The Secret Father

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.