Sinful Nights: The Six-Month Marriage/Injured Innocent/Loving

Both she and the girls had eaten at the cottage. She didn’t like the thought of them spilling anything on that sterile white marble kitchen table, or those immaculate grey tiles that covered the floor.

Jay had managed to find an agency who had agreed to take over the cleaning of the house, but as yet he had found no one who could care for his daughter. Secretly Claire was glad, and she knew that when the time eventually came she would miss Heather very much indeed. Lucy, with her sunny practical nature, was not the slightest bit jealous or resentful about sharing her mother with her friend.

As she moved automatically about the kitchen she frowned, wondering what the future held for Heather: a succession of nannies, perhaps, followed by boarding school? There were doubtless many children for whom such a regime would lead to a perfectly happy and well adjusted adult life, but Heather was so sensitive and withdrawn already. It was none of her business what arrangements Jay might choose to make for his daughter, Claire reminded herself firmly, but no amount of logic or reason could cancel out the bond of love that had built up between Heather and herself. When she lost her, it would in some ways be like losing her own child. Ridiculously, especially in the circumstances, she was already worrying about whether someone else would know how much care and cherishing the little girl needed. And that wasn’t her only concern. She was also worried that Heather would see her withdrawal from her life in the manner of a betrayal, or worse, and although she had scrupulously tried to prepare her for their eventual parting, she sensed that Heather was too young to genuinely comprehend what lay ahead.

It was gone seven o’clock when Claire eventually heard Jay’s car draw up outside.

Lucy came dashing into the kitchen almost before the engine had died.

‘Jay’s back!’ she called out excitedly, pouting a little when Claire grasped her firmly by one arm and reminded her,

‘Jay is Heather’s daddy, Lucy.’

But for all her encouragement, Heather made no attempt to rush to the door and give Jay the exuberant welcome Lucy always favoured him with.

Claire saw the moment that the kitchen door opened that he was tired. He dumped his overnight case by the door and grimaced faintly across the kitchen.

‘Sorry I’m late, but the plane was delayed.’

‘Yes, we thought it might be.’ She gave Heather a little push towards her father, releasing a faintly tense breath as the little girl gave him a slightly shy hug.

Lucy had no such inhibitions, flinging herself against his knees and lifting up a shining little face for his kiss.

With one little girl in his arms and the other clinging to his side, he still managed to retain the aura of the male predator rather than that of domesticity.

His hair had grown, Claire noticed idly, and he seemed to have lost a little more weight. It was stupid and totally unnecessary for her to worry about him; if he knew, he was more likely to be irritated by her concern than anything else.

‘Something smells good.’

‘It’s a casserole. I thought you might be hungry.’

‘I am. Have I got time to shower and change?’

Claire nodded her head.

‘Good. How about someone bringing me a drink?’ he suggested, putting Heather down and smiling at her.

‘I’ll do it,’ Lucy piped up instantly, and Claire suppressed a faint sigh.

‘Why don’t both of you do it?’ suggested Jay diplomatically. ‘I shan’t be long,’ he promised Claire. ‘About ten minutes.’

Of course sh

e was the one who poured out the whisky and soda she knew he liked, warning Heather to be careful as she carried it upstairs. She knew which was Jay’s room, but she had never been inside it; there was no need. And yet as she stood at the bottom of the stairs watching her charges’ careful progress she had an instant’s appalling awareness of Jay’s lean body as he divested it of the civilisation of clothes.

She shuddered tensely, closing her eyes to blot out the image, and when she opened them again she was trembling violently. She had never seen a naked man, not really, and she had never wanted to, so why that brief, illuminating image?

Jay was as good as his word, returning downstairs within ten minutes, dressed in jeans and a checked wool shirt. His hair was still damp, and the clean male scent of his soap mingled with the aroma of the casserole, cutting sharply through the domestic atmosphere of the kitchen, bringing in an alien and predatory note that made Claire’s body tense as she moved automatically away from him.

She saw him frown, his mouth tightening as though in some way her reaction displeased him.

‘You should know by now that I’m not going to pounce on you, Claire.’

Her face flushed. ‘I know that.’

‘Then why the so-obvious retreat?’

‘Perhaps I’m just one of those people who likes a lot of personal space.’