An affair with him would be mind-blowing, but it would also be a one-way ticket to Disasterville. She didn’t doubt it for a second. And she was sane enough and sensible enough, she liked herself and valued her happiness and peace of mind enough to want to avoid that kind of pain if she could.
Hence her undignified retreat of ten minutes ago.
Well, I guess that clears a few things up.
It did. It definitely did.
There would be no more cozy drop-in visits for her and Seth. It didn’t matter that he was in the toughest spot of his life. He had friends and family aplenty to support him. He’d survived a whole ten years while she’d been in the U.S., after all. He didn’t need her. And she didn’t need him.
Feeling calmer than she had in days, she headed for home.
* * *
S
ETH
KICKED
THE
fridge shut so hard it rattled. He’d screwed up. Big-time. He and Vivian had been having fun, and he’d messed it all up because he’d misread a bit of playful flirting and horseplay for something more adult. She’d come over to make sure he was okay. She’d labored in the stuffy torture chamber of the spare room with him to help him assemble baby furniture—and he’d paid her back by trying to get it on the second an opportunity presented itself.
He was pretty good at reading signals, female and otherwise. But when Vivian was involved, he was usually too busy being turned on, amused and challenged to engage the executive part of his brain. Which was probably why he often wound up looking and feeling like the humpy dog his brother had once accused him of being when she was around.
Such a good look.
He went outside and turned off the pool filter, then stared at the glint of the patio lights reflected in the water, guilt and regret tugging at him. There were so many reasons for him to have kept his hands to himself tonight that it would take him hours to enumerate them all.
For starters, he was a father now. He had a daughter who relied on him for
everything.
In a few days’ time, she would be home with him and it would be up to him and him alone to ensure her health and happiness. His days of letting his whims guide him were
over.
Then there was the fact that Vivian was family. Not blood-family, obviously. But there was no getting around the fact that she was someone who would be a part of his life as long as his brother was married to her sister. Which looked like a very long time, the way Jason and Jodie still looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. Vivian was the last woman he should be hitting on. The very last.
None of which had stopped him from trying tonight, though.
Reminds me of something else.... Oh, that’s right—this is like the last time you tried to get Vivian into bed, isn’t it, humpy dog?
Seth tried to silence the cynic in his head, but it was too late, the memory was already rising out of the dusty corner of his mind he’d consigned it to five years ago. For good reason—it was far from his fondest or finest moment, and he’d been more than eager to pretend it had never happened.
Vivian had been living in New York at the time and had come home on a flying visit. He hadn’t approved of her cropped, dyed blond hair, but he had liked the way her jeans fit her and the way she’d flirted with him over dinner. If he was asked to swear on a stack of Bibles, he’d be forced to admit that he’d drunk a little too much on purpose that night so he’d have an excuse to crash at his brother’s place.
So they’d be under the same roof.
Jodie had insisted he take the trundle bed in Max’s room, since Max was just a baby and could easily spend one night in with her and Jason. Seth had waited impatiently till the house was silent before sneaking to the living room, where Vivian had crashed on the sofa bed. In hindsight, simply lifting the duvet and attempting to climb in with her had perhaps not been his smoothest move. He could still remember the way she’d rolled over and stared at him incredulously.
“You have got to be kidding,” she’d said.
“What?”
“No. Not while my sister and baby nephew are sleeping down the hall.”
“
Now
you’re shy?” he’d said.
Again, not his best line ever.
“There’s some hand cream in the bathroom if you’re that hard up,” she’d said witheringly, then she’d rolled away and done a very convincing job of falling asleep.
He’d lain in the dark with a throbbing hard-on, hoping against hope that she’d change her mind and put him out of his misery. She hadn’t, and he eventually returned to Max’s room, where he spent half the night staring at the ceiling feeling disgruntled, horny and stupid.
Seth winced. There was a reason he’d worked hard to pretend that moment had never happened. He’d been drunk and cocky. He’d shown about as much finesse as a brown bear in mating season.
Kind of like tonight, minus the drunk part.
The apology he owed Vivian was growing longer and more elaborate by the day. The way she’d beaten a retreat tonight... She hadn’t even waited long enough for him to get her a towel—that was how desperate she’d been to get away from him.
More than a little over himself, he entered the house and locked up before making his way to bed. The light was still on in Daisy’s room, and he stopped in the doorway. In the time it took him to inhale and exhale, all the stuff with Vivian shrank to assume its rightful proportion.
Yes, he’d screwed up tonight, but he had bigger fish to fry. He would apologize to Vivian when he saw her next—which would probably be next year if she had any say in the matter—but the person he needed to focus on wasn’t Vivian or himself. It was the little girl who would soon occupy the crib lying on its side in front of him.
She was it. The one thing he had to get right. Everything else was white noise.
He knelt and put his screwdrivers in his toolbox. Then he tidied the packaging and other debris. Once the floor was clear, he pushed the crib into the corner, then placed the change table opposite it. His parents had brought bags of clothes and other gear over the moment they learned about the accident, and he opened the closet and rifled through the carefully folded and stacked shelves until he found the bed linen and quilt. He made up the cot, then somehow found himself unpacking and assembling the musical mobile his mother had insisted Daisy would love. When it was suspended above the crib, he turned to the change table, stacking it with diapers and wipes, setting a diaper bucket beside it.
Both the crib and table looked way too sterile when he’d finished, and he frowned at them, trying to work out what was missing. Max’s and Sam’s rooms were colorful, chaotic messes, with decals on the walls and posters of their favorite cartoon characters and tote bins full of toys. They felt alive and warm; his daughter’s room looked like an ad from a catalogue.
He shrugged. He had no idea how to make things homey. He was a guy. He killed spiders, changed flat tires and watched sports on TV. His gaze fell on the big bear Jodie and Jason had given him, and he plunked it in the cot, adding a couple of other colorful plush toys to the change table.
Better. Definitely better. There were probably things that creative people like Vivian could do to make it warmer and livelier, but that would have to wait for another day. On impulse he pulled out his phone and took a picture. Before he could think about it too much, he called up Vivian’s contact and typed in a message so he could send it to her as a text. She’d sweated with him to get it finished, after all. Seemed only fair that she see the end result.
Getting there. Thanks again for your help. I’d still be ignoring the instructions if you hadn’t shown up.
He started adding another apology, then deleted it. The least he could do was look her in the eye while he owned his screwup. Apology via text was not going to come even close to cutting it.
He hit Send on the abbreviated message and went to brush his teeth, keeping an ear out for the chime of a return message. His phone hadn’t made a peep, however, by the time he’d climbed into bed.
Maybe she was asleep already, or elbow-deep in her own work. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to encourage him.
Either way, it was late, and he had a big day ahead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
V
IVIAN
DIDN
’
T
SEE
Seth’s text message until the next morning when she collected her phone from the charger.
She read the message, then stared at the image he’d sent—the carefully arranged plush turtle and rabbit on the change table, the big bear in the crib with the
Sesame Street
mobile hanging overhead. He’d clearly spent an hour or two setting up the room after she’d left. Making sure it was perfect for his daughter.
The thought made the back of her eyes prickle with emotion, amplifying the unease she’d been feeling. He was trying so hard. He was scared spitless by the enormous responsibility that had landed so unexpectedly in his lap—and she’d made his life that little bit more confusing and difficult with her reaction last night. The look in his eyes—equal parts chagrin and confusion, with a dash of humiliation thrown in for good measure—as he stepped back from her in the pool had haunted her dreams.
She stared at her phone, debating her next move. They’d always been straight with each other, and the need to apologize to him—or at least explain—was almost irresistible. But she hadn’t forgotten that today was huge for Seth. He was picking up Lola’s parents at the airport, and they were having difficult conversations with Lola’s doctors.
Vivian doubted very much that she was at the top of his mind right now. As uncomfortable as it felt to wait, she would hold off on clearing the air with him. She could afford to wait—Lola and Daisy could not.
The sky was clear blue again, and the weather bureau predicted another scorcher. She dressed in tailored black shorts, strappy wedges and a black-and-white diagonally striped silk tank with acid yellow straps before heading into West Melbourne with the air conditioning blasting.
She managed to get yesterday’s outline finished by early morning, and she had it finalized and off to their client by one. Robin had a shoot the next day for a housewares importer that was using its own stylist, and she worked with him to ready the studio space so everything would be ready for an early start.
She was helping Robin unpack the stock he’d be photographing when her phone buzzed at two-thirty.
“Won’t be a sec,” she told Robin when she saw it was her sister’s number. Jodie was a great respecter of work hours and never called between nine and five unless it was something that couldn’t wait.
She moved toward the window as she took the call. “Yo, what’s up?”
“Thank God you answered. Please tell me you’re not in the middle of a million-dollar shoot that can’t wait, because I really need your help.” Jodie sounded about three seconds away from outright panic.
“I’m not in the middle of anything that can’t wait. What do you need?” she said calmly.
“Sam fell off the monkey bars at kindergarten and they think he might have broken his arm. I’m on my way to the hospital as we speak.”
“Is he okay?” Vivian was alarmed by the tight sensation in her chest. Sam was so sweet, so bright and funny—the thought of him being in pain made her feel more than a little sick.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet. I got the call about five minutes ago. The thing is, I was on the way to the airport to pick up Lola’s parents as a favor for Seth, but now I can’t do it and Jason’s in a meeting and Mum isn’t answering her phone....”
Vivian shook her head, confused. “I thought Seth was picking them up.”
They’d talked about it last night, about how much he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“He was, but someone threw a brick through the window at the bar after lunch, and one of his staff was hurt. The police need him there and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to get away.”
“Bloody hell, he can’t catch a break at the moment, can he?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” Vivian walked toward her office, where her handbag was stowed in the bottom drawer of her desk. “I’m on it. What time do Lola’s parents land?”
“
Thank you.
Bless you for coming home from L.A. I have been freaking out the last five minutes, ringing everyone I could think of.”
“Next time call me first, save yourself some stress.”
“You can take that to the bank.”
Vivian grabbed the flight number before telling her sister to keep her up-to-date regarding Sam’s broken arm, then took two minutes to check on the flight status on her computer. It was running on time, with an expected arrival time of 3:30 p.m.
“Robin, I’m bailing on you,” she said as she strode to where he was stuffing shredded paper into a box. “I need to pick up some people from the airport. I’ll come back tonight and help you finish.”
“We’re almost done now. I don’t think there will be anything to come back to. Which means you are free to go save the world and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He blew her a kiss and she pretended to catch it and put it in her pocket. “For later,” she told him, and his laughter followed her out the door.
She had a clear run to the airport, arriving in plenty of time to ensure she had a long period of kicking her heels before Lola’s parents might be expected to appear in the international arrivals hall. The enforced breather gave her ample opportunity to consider why they were coming and what they were about to face. They’d be expecting Seth, of course, and she’d need to explain why he couldn’t be there as well as her relationship to Seth.... Messy. But this was a messy situation, wasn’t it?
Belatedly it occurred to her that she had no way of recognizing the Browns when they arrived, nor they her, and she made the trek to her car to grab some paper and a marker to make a sign. It was forty minutes before a soft-looking, weary couple exited the quarantine area, their gazes lifting to Vivian’s face when they registered her sign. Mr. Brown had faded blond hair and bright blue eyes, Mrs. Brown long brassy blond hair that could only have come from a bottle. They looked to be in their forties, which made sense, given Lola’s age. Vivian offered them a smile as she walked forward to greet them.
“I’m Vivian, Seth’s sister-in-law. He had something he needed to deal with, so he asked me to collect you on his behalf,” she said.
Mrs. Brown blanched. “Is it Lola? Is she okay? Please tell me she hasn’t died.” She clutched her husband’s arm, her fingers showing white around the knuckles she was gripping him so tightly.
Vivian kicked herself for not choosing her words more carefully. “Lola is still stable, as far as I’m aware. Seth had some trouble at his bar. Someone threw a brick through the window and one of his staff was injured.”
“Oh. Thank God.” Mrs. Brown swallowed nervously.
Her husband slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a bracing squeeze before offering his free hand to Vivian. “Good to meet you, Vivian. I’m Dennis, and this is my wife, Melissa. We appreciate you helping us out.”
“I just wish you were coming to Australia under better circumstances.” Vivian glanced at their baggage. “My car is a few minutes’ walk away. What can I carry for you?”
She wound up with two overnight bags while Dennis and Melissa guided their larger wheeled suitcases across the air bridge to the parking garage. Vivian tried to generate conversation, but after a few minutes it was clear that the Browns were in no place to make small talk.
“How about this,” she proposed once they’d found her car and stowed their baggage in the trunk. “You two sleep or talk or do whatever you need to do on the way across town, and if you have any questions about anything, I’ll try to answer them. But if you just want to be quiet, that’s okay with me, too. All of which is my long way of saying that we don’t need to be polite to each other right now.”
Dennis gave her a tired smile. “That sounds pretty good to me, thanks, love.”
He looked very small and sad all of a sudden, and Vivian had to quell the urge to offer him a hug. What a terrible flight it must have been for both of them.
“Here,” she said, finding Seth’s number and handing him her phone. “You can call Seth if you like, let him know that we’re on the way.”
She concentrated on navigating her way out of the mazelike multilevel garage. She could hear Dennis asking questions about Lola and the baby as she drove, and she could see them visibly relax when they learned Lola was still stable.
Melissa had a relieved weep once Dennis signed off and Vivian spent the drive trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation while she battled the traffic-congested roads. They threw the occasional question her way, but it was evident that their thoughts were all for their critically ill daughter.
Finally they arrived at the hospital, and she felt the tension in the car rise. She pulled beneath the portico at the main entrance and turned to look at them.
“Why don’t you call Seth again, and he can come meet you, instead of you having to find your way around this enormous place?”
“That’s a fine idea.” Dennis nodded approvingly.
She handed him her phone, even though it would have been easier for her to make the call. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt oddly shy about talking to Seth directly. It had been completely unintentional, but she’d once again inveigled her way into his affairs when she’d agreed to pick up Lola’s parents, despite having decided last night that the best and smartest thing for her to do would be to keep her distance.
“He’s meeting us in the foyer in five minutes,” Dennis reported as he returned her phone. “Thanks for the taxi service, Vivian. It’s much appreciated.”
“Yes, you saved us a lot of bother,” Melissa said with a watery smile.
“It was nothing, and I wish I could do more,” Vivian said.
They both slipped from the car, and it wasn’t until they’d disappeared into the hospital that she realized she still had their luggage in her car.
Good one, Vivian.
Maybe she wasn’t that great a taxi driver, after all. She found a parking spot, then went in search of the Browns for the second time that day. She was anticipating having to ask for directions to Lola’s ward before she tracked them down, but they were still in the foyer when she arrived, talking to Seth, their faces set and pale.
Seth was pale, too, his hair rumpled as though he’d been running his hands through it. He glanced her way the moment she entered, as though some sixth sense told him she was there.
“Viv. Thanks for picking up Dennis and Melissa. I owe you,” he said as she joined them. He brushed a kiss against her cheek, the gesture entirely natural and unconscious, the awkwardness of last night forgotten.
“Not a big deal, at all. As I’ve already told these guys,” she said. “How is Daisy doing?”
“Daisy? You called her Daisy?” Melissa asked, eyebrows raised.
Vivian gave herself a mental slap for her slip of the tongue. So much for being helpful.
“Unless you have an objection to the name,” Seth said. “It was on our list, and it seems to suit her.”
“It’s gorgeous.” Melissa’s eyes welled with tears again.
Seth glanced at Dennis, who nodded, blinking. “Daisy was my mother’s name.”
“I didn’t know that,” Seth said.
“Can we see Lola now?” Melissa asked.
“She’s on the fourth floor. The elevators are this way.” Seth started across the foyer, and Vivian had no choice but to fall in behind the others, kicking herself every step of the way for letting the cat out of the bag in regard to the baby’s name.
She tried to catch Seth’s eye to convey her apology as they all stepped into the lift, but he was frowning at the floor, clearly preoccupied. Once they arrived, Seth led them through a warren of corridors before stopping outside the intensive care unit.
“You should know she’s on a lot of machines,” he said, his tone serious. “There are at least three lines going into her arms, a catheter, the respirator, the heart monitor. Also, they had to shave off a lot of her hair and her head is bandaged.”
“We understand. The doctors have kept us up-to-date,” Dennis said.
“I know. It’s just...different when you see it in person,” Seth said, his expression stony.
Melissa reached for Dennis’s hand.
Seth led them into the department, leaving them in the waiting area for a minute while he talked to a nurse. Vivian searched in her handbag and found a travel pack of tissues that she passed to Melissa, who gave her an almost-smile of thanks in return.
“Okay. They’re happy for us all to go in. Normally they limit it to two visitors at a time,” Seth explained.
Vivian glanced toward the nearby chairs. “I’ll wait here.”
Seth gave her a grateful nod before ushering the Browns into the clinical area. Vivian sat and tried to stop herself from crying. She didn’t know Lola or Dennis and Melissa, but she didn’t need to to appreciate the utter misery of their situation.
Her phone chimed with a text after a few minutes and she saw it was from her sister, checking to make sure everything was okay and letting her know that Sam had simply sprained his arm. Vivian had just texted an update back when Seth dropped into the seat beside her.
She glanced at him, startled. “Did they change their mind about the two-person policy?”
“No. I figured they might want a bit of privacy.” He said it heavily, and she could see how tired he was in the lines around his eyes and mouth.
“They seem nice,” she said lamely.
“Yeah, they do, don’t they? Lola was—is—nice, so that makes sense.”
“How are things at the bar?”
“A bloody mess. Ever seen a plate glass window smash? There’s glass everywhere. We won’t be able to open tonight, and Syrie’s got a couple of scratches on her arms from flying debris. Thank God all our customers were in the dining room having lunch when it happened.”
“I’ll say. It sounds like you’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Yeah. I keep telling myself that, but it’s not helping much.”
“Do you have any ideas who did it?”
“There’s not much information. All Syrie knows is that there was a smash and then glass was flying. By the time she got over the shock and the guys from the kitchen had come out, the perp had done a runner.”
He rubbed his forehead, then rested his elbows on his knees as he contemplated the floor.