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They did, when he came to collect Emma, or just dropped in and ended up staying for a meal. And on the fairly rare occasions that he’d persuaded Lacey to join them for an outing. But he’d never really wanted to marry her. He’d be doing it for Emma. ‘We get on fine,’ she agreed, ‘as far as we need to for Emma’s sake. It’s quite different from sharing a home and...’
‘And a bed,’ he finished for her.
It wasn’t what she’d been going to say, but she let that go.
‘All right,’ he said abruptly. ‘I won’t promise anything, but I’ll keep an open mind. Only I’m not going to try to influence Emma, not until I meet this guy.’
Lacey supposed she could hardly ask more. She’d always been glad that Tully had been so ready to acknowledge Emma as his child and spend so much time with her. This was just a manifestation of his love and concern, so she shouldn’t complain. ‘I’ll try to arrange something.’
‘Yes, do that.’ He reached over and retrieved his jacket, swinging it across his shoulder. Again she saw a speculative, slightly surprised and perhaps even calculating gleam in his dark eyes as he stood for a moment or two just looking at her.
He was probably wondering what Julian saw in her. But not every man was spoiled for choice. ‘I’ll call Emma,’ she said hastily, ‘and tell her you’re leaving.’
As usual they walked out to the car with him. Emma returned his hug and kiss with gusto, and then he turned to Lacey. Expecting the customary peck on her cheek, she stood with her hand on Emma’s shoulder and lifted her face.
But this time, instead of brushing her cheek his lips came down warmly against hers, pressing them apart.
Lacey stepped back, her eyes flying wide, to find him looking at her with a mixture of challenge and curiosity. Then he abruptly turned and got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door and giving Emma a wave and a smile before backing out.
Confused, Lacey stared after the receding car. Her heart was pounding and she could still feel the possessive imprint of his kiss on her mouth.
What on earth had he meant by it?
CHAPTER TWO
‘OF COURSE I’ll meet Emma’s father,’ Julian said. ‘She’s a lucky little girl that he’s so concerned about her welfare.’
They were sitting in his car on Lacey’s driveway at the conclusion of a rare evening date, Emma having been invited to stay overnight at a friend’s house. It had been a treat for Lacey to see a show and share a leisurely supper without having to worry about getting home to let a baby-sitter off the hook. Most of her outings were daytime ones, when Emma was at school or out with Tully, and when she ate out it was generally lunch with a friend.
Julian had chosen a North Shore restaurant, driving over the Harbour Bridge at dusk while the light of the dying sun still sheened the waters of the Waitemata. After leaving the restaurant he had switched on the car heater against the wintry coolness of the night, making Lacey feel warm and pampered, replete with adult conversation and delicious food. And he had responded in his customary amiable, reasonable manner to her relaying of Tully’s request.
‘You’re such a nice man!’ she told him gratefully.
He chuckled, drawing her closer and rubbing his cheek gently against her temple. ‘Thank you. I’m very glad you think so. I hope your daughter will come to the same conclusion. I want to get to know her properly.’ His mouth touched her cheek, and wandered, seeking her lips.
Lacey returned his kiss, and let him push open her jacket and stroke her body, liking the pleasurable, tingling feelings he aroused.
After a few minutes Julian drew back, breathing heavily. ‘I’m too old for necking in a car,’ he said humorously. ‘Are you going to invite me in, Lacey?’
He must have noticed her hesitation, and she felt him begin to move away.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘if you like. But—’
‘I’m not trying to rush you into bed,’ he assured her. ‘I absolutely respect your views. When you have a daughter it’s important to live by the values you try to impart to her.’
‘I’ll make coffee,’ she offered, groping for the door handle.
When he left half an hour later, she washed up the coffee cups and told herself that her feeling of flatness and dissatisfaction was caused by physical frustration.
She’d been repressing her sexuality for years, quite deliberately and not without difficulty. If occasionally a stirring of desire had made itself felt she had ruthlessly quelled it. She had a child who was her first priority, and a close relationship with a man would only cause unnecessary complications in her life. She’d concentrated on keeping herself too busy to be bothered. Apart from looking after Emma, she had taken courses in computer keyboarding and office procedures so that she could work from home, and then embarked on a part-time degree course in business administration which she’d now nearly completed.
Tully had been intrigued by her choice and her determination, and she’d been grateful for his help, freely offered from his own experience of both university study and running his own business. The one thing she wouldn’t do was work for his firm, feeling that it smacked too much of either charity or a form of nepotism.
Tully was the only man she had room for in her life, and that was strictly on a platonic basis. Anything else would be courting disaster and heartbreak. For Emma’s sake as well as her own, she wouldn’t risk that.
She had occasionally been the recipient of advances from other men. Some rather obviously felt they were doing her a favour, and had been astonished when she rebuffed them. But on first meeting Julian she was totally unaware of any sexual overtones. She’d found him easy to talk to, friendly and sincere, and they’d had something in common, both being solo parents.
Despite his successful legal practice his manner was rather diffident, and she’d been surprised when she learned his age, because his smooth, pleasant face and the fine, straight brown hair combed back from a high forehead, combined with the slightness of his tall frame, gave him a youthful air.
She’d known him casually for almost a year before he asked her out, and he had courted her with gentleness and sensitivity, always ready to back off if she was hesitant about going too fast.
Like tonight, she thought as she pulled a shapeless brushed-cotton nightgown over her head. He hadn’t even touched her after they’d got inside, unless she counted the quick hug and kiss he’d given her before he left. He’d sat at the table with a finger threaded through the handle of his cup as he drank his coffee, and talked companionably about the show they’d seen, about the latest headline news, and for quite a long time about his daughter who, to his considerable concern, had acquired a boyfriend whom Julian suspected of having a delinquent past.
She had found herself picturing Tully sitting across from her instead, remembering the way he always curled his entire hand about his cup and firmly held it. And then for some reason she’d remembered the sure, compelling pressure of his lips on hers, not at all like Julian’s tender, carefully inquiring kisses.
She’d felt a sudden irritation as Julian went on worrying aloud about Desma. Brushing it aside, she chided herself for selfishness and tried to concentrate and make helpful comments. She knew how anxiety about a much-loved child could oust everything else from a parent’s mind.
Just before he left she’d suppressed an impulse to suggest they move to the sofa in the living room. Her need to be held, to feel close to someone for a while, for the comfort of a masculine shoulder to lean on temporarily, might be interpreted as an invitation to go further than she intended. And it would hardly be fair to Julian to raise expectations she didn’t mean to fulfil.
Climbing into bed, Lacey sighed. She would fulfil those expectations eventually, of course. She’d promised to marry Julian—when their respective daughters had accepted the idea. Sex with Julian would be... nice. She was sure of it.
Lacey had suggested that Julian come round for an evening meal the next time Tully had Emma for the day. That way, she thought, Emma would see that Tully didn’t object to her mother having a male friend, and the men would have a chance to get to know each other after Emma had gone to bed.
Julian arrived quite early. When Tully and Emma came in he was sitting at the kitchen table. Dressed in grey slacks and a soft yellow pullover over a spotless paler yellow shirt, he’d been drinking white wine while Lacey stirred a sauce on the stove.
Pushing her hair back from a face warmed by the heat of the stove, Lacey removed the sauce from the glowing ring and introduced the two men. ‘Julian, this is Tully Cleaver.’
Julian got to his feet and extended his hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet Emma’s father,’ he said.
Tully., ripping open the zip of his jacket, subjected the other man to a piercing appraisal, then nodded and briefly shook hands. His dark hair had tiny rain-beads on it and he carried the clean, fresh scent of the outdoors with him.
The cat, a large, fluffy black animal with a white ruff, bib and paws, had followed Emma inside. She scooped it up into her arms, and Tully reached over and absently scratched behind the velvety black ears, his eyes hardly moving from Julian, who had resumed his seat at the table. The cat set up a loud, rattling purr.
‘You can feed Ruffles now, Emma, before you take off your jacket,’ Lacey suggested. ‘Tully, can I get you a drink?’
‘I’ll do it,’ he said easily, casting a glance at Julian’s half-empty glass. ‘Can I pour some more for you?’ he asked. ‘What have you got?’
‘Dry white, thank you.’
‘It’s in the fridge,’ Lacey told him. ‘I’ll have one, too.’ She opened the oven for a quick check on the roast.
Tully hung his coat over a chair and took a wineglass from the cupboard. He filled it from the chilled bottle in the refrigerator and handed it to Lacey, then topped up Julian’s glass and poured himself a whisky from the supply that Lacey kept for him.
‘Why don’t we go into the other room?’ Lacey said. The kitchen seemed overcrowded now, although Emma had taken the cat food and a spoon and gone outside to feed Ruffles.
In the living room she had lit a fire. Julian went to one of the chairs set at right angles to the fireplace, and Fully stood near the other as Lacey sank down on the sofa. But when Julian had taken his seat, to Lacey’s surprise Tully moved and came to share the sofa with her, lounging in the corner with his arm lying along the back.
She looked down into her wineglass, and heard Tully say to Julian, ‘Lacey tells me you’re a solicitor. That means you don’t do court work, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s not my field, no.’ Julian’s light, precise voice was pleasant and even. ‘I do quite a lot of conveyancing. Property transfers, you know.’
‘Yes,’ Tully said. ‘I do know.’
‘Lace hasn’t told me what you do.’
Hearing the faint questioning note in his voice, Lacey looked up and saw the way Julian’s eyes passed rapidly over Tully’s casual shirt and well-used jeans.
Tully took a swig from his glass. ‘I make marine safety equipment,’ he said. ‘At least, the firm does.’
‘What firm is that?’
‘Cleaver’s,’ Tully said shortly.
‘A family business?’
After a moment Tully said, ‘That’s right.’ It had been a family business, founded by Tully’s grandfather, but Lacey knew that Tully now owned the New Zealand branch, having bought out his father who lived and operated his factories in Australia.
‘I think I read something about it recently,’ Julian mused. ‘You’re branching out from life-jackets and emergency craft into manufacturing some new type of rubber-and-wool boom to contain oil spills?’
‘And mop them up. Yes.’
‘It sounds very worthwhile, a real contribution towards preserving the environment.’
Tully swirled the whisky in his glass. ‘It’s also going to make the firm a good bit of money, I hope.’
Julian smiled uncertainly. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing wrong in that.’ He took a quick sip from his wineglass.
Lacey tried to think of something with which to fill the ensuing silence. ‘Have you and Emma been riding again?’ she asked Tully.
He smiled, turning his head to look into her eyes. ‘Try to keep her away. It’s true what she said. She does seem to be a natural on a horse.’
‘You’re an experienced rider?’ Julian looked interested.
Tully almost reluctantly dragged his eyes from Lacey. ‘I’m learning along with Emma,’ he said. ‘I was quoting the instructor.’
Julian’s brows rose in surprise. ‘That’s very commendable. Sharing Emma’s interests—I take off my hat to you, Tully.’
‘Thanks,’ Tully drawled, eyeing Julian with a look of judicious speculation. ‘Actually, I’m enjoying it.’
Emma came into the room, and Tully smiled at her, immediately shifting over to make room on the end of the sofa. His hip pressed against Lacey’s, his arm sliding further along behind her. If she leaned back a little she knew he would lay it casually about her shoulders. She didn’t lean back.
Julian smiled at Emma. ‘Your father’s been telling us about your riding lessons, Emma. Have you fallen off, yet?’
‘I don’t fall off,’ she told him loftily. ‘If you use your hands and your knees the right way you won’t fall.’
Lacey wrenched her attention away from Tully. ‘I don’t know, I have a feeling I might fall off all the same.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Emma said with great confidence. ‘I’d stop you—or Daddy. Wouldn’t we?’ she appealed to her father.
He grinned down at her. ‘We’d certainly do our best. But don’t forget, you and I are just learners, and they do say pride goes before a fall.’ Turning back to Lacey, he said, ‘Maybe you should join us next time. We could all give it a go.’
He was very close. She could smell the warm scent of his body, still carrying a faint tang of the outdoors. Her eyes were drawn to the outline of his mouth, the faintly shadowed male perfection of his skin. At this distance—or lack of it—his blatant masculinity was overwhelming.
‘Maybe,’ she said, deliberately shifting her gaze beyond him to Julian. ‘Should we, Julian? Do you think you’d enjoy riding?’
‘I think my riding days are over,’ he said. ‘I gave it up a long time ago.’
‘You used to ride? I didn’t know that.’
‘When I was a boy,’ he said, adding rather modestly, ‘I collected a few ribbons at shows.’
Oh, joy! She felt Tully sit up straighter beside her as his eyes swivelled to Julian. Emma had turned too, staring at Julian with new respect.
‘What sort of ribbons?’ Emma asked him.
‘Dressage and show-jumping.’
‘What’s dressage?’ Emma asked.
As Julian began to explain, Lacey went to check the dinner. She needed to remove herself from Tully. He ought to carry a health label—Warning: Proximity May Endanger Your Heart. Though surely hers was safe. She’d given it to Julian. And she’d had plenty of practice at ignoring her natural female response to Tully’s blatant masculinity.
She set a bowl of pansies in the centre of the dining table. They seldom used this room for its avowed purpose—usually it served as an office for Lacey’s typing and desk-top publishing business. Her word-processor, printer and photocopier occupied a long bench spanning one wall, while filing cabinets sat underneath, and the extendible dining table was useful for collating pages or making up layouts.
‘Mum, shall I set the table?’ Emma stood in the doorway.
Surprised, Lacey turned. ‘If you’d like to. I thought you’d be talking to Julian about horses.’
Emma’s face screwed up briefly. ‘Mm. Daddy said to come and ask if you needed any help.’
‘Did he?’ Lacey said grimly.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’ She smiled at Emma, banishing the suspicion that Tully had thought Julian was getting on too well with the child. Tully wasn’t a mean-minded man. More likely he wanted to talk to Julian himself.
But she had to fight an impulse to rush back into the living room and monitor what the men were saying. ‘Okay,’ she told Emma. ‘You set the table nicely while I turn over the potatoes.’
The meal went without any hitch, and the two men seemed cordial, if a bit formal with each other. Emma helped by chattering as usual, mostly to Tully. But when Julian put in a smiling question or remark here and there she answered politely enough.
‘Bedtime,’ Lacey told her after the dishes were cleared away and she’d been allowed to sit with them while they had coffee in the other room. ‘Go and have your bath and put on your pyjamas, then you can come and say good night.’
When she did so, looking innocent and soapy-clean, she inveigled Tully into tucking her in, and he went off with a good grace, holding her hand.
‘She has him wound around her little finger, doesn’t she?’ Julian remarked. He was sitting on an easy chair, and after dinner Lacey had chosen the one opposite, leaving the sofa for Tully and Emma.
‘She adores him.’ The fire was growing sluggish, and Lacey got up to put some wood on from the basket at the side of the hearth. Julian came over, removing the mesh fire screen, and replacing it for her as she straightened.
‘It’s going to be difficult,’ he said, ‘to compete.’
