An Inconvenient Desire (8 page)

Ten minutes later, when she finally quieted, he raised her tear-ravaged face to his. He swept the last drop of moisture off her cheek with his thumb. “Sit here.” He led her toward the love seat. “I’ll get you a cool cloth and a glass of water.”

He returned a minute later and passed her the water and flannel as he sat beside her. She wiped her face and drained the entire glass, then took a deep breath. The wobbly smile she gave him made his breath catch in this throat. Here was the vulnerability he’d caught a glimpse of in the car on the way to Brisighella. Now it was laid bare and placed before him like an offering.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never cried like that before.” Her voice was raw. “I soaked your shirt.” She ran her delicate hand over his wet shirt. The heat of her fingers through the damp fabric set off sparks of awareness.

“The shirt will dry,” he murmured, steeling himself against her touch. It wasn’t the time. “Do you want to talk about it?” The tentative smile faded from her face and he wrapped his arms around her again. She melted against him, unleashing another wave of longing. After a couple of deep breaths, she straightened.

“It’s not a pretty story. But I’ll tell you, for Hannah’s sake. I know, in my heart, that her situation is nothing like mine. But maybe it will help you understand why it is so important that you show her how much you love her. The only other person who knows my past is Sophia. If it weren’t for her, I’d be dead for sure.”

He shifted in his chair. Was he ready for this? But how could he tell her he didn’t want to know? That if she told him, he might feel things for her he didn’t want to feel? He didn’t want to risk getting even closer to her. He opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue. It was already too late to keep his distance.

She reached for her wine glass and took a long sip. When he stretched his arm along the back of the chair, she shifted, putting her head on his shoulder. Her long, slender fingers stroked the wine glass in a sensuous caress. He dragged his mind back from imagining her hands on his body.

“My mother, Ellen, was seventeen when she became pregnant with me. She was already an alcoholic and drug addict. Her parents kicked her out of the house, and as far as I’m aware, never spoke to her again. Apparently, she made a botched attempt at a homemade abortion. When one of her friends told her that she could probably get a council flat as a single mother, she decided to keep me.” Olivia’s voice was soft, detached.

“And your father?”

“Not even my mother knows who my father is—evidently there were so many possibilities. It would seem, from my coloring and hair, he was black, but that only narrowed it down to three or four suspects. But it didn’t matter to Ellen. She had no plans of making a
happy family
with any man. Whoever my father is, he has no idea I exist.”

That stung. If Celeste hadn’t tired of Hannah, he’d have no idea she existed. And despite his current dilemma, he wouldn’t want to not know her. “So, no grandparents, no father. It was just you and your mum?”

“Yeah. Childhood was rough; we had very little. Ellen wasn’t really interested in being a mum. She never read to me or played. As long as I was quiet, things were okay. She battled her addictions, and she seemed to have control of them most of the time. But by the time I was eight, Ellen started going out at night, coming back in the morning drunk or high, often with some man. She’d get me ready for school and then sleep the day away.”

“Wasn’t there anyone you could talk to—a teacher, social worker? Surely it’s illegal to leave an eight-year-old home alone, especially at night.” He forced his muscles to relax, to offer her comfort, support. There would be enough time for his outrage later.

“She told me horror stories of children put into care, and said if I ever told anyone what happened at home I’d be taken away and made to live with people who would beat me. At least she never hit me. So I didn’t tell anyone how scared I was when she left me alone.”

“Didn’t social services ever come to the flat, see how you were living?”

“A couple of times the neighbors called the police when she was particularly loud as she came home drunk. I don’t know what she told them or the social workers when they came by, but they always left and I stayed with her. The flat was neat and tidy because I cleaned it. Even as a child I hated living in filth. And when I got a little older she gave me money for groceries so I could buy food and vary my diet from baked beans and cheese sandwiches. I used to watch cooking shows to learn how to make new recipes.”

Olivia took another sip of wine and was quiet for a moment. When she resumed her story, her voice was distant, monotone. “When I was twelve, her boyfriends began to stay at the flat, some a couple of weeks, others a few months. Ellen was nearly always drunk or high. I have no idea where she got the money for booze or drugs, but probably by whoring. I never brought any school friends home. I didn’t know what state she’d be in, and I didn’t want anyone to know what my home life was like. I was already a master at hiding my thoughts and feelings behind a smile. If you saw my school reports, they all said something like, ‘Olivia is a happy, carefree student.’ What a crock.”

She placed her empty wine glass carefully on the table, her hands tightening into fists in her lap. Jonathan was silent.
What should I say?
Anyone who looked at Olivia would think,
beautiful woman, must have the world at her feet.
He had. Now he was discovering that she’d clawed her way out of a mire to make something of her life. No wonder she’d been so quick to respond to Hannah.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Olivia wrapped her arms around them before putting her forehead on her bent knees. A chill ran up his spine despite the warm night as she assumed the fetal position. “Then some stuff happened and I left.”

Her voice was so strained, he didn’t dare ask what had prompted her to leave home. “Where did you go? Into care? To your grandparents?”

“No. I met Sophia and we lived on the streets for a while. Then one day we were nearly killed, so we sought refuge in a shelter. They gave us a safe place to live and food to eat and helped us finish our schooling. As soon as I got my GCSEs, I started modeling and have been doing that ever since. I haven’t seen Ellen since the day I turned fifteen. I have no idea if she is dead or alive.”

“Olivia … ” Jonathan stopped to clear his throat. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you’ve been through so much in your life.”

He ran his hand up and down her back until she uncurled herself and placed her feet on the floor. “It’s not something I put on my CV.” She tried for a smile, but it wavered before collapsing entirely. “It doesn’t really go with the glamorous image models try to portray.”

“I can certainly understand your feelings toward Hannah. But I promise you, even if I ask my family to look after her on a day-to-day basis for the next few years, she will always know that I love her,” he vowed.

“I know. But as I said earlier, knowledge and emotion are sometimes at odds with each other. At least tell me you’ll think about what I said,” she begged.

“I won’t be able to think about anything else,” he replied soberly.

He held her close and she rested her head on his shoulder. Silently, they watched the night sky.

Olivia glanced up as Jonathan walked into the kitchen. Her heart did its two-quick-beats thing it always did when she first saw him, even if he’d been gone only ten minutes. She’d have thought it would have settled down by now. They’d been “living together” for almost two weeks, and he was always around, barring a quick trip to the store to get more milk or nappies.

When his eyes met hers, a huge smile creased his face, and her heart sped up even more.

“I leave the room for two minutes and this is what happens?” He sauntered over to them and wiped a finger down Hannah’s flour-covered nose. Olivia had put the high chair against the counter so Hannah could feel part of the cake-making enterprise. Having given her a bowl with a little flour and a spoon, Hannah was trying to copy Olivia’s movements as she folded all the ingredients together.

“We’re baking a cake,” Olivia replied. Although her prep area was fairly tidy, the floor around Hannah’s chair was covered in flour. The little girl stirred her bowl again, most of the contents ending up on the counter or the makeshift apron Olivia had fashioned for her.

“Daddy!” Hannah held up her bowl for Jonathan to see, tipping the last of the flour over her head.

It was the first time Hannah had called him “Daddy.” The look of pure love that crossed his face caused Olivia’s breath to catch in her throat.

It was hard to believe the little girl’s transformation in two weeks. Hannah had started talking more over the past couple of days, referring to Olivia as “Bibya,” which warmed her heart. The silent, sad toddler was now a vibrant, happy child chattering nonsense to her doll, playing tea party with Olivia, and making hundreds of pieces of artwork for Jonathan.

“We are going to love your cake,” Jonathan said at last. His voice was a little raw. “Just like Daddy loves you.” He bent and kissed her little cheek before turning overly bright eyes on Olivia.

If Hannah’s transformation had been amazing, it was echoed in Jonathan’s change in attitude. In the days since their “argument” on the terrace, he’d stopped being remote and had showered Hannah with love and attention. He’d also told Olivia often how much he appreciated her help.

“I called my mother again,” he said.

She stopped stirring the batter and put the bowl down on the counter. “And?”

“And I asked her to be on standby, but that for the next few months I’d be keeping Hannah with me.”

She couldn’t stop her smile. To hide her delight, she picked up the bowl again and beat the cake mixture with renewed vigor. “That’s great. One day, Hannah will tell you how much this means to her.”

“You haven’t changed your mind about helping, have you? Because I can’t do this without you.”

A flood of warmth swept through her. It was great to be needed. For a second she wished it was more than just her newfound nanny skills he wanted. But she still had her career aspirations and plans. Well, it wouldn’t hurt for them to be delayed. After all, she was enjoying this change of lifestyle. She’d just have to make sure she didn’t lose her focus on what was really important. Which was especially in danger when Jonathan touched her, even accidentally.

“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” she said. His eyes searched hers.

Maybe she could lift her restriction on physical intimacy. Set a time limit on an affair. How long would it take to get enough of him? A month? Two? Forever? No, she needed to stay perched on top of her self-imposed celibacy wagon, knickers on, because Jonathan was likely an addiction she wouldn’t be able to break.

She put the bowl down and got the cake tin ready. Before she could pour in the batter, Jonathan ran his finger along the inside of the bowl then popped it into his mouth. His chest was pressed against her shoulder. His enticing aftershave filled her nose. When she glanced up, he gave her a cheeky grin and her heart rate sped up.

“Yum, that’s good. And no box in sight. I knew you had talents,” he said.

Oh, darling, you have no idea the things I can do.

She cleared her throat. “Cakes are easy. Can you watch Hannah for a few minutes? I need to, um, call my agent and tell her I’ll be extending my holiday. I’ll clean up here when I get back.” Her voice came out all breathless.

She poured the batter in the tin then popped it in the oven, set the timer, and fled the kitchen before her resolve melted and she ravished him right there on the kitchen table.
How the hell am I going to manage weeks of daily Jonathan and keep a no-touch policy? I am out of my mind.

Twenty minutes later, when she returned to the kitchen, the air was filled with the aroma of the freshly baked cake, which sat cooling on a rack on the counter. The room was spotless. Hannah and her dolly were playing tea party on the floor. A miniature cup was next to Jonathan, who glanced up from his laptop as she entered the room. His smile of greeting released a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

“What did your agent say?”

“She wasn’t in so I left a message. But I did speak with Sophia. They’re back now and have invited us over for dinner. She can’t wait to meet Hannah. Unless you need to go somewhere, I thought I’d walk over now so we can have a girly chat. Then you and Hannah can come after her nap?”

He searched her face. “Sure. But I can drive you over. Hannah likes riding in the truck. She may even fall asleep and save me from having to read that fairy book that she likes for the 8 millionth time.”

Olivia laughed. Hannah had a dozen books but insisted on the same one over and over again. And it wasn’t surprising she loved it when Jonathan read it to her, as he made funny voices for all the characters. But her desire to go early to Sophia’s was also about needing some space from temptation. “No. I want to walk. And you seem to be busy.”

“I’m looking at houses for sale in London. I have a flat in Docklands, but it isn’t really suitable for a child. Do you have a preference for where we’ll live?”

It sounded like something a couple would discuss
.
Her brain flashed to an image of them house-hunting together. It was doing that more and more lately—picturing the two of them and Hannah as a family. Yep, temptation on a stick.

“Anywhere but Edmonton.” Although she had no idea where her mother was, it was likely she was still in north London. The very last thing she wanted was to walk down the street and run into her.

“No, Edmonton is definitely out of the question. I was thinking somewhere near Docklands. Lewisham perhaps? It has lots of parks and good schools.”

“Sounds ideal for Hannah. After all, it’s not like we’re choosing our forever home.” His eyes narrowed at her words and she turned to leave.

“Olivia.”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“It may not be our forever home, but I do want you to be happy.” The sincerity with which he said it tugged at something inside her.