral arrangements in the house, which she did herself. Even her name, Alicia, was somehow very ladylike.
She looked particularly lovely today, her newly dyed blond hair cut into a short, fluffy style, a blue silk tunic giving her eyes more colour. They had seemed so dull and washed out lately, Laura had worried there might be a health problem her mother was not admitting to. She was getting too thin, as well, a fact hidden by the loosely fitting long-sleeved tunic. The white slacks were also loose, affecting a casually elegant look. Certainly no one would notice anything amiss with her, not on the surface. Jake Freedman would probably pigeonhole her as the typical rich man’s wife.
‘What’s he like?’ her mother asked.
‘James Bond,’ popped straight out of Laura’s mouth.
‘What? Loaded and dangerous?’ Eddie queried.
She grinned at him. ‘Plus gorgeous and sexy.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t you go falling for him, Laura. That’s bad territory.’
‘Yes, be careful,’ her mother quickly warned, her eyes anxious again. ‘Your father might want you to like this man. There has to be some motive behind inviting him here today.’
‘Could be that marrying the boss’s daughter is on Jake Freedman’s agenda,’ Eddie put in, grinning wolfishly, then snapping his teeth to make the point.
Marriage?
Never!
She’d walked out of every relationship she’d had once the guy started making demands on her, which always happened sooner or later. From what she’d witnessed at home, marriage was an endless string of demands, plus abuse thrown in if the demands weren’t met. No man was ever going to own her as his wife.
She rolled her eyes back at Eddie. ‘I’m not so easy to gobble up. I’ll be feeding him lunch. He can whistle for anything more from me.’
‘Humphrey Bogart,’ her mother murmured.
‘What?’
‘Humphrey
