Single Father: Wife and Mother Wanted. Sharon Archer

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      ‘I’d love to see them—the photos.’ A sudden fierce need to put faces to the names pulled at her. And maybe it would lead in to a way to tell Doreen why she was here. ‘I’ve always loved old photos, wondering about the people in them, what their lives were like.’

      Doreen fixed her with a quick searching look, which changed to a delighted smile. ‘Well, it just so happens I love showing them off. Let’s take our cuppa into the lounge, shall we?’

      Caitlin’s legs felt rubbery as she followed her aunt.

      ‘I’ve put the best of the best in this album,’ said Doreen, patting the sofa beside her. ‘If you’re really interested in what their lives were like, I’ve got a collection of newspaper articles I can show you some time.’

      Doreen flipped through a parade of sepia-toned photos, pointing out an ancestor here and there with an amusing story. The formality of the poses, women in long dresses, men in suits and uniforms, held Caitlin enthralled. If she’d been on her own, she would have taken much longer to look at them.

      ‘Is this you?’ she said, when they came to a candid photo of a young girl with a woman and toddler taken outside Mill House. The gardens around the house were much simpler and the verandah looked as though it had been enclosed.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘So that’s…’ Caitlin’s throat closed over.

      ‘Mum and my brother, Marty.’

      Caitlin was ambushed by a paralysing breathlessness. The toddler was her father. Her father.

      Doreen stroked the photo lightly with a fingertip, her face suddenly etched with grief. Moisture prickled Caitlin’s eyes in sympathy and she had to look away.

      Oh, God. How stupid to think that the photographs might have created an opportunity to talk about Martin Brown’s death. Sorrow clogged her throat in a painful ball. No way could she speak about her father’s death right now, even if she’d wanted to. Her own emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. She needed to be better prepared, to have the words ready, practised.

      Doreen cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, that’s enough for today.’ She closed the album with a snap. ‘Finish your tea and then I’ll show you your room so you can bring your bags in and get settled.’

      ‘Oh. But…. Are you sure you’re up to having a guest after your angina attack? I can easily arrange to stay somewhere else.’ She pushed aside her promise to Matt about being at the house when he returned. After all, he hadn’t known about the angina attack when he’d pinned her down about her booking. If Doreen needed to cancel, Caitlin wasn’t going to feel bad about leaving.

      ‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Please. I’ll be so disappointed if you leave now.’

      ‘As long as you promise to say if it does get too much,’ said Caitlin, after a small hesitation. Perhaps she could ask Matt if Doreen’s health was strong enough. But that would involve breaking her aunt’s confidence. Her life seemed to be filling with all manner of deceptions.

      Doreen clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Wonderful. And why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? It’s just a casserole,’ she said quickly, when Caitlin would have refused. ‘I’ve had it in the slow cooker since this morning so it’s no trouble. None at all.’

      ‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ Caitlin said, responding to the apparent underlying plea. Was it real or was she hearing what she wanted to hear? Letting her own yearning for family colour her judgement? After all, Doreen didn’t know she’d just invited her niece to share a meal.

      Doreen’s face lit up with pleasure and an answering glow settled in Caitlin’s heart. Matt would probably be there but this time she had the advantage of being able to prepare for their next meeting. She’d be able to handle him and this inconvenient attraction.

      She had to…he was a part of her aunt’s life.

      Matt puffed out a breath as he stacked the papers on the back seat of his vehicle. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

      Caitlin was here. In Mill House. In his home.

      Not that she was here to see him. With his system starting to settle, he could recognise that she’d been as disturbed as he’d been by the coincidence. In fact, her reaction had been closer to horror.

      He’d been so completely thrown that he hadn’t thought of any of the questions that crowded into his mind now. Especially about her strange reaction to his comments when he’d helped her wash her hands earlier. He’d had the feeling that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what.

      He slid into the driver’s seat, the wadded black lump on the passenger’s seat catching his eye. Caitlin’s jacket. He’d completely forgotten about it.

      In the end, the chance to return the jacket had arrived with minimal effort on his part.

      Always assuming, of course, that Caitlin was still here when he got home.

      She’d said she would be.

      He hoped she would be.

      Mostly.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      MATT GARDINER.

      Caitlin froze on the threshold of the lounge, her fingers tightening around the spine of her book until she was sure something would break. It’d been six hours since he’d walked into the kitchen. Six hours that she’d used to prepare for this meeting. She’d convinced herself she was ready.

      But she was so wrong.

      What was he doing in this room? Doreen said he and Nicky lived in an apartment upstairs. Shouldn’t he have been tucked safely up there?

      But, no, his long body was sprawled in a recliner, head tilted back on the cushioned rest, eyes closed. Dark shadows beneath his eyes made him look oddly vulnerable. The difficult twenty-four hours of routine work and after-hours emergencies that Doreen had described earlier must have caught up with him.

      His mouth was slightly curved, the bottom lip invitingly full. Caitlin frowned. She didn’t usually notice these details about men. To be sure, she didn’t want to notice them about this man in particular.

      A moment later, his mouth moved. Her eyes followed the tip of his tongue as it made a leisurely pass over his lips, leaving them glistening.

      Stifling the need to gulp in air, Caitlin retreated, one painstaking step at a time. But the door, having opened so quietly inwards, gave a tiny protesting squeak at her attempt to shut it slowly. She stopped, her gaze snapping back to Matt.

      The brilliant green eyes were open, watching her progress with interest. He smiled slowly, as he levered the recliner into an upright position.

      ‘Well, well. Caitlin Butler-Brown. We meet again.’ Straightening to his full height, he stretched briefly. The movement made the fabric of his polo shirt hug his leanly muscled torso. His well-worn jeans rode low on narrow hips. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing wayward tufts. ‘Come in.’

      ‘I СКАЧАТЬ