She spun around and then swallowed. Rick. In worn jeans and another tight black T-shirt. And with that bad-boy insolence wrapped tightly around him. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or something altogether different—like apprehensive.
She wiped her hands down her shorts. Instinct warned her that the less time she spent in Rick’s company the better. Better for her peace of mind and better for her health if the stupid way her heart leapt and surged was anything to go by. She tried to swallow back her misgivings. Her family had done this man no favours. She owed him for that.
With a sigh she waved him inside, kissing goodbye to the notion of a clean kitchen followed by a soak in a hot tub with a good book. ‘Good afternoon.’
He just nodded as he took the same seat at the table as he had the previous day.
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks.’
Neither of them spoke and the silence grew heavy. Nell moistened her lips. ‘I…’ She couldn’t think of anything to say.
Rick’s gaze speared to hers. ‘Shall I tell you what occurred to me overnight?’
Her mouth dried though she couldn’t have explained why. She gave a please continue shrug.
‘I wondered if there was the slightest possibility that by staying here it meant John Cox had the chance to remain close to his other child?’
It took a moment for that inference to sink in. In a twisted way, she could see how he could make that leap. Without a word she went to her important documents drawer and pulled out a folder. She opened her mouth to try and explain its contents only to snap it shut. She shoved the folder at Rick instead. The contents could speak for themselves.
He stared at her for a moment and then riffled through the enclosed sheaf of papers. A frown lowered over his face even as his chin lifted. For a moment he looked like a devil. One who’d cajole with dark temptations that could only end in destruction and ruin. Her heart kicked in her chest.
She swallowed and looked away.
‘This is a paternity test your father had done…twelve years ago.’
‘That’s correct. He arranged for that test when he and my mother divorced. As he said at the time, he had no intention of being financially responsible for a child that wasn’t his.’ Only the tests had shown beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his daughter.
And that he was her father.
Rick slammed the folder shut. ‘God, Nell, that man’s a nightmare of a father!’
She turned back and raised an eyebrow. ‘Snap.’
He rocked back and then a grin crept across those fascinating lips of his and a light twinkled in those dark eyes and some of the awkwardness between them seeped away. ‘Okay, you got me there. I’ll pay that.’
And then he laughed, and the laugh completely transformed him. It tempered the hard, insolent edges and made him look young and carefree. It made him breathtakingly attractive too, in a dangerous, thrilling way that had her blood surging and her pulse pounding.
She swallowed. ‘On that head, though…’ She nodded at the folder. ‘I can’t say I blame him. My mother isn’t the kind of woman who has ever let the truth get in the way of a…good opportunity.’
Her mother was in the Mediterranean with husband number four the last she’d heard, which was about three times a year. Oh, yes, her family—they were the Brady Bunch all right.
Rick clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back. She wondered if he knew precisely how enticing that pose was to a woman—the broad shoulders on display, those biceps and the hard chiselled chest flagrantly defined in the tight black T-shirt angling down to a hard flat abdomen…and all in that deceptively open, easy, inviting posture.
She bet he did.
Even with all of that masculine vigour on display, it was his eyes that held her. He surveyed her until she had to fight the urge to fidget. She reached for another shrug—a pray tell, what on earth do you think you’re staring at? shrug. She was pretty certain she pulled it off with aplomb, but it didn’t stop him staring at her. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. ‘I’m starting to get the hang of those.’
She squinted at him—a what on earth are you talking about? squint. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’
He lowered his arms. ‘For all of these years, here I was thinking you had the best of everything.’
She flicked her hair over her shoulders. ‘Of course I did. I had the best education money could buy. I had designer clothes, piano lessons and overseas holidays. I had—’
‘Parents who were as good at parenting as mine.’
She swallowed. ‘One shouldn’t be greedy.’ Or self-pitying. ‘Besides, they were merely products of their own upbringing…and they had their good points.’
‘Name one.’
‘We’ve already uncovered one. They didn’t betray each other so badly that I was the cuckoo they thought I might be. I’m not John’s secret love child and therefore I’m not your mystery sibling.’
‘Just thought I’d ask.’
She hesitated. ‘I did wonder…’
‘What?’
‘Would your mother be able to tell you anything that might be of use?’
She didn’t like to ask about Rick’s mother—she’d been a prostitute. Nell had a lot of bones to pick with her parents, but she’d never had to watch her mother sell her body. She’d always known where her next meal was coming from. She’d had a warm bed to retreat to. She’d been safe. She gripped her hands together. She was very grateful for those things.
Rick shook his head. ‘She developed dementia a few years ago. It’s advanced rapidly. Nine times out of ten, she doesn’t recognise me these days.’
Oh. Her heart burned for him. ‘I’m sorry.’
He merely shrugged. ‘What are you going to do?’ He said it in that casual, offhand way, which only made her heart burn more fiercely.
She clapped her hands together in an attempt to brisk the both of them up. ‘Well, I had another thought too. We should go and check out John’s cottage. It’s been empty since he went into hospital. I mean, I know it was cleaned, but maybe it’ll contain some clue.’
‘It could all be a hoax, you know?’
‘For what purpose?’ She didn’t believe it was a hoax. Not for a moment. And when she made for the door, Rick rose and followed.
They picked their way through the overgrown garden—across the terrace to the lawn and then towards the far end of the block. Whittaker House had been built on generous lines in more generous times. The house and grounds sprawled over the best part of a city block. No wonder her father wanted her to sell it.
She
