Secrets and Seductions (7 page)

He kicked at the pebbles beneath his feet and shrugged his misgivings away. Besides, he thought, trying to subdue the escalating doubt, his investigations corroborated Leah’s debts. He’d witnessed her signature as bold as brass on every mortgage document. But—and it was a big but—he’d also seen… What?

Devotion to her daughter?

Something didn’t make sense.

Mac swore into the darkness, adding a few extra curses in languages he’d picked up over the years. Damned if he knew what was going on, but he sure as hell would find out.

Chapter Four

Two nights later, Leah sat at her desk, paperwork scattered across it. It couldn’t be right. Just couldn’t be. Leah scanned the figure work again, praying the amount of the repair bill was a mistake. Instinctively, though, she knew it wasn’t. Rewiring an old villa like hers wouldn’t be cheap. And according to the second quote she’d received in today’s mail, it wasn’t.

With a resigned sigh, she tucked the quote back into its envelope.

“Something wrong?” Mac leaned against the kitchen doorway, hands jammed into his jeans pockets.

“You’re back.”

“Yeah, a bit of quiet time never hurt anyone,” he said, offering a half smile.

Leah’s heart did a tandem of butterfly flutters. There was something different about him at that moment. Strong and capable. Unthreatening. And yet she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But trust had nothing to do with the heat that zinged between them, a sizzling electrical current connecting them that nothing seemed to be able to break.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Leah heard the taint of a lie in her voice as she clutched the quote to her chest. If Mac found out more money was required to rewire the house, another problem she couldn’t sort out, it would only give him more ammunition against her.

Soon she’d get it done. Soon. When the harvest came in, she would pay him back and get him outta there. Then she could sort out the house’s dilapidated wiring. Then life would get back to normal, and she wouldn’t be so nervous every hour of the day or have to look at his far-too-sexy face and meet his probing gaze. Then, at last, she could bury her growing attraction to him and keep her secrets hidden.

She tucked the quote into the back pocket of her jeans. She’d have to ignore it for now. Turning away from Mac, needing refuge from his intimidating scrutiny, she stood at her sink and gazed out the window and into the grove of her beloved land.

Mac, thankfully, probed no further and went to play with Charlee. Behind her in her small lounge, she could hear their waves of laughter.

Leah wanted to ignore him, ignore his deep, throaty chuckle, and yet found herself on a knife edge, listening to every nuance of his voice, finding the timbre strangely comforting.

Comfort! Rubbish.

“Hey, why don’t you let me order in dinner?”

“What?” Leah spun around. Mac again stood at the entrance to her kitchen. He looked so relaxed, his smile broad and genuine. It took her breath away. “Have you ever applied for a job with the CIA or something? You’d make a good spy, all that silent footwork of yours.”

“Can’t say I have.”

“No, I suppose you haven’t had time; too busy making squillions of dollars.”

His mouth pursed, and he dragged a hand through hair still damp from his shower after their hours in the grove and his long walk.

Leah inhaled. He smelt of … She frowned. What? There was no cologne and no hint of the musky tang of olives. Just…him. Mac.

No. No. No. She was
not
allowed to think like that.

“Dinner?” he prompted.

“Take-out. No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” He dug out his wallet from his jeans pocket.

Leah spied the bulge of folded notes. Money. The man was made of it and thought he could buy his way into… “I said no…thank you.”

“It’s only dinner, not a marriage proposal.”

Leah gagged. “Only? It’s never only. Just like it wasn’t only the bed or the broadband. One thing, then another, until you’ve got your slippers parked by your bed.”

“I don’t wear slippers.”

“Ooh, and don’t you split hairs, Mac Grainger. You know exactly what I mean.”

“And all I meant was did you want a curry or pizza,” he said.

Leah yanked the microwave door open. The less she had to feel beholden to him, the better. She took the defrosted steaks from the microwave and reached for a skillet. “Use what you have, that’s the motto I was brought up with. Waste not…”

“Want not,” he finished for her. “So I guess the answer is no.”

“You guessed right.”

He reached out for the packet of steaks in her hand. “Here, let me.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, but the words on the tip of her tongue were silenced when she dropped her gaze for a moment and her attention was captured by his bare feet. They were long, his toes well shaped, nails trim. Sexy.

Oh, dear god. Her gaze jerked back up, and she slammed the skillet on the bench, holding the steak packet to her chest as if it were a talisman against sexy men. Against him.

She really should step well away from him.

Mac leaned forward so that his legs were either side of hers, as were his arms, fingers splayed on the bench top. He didn’t actually touch her, but it was a caress nevertheless. Every part of Leah surged to life. She licked her lips and at the same time watched the curve of Mac’s mouth.

Bad idea. Because all she wanted to do was kiss him.

She didn’t move but finally found her tongue. “I don’t need your help.”

“You nervous, sweetheart?”

“No.” Leah swallowed back the lie.

“Really. That’s not how I see it. Do you know you smell good?” And he leaned a tad closer, inhaling. His dark eyes shuttered for a moment, and Leah thought he was going to kiss her.

He didn’t.

His eyes opened, humor glittering in their depths, his mouth quirking to one side. “What do you want, Leah?”

Yes, what?

Kiss me. Now!

For a horrified second, Leah thought she’d actually spoken the words. But then Mac pushed away from the bench, from her, and she felt a distinct sense of abandonment.

“Okay, so you don’t want to order dinner. How about I barbecue? Shame not to enjoy the weather.”

Just like that, he’d gone from teasing her senseless to talking about food. How typical of a man!

“You’ll need the seasoning,” she said just to get him out of her kitchen and away from reach. She reached for the seasoning jar. Hot and sexy. No, that was wrong. She shook her head, having trouble focusing on the spice label. Hot and spicy. She grabbed the spice bottle and passed it to him. Refusing to let him bait her further, she kept her expression glacial, when inside she was burning hot…and that was entirely his fault. “You’re not here to enjoy yourself.” Besides, she didn’t want to even consider the fact that she could enjoy time with him. That wasn’t allowed.

“Shame about that,” he responded, not even blinking an eye. Opening the back door that led from the kitchen to the brick paved patio, where the trailing clematis scented the garden, he walked outside, whistling to himself
.

“Oooh.” Damn! Damn! Damn! Leah didn’t want him enjoying himself. Or smiling. Or whistling. Or…looking at her. And definitely not with those sexy eyes of his.

Her own eyes shuttered, but it seemed nothing could eradicate the vision of Mac smiling at her, or the memory of their kiss, as if it were yesterday.

Just a little kiss. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did, because it stirred emotions and feelings she had tried to forget and told herself didn’t matter anymore.

How wrong she was. They mattered. Mac’s kiss had made sure of it.

And she hated to admit it, but only minutes ago she had thought he was going to kiss her again, and had really, really wanted him to.

Trying to keep busy and ignore his whistling or thinking about kisses, Leah gathered the ingredients for a salad from the refrigerator. Then she found herself whistling.

She slammed her lips together. For goodness sake, what was wrong with her?

Within minutes, Mac had the barbecue fired, but what worse was that he’d shucked off his T-shirt to reveal tanned forearms and biceps that would do a football player proud. And abs? Well… Far too much visual.

So what was different? The man stripped in the grove.

Yeah, but this
was
different. This was at home, more intimate.

A sudden uncertainty hitched in Leah’s chest as she watched him from the protection of the kitchen, watched his precise movements and found herself wondering…thinking shameless thoughts. Thinking about his hands skimming across her body and arousing her. Thinking about his kiss. About more kisses.

Oh lordy! She grabbed the skillet from the bench. “All the better to hit you with, Mac Grainger,” she muttered.

“Mummy, is Uncle Mac going to cook?” Charlee stood at the back door, staring first at Mac and then at Leah, surprise registering in both her expression and voice.

Leah understood that surprise. Cooking was another thing Curtis had never done.

“Charlee, take this out to Mac,” she instructed and handed her daughter the skillet.

As the easy laughter between Charlee and Mac once more filtered through to her, Leah realized it was happening, just as she knew it would. Curtis had never been a real father to Charlee, and just as any child did, her daughter soaked up all the attention Mac gave her. Mac had taken on the role of daddy. But Mac was temporary. What would happen when he left? The longer he stayed, the more painful his departure would be—another reason to get rid of him sooner rather than later.

Charlee attached to Mac wasn’t a good idea.

You’re getting attached too!

The knife sliced into her flesh. “Ow…” Leah squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the instant burst of sharp pain, tears welling. “Charlee,” she called. “Get Mac, Charlee.”

Mutely she stared as the ooze of blood mingled with the tomato into a garish conglomeration of reds.

“Mummy!” Charlee burst through the back door and came to a grinding halt next to Leah. Her face bleached of color as her gaze fixed on the slash of red now dribbling down Leah’s hand. “Uncle! Uncle, come quick, Mummy’s…” Charlee slammed herself against Leah’s leg, arms wrapped around it tightly. “Mummy, don’t die, don’t die, please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

Oh dear God.
“Charlee, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Leah ignored her pain, focusing on her daughter’s terror. “I’m okay, it’s just a cut,” she said, a hand caressing Charlee’s curls.

“Leah? What the…” Mac’s bronzed complexion paled.

She held up her hand. “It’s just a small cut. Don’t fuss.” But the blood kept on seeping, and Leah didn’t feel too great.

Mac’s mouth thinned, then his gaze dropped to a quivering Charlee. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Charlee,” he said, stepping between her and Leah so that he blocked Charlee’s view. “I really need your help. Can you get me a towel, please?”

Her daughter’s gaze lowered slightly, but she nodded, then spun away and rushed off in the direction of the bathroom.

Mac reached for her hand. “What were you thinking?” His touch burned, and she wanted to yank it from him, but he held her firmly. “I…”
Yeah, what
?

She’d been thinking about him. And that was definitely the problem, but she sure as heck wasn’t about to admit it. No siree.

He turned her hand over, palm up, and pressed his fingertips to her still bleeding flesh. “It’s only superficial.”

“Tell that to the blood.”

He looked up at her, a fierceness etched into every line of his face, his heat and closeness overwhelming. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

“No.” That would offer him far too much vulnerability.

“Good. I’m not sure I’m up to mopping up wailing females.”

“So much for your bedside manner.”

Mac’s inspection of her injury halted, his mouth twitching into a half smile. “You haven’t seen my bedside manner yet, sweetheart.” His voice had taken on a throaty, sexy quality.
No. Don’t think that.

Leah shot him a look, and darn it, he was looking right back. Heat stole across her cheeks, her body igniting. Enough! She tried to tug her hand from his hold and failed.

“You asked for my help.”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, I’m just…”

It was him, that’s all. She knew it. His closeness. His touch. But she sure as heck wasn’t about to tell him that. She strove for calm and reason. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now, Mac.”

“Haven’t we all, but at least let me at least play Sir Galahad once in my life.”

“What happened to the bedside manner, doctor?”

“Doctors and nurses, now there’s an idea.”

“One you can forget, buster.” She chuckled back, despite the stinging pain in her hand.

“Shame. Could be kinda fun.”

Thankfully, before he had a chance to offer her another of his sexy innuendos, Charlee came back with a towel and passed it to him.

“Are you going to be all right, Mummy?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” With her uninjured hand, she wiped away Charlee’s tears.

“’Course she is,” Mac added. “She wouldn’t dare do anything else with me here, would you?”

Leah offered mock meekness and batted her lashes at him. “As if.”

For the next few minutes, he tended her cut, and she held her breath, wishing the moment were over.

“You can look now.”

“What?”

“Open your eyes, Leah.”

Her lashes lifted, and her vision focused immediately on Mac and, blast it all, his bare chest right in front of her. She licked her lips, which was a stupid move because it made her remember kissing him…and want it all over again.

“You said you weren’t going to faint,” he teased, “but then again it could be quite fun. I’d have to keep playing doctor and do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

Oh, dear Lord. “Go put a shirt on, Mac.”

His brows rose suggestively. “Too hot for you, is it, sweetheart?”

Leah shoved herself up from the kitchen stool, not even sure how she actually got there in the first place, shook her head and then tucked strands of hair that had loosened from her ponytail behind her ear. “If you’re going to cook, Mac, please just go and do it.” She needed to be alone, to think. To get back to
normal…
Whatever that was. Because right now she wasn’t sure if she could even find a semblance of normal ever again.