A Case For Trust (11 page)

Or rather, his half-brother. The identity of Garrett's father, the man with whom Eleanor had betrayed Matt's own father, remained a secret to all but Eleanor and Matt. The bitterness of knowing she had withheld the truth from him, Matt, who had always felt he'd had an extra-special bond with his mother, ate at his guts and tarnished every loving memory, as much as the knowledge she had cheated on his father. It was a subject she refused to address. The rest of the family, he was sure, were oblivious to her infidelity and its devastating result, and he was perfectly happy to keep them oblivious. But recently he'd realised Garrett might have begun to suspect, and while the last thing he wanted was the inevitable family rupture that would come from the disclosure of Garrett's paternity, he knew that in Garrett's shoes, he'd want the truth.

If he'd needed an example of the fickleness of women, it was there in his mother. All his life, he'd believed the deep, warm and loving relationship he'd perceived between his parents was genuine, the real deal. It was only after his father's death three years ago that he'd discovered a façade. The discovery had shaken his world, had made him question everything he'd ever believed about love, and marriage, and trust; had led him to politely but coldly dump the woman he'd been dating for six months. If Eleanor, who from his earliest years he'd placed on a pedestal of honour and integrity, could prove so easily toppled, then no woman could be trusted. It was as simple as that.

Matt finally allowed the rage that had burned like a dull ember in his gut to fan into a firestorm. Philippa Bloody Lloyd had come straight from the bed she'd shared with him to his family home, sat in his family living room and allowed herself to be pawed by his brother, right under his own eyes. She'd promised she wouldn't see Justin again; that was a lie. She'd said she wasn't interested in Justin. Clearly another lie. She'd said she wasn't having an affair with Justin, and but for timing, that would also soon prove a lie.

It was history repeating itself. Two brothers, and one woman determined to play them against one another to advance her own interests.

Except this time, Matt was determined, the woman wouldn't win.

Chapter 7

Pippa moped about the house. With the kindergarten job finished and no other landscaping contract in sight—assuming she'd blown any chance of working on the Masons' garden—she ought to be spending time on her marketing plan or her accounts or her filing. But … instead she moped.

If she tried to pinpoint exactly when she started to feel like she was losing control of her life, it would be that horrible evening at Byron Bay when she first met Matt Mason. Since then she'd been confused, abused, had her phone stolen (
now you're exaggerating, Philippa
), nearly missed a wedding, got drunk, got laid and probably got sacked from the best landscaping contract she could expect to win as a new business. And Matt Mason had been there every step of the way.

She had no doubt, as soon as she'd left last night, Matt would have told his mother and brother of their affair. She didn't remember a lot about the night she'd spent with him—sensations, mostly—but she remembered the look on his face that last time he'd woken her. She'd been telling herself it was lust laced with tenderness. She'd been lying to herself. It was lust laced with contempt. She
had
heard his warnings to stay away from Justin, she just hadn't believed he was serious either in his accusation that she had split Justin and Lucy up, or in his intention to make her pay for it. But there'd been no doubting the fury and the resolution on his face last night when he saw her with Justin. There was no point trying to explain they were just friends. Matt was determined to believe the worst of her, and Pippa was exhausted from trying to work out why.

But he'd said he would ruin her life, ruin her business, and now he had the perfect weapon to do so. Instinct told her he wasn't a man to eschew a weapon like that, even if it implicated himself.

The strident tone of her mobile phone cut through her morose thoughts. If she didn't have outdoor work to worry about for a while, she could at least change the ringtone to something softer. There was a silver lining. She grimaced at her attempt to lighten her own mood, and answered the phone.

‘Philippa, it's Eleanor. I've just seen the most gorgeous weeping melaleuca in a magazine, and I wanted to add it to our list of plants to investigate. Oh, sorry, how rude of me. I'm all caught up in this garden planning! How are you, dear? Did you get home safely last night? Feeling better?'

Pippa was momentarily speechless, her brain frantically trying to process Eleanor's questions. Did that mean Matt hadn't …? Did she still …?
For god's sake, go with it, Lloyd!

‘Eleanor, how lovely to hear from you. Thank you, yes, I'm fine. And thank you for your hospitality last night. I've been awake half the night thinking about your garden.' That much, at least, was true.

‘Me, too! I can't wait to get started. The more I've thought about yesterday afternoon and our discussion, the more convinced I am you're exactly the person I want working on this project, Philippa. So … a weeping melaleuca? In the top corner, perhaps?'

Pippa sank onto her couch, almost woozy with relief as she listened to Eleanor's excited chatter. Matt Mason might hate her guts, but he hadn't yet killed her business.

***

She'd never worked so hard in her life, but god, it was worth it. Any doubts Pippa had had about her physical capacity to take on a landscaping project the size of Eleanor's were already abating as the rich, alluvial Brisbane soil yielded to her ministrations. Her financial capacity was another matter altogether, but Pippa mentally shrugged that concern aside. The bank had taken some persuading, but in the end it had agreed to remortgage her house to allow her the capital she needed to set up the necessary accounts for equipment, materials and plant stock.

She knew if she'd asked Eleanor, she could have received an advance payment, but that wasn't the way Pippa did business. First payment would come with first results. In a few weeks, when the terraces were planted up and the new beds taking shape, then she'd be able to ask for a progress payment. Until then, she'd grit her teeth, skimp where she had to at home, and work like blazes to turn Eleanor's dream into reality.

She was never unaware of Matt Mason hovering in the background, but she did her level best to ignore him. Some evenings she'd come to the back door to let Eleanor know she was leaving, and find him leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a coffee, observing her out of narrowed eyes.

From time to time he'd be there in the morning when she arrived, and she'd be forced to endure his uncompromising stare as she and Eleanor discussed the plan of work for the day. One afternoon, struggling under the weight of a timber sleeper she was shifting to a terrace, he'd appeared and silently lifted one end, ignoring her protests about the grimy marks it might leave on his pristine white business shirt and merely gesturing her to proceed. When they'd positioned the timber, he left just as silently, and Pippa realised she'd held her breath the entire time he'd been there.

She could never afford to let her guard down. He was watching her all the time, waiting for her to slip up, and there was no way on earth she was going to. Her subversive body had tremored at his every approach, forgetting his threatening words, only remembering his torrid touch, and it took all Pippa's control to stop her yearning, telltale eyes following him back to the house.

What the hell was wrong with her? It had been a while, yes, since she'd been in an intimate relationship, but to be panting after Matt Mason just because she had vague memories of a frankly disturbingly amazing one-night stand wasn't who she was. And to be panting after a man who used his power to try and intimidate her was disturbingly like her mother, who had forgiven year upon year of masculine abuse from her husband in the name of love and security. That
certainly
wasn't who Pippa was. She didn't blame her mother for her choices, not really, but there was no way she was going to emulate them.

She'd left her mattock in the ute. Wearily, Pippa strode up the hill towards the driveway, squinting as she saw a pretty blonde woman climbing out of a car. Was that …?

‘Lucy! How fantastic to see you!'

Lucy's hug was reserved but warm, and Pippa felt the knot in her stomach release. In the Justin versus Lucy conflict, her sympathies mostly lay with this tall, shy young woman and part of her initial reluctance to counsel Justin had been concern she was helping the wrong partner. She studied Lucy anxiously, searching for signs of distress. But Lucy's complexion was clear, her eyes bright, and Pippa thought she detected a resolute confidence that hadn't been there before.

‘Eleanor's been telling me about your work on the garden,' Lucy said. ‘I had no idea you had a landscaping business. I just assumed your day job was marriage celebrant.'

Pippa grimaced. ‘Celebrancy's my weekend job, a lovely pastime, but officiating a wedding only every other Saturday or so is not enough to live on, I'm afraid. I love landscaping, too, so I'm not complaining.'

‘Come and show me!'

Pippa led Lucy back down the path and through the garden, explaining the plans for it as they went. When they arrived at the pavilion, Lucy clapped her hands in delight. ‘I can't believe what you've achieved in such a short time! This looks wonderful!'

Pippa didn't bother to hide her bewilderment as she studied the structure, stripped of its untidy old grapevines and scrubbed clean, but as yet unadorned with anything else. ‘But I haven't done anything with it yet! We'll plant it up with some fragrant climbers, but I'm afraid they'll take months to develop any cover.'

Lucy was running her hand down a column, eyes eating up the elegant timber lacework that had been revealed by Pippa's work. ‘No, it's perfect. We'll string it with fairy lights and ribbons, and hold the speeches here.'

Pippa looked doubtfully at Lucy. Fairy lights? Ribbons? Speeches? Was she …? ‘Are you planning another wedding?'

‘Good heavens, no. No! I mean for the party on Saturday night.'

Pippa was still no clearer and Lucy's eyes widened in surprise. ‘Don't tell me nobody's invited you? It's Eleanor's sixtieth birthday and we're having a surprise party for her. You must come! She's been telling me how much she's enjoyed working with you on the garden. She'll be delighted to have you there!'

Pippa demurred. ‘Really, I couldn't. It sounds like a wonderful evening, but I'm sure Eleanor's family will be wanting to restrict guests to close friends.'

Lucy rolled her eyes drolly. ‘A Mason party? The “close friends” number in the hundreds. I'll tell Justin you're coming.'

Surprised and pleased by this new, bulldozerish side of Lucy, Pippa shrugged. She could put in a brief appearance, why not? And then go home again. But if there were going to be hundreds of the Masons' friends descending on the property on Saturday evening, she had her work cut out for her making sure the garden was not only looking as grand as she could make it, but safe for tipsy guests in delicate heels. She surveyed the rolling lawns, as yet undisturbed, with a critical eye. Thank heavens she hadn't brought in the mini-bobcat yet. There was a chance of rain before Saturday, and the garden could well have been a mire. As it was, she would cut the grass and trim the edges, but she could devote most of her time to prettying the social spaces. The big tubs of Murraya from the side path could dress the patio, and …

Lucy was regarding her with wry amusement. ‘Where did you go? I've been talking to myself for the last five minutes!'

‘Sorry, Lucy, I was trying to plan what needs to be done between now and Saturday.'

Lucy waved off the apology. ‘Of course. I'd better be going anyway, I only called in to arrange to take Eleanor shopping on Saturday. I'm the pretext for getting her out of the way before everybody arrives. You know: poor, sad Lucy needs some retail therapy with her almost-was-her-mother-in-law to take her mind off her lonely state of singledom.'

Pippa nodded sagely. ‘I can see how retail therapy would be an essential ingredient. I have to say, though, you don't strike me as a woman who's poor, sad or lonely. You look terrific, Lucy. Are you really doing well?'

The clear jade eyes clouded briefly and the smiling lips curved in a wry grimace. ‘I'm okay. I'm learning a broken heart gets you sympathy for—oh, about a week, before the world moves on, with you or without you. Justin's been very good, very discreet. I'm not running into his girlfriends everywhere I go, which is a relief. I don't even know who he's seeing now. Somebody stunning, no doubt.'

Pippa rested a gentle hand on Lucy's shoulder. ‘Perhaps he's not seeing anyone. He did care for you, Lucy. I'm sure he still does.'

Lucy snorted. ‘Not enough. But it's okay. We're working very hard at being civil, at being old family friends. Hence my role in Saturday night's deception. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just walk away from this family, but … they've been in my life a long time. I'd have enjoyed having Georgia and Marissa as sisters.'

‘Not Matt as a brother?' Pippa's eyes took on mischief, and Lucy laughed.

‘He's quite intimidating, isn't he? All that brooding, brawny disapproval. He's been lovely to me, though, since … well, you know. It was actually Matt who asked me to help organise the party, and to get Eleanor out of the way before everybody arrives. I'd decided I wasn't coming to the party, I didn't want to have to see Justin with somebody else in a family gathering, but Matt was very persuasive.'

‘You mean he bullied you into it.'

‘No, he'd never do that, Matt's not a bully. He's not!' Lucy's response to Pippa's cynical eyebrow was indignant. ‘He has a strong sense of right and wrong, and he expects everyone else to as well. He's protective of his family, but why not? He's always very fair and generous, always ready to help if somebody needs something …'