The Parent Test
Her jaw dropped. ‘You think—’
‘Well, okay…so you were already in hospital with some virus—fair enough—but don’t deny you used the opportunity to have a little nip and a tuck while you were recuperating in that L.A. hospital.’
Roxy’s chest heaved, her breath coming in furious gulps. ‘Who—told—you—that?’ she managed to gasp out.
‘Your father told me…no, Blanche. Blanche, cutting in on poor old George, as usual.’ The corner of his lip quirked. He shared her opinion of Blanche. The only thing they did share, though she’d hoped at one time—a fleeting, futile hope—that they might one day share other things, too.
‘She told me, quite clearly, that you were having cosmetic surgery on your face,’ Cam said flatly.
Jealous, bitchy Blanche…Roxy’s hands balled into fists. ‘I didn’t have cosmetic surgery,’ she ground out. ‘I had microsurgery. To repair a wound. Trust Blanche to get it wrong.’ Deliberately, if she knew Blanche.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Microsurgery? A wound? Where?’ Again she had to suffer his scrutiny, his gaze searing into her already flushed skin.
She swallowed. ‘On my mouth. My lower lip. I tripped over a street kerb as I jumped out of a car in L.A. to rush into a shop. I crashed headfirst onto a concrete plant pot’
‘You were gallivanting around LA, shopping, after hearing the news of your sister’s death?’ Cam shook his head, cold contempt in his eyes. ‘Your father sent you an urgent fax six weeks ago, while you were still in northern Mexico. You sure were in no hurry to come home!’
She glared at him. ‘I didn’t get Dad’s tax until three weeks after he sent it! I was at a campsite in a remote part of northern Mexico at the time. Deliveries aren’t exactly reliable in that part of the world. By then the funeral had already been held.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘I was devastated at missing it.’
As she gulped in a breath, Cam eyed her skeptically. ‘But having missed it, you decided there was no rush.’ His tone was scathing, his unfair condemnation cutting into her like a knife.
‘I was rushing—that was the whole trouble! One of our team—an American—offered to drive me across the border to L.A. airport. We were on our way there when the accident happened. I’d leapt out on the way to buy a toy for Emma.’
As Cam’s gaze flickered to the giant teddy in her arms she shook her head. ‘I bought this yesterday—at L.A. airport. After my stupid fall, I ended up in hospital, having surgery—microsurgery—on a badly cut lip. And a couple of days later I was hit by a mysterious bug I must have picked up in Mexico.’
As she paused for breath she noted shakily that Cam’s eyes had lost some of their icy scorn. But not much. The very fact that she’d been away for so long—out of reach for so long—obviously weighed against her.
‘And it was bad enough to keep you in hospital for another three weeks?’
‘Yes!’ Indignation flashed in her eyes. ‘It completely knocked me out. I had a raging fever…I was delirious for days…and weak as a kitten for days after that. And because of the surgery on my lip, I couldn’t even talk to begin with!’
‘Well…your surgeons should be commended.’ She felt his dark gaze on her mouth. ‘There’s not a trace of any scarring. Or bruising. You’d never know you’d had anything done.’
She frowned. Did he still not believe her?
‘They did the repair from inside my mouth—that’s why there’s no visible scarring. And the swelling and bruising have had time to heal, thanks to that horrific virus. My mouth feels fine. Perfect. I feel fine.’ She didn’t want him to think she was still weak, and perhaps unable to take care of her niece.
‘You still look pale…and very thin…but if you’re feeling fine again, that’s splendid’ Taking her bag, he turned on his heel, freeing her at last of his burning gaze. ‘Come on, Roxy…let’s get you settled in.’
CHAPTER THREE
CAM didn’t speak as he led her along the main passage to the guest wing. Perhaps, Roxy thought, giving him the benefit of the doubt, he didn’t want to risk waking the baby.
Seeing him from behind reminded her—a bittersweet reminder—of the first time she’d ever set eyes on him, as he’d stood at the altar alongside his brother, waiting for Serena and her bridesmaid to join them. Roxy had been the bridesmaid and Cam the best man.
Only their backs had been visible. Cam, the elder brother, was half a head taller than the bridegroom, with shoulders that were considerably wider than those of his equally well-built brother. His glossy dark hair contrasted starkly with Hamish’s wiry, gingery mop. At the sight of Hamish’s brother, who was to be her partner for the evening, she’d almost overbalanced halfway down the aisle. Her feet, unused to high heels, had rolled over slightly on her long spiky heels.
She’d tried to avoid looking at him after that, but annoyingly, his image had remained. She’d taken a few deep breaths, wondering how she could be so aware of a man after a single, fleeting glance from behind. Normally she had nothing but scorn for roving-eyed, love-’em-and-leave-’em types—the type Cam was rumoured to be.
No woman, Hamish had liked to joke, was safe around Cam. No woman could resist him.
No woman? Roxy had stirred at the challenge.
Cam Raeburn, she’d naively thought at the time, would need more than a pair of powerful shoulders and a head of glossy black hair to hold her interest for more than two minutes!
Ha! She’d been like a lamb to the slaughter!
She hadn’t come directly face to face with him until they’d moved into the vestry after the ceremony to sign the register.
‘Well, I must say you’re a surprise, Roxy.’ Cam’s warm honeyed tones and disarming half smile had threatened to melt her where she stood…until his words had sunk in and her nerve-ends had sprung to full alert.
A surprise? A disappointment, more like! No doubt he’d expected a tall, dark-eyed beauty like Serena. Unless Hamish had warned him that she was the pint-sized, tomboyish, unglamorous sister—and here she was, looking glamorous for once, in a shimmering cornflower blue gown, the colour of her eyes.
She’d gazed up at him coolly, only to feel her eyes waver under the impact of his. His eyes, even darker than her dark-eyed sister’s, were like shining black opals, filled with fire and light. She’d had to moisten her lips before she could take in the rest of him—the heavy dark brows, the straight nose, the sexy cleft in his chin, the square jaw.
Finally she’d found her voice, tilting her chin to inquire sweetly, ‘You were expecting a scruffy little ragamuffin with dirty fingernails and scuffed shoes?’
The half smile had become a real one, a heart-stopping smile of pure charm. She’d wobbled on her high heels.
‘On the contrary, Roxy…I was merely expecting someone older—you are the older sister, aren’t you? Having heard only moments ago how brilliantly clever you are—teaching ancient history at University—I expected, at the very least, to see you wearing blue stockings and bifocals, with your hair tied back in a bun.’
She’d had to smile. He wouldn’t be the first man to expect her to look like a fusty academic-simply because she was a qualified archeologist and a lecturer in ancient history. Only Cam hadn’t known then, of course, that she was a globetrotting archeologist as well as a history lecturer. Hamish hadn’t thought to mention it to him, which wasn’t surprising. She’d had no field trips in the past couple of months, and his brother, Cam, had only arrived home that morning from an eightweek overseas business trip.
‘The guest wing’s through here, Roxy.’
She jumped at the sound of Cam’s voice. As he turned to wave her in ahead of him, their eyes met. The impact of his dark gaze was as jolting as ever.
Still the same sexy, charismatic Cam, Roxy thought with a tremulous sigh. But he couldn’t affect her any more. She wasn’t the naive, trusting Roxy she’d been a year and a half ago.
Not that he’d notice or care. He’d made it clear on at least two previous occasions that he preferred leggy, dark-eyed brunettes to blue-eyed, mop-haired blondes with a tendency to trip over their own feet.
She stepped quickly past him. The guest wing was virtually a self-contained flat, with its own small kitchen, dining area, living room, double bedroom and spacious bathroom. It looked roomy and comfortable, with homey decorative touches that reminded Roxy of her sister. Serena had loved decorating.
‘The bed’s already made up,’ Cam told her as he followed her in.
Roxy, her nerves already taut, tensed further at the mention of ‘bed’. She wondered who the bed had been made up for. Was it always made up, ready for guests? Women guests? Or had Cam rushed in here after her phone-call and made it up specially for her?
Hugging the soft teddy bear, she asked, ‘Where’s the baby’s room from here? I’d like to be near my niece.’
Cam gave her a quick, speculative look, as if he wasn’t sure he believed her. ‘Mary’s taken over the room next door to the nursery. And the master bedroom, where I sleep, is on the other side of Emma’s room. Don’t worry, Roxy, I’ll get up to the baby if she wakes in the night. I normally do anyway.’
Roxy inhaled a carefully drawn breath. She didn’t want to start an argument at this point in time, but she had to ask. ‘How about moving my niece in here with me, just for the weekend?’ Or longer, she thought, if it takes longer. ‘It’ll be a way of getting to know each other. I’ll get up to her during the night if she cries. You can catch up on your sleep.’ Her gaze flicked to his face. ‘You look as if you need it’
‘Thanks, but it’s not necessary.’ You’re not necessary, he might as well have said. ‘I’m managing just fine. Emma already sleeps through the night. She has her last bottle around seven, then sleeps right through until five or six o’clock. She rarely wakes in the night’.
‘You don’t mind waking up at five to feed her?’ Roxy’s spirits were beginning to slide. He sounded as if he enjoyed looking after the baby.
But for how much longer would his enthusiasm last?
‘Not a bit…she’s already like a daughter to me,’ he said with a firmness that made her forget about being careful.
‘My sister wanted me to have custody of Emma if anything ever…ever…’ Her voice cracked and tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I—I still can’t believe…’ She gulped, a painful lump welling in her throat. Suddenly it was all too much. Grief, jet lag and a build-up of nervous tension swamped her. Burying her face in the teddy bear’s soft fur, she burst into tears.
‘Roxy…’ Cam’s arms were round her before she realised what was happening. She couldn’t find the strength to fight him as, cradling her in the curve of his shoulder, he gently plucked the teddy bear from her and dropped it onto the bed. She let her head fall onto his chest, helpless tears pouring down her cheeks, splashing onto his shirt.
‘It’s okay, Roxy…’ His low voice vibrated against the damp cheek pressed against his chest. He was stroking her hair with an amazingly gentle hand while he held her close to him with his other. The tender stroking felt so caring, so comforting that she couldn’t believe it was Cam Raeburn who was doing it. Weakened by his unexpected sympathy she began to sob in earnest, her breath coming in tremulous gulps, her shoulders heaving, her tearful face still pressed into his T-shirt, soaking the faded fabric.
Cam held her, rocking her as gently as one would rock a baby, until she’d cried out all her bottled-up pain and grief.
Finally she raised her face, furiously blinking away her tears. She didn’t want Cam thinking she was falling into a heap and couldn’t cope with Serena’s baby. ‘Sorry, Cam, I…it just caught up with me. Serena… Hamish… the long flight…the lack of sleep. I’m all right now. Truly.’
He drew back and looked down at her, as if to make sure. ‘No need to apologise.’ He was eyeing her strangely. His voice sounded a bit strange, too, not as cool or as smooth as before. ‘It’s healthy to cry…even if it—’ He clamped his mouth shut and stepped back, letting his hands fall away. His eyes were hidden from her now, and she could sense his withdrawal.
‘I’ll make you some coffee.’ His voice was brusque again, back to normal. ‘Come when you’re ready, Roxy. I’ll be in the kitchen. Just follow the passage.’
He left her to unpack and freshen up. When she joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, bringing the giant teddy bear with her, he was standing at an island bench, chopping vegetables.
‘Stir fry for dinner okay with you?’ he asked, waving her to a stool.
‘You cook, too?’ He was chopping with a practiced air, as if he’d done this chore many times before.
‘As a bachelor, you need to be able to cook if you don’t want to live on take-away or dine out every night. I’ve come to enjoy it, even though I have Philomena to cook for me these days, if I want her to. Do you cook, Roxy?’ He glanced up, and she caught the glimmer of doubt in his eyes.
‘Give me a camp fire and I’ll show you how well I cook,’ she answered flippantly, propping the teddy bear on the stool beside her. With a tilt of her small chin she added, ‘I might not have your undoubted finesse—I’m no cordon bleu cook—but at least I’ll never starve.’
His eyes narrowed under her feisty gaze, and she wished she hadn’t reminded him of her roving lifestyle.
‘Mind if we have our coffee here in the kitchen? I can go on with my chopping.’ As he poured coffee into two mugs, he asked, ‘Did your father give you the details of your sister’s will, Roxy?’
Roxy’s head jerked up. ‘What details?’ Custody of Emma, did he mean? According to her father, Serena had made no mention of custody in her will.
‘Serena left you a few personal items and some jewellery. I have them in the safe. The Sydney flat that your father bought for you and your sister when he sold your family home and moved to the west coast is now officially yours. It’s been virtually yours anyway, I understand, since Serena married Hamish.’
Roxy frowned into her coffee. Was he hoping she’d go back to her Sydney flat and stay there? Or thinking, maybe, that she didn’t deserve a city flat of her own, since she was so seldom at home?
‘What about…Serena’s clothes?’ she asked with difficulty, without looking at him. ‘Are they still here, waiting to be sorted through?’ If Cam was using the master bedroom, he must have either disposed of them or put them aside for her to deal with.
‘Blanche went through your sister’s things while she and your father were over here for the funeral,’ Cam told her, adding almost accusingly, ‘You weren’t here, Roxy. We hadn’t even heard from you.’ Then, on a softer note, ‘Blanche said that none of Serena’s things would fit you anyway—your sister being so much taller. She bundled everything up and sent it off to a charity.’
Roxy shrugged. No doubt Blanche had taken a few things for herself or her married daughter first. Not that she minded. It would be too painful to wear any of Serena’s clothes anyway. A piece of jewellery…a few personal items…simply as a memento…that was different.
‘Raeburns’ Nest now belongs to me.’ Cam paused to take a sip of his coffee. ‘Everything else—Hamish’s share in the pharmacy and any other money or valuables from their joint estate—will be put into trust for their daughter.’ He flicked her a look, as if waiting for comment.
Roxy took a deep breath and asked, ‘Did Hamish’s will mention custody of their daughter?’
As she glanced up, she caught a glint in Cam’s eye that filled her with foreboding. He told her, in a level, velvet-soft tone, ‘My brother named me as his daughter’s guardian. It was his express wish,’ he spelt out, ‘that I have custody of Emma.’
Roxy’s hand jerked, spilling her coffee. ‘My sister specifically asked me to take care of their daughter if anything ever happened to them!’
Cam’s brow shot up. ‘I’m sure Hamish wouldn’t have named me, Roxy, without Serena’s agreement. Your sister must have changed her mind. No doubt Hamish pointed out how impractical it would be to expect you—a devoted career woman who’s away from Australia for most of the year—to take care of a young child. He must have convinced her that I’d be the best one to have custody.’
Roxy sucked in an incensed breath. ‘My sister would never change her mind! Hamish must have meant that—that he would want you to take care of Emma temporarily…just until I could come back from wherever I was and take over! Or…or he wanted you to be her financial guardian. That’s more like it! Not her permanent, everyday guardian.’
‘I don’t think so.’
His calmness infuriated her even more. ‘I’ll fight you for custody!’ she threatened recklessly.
He laughed. ‘You can’t possibly want permanent custody, Roxy. You’re never at home. You’re always hightailing off to some remote archeological dig where you don’t even get vital mail when it’s sent to you. And when you do, you trip over things and catch foreign bugs that keep you away for weeks longer!’
She winced, and jutted her chin. ‘I’ll give up my field work. Naturally.’
He shook his head, his smile almost pitying. ‘Easy to say that, Roxy…but not so easy to mean it. Sorry, sweetheart, but my brother wanted me to have custody of our niece. Your sister gave no written instructions to suggest that she disagreed.’
‘Well, she’d hardly be expecting to die at the age of twenty-four!’ Roxy snapped back. She gulped down her fury, and after snatching in some breaths of air said more calmly, ‘Surely it’s better for a baby girl to be brought up by a woman—an aunt who can be a real mother figure to her—than a phil—’ She was about to say ‘philandering’, but had second thoughts about hurling insults at this delicate stage. ‘Than a bachelor uncle. You surely must know by now how a baby ties you down.’
Her arguments failed to move him. ‘A daughter should have a father and a mother, and I intend to give Emma both—as soon as I can arrange it.’
Roxy’s heart chilled. So her father was right. Cam was planning to get married again. She felt a sharp twinge. On Emma’s behalf, she told herself frac-tiously. Poor little soul, having one of Cam’s bimbos thrust onto her.
‘Belinda, do you mean?’ she asked before she could stop herself. She clamped her mouth shut. The thought of the dark-eyed, tennis-playing brunette married to Cam and helping to bring up her baby niece made her blood boil. Never, she thought. Never!
‘Belinda?’ Cass looked amused. ‘No, it won’t be Belinda. Belinda’s gone back to her exhusband. She’s living in Melbourne now.’
Roxy felt an irrational leap of relief, before her spirits plunged again. Gone back to her husband… If wives could go back to their husbands…
‘Is your ex-wife coming back to you?’ she blurted out.
Cam laughed. A harsh, scathing laugh, his mouth twisting. ‘Hardly. My wife is happily remarried, and has a new life far more suited to her than the life I offered her.’
The mocking black eyes turned cold and flat under her gaze. Roxy swallowed, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. Did that biting cynicism hide a deep hurt? She felt a wave of sympathy for him.
Until she remembered what was at stake. Her niece. She reached for her coffee, hardening her heart as she gulped it down.
She couldn’t afford any weakening towards Cam Raeburn. She had to remain strong enough to fight him.
In the swirling silence a baby began to cry.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘LET me go to her,’ Roxy offered, jumping up, her hand reaching for the big teddy bear.
But Cam was already on his feet. ‘Come with me, by all means, but I think Emma should see a familiar face first up.’
‘Oh. Yes…of course.’ Although Roxy could see the sense in that, she was only too aware that he was reminding her yet again that she was a virtual stranger to her niece. As she trailed after him to the nursery, she asked, ‘You’ve seen a lot of Emma since she was born?’ She was wondering how long Cam had been a familiar face to the baby. Only since his brother’s death?
‘Enough for her to recognise me with a big smile when I moved in here with her,’ he tossed back, and she drew in her lips. It was Cam’s fault she hadn’t seen more of her infant niece in the past seven months. She’d taken on longer field trips to avoid him.
Already she was regretting her long absences abroad. It would have been preferable to risk running into Cam occasionally than to become a virtual stranger to her baby niece.
What if little Emma wanted nothing to do with her? Roxy bit her lip, a rush of nervousness sweeping through her as she followed Cass into the nursery—a light», charmingly decorated room with a window overlooking the lush green cliffs and the deep blue ocean beyond.
Cam lifted the baby from her cot, but her high-pitched wails continued. ‘I know, I know, you’re wet and you want a clean nappy. And I guess you’re ready for your bottle, too.’ He seemed surprisingly unperturbed. ‘Let’s get you out of your wet nappy first, huh?’ He glanced round at Roxy. ‘I guess she still misses her mother, poor kid. Mary’s been a lifesaver. Emma adores her. Mary’s been like a grandmother to her.’
Roxy’s heart wrenched. She wanted Emma to adore her, not an elderly baby-sitter. But she wasn’t being fair. If Mary was like a grandmother to Emma, her niece was lucky to have such a caring baby-sitter.
‘Can I hold her while you find her a clean nappy?’ she begged, her heart going out to the wailing baby as she dropped the teddy bear into the baby’s cot and waited expectantly.
‘Let’s get her changed first.’ Cam was already lowering Emma onto a changing table. He had the wet nappy off in a trice, snatching up a clean one from the shelf below. ‘Ever changed a baby’s nappy?’ he asked her with a mocking sidelong glance.
Roxy took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m sure if you can master it, so can I.’
‘Quite. Watch how I do it, and next time you can have a go.’ He fastened the clean nappy with more speed, Roxy noted critically, than finesse. The baby, she thought, definitely needs a woman’s touch.
‘Thank heaven for disposable nappies,’ Cam commented, tickling the baby’s tummy. The crying miraculously stopped and the baby began to gurgle, a beautiful smile spreading across her tiny heartshaped face. ‘Voilà!’ Cam gave a triumphant grin. ‘Feeling better already, aren’t you, princess?’
Roxy took a step forward and bent over her baby niece, her eyes misting.
‘Oh, she’s so beautiful,’ she cried involuntarily. The baby had changed so much in the past five months. ‘She looks just like—like her mother looked at the same age.’ She raised blurred eyes to Cam’s face. ‘She has Serena’s eyes…Serena’s lovely smile…Serena’s dark hair. Can I hold her now?’ she pleaded huskily.
He nodded and stood aside. ‘Of course you can.’ She caught an odd glint in his eye as she blinked her tears away, but it was gone even before she turned back to the baby. It could have been surprise… doubt…mistrust…she couldn’t tell.
‘Emma…hullo, sweetheart,’ she said gently. ‘I’m your aunt Roxy, remember?’ With a smile she reached for the baby, bracing herself for a refusal, and renewed wails.
But there were no wails, no refusal. The baby, still smiling her dimpled smile, raised her tiny arms and reached out to her. With a rush of overwhelming love and relief, Roxy gathered her niece in her arms.
As she nursed the baby on her shoulder, stroking her soft hair with tender fingers, overcome by the fragile, sweet-smelling bundle in her arms, she saw Cam watching her. Ready, no doubt, to seize the baby from her if she started crying again. But mercifully she didn’t, and Roxy’s fears began to slide away. She was over the first hurdle, at least.
‘I’ll go and get her bottle ready,’ said Cam, and he slipped from the room. Roxy saw the baby’s eyes following him, saw her lip wobble, and decided to follow him, cuddling the baby in her arms as she headed for the kitchen.