ate at the pine table in the kitchen, the room was scarcely big enough for two people, let alone three, which meant she would have to pull out the gatelegged table at one end of the living-room.
However, before she had summoned up the courage to leave the comparative security of the kitchen, Jake himself appeared in the doorway. He had shed his leather jerkin, somewhere between entering the house and coming to disrupt her fragile composure, and as he raised one hand to support himself against the lintel Laura was not unaware of the sleek muscles beneath the fine silk of his shirt.
‘I’ve left the car parked behind yours beside the house,’ he said, and she noticed how the drops of rain sparkled on his hair. He wore his hair longer than the men she was used to, and where it was wet it was inclined to curl. Otherwise, it was mostly straight, and just brushed his collar at the back. ‘Is that OK?’ he added softly, and Laura realised rather flusteredly that she hadn’t answered him.
‘What…? Oh—oh, yes,’ she said hastily, taking a tablecloth out of a drawer, and starting towards him. Then, realising he was blocking the doorway, she halted again, and waving the cloth at him, murmured, ‘If you’ll excuse me…’
Jake frowned, but he didn’t move out of her way. ‘Can’t we eat in here?’ he suggested, looking about him with some appreciation. ‘This is cosy.’ He nodded at the begonias on the window ledge. ‘Did you cultivate those?’
‘Cultivate? Oh…’ Laura glanced behind her, and then nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I enjoy gardening. You wouldn’t notice today, of course. I think the rain has even beaten down the daffodils.’
‘The rain!’ Jake grimaced. ‘Oh, yes, it is certainly raining. It reminds me of home.’
‘Home?’ Laura frowned. ‘But I thought—–’
‘You thought that the sun always shines in Italy?’ he asked, grinning. ‘Oh, no. Like the fog in London, it is somewhat overrated.’
Laura felt herself smiling in return, but then, realising she was wasting time, and the meal was almost ready, she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
‘Um—do you really think we could eat in here?’ she ventured, not at all sure how Julie would respond to such a suggestion, and then her daughter appeared behind Jake. Sliding possessive arms around him from behind, she reached up to rest her chin on his shoulder, before arching a curious brow at her mother.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Your mother was going to serve the meal she had prepared in the other room,’ Jake interposed swiftly. ‘I thought we should eat in here. I always enjoyed eating in the kitchen, when I lived at home.’
‘Yes, but how big was the kitchen you used to eat in?’ countered Julie, turning her head deliberately, and allowing her tongue to brush the lobe of his ear. ‘Not like this rabbit hutch, I’m sure. I bet there were acres and acres of marble tiles, and dressers simply groaning under the weight of copper pans.’
‘I don’t think it matters how big the room is,’ Jake retorted, displaying a depth of coolness she had clearly not expected. He moved so that Julie had either to move with him, which would have been clumsy, or let him go. She chose the latter, and stood looking at him with sulky eyes. ‘It’s the room where the cooking is done. That’s what’s important. The smell of good food isn’t enhanced by wasted space.’
‘How gallant!’
Julie grimaced, but Laura had the feeling that Jake’s reaction had surprised her daughter. Evidently, he was not going to prove as easy to manipulate as Julie had expected, and, although she was probably nursing her grievances, she had decided to reassess her options before making any reckless moves.
‘Well—if you’re sure,’ Laura murmured now, half wishing Jake had not chosen to champion her. She had no desire to be the cause of any rift between them, and, in all honesty, she would have preferred to keep the kitchen as her sanctuary. But it was too late now, and, ignoring Julie’s still mutinous expression, she shook out the tablecloth.
‘D’you want a drink?’ asked Julie, after a few moments, apparently deciding that sulking was getting her nowhere, and to Laura’s relief Jake accepted the olive branch.
‘Sounds good,’ he said, and when Julie backed into the living-room he followed.
Breathing a somewhat relieved sigh, Laura quickly laid the table with the silver and glassware she had prepared earlier. Then, after rescuing the plates from the warming drawer, she set the casserole dish containing the fish on a cork mat in the middle of the table. The attractive terracotta-coloured casserole looked good amid the cream plates, with their narrow gold edging, and the crystal wine glasses that had been her gift to herself last Christmas.
She had bought some wine, and, although if Mark came for a meal she had him uncork the bottle, this evening she tackled the job herself. It wasn’t as if she was helpless, she thought irritably, removing a tiny speck of cork from the rim. It was only that Julie tended to intimidate her. And that was her own fault, too.
In the event, the meal was a success. The fish tasted as delicious as Laura had hoped, and, whatever Jake and her daughter had said to one another in the living-room, the atmosphere between them was definitely lighter. Evidently, Julie had been appeased, and, although Jake still didn’t respond to her frequent attempts to touch him, he didn’t reject them either. Instead, he spoke equally to both women, encouraging Julie to talk about her recent trip to Scandinavia, and showing an apparently genuine interest in Laura’s teaching.
Although Laura was sure he was only being polite, so far as she was concerned, she was not averse to talking about her job, and only when Julie gave a rather pronounced yawn did she realise she had been lecturing. But it was so rare that she spoke to anyone at any length outside the teaching profession, and Jake’s intelligent observations had inspired her to share her opinions.
When they eventually left the table, Julie asked if she could have a bath. ‘I feel grubby,’ she said, deliberately stretching her arms above her head, so that the perfect lines of her slim figure could be seen to advantage. She wore her hair short these days, and with its smooth curve cupping her head like a burnished cap, and her small breasts thrusting freely against the bronze silk, she was both provocative and beautiful. She cast a mocking smile in Jake’s direction. ‘But you won’t be able to come and wash my back, darling,’ she added lightly. ‘Mum doesn’t approve of that sort of thing, do you, Mum?’
Laura didn’t know how to answer her, but as it happened she didn’t have to. ‘I’ll be too busy helping your mother with the washing-up, anyway,’ Jake returned, causing Laura no small spasm of trepidation. ‘Go ahead. Take your bath, cara. We don’t mind—do we, Laura?’
Laura turned to stare at him then, telling herself it was his attempt to link them together that disturbed her, and not her reaction to her name on his lips. But Jake wasn’t aware of her scrutiny. He was looking at Julie, and for once her daughter seemed nonplussed. Laura guessed she, too, was trying to gauge exactly what Jake was implying by his remarks, and her response revealed her uncertainty.
‘I—well, of course, I’ll help to clear up first—–’ she began but she got no further.
‘It’s not necessary for either of you to help me. Really,’ Laura retorted, her face reddening as she spoke. ‘Honestly. I can manage. Please. I’d rather.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ declared Jake, apparently indifferent
