Aunt Lucy's Lover. Miranda Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ a lot of shops lining the road. Some of them were open but most looked pretty well deserted, as were the sidewalks. There was a young boy on a bike, plus a middle-aged couple wandering along, hand in hand. It looked as quiet and dead a place as Jessica had originally thought.

      ‘It’s pretty slow on a Sunday,’ Evie said. ‘Things will be hopping here tomorrow.’

      Jessica decided Evie’s idea of hopping might be a fraction different from her own.

      ‘Sebastian seemed to think you might want me to come in and do the shopping and cooking while you’re here, like I did for Lucy,’ Evie rattled on. ‘He’s been looking after himself and the place since Lucy’s death, though I do drop by occasionally to give the house a dust through. I only live next door and men never think of dusting.’

      ‘That was kind of you, Evie. Yes, I think I would like you to do that. I’ll pay you whatever Lucy did. Will that be all right?’

      Evie waved her indifference to talking about payment. ‘Whatever. I don’t really need the money,’ she said. ‘My husband left me plenty when he died. I just like to keep busy. And I love cooking. Eating, too.’ She grinned over at Jessica. ‘So what do you like to eat? Do you have any favourite foods or dishes?’

      ‘Not really. I’m not fussy at all. Cook whatever you like. I’ll just enjoy being pampered for a change. Cooking is not one of my strong points.’

      Actually, she could cook quite well, had had to when she was growing up to survive. If she’d waited for her mother to cook her a meal she would have starved. But she didn’t fancy cooking for Mr. Slade. It had also crossed her mind that she’d be able to question Evie with more ease if she was around the house on a regular basis.

      ‘That’s fixed, then,’ Evie said happily. ‘I’ll come in every morning around eleven-thirty and make lunch. Then I’ll come back around five to cook dinner for seven-thirty. I don’t do breakfast. Lucy always did that for herself. How does that sound?’

      ‘Marvellous.’ Jessica sighed her satisfaction with the arrangement and settled back to look around some more.

      The wide streets of the shopping centre were quickly left behind and they moved onto a narrower road, with what looked like farms on either side. A few cows grazed lethargically along the common. The Mazda squeezed past a truck going the other way, then a car, then a utility, Jessica noting that Evie exchanged waves with all three drivers as they passed by.

      She commented on this and was told it was a local custom, and that even the tourists got into the spirit of the Norfolk Island wave within a day of arrival. Jessica was quietly impressed with their friendliness, despite cynically thinking that if all Sydney drivers did that in city traffic, everyone would go barmy. Still, it was rather sweet, in a way.

      ‘Here we are,’ Evie announced, slowing down and turning into a gateway that had a cattle grid between its posts and an iron archway above, which said with proud simplicity, Lucy’s Place.

      The gravel driveway rose gradually, any view either side blocked with thickly wooded Norfolk pines. Finally, the pine borders ceased, and there in front of Jessica was the most beautiful old wooden house she had ever seen. Painted cream, with a green pitched iron roof and huge wooden verandas all round, it stood on the crest of the hill with a stately grandeur and dignity that were quite breathtaking.

      Jessica was surprised, both by its elegant beauty and its effect on her. She’d heard of falling in love at first sight, but she’d always thought of that in connection with a man, not a house.

      A sudden movement on the veranda snapped her out of her astonished admiration. Someone had been sitting there and was now standing up and moving towards the front steps. A man, dressed in shorts and nothing else, holding a tall glass in his hand. A young man with shoulder-length fair hair.

      He stopped and leant against one of the posts at the top of the steps and watched as Evie brought the car round to a halt at the base of the front steps.

      Jessica frowned at him through the passenger window. This couldn’t be Mr. Slade, surely. She couldn’t see the details of his face—it was in shadow—but that was not the body of a middle-aged man. Or the hair.

      Maybe he was a workman. A gardener, perhaps. Or the man who mowed the lawns. There were plenty to mow, she’d noted, the house set in huge rolling lawns. There was quite a bit of garden, as well, beds of flowers underneath the verandas, backed by multicoloured hibiscus bushes.

      ‘I see Sebastian made it back from fishing in time to greet you,’ Evie said, shattering Jessica’s delusion over the man’s identity.

      He straightened as the car braked to a halt, lifting the glass to his lips and at the same time taking a step forward out of the shadow of the veranda. Jessica sucked in a sharp breath as sunlight fell upon silky golden locks and smooth bronzed shoulders. He continued drinking as he walked slowly down the steps, taking deep swallows and seemingly unconscious of his quite extraordinary beauty.

      A couple of drops of water fell from the base of the frosted glass onto his almost hairless chest, Jessica’s fascinated eyes following them as they trickled down to pool in his navel, which was sinfully exposed above the low-slung white shorts.

      Jessica found herself swallowing, her throat suddenly dry. Her eyes dropped further as he continued his measured descent, taking in every inch of his leanly muscled legs. They lifted at last to once again encounter his face, no longer obscured by the glass.

      It was as disturbingly attractive as the rest of him, with a strong straight nose, an elegantly sculptured jawline, bedroom blue eyes and a far too sexy mouth. As he drew nearer, Jessica’s stunned fascination gradually turned to a simmering fury.

      Hadn’t seen thirty in many years, my foot! she thought angrily. Even if he did look young for his age, he could be no more than thirty-five. If that!

      Before he reached the bottom step she’d flung open the car door and stepped out, drawing herself up to her full height and glaring scornfully into that now treacherously smiling face. No one had to tell Jessica what sort of man he was. She hadn’t come down in the last shower.

      His smile faltered, then faded, his narrowed blue gaze staring, first into her cold black eyes, then down over her stiffly held body and up again.

      Was he taken aback by her obvious contempt for him? Had he imagined for one moment that he could fool her, too?

      Jessica almost laughed. Sebastian Slade was everything she’d feared when she’d first heard of him. And possibly more.

      Despite all this, she swiftly and sensibly decided to hide her feelings, smoothing the derision from her face and stepping forward with her hand politely stretched out. There was no need to be overtly rude to him. She knew the score now. Why make her stay more awkward than it would already be?

      She would endure his undoubted hypocrisy for the next month then send him packing without anything to remember her by, except a few parting shots. Oh, yes, she would tell him what she thought of him on that final day. And she’d enjoy every word!

      He hesitated to take her hand, staring at it for a few seconds before staring into her face. His expression reminded her of the way Aunt Lucy had stared at her that day. What was it about the way she looked that was so surprising? Okay, so she didn’t look like her mother, but she was very like her father, who’d been tall, with dark eyes and hair.

      Jessica was beginning СКАЧАТЬ