Kindergarten Cupids. Vivienne Wallington
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Название: Kindergarten Cupids
Автор: Vivienne Wallington
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Mardi’s jaw dropped slightly. He was actually going to consider it?
Emboldened, she added, “And maybe you could move those statues in your lawn closer to the garden beds, to avoid them being knocked over when the boys run around.”
“Mmmm…right. Any other ideas?” Cain asked as they climbed the steps to the terrace.
The faint dryness in his tone brought a tinge of pink to her cheeks. He’d sensed that she’d been less than impressed with his perfect garden. But she’d been looking at it purely from a child’s point of view, from a practical point of view.
“I’m sorry.” Her tone was placating. “You must think I’m extremely rude. I haven’t even told you how beautiful your garden is.”
The corner of his mouth tweaked. “I know how beautiful it is. What I need to know is how to make it more child-friendly. I’d appreciate your honest opinion—if you can think of anything else.”
Cain caught the surprise in her eyes as she glanced up at him, and in the same instant the sun picked up the rare amber of her eyes and made them glow like molten gold. He felt something stir, deep in his gut. Lust… What else? Cynicism twisted his lips. He’d fallen in lust with another pair of eyes once….Sylvia’s eyes had been just as beautiful…not golden, but a dramatic, depthless black.
He scowled. He didn’t want to equate this woman with his wife. Mardi, he sensed, was a different kettle of fish altogether. From what he’d observed so far, her values and priorities would be totally different from Sylvia’s. She cared about her son…cared about her grandfather…cared about people other than herself. And she wouldn’t be the kind of woman, he suspected, who would play around behind her husband’s back…or, for that matter, be the kind of woman he would want to play around with. In fact, she was the last woman in the world he would want to get involved with. Darrell Sinclair’s widow…
Damn it, but Ben needed someone like her.
Mardi caught his scowl, and the brooding faraway look that followed, and bit back the suggestion on her lips. He might be asking for her ideas, but he plainly didn’t want to hear them. Perhaps it made him feel disloyal to his wife’s memory.
Better, she decided, to keep any further ideas for another time…if there was another time.
“Let me think about it,” she hedged, and he nodded, as if satisfied. “Um, I haven’t thanked you for the pie and the cake,” she added. “There was really no need….”
“I felt responsible, calling on you at such a bad time. Hey, kids, leave some for us!” he called out as they reached the terrace. “We want some drinks and nibbles, too.”
Ben stuck out his chin. “We’ve had enough anyway. Come on, Nicky…” He grabbed his friend’s hand and dragged him away. “Let’s look for snails.” They ran down the steps together.
Cain rolled his eyes. “I doubt if they’ll find any. Our gardener’s very meticulous about snails and weeds.”
Yes, she could see that. “How often does he come?” she asked curiously. Any gardening needed at home she’d always done herself. Not that her own garden needed much attention, being mostly native gum trees with a few hardy shrubs.
Darrell, obsessed with his rise up the ladder of success, had never had the time or the inclination for gardening. He’d insisted that their house had to be furnished and decorated before they made any major changes to the existing native garden, and he’d left her with the unpaid bills for those fine new furnishings—with accumulated interest to rub salt into her wounds.
“Our gardener, Joe, comes each day, Monday to Friday,” Cain replied. “He has the weekends off.”
Five days a week? Mardi blinked. Still, it was the kind of garden, she supposed, that would need constant attention.
“Some orange juice, Mardi?” Cain was pouring a glass for her as he spoke. “Please, sit down. We can watch the boys from here.”
We? Mardi flicked an edgy tongue over her lips. He was going to stay out here with her? Or did he intend to make an excuse to escape the minute he’d finished his morning tea?
Cain, eyes narrowed against the sun, noted the nervous gesture. She was obviously uncomfortable with him. Because he was Sylvia Templar’s husband and a disquieting reminder of her husband’s affair with his wife? Well, he guessed it was understandable that she’d feel a bit uptight. Especially if she’d loved her no-good husband.
He looked into the veiled amber eyes and found himself angry on her behalf, and curious to know more about her.
Leaning back in his chair, he tried to put her at ease. “Well, Mardi, what do you do during the week, when you’re not looking after your son and your grandfather? Do you work? Have a career? Play bridge?”
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