‘Yes, they’re amazing.’ Nadia walked further into the display.
‘This one has an incredible scent.’ Matthew touched a bush smothered in milky blooms. ‘Madame Alfred Carrière.’
‘Nadia.’
Nadia turned at the sharp interruption. Ethan stood at the beginning of the grassy path. She could feel the waves of hostility from here. She snatched a quick glance at the man by her side. But Matthew Rush wasn’t giving anything away.
‘Ethan,’ he said calmly.
‘Dad.’ Ethan clipped the iciest answer back.
Nadia couldn’t have broken the huge, gaping silence even if she tried. Matthew Rush was Ethan’s dad?
Finally Ethan turned to her and spoke, his voice betraying a roughness that his father’s polished-for-radio tones never would. ‘I’ll show you the boathouse. Jess has just had it redecorated.’
‘Okay—great.’ She nodded and walked, sending Matthew a smile for farewell, completely confused as to why Ethan had suddenly turned into the ice man.
‘I didn’t know Matthew Rush is your father,’ she said, just for something to say.
He didn’t answer—just kept walking until they were both out of earshot and view of the other guests, until they were in front of the cute restored wooden boathouse. Only then did he turn and face her.
Nadia swallowed when she saw his expression—tight, pale, too controlled. He was angry. Angrier than the day he’d stormed in to see her at work and threatened to sue her. So angry she felt adrenalin surge into every cell, preparing her to fight. Except she didn’t know about what.
‘He’s pretty famous,’ she added, still confused. ‘I’ve heard so many of his reports.’ He’d written a book too, if she remembered right. And now the interviewer himself got interviewed.
‘Yeah, you and he would hit it off. You have a lot in common. The need to make yourself important. To be heard by a lot of people. To be recognised.’ Ethan almost snarled.
Okay, she knew she was missing something major, but he didn’t need to go off at her. ‘There’s a flaw in your analysis, Ethan.’ She wasn’t going to let him get away with insults just because he’d been hit by a freak bad mood. ‘Your father seeks fame under his own name. I’m anonymous. WomanBWarned isn’t about me—it’s about making a difference. I’m not taking advantage of my relationships to make a name for myself. In fact you’re the one who put our dates out there for everyone to read.’
He glared at her. She watched closely for the steam to start shooting from his ears.
‘Maybe you’re like your father,’ she said blandly. ‘Wanting to be popular.’
Colour flooded into his cheeks. ‘I’m nothing like him.’
‘Really?’ His vehemence intrigued her. ‘Why? What’s he like?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he snapped. ‘Hell, how do you think it makes me feel to see him hitting on the girl I brought here?’
‘What?’ Nadia gaped. Then giggled. A lot. ‘Ethan, he wasn’t hitting on me. We were talking about the roses.’
But Ethan wasn’t seeing the funny side. Ethan was glowering all the more. ‘I’ve known the guy a whole lot longer than you. I’ve seen that look before.’
She shook her head—the idea was outlandish. ‘You’ve had too much champagne in the sun. You’re seeing things.’ But her humour died when he still didn’t lighten up. He really thought his own father had been flirting with her? That she’d go along with that? ‘You know, it’s completely insulting of you to think that I’d—’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ he snapped. ‘But he would.’
Nadia thought about it. She hadn’t seen Matthew up at the front near Ethan’s mum during the christening. She hadn’t seen Ethan talk to him. There’d been some veiled comment from Polly when they’d arrived—about who’d been going to bring their mum, about whether “he” was here. And “him” being here alone had been major enough for Polly to point it out. She didn’t need a psychology degree to figure his parents had split—and that it wasn’t amicable. And that there’d probably been adultery issues. Yeah, now she thought about it, some would think Matthew was suave. She’d just thought he was old.
She nibbled the inside of her lip and tried not to stare at how uncomfortable Ethan looked. Fiercely defensive, but vulnerable, he turned away from her. She melted, and the desire to reassure him rose—she wished she understood what scar it was that had just been ripped open. ‘Ethan, your father was nothing but charming to me.’
‘Yeah, he’s always charming to women.’
Nadia half smiled and answered softly, ‘So are you.’
Sharply he faced her, but said nothing. Slowly the blaze in his eyes died out, leaving a hint of something like hurt. And he just looked at her. And the longer he looked, the more that hint of hurt seemed to grow. She didn’t understand why.
His lips parted, she heard the indrawn breath, and she waited, her own breath bated.
Piercing shrieks made them jump three feet apart.
‘Ethan, can you help me?’ Jessica hurried towards them, struggling to carry a very red-faced, wriggling toddler. ‘Bella’s having a meltdown, I need to feed the baby and Tom needs to entertain the guests—and Polly’s working hard to keep Mother away from Father.’
‘Sure—give her to me.’ All calm, Ethan reached out for the wailing child.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt.’ Jess looked apologetically at Nadia. ‘What must you think of us?’
Nadia didn’t know what to think.
‘She’s just feeling out of sorts.’ Jess looked panicky as Bella geared up for another bellow.
‘She’s not the only one,’ Ethan muttered, getting his niece out of his sister’s earshot. ‘How good are you at entertaining little kids?’ He looked desperately at Nadia.
‘Hopeless,’ she whispered, but she followed. They bypassed the guests and circled wide back to the house. By the time they got inside the girl’s wails had lessened as her Uncle Ethan spoke quietly to her.
Nadia opened the door that Ethan pointed to, stepped in after him, and then closed it again. A music room. And Ethan was at the baby grand piano.
‘You have to stop crying because you have to help me play,’ he told the child. ‘You know I can’t play without your help.’
Bella sat on his knee, he put his hands on the keys, and she put her hands on top of his. It was obviously a game that had been played many times before. She was smiling now. So was Ethan. He started, got four bars into a really stodgy sort of grade three piece. Nadia bit her lips to stop laughing—it was sweet, really—and suddenly realised she was falling deeper into complete ‘like’ with a guy she’d been so sure was a shark.
But then Bella interrupted. ‘No, no. Not that one. The other one.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
Nadia recognised the teasing tone in Ethan’s words. She saw Bella did too. So this was part of a shared joke—a routine that had to be adhered to.
He started to play again, and Nadia was stunned into immobility. Despite the burden of a little person on his knee he played magnificently. Notes thundered as his fingers crashed over the keys. Bella glowed with excitement as her hands rode fast on his. A massive, loud passionate piece from Rachmaninov, huge and echoing and—hell, she’d had no idea Ethan could play so well.
‘Play it again?’ Bella asked, even though the last note hadn’t stopped vibrating round the room.
Ethan groaned and turned to spot Nadia. ‘Come and sit beside us. We can’t play again unless you do.’
Reading the look on the girl’s face, Nadia moved quickly.
Ethan laughed as she did and shuffled along the seat to make room. ‘Do you play?’
‘Not that good stuff. I was stuck with Mozart. My hands are too small to cope with any of the great romantics.’
‘Not so bad to be stuck with Mozart.’ He cuddled the little girl closer. ‘Play some now.’
His mood had been restored even more than the child’s. He was back to smiling and char
ming and gorgeous, and Nadia was floored. ‘I’m not as good as you, and I haven’t played in a really long time.’
‘I disagree with the former but am well aware of the latter.’
She looked balefully at him. ‘Do you think along those lines all the time?’
‘Around you? Absolutely.’
‘Play, play, play,’ Bella interrupted petulantly, completely missing the undertones.
‘Yeah, Nadia,’ Ethan said slyly. ‘Play.’
She sighed, hiding her smile, and put her hands in position. It really had been a while. But years and years of practice couldn’t be completely forgotten. After a few bars she began to enjoy it, giggling when she stumbled over the odd passage, but soon getting the feel for it again, losing track of time as she worked through her favourite piece. A quiet one—not the kind of rollercoaster ride of emotion up and down the stave that Ethan had crashed through.
‘Keep playing,’ he whispered in her ear.
She glanced sideways and saw Bella was fast asleep in his arms. Amusement warmed her. Oh, to be a kid again and fall asleep at the flick of a switch. He carefully edged off the stool. Nadia did as he’d asked and kept playing the soft sonata, turning her head a couple of times to see Ethan carefully putting his niece on the sofa near the big fireplace. He glanced at her and mouthed ‘keep playing’ again.
She nodded, glad to turn back so she wouldn’t have to go like goo inside, seeing him be so tender. She started the piece for a third time, even more gently, waiting for the word that it was okay to stop.
There wasn’t a word. There was touch. Hands—large hands—cupped her shoulders and then slid down the length of her arms to her hands. She bent her head and stopped playing.
‘I think you play beautifully,’ he whispered softly, his cheek brushing against hers.