The Secret Father

The low intensity of her tone made Sam spin around. For a moment he was too stunned by the sudden change from calm serenity to ferocious anger to reply. He’d never been a contributor to the theory that cool women had an untapped core of fire, and he’d certainly never felt the urge to prove the case one way or the other.

Still waters looked a lot more interesting than he’d have thought possible. Sam ruthlessly extinguished the spark of interest. He couldn’t afford to explore any possibilities right now, at a time when his energies were totally committed to the task ahead. He didn’t need distractions; this was his first time out wearing the director’s cap and his role was a million miles away from the familiar format the public knew and loved.

He was charged up at the prospect of the months’ work ahead. Besides, this woman hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that she looked on him as a piece of beef cake and nothing else. It was something he was accustomed to, but her attitude really riled him. For some obscure reason he wanted to be around when Rosalind Lacey was forced to accept that he was more than a pretty face.

‘You asked, and I told you how it looks. They’re not being exactly discreet if you must know. If you want to believe your sister is as pure as the driven snow, that’s fine by me. I didn’t set out to bad-mouth either of them, but you’re bound to hear a lot cruder speculation before long,’ Sam warned her. ‘More to the point, so is Lloyd’s wife. You do know he’s married to Dallas?’ he said, with a hint of incredulity that anyone could be ignorant of this fact. The couple had a very well-documented relationship.

‘She’s a singer, isn’t she?’ Her summer-blue eyes had grown stormily grey as she glared angrily at him, and her angular jaw was set at an aggressive angle.

Sam shook his head incredulously. ‘You could say that,’ he agreed mockingly. ‘Dynamite Dallas, they call her, and when she hears of this little escapade I should think she’ll live up to her name.’ It occurred to him that this quiet, subdued creature could give even the tempestuous Dallas a run for her money when she lost her temper.

‘I don’t give a damn what they call her,’ Lindy snapped. ‘But if I hear anyone maligning my sister they’ll have me to answer to.’

Sam let out a soundless whistle as she stalked up to the front door, unwittingly giving him a view of her excellent rear in a close-fitting linen skirt. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he breathed, amused laughter rumbling in his chest as he tucked one case under his arm and followed her.

Inside, the house was much bigger than it had appeared. Pale walls, lots of exposed stone and gleaming wood floors scattered with vibrant rugs all conspired to cool her temper. The trembling that afflicted her limbs had subsided by the time she arrived at the Jacuzzi that was built into a covered deck overlooking a sandy horseshoe sweep and the sea beyond.

‘This is incredible.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ a soft voice at her elbow agreed.

‘You scared me half to death!’ she accused, spinning around. She was already deeply regretting losing her temper in front of this man. Over the years she’d grown very adept at hiding her innermost feelings. The ability gave her an illusion of security. Suddenly she felt more vulnerable than she had done in years. Even the hateful Simon hadn’t succeeded in making her lose her dignity. ‘I thought you’d gone.’

‘As you see, I haven’t.’ His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon with an odd expression of longing.

‘Don’t let me keep you.’

‘I thought I’d have a shower.’

Lindy blinked. ‘You thought what?’

He stretched lazily, extending his back, making circular motions with his shoulders. The fabric of his shirt pulled taut, making Lindy conscious of the strength in his powerful body.

‘Shower,’ he elucidated helpfully. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘You can’t…’ She was pretty certain that her sister’s hospitality didn’t extend this far; her own certainly didn’t. As far as Lindy was concerned, the sooner this man left her in peace the better! Her eyes widened as he calmly began unbuttoning his shirt. To her relief—damn it, she was relieved—he stopped halfway.

‘Didn’t Hope mention it? I’m her house guest.’

Lindy froze as, whistling, he casually strolled from the room. It couldn’t be true, she told herself. Share a roof with that wretched man—no way! Her total rejection of the idea left no room for mental negotiation of the situation. Heart pumping out adrenaline, she strode after him and pushed open the door from behind which she could hear sounds of activity.

‘I’m not staying here…’ she began hotly, barging into the room.

‘My bathroom in particular, or this house?’ he enquired with a deadpan expression. He didn’t appear in the least put out that he was standing there clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts. He kicked the trousers that lay at his feet to one side.

Lindy made a last-ditch attempt to recapture some of her legendary cool and failed miserably. She was staring, her eyes travelling upwards from his feet. She knew it, but was helpless to do anything else. He stretched up to switch on the shower and the muscles in his torso rippled.

On screen she’d seen he had a sexy, beautiful body, but the intimacy of a cinema was illusionary. In the flesh, quite literally, the basic earthiness of his appeal made a physical impact. From the spasm in her stomach and her dry, tight throat to the heavy, leaden sensation in her uncooperative limbs, she was transfixed by the spectacle.

‘Have you seen enough, or are you planning on joining me?’ The satiny quality of his deep voice had never been more apparent. ‘You do look as if you could do with cooling down,’ he observed. ‘If we’re going to be sharing a roof perhaps we should get the ground rules sorted out up front. It gives a guy a certain feeling of insecurity when even his bathroom isn’t private. I’ve had to deal with some determined fans in my time, but this is a first!’

It was the taunting quality in his voice that did it, made her react so childishly. The ‘you’re no different from all the others’ tone that made her hackles rise—and the disturbing possibility that there was the merest grain of truth in his words. The sponge was lying on the edge of the washbasin; she picked it up and lobbed it at his smirking face. Her aim was spot on: the saturated missile landed square in his face.

She wasn’t quite sure which one of them was more surprised by her action, but Sam was the first to recover. ‘Maybe this will cool you down.’ He redirected the angle of the shower head towards her and she let out a shriek as the water hit her. Blinded by the water, she closed her eyes and reached out blindly for a towel.

The grunt of pain came after she collided with a solid object. Out of the direct line of fire she wiped her face on the sleeve of her silk blouse. ‘Of all the stupid things,’ she squeaked. ‘Turn that thing off!’

It was at that point she saw the blood, drops of it on the tiled floor. Medically speaking, she knew that a little blood could look like a lot, but from a more personal viewpoint the sight made her stomach lurch. It wasn’t much more comforting when she looked at Sam. He was leaning against the wall, his hand raised to his nose, from which a steady flow of blood was seeping. He looked more bemused than distressed.

‘How…?’

‘You head-butted me,’ he informed her.

‘I didn’t mean…’ she began, her eyes widening in dismay. ‘I couldn’t see what I was doing.’

‘Hope mentioned nothing about homicidal tendencies. I seem to recall ‘‘quiet’’ was mentioned, and ‘‘needs bringing out of herself’’ featured somewhere in there.’

‘I feel guilty enough as it is,’ she said from between clenched teeth.

‘Good,’ he replied, his voice muffled by his hand.

She completed the job he’d begun and got completely drenched as she reached in the shower cubicle and turned off the water. ‘Let me see,’ she said, adopting a professional tone. She’d probably never felt less professional in her entire life, but now wasn’t the moment to ponder that circumstance. ‘I am a doctor.’

‘Trade can’t be so bad you have to go out assaulting innocent bystanders.’

‘You are not innocent,’ she said feelingly. ‘It doesn’t look too bad,’ she observed with some relief. ‘Hold it here, like so.’ She took his thumb and forefinger and demonstrated on her own nose where he should apply the pressure. ‘Not on me,’ she said, frustrated by his flippant attitude. She removed his fingers from her own small straight nose. ‘We could do with some ice and a first-aid kit.’

‘Speak for yourself. I could do with a drink; I’m in shock.’

‘If you were, which you’re not,’ she said, eyeing his healthy colour with a certain degree of resentment, ‘the last thing you’d need would be alcohol.’

‘Hope has a first-aid kit in the kitchen and the refrigerator’s there, too.’

Leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her, Lindy made her way to the galley kitchen which was divided from the living area by a peninsula of fitted cupboards.

‘Top cupboard on the right,’ said Sam, who had followed her.

‘Don’t release the pressure; you’re dripping everywhere,’ she censured.

‘Yes, Doctor,’ he said meekly.

Lindy gave him a sharp look; he was giving the impression of someone who was enjoying himself, which, unless he was seriously abnormal, couldn’t be the case!

She pulled out a stool, slipped off her sodden shoes and, hitching up her pencil skirt, climbed up to reach the cupboard. She turned around and found that Sam was taking full advantage of his clear view of her legs.

‘Disgusting!’ she said, and received an unrepentant grin.

She climbed down again. ‘Sit down; I can’t reach,’ she said brusquely. Sam complied and with gauze she cleaned the blood from his face, trying not to meet his eyes as she did so; it wasn’t easy. The skin didn’t look discoloured and she told him there probably wouldn’t be any bruising.

‘Lloyd will be—hell, can I let go now?’ He’d seen her lips twitch as his sexy drawl was reduced to an adenoidal mumble.

‘I think so,’ she agreed as the flow seemed to have been staunched.

‘As I was saying, Lloyd will be pleased. Me being unable to film could cost the production megabucks.’

‘I didn’t think of that,’ she said guiltily.

‘Before you viciously assaulted me.’

Lindy drew in an indignant breath. ‘You’re right,’ she said, slowly releasing it. ‘You are a good actor. Seriously, it was an accident. What is it now?’ she asked as he closed one eye, opened it and gave a deep sigh.

‘There’s something I think you should know…’

‘Well?’

‘Your shirt’s totally transparent when it’s wet.’

A moment’s blank incomprehension and then horror spread across her face as one glance down confirmed his statement. Why, today of all days, had she not worn a bra?

Solicitously he offered her a tea-towel. ‘This might cover the…er…dilemma.’

Glaring at him, she snatched at the lifeline. ‘You took your time to mention it.’

‘Would you believe I didn’t notice? No, I thought not. It took my mind off the pain.’ He leant his head back against the wall and gave an appreciative sigh. ‘You really have a great body.’

‘How dare…?’

‘Now don’t go all double standards on me, Doctor. You weren’t exactly displaying professional interest in my body back there. Don’t get embarrassed about it— I’m used to being treated like a sex object. Your mouth’s open,’ he observed gently, reaching forward to tilt her jaw upwards. ‘I was only making an honest evaluation. I have to say I thought I was pretty good at summing people up, but I was quite wrong with you. I know this is clichéd, but you really should get mad more often.’

‘Well, really,’ she said weakly. She knew sexual chemistry when she felt it; she’d felt it before with disastrous consequences. That fact alone ought to have made it easy to laugh away his glib nonsense. He was an actor; deceit was second nature to him; she had to get out of this situation—fast!

‘You hide behind that cool, classy exterior, but I don’t believe it any more, so why pretend? I much prefer you uncoordinated and clumsy—more human. You don’t need props.’ His voice was soothingly seductive as he pulled away the towel clutched to her bosom. ‘That’s a start.’ The unconfined sway of her breasts made his breath come faster.

Heat crawled over her skin where his eyes touched—caressed. ‘You should put some ice on your nose,’ she said, desperation creeping into her voice as, simultaneously, paralysis crept into her limbs.

It was a blur to her, but somehow she had straddled his lap, her skirt riding indecently high against her thighs, and her face was being held firmly between his hands. His lips were firm, cool and unalarming. With a small cry her arms went around his neck and she stopped being passive. It was as if he’d tapped into a source she hadn’t known was there—an elemental, fiery core.

It was Sam’s turn to look startled when they broke apart. ‘Wow!’ His flippancy didn’t have the ring of authenticity about it.

‘Lindy, we’re home!’ The lilting sound of her sister’s voice rang out as the kitchen door was flung open.

‘Timing is everything,’ Sam muttered under his breath.

‘I see you’ve met Sam.’ Dry as dust, Hope’s voice cut through the startled silence.

I’ll strangle her, Lindy decided. After I drown myself, she added silently. She glanced resentfully at the floor which still hadn’t opened up and swallowed her.

Hope and the man beside her slowly took in the scene before them and to Lindy it seemed to take them for ever. With each agonising second her feelings of self-disgust grew.

‘Nice afternoon, you two?’ Sam said, his tone betraying no evidence of discomfort.

‘Not as interesting as yours.’ The expression in the older man’s eyes made Lindy cringe inside. Her face froze and her spine straightened to attention. She slid off Sam’s knee, stopping his objection with one cold glance.

‘There was an accident,’ she said. I sound normal, she realised with amazement. ‘Mr Rourke…’

Sam snorted at her formality. ‘Dr Lacey,’ he said sardonically, ‘butted me in the face. Busted my nose.’

The humour faded dramatically from Lloyd’s face. For the first time he seemed to notice the evidence of bloodstains. ‘Hell-fire, Sam, have you any idea how much over budget we could be if you mess up your face?’ he demanded hotly. ‘The insurance premiums we pay because you insist on doing those damned stunts are astronomical as it is.’

Sam shot Lindy an ironic look before he replied. ‘The doctor assures me my beauty is undimmed.’

‘I can see a damned bruise. I swear I can,’ Lloyd insisted. ‘Put some ice on it, Sam,’ he said, reaching into a bowl Lindy had left on the counter.

‘I think I’ll go and freshen up,’ Lindy said.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Hope responded, and Lindy could see the speculation dancing in her sister’s eyes.

‘Don’t push it now,’ Lindy advised quietly as they left the room. To her relief, Hope took the hint. She knew she’d have to face the speculation and questions sooner or later, but right now it was going to be hard enough to justify her brazen behaviour to herself, let alone anyone else!

CHAPTER TWO

LINDY didn’t look up as her sister came in and lay on the patchwork counterpane of her bed. Hope lifted one long, tanned leg, revealed pleasingly in a pair of denim shorts, and examined her painted toenails silently.

‘Good journey?’ she said brightly.

Lindy knew this wasn’t the question she was longing to ask. What she really wanted to know was how her restrained sister had managed to end up on Sam Rourke’s lap in a passionate clinch after an extremely short acquaintance.

‘I’ve no idea how it happened,’ she said abruptly, glaring half-defiantly at Hope in the dressing-table mirror she was facing. She tapped ineffectually at her honey-blonde hair with a silver-backed brush and frowned at her reflection.

‘The journey or…?’ Hope raised her eyebrows dramatically.

‘Or…’ Lindy confirmed quickly, before her sister went into painful detail.

‘Well, if you’re going to go all spontaneous and passionate it might as well be with Sam. He is about as delicious as men get.’ She ran her tongue across her lips as if relishing the thought and swung herself upright, tucking one leg neatly underneath the other in the lotus position.

‘It wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t go for beef cake. People as obviously good-looking as him only exist in soaps—daytime soaps!’

‘Miss hoity-toity!’ Hope taunted. ‘Let your mind wander back a few minutes.’

Lindy covered her face with her hands and groaned. ‘Don’t!’ she pleaded, her bravado disintegrating. She spread her fingers and peeped out at her sister. ‘I can’t believe I…’ She shrugged her shoulders and her hands fell away from her face. ‘You know… It’s awful!’

‘Heavens, I’m supposed to be the tragedy queen of the family,’ said Hope. ‘Don’t tell me he’s got bad breath—I have some semi-lecherous scenes with the man.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t been practising.’ Lindy bit her lip when, after a startled silence, her sister burst out laughing. ‘I’m glad you find this funny,’ Lindy snapped, spinning around on her stool. The idea of her gorgeous sister sampling the pleasures of Sam’s lips and heaven knew what else made her feel very bad-tempered. ‘Is he still here?’

‘Lloyd’s gone but, if you mean Sam, he’s staying here. I was going to surprise you.’

‘Oh, you did, Hope, you did. I made a total fool of myself.’

‘A few kisses!’ Hope shrugged. ‘It was just a few kisses, wasn’t it? All right, don’t blow a fuse,’ she said hastily. ‘Rigid principles are all well and good, but sometimes the best of us weaken given temptation.’

Lindy put aside her own problems for a moment as she recalled the insinuations Sam had made about Hope and the rather daunting man she had recently, if briefly, met. ‘Are you speaking from personal experience here?’

‘You and Sam did spend some time talking, then, before you ripped off his clothes.’

Lindy firmly put aside the startling image of Sam Rourke’s perfect frame. She wasn’t about to be diverted from her theme. The cautious expression she had seen briefly in her sister’s eyes had been enough to worry her.

‘I can’t think of any reason to undress a man who is capable of doing it for himself.’ She couldn’t let this assumption pass unchallenged.

‘I could enumerate them,’ her sister offered generously.

‘I think Sam didn’t want me to be taken by surprise by the gossip,’ Lindy said swiftly—too swiftly. It was faintly shocking to realise that her own brain was fertile enough to make any lesson from Hope on the subject redundant.

‘Sam’s no gossip,’ Hope acceded. ‘Unfortunately, he’s a minority of one. I’m not having an affair with Lloyd.’

Lindy met her sister’s eyes and gave a sigh of relief. ‘I’m glad; I’d hate for you to be hurt. I know how…’ Her voice thickened.

Hope came over and gave her a quick hug. ‘It was an awfully long time ago,’ she said softly, compassion in her eyes. ‘No matter how it looks, I’m not involved with Lloyd, at least not in that way.’

‘Do you think it’s wise to spend the day with him and fuel people’s speculation?’

Hope got to her feet. ‘People’s nasty minds are not my problem,’ she observed sharply.

Lindy didn’t think this was a very practical position to take, but she didn’t voice her doubts. ‘Perhaps they’ll think you’re having an affair with Sam—he is living here.’

‘He’s only stopping for a couple more days. He has a boat that he usually lives on. It’s down here, but it’s in dry dock having its keel hauled or whatever they do to boats. The hotels are overflowing with our lot and, besides, the poor lamb likes his privacy. Anyway, he’s a much better cook than I am.’

‘That’s no great recommendation,’ Lindy said, recalling some of her sister’s more spectacular culinary exploits. ‘Ducks have been known to sink when fed your soufflé.’

‘I’ll probably marry a chef,’ Hope said thoughtfully. ‘A tall one,’ she added with a chuckle as she ducked her head to avoid a low beam. ‘Do you like the room? Isn’t the place a find?’

‘It’s lovely, Hope. Or am I supposed to call you Lacey here?’

‘Don’t you dare! Is it going to be a problem for you with Sam here?’ she said, her expression growing serious. ‘I could ask him to find somewhere else.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ The last thing she wanted to do was play up the whole trivial incident. He was attractive and he’d kissed her—and she’d kissed him, a pedantic voice annoyingly added. She could share a roof with the man and show him how little she was affected by the experience. ‘It was a momentary aberration, that’s all.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do,’ Lindy responded firmly, not much caring for the tone of her sister’s voice.

It turned out that Hope hadn’t exaggerated the dratted man’s culinary talents. She and Hope returned from a stroll along the beach later that evening to find the table set and delicious smells emanating from the galley kitchen.

‘That smell’s terrific, you lovely man, you.’ Hope peeled off the jacket she had worn against the evening chill, shook out her golden mane and threw her arms around Sam’s neck. She ritually kissed him on both cheeks and Lindy, watching, couldn’t believe that any man wouldn’t be bowled over by her warmth and vitality. ‘I might just keep you on.’

‘Sorry, honey, but my heart belongs to Jennifer.’

‘What a waste,’ she replied with a grin.

Lindy quietly took her place at the table and hoped her strong desire to ask about the identity of Jennifer was not as easy to detect as she suspected it was. Did Jennifer know he went around kissing perfect strangers?

‘Do you feel better after your rest, Rosalind?’ Sam asked as Hope helped herself to a generous portion of home-made pasta.

‘Much, thank you.’ Like a coward, she’d avoided contact with him earlier in the evening by pleading exhaustion—a cop-out, and he probably knew it. It had worked, though. She could now be perfectly objective about his smouldering sexuality.

She heaved a sigh. Who am I kidding? she thought. Seeing him now made her realise that pretending the incident earlier hadn’t happened just wasn’t feasible. It went against the grain, but she’d have to accept that for some inexplicable reason, and even though he symbolised the things she despised in men—the excessive good looks, the calculating charm—she was attracted to him in a basic sort of way. I’m damned if I’m going to act like some star-struck teenager, she decided, lifting her head and looking him firmly in the eye. Both eyes, actually—deep, mesmerising eyes.

She broke a bread roll and found her hands were trembling. ‘Hope tells me you have a boat.’

‘She’s having her hull shot-blasted, but she’ll be back on the water by the weekend. So you’ll be rid of me. That is what you want, isn’t it?’ The latter was said in a voice meant only for her ears, and Lindy sensed the confusion she was fighting was mirrored in her eyes.

‘You’ll have to get used to eating out, Lindy, or cook,’ Hope said with her mouth full. Her sister did everything with such enthusiasm and lack of inhibition that Lindy suddenly felt stilted and awkward by comparison. She was sure Sam must see the contrast. Why on earth should I care if he does? she wondered, angry at this bizarre preoccupation she had with the man.

‘You’ll have to come for a sail on Jennifer when the schedule permits.’ He caught Lindy’s flicker of comprehension. ‘You thought she was a woman, my Jennifer?’ He filled her glass with wine and leaned back in his chair. The candlelight shadowed the planes and hollows of his aesthetically sculpted face and left his eyes areas of mystery.

‘Named for a woman, it’s almost the same thing,’ she responded, realising how astute he was at interpreting the slightest nuance in body language.

‘Not one of mine. I never bothered changing the name when I got her ten years back. The longest relationship I’ve ever had with a female,’ he acknowledged with a lecherous grin.