A Case For Trust (15 page)

‘I think we're going to have to. There are things I can never tell you, because I made a promise, but I can see the anger eating you up a little more every day. And Matt, I've only ever wanted to protect you—'

‘And
that's
a lie. Did you even think of your family, of your husband, your children, when you were screwing Uncle Jack? I actually understand it. I do. Dad was always so serious and solemn, a workaholic; I can see why you preferred spending time with Jack. We all did. Jesus, he was my hero while I was growing up. Whenever I thought of how I wanted to be—bold and clever and immersed in life—Jack was my role model.'

‘Your father was all of those things, too, Matt, just in a different way.'

‘Then why the fucking hell did you betray him with Jack?'

Eleanor stiffened at his profanity. ‘I won't be spoken to like that, Matt, not by you or anyone. When you're calmer, we can talk about this again. Perhaps now you'd like to go and find Philippa.'

‘No, I wouldn't like to go and find Philippa. You were right, I care for her, but I sure as hell don't trust her. If the paragon of womanhood that is Eleanor Mason can't be trusted, I'm damned sure the very flawed Philippa Lloyd can't be trusted. To hell with her. To hell with you, too.'

‘Matt …'

But he was already gone.

***

Pippa heard Matt's car roar up the street, and eased herself back against the verandah wall. She'd heard raised voices and had worried for Eleanor, had recognised Matt's voice as she got closer and had felt the familiar kick to the heart. And then she'd reached the verandah, close enough to make out the words, close enough to hear Matt tell his mother she, Philippa, couldn't be trusted.

It hurt more than it should. Pippa had been telling herself for weeks that Matt's attentions couldn't be taken seriously, had tried furiously to simply enjoy the delirious pleasure he brought her most nights and to forgive the way he virtually ignored her in the daylight hours. He'd never made any promises, neither of them had, and she knew he would never see her as somebody he would want permanently in his life. God, he'd told her
that
much from the beginning.

Only her stupid heart wouldn't listen, still scoured his every gesture, every word, every touch for traces of tenderness and affection, desperate for evidence it hadn't been given to a man who had no use for it. It didn't matter how often she told herself she was a twenty-first century woman, free to indulge in sex without commitment or love. Because for her, it
was
love. Every time he came to her bed, worshipped her body, murmured or groaned or cried her name, he chipped away a little more of her heart. And every time he came to his mother's house and treated her like a casual acquaintance, he crushed the chip beneath his feet.

She'd known he didn't love her. From the very beginning he'd made it pretty plain he didn't even like her, although she thought over the ensuing weeks that might have changed. He'd never let on in front of his mother that they were lovers, had made pleasant if desultory conversation with her when Eleanor insisted she join them for coffee, had expressed surprise at some of her opinions about world events as if she'd impressed him with both her knowledge and her analysis, had joked with her about her split personality: the proper professional who commemorated marriages and the girl who messed about in the mud.

She thought he'd started to like her, a little. Had hoped he was starting to care, a little. But he
didn't
like her. He'd told his mother she was ‘very flawed', for god's sake. He didn't trust her, though she'd done nothing other than keep his brother's trust. He
did
like to screw her, was happy to turn up late at her house every night, and she'd been happy to let him. But the irresistible, insatiable lover disappeared every dawn and was replaced by the implacable stranger, leaving her to count down the hours until the lover knocked again at her door.

She was a sucker for punishment. Actually, she was just a sucker.

‘Philippa! I didn't know you were there. Come in out of the heat and have a drink. I've made some tea …'

Pippa smiled bravely as Eleanor rattled on. She had two choices, as she saw it. She could continue letting Matt Mason treat her like some ten-bob whore, or she could start demanding a little more respect, from herself as well as from him, and stop seeing him.

The choice shouldn't be so difficult.

***

Pippa's hard-won determination to send Matt Mason packing lasted right up until she heard the car pull up outside her house, earlier than usual. Then the flood of anticipation and longing drenched her all over again, and she hastily let down her hair and mussed it with trembling fingers. But the tread on the stairs was lighter, more carefree, and the playground rhythm rapped on the door didn't signal seduction.

Justin.

He was grinning widely as she flung open the door, and her sarcastic, ‘Have you never heard of phoning ahead?' had less bite than she'd intended. She hadn't seen him since Eleanor's party, and guiltily realised she hadn't thought of him and Lucy, or of the argument she'd tried to mediate that night. More evidence, if she needed it, that she was out of her mind over Justin's older brother.

Justin kissed her smackingly on each cheek and strode straight down the hallway to her kitchen as if he owned the place. By the time Pippa had arrived behind him, he was already helping himself to a glass of her wine, and her hand snaked out and arrested his before he completely filled the glass. ‘Whoa, buddy, it's
not
going to be one of those nights. You've got two minutes to tell me why you're here, twenty-eight more minutes for us to discuss whatever it is
if
it's worthy of discussion, and then you're out of here so I can go to bed.'

‘Expecting company?' Justin leered lasciviously at her and it took Pippa a panicked moment to realise he was joking.

‘I'm not sure why you think that idea is so ridiculous. But I'll park my indignation while you tell me what you want. You're down to ninety seconds.'

‘I've got something I want to show you. Also, I think I'm in love, and I need you to tell me how to play things so I don't muck it up again.'

‘Has Lucy agreed to start dating again?'

‘Not me, she hasn't. This isn't about Lucy. I've met the most fabulously sexy solicitor. Really amazing. She's clerking for Justice Ellison and she—'

‘Justin,
stop
. No! What are you doing? You love Lucy.
You love Lucy
. Or have the last few months just been a big, fat lie?'

He had the grace to look shamefaced momentarily, before she saw the stubborn Mason jaw harden. ‘They weren't a lie. I did love Lucy. I do. But I'm damned if I'm going to waste my life waiting for her to come back to me. I'm sick of being treated like a slug that's crawled out from under a rock.'

Pippa looked at him doubtfully. ‘Well, Justin, you can't blame her for that. You did act like a bit of a slug. But I've watched Lucy with you, and apart from at the party, when you pushed her too far, it doesn't seem to me she's treated you like a slug at all.'

‘No,' Justin agreed shortly. ‘More like a naughty little brother who can be patronised and pushed aside when he makes too much noise.'

Pippa sighed. ‘Justin, you knew this was going to take some time. Lucy needs—'

‘What about what I need? It's been months! And she doesn't even—'

‘It's been a little over four months. I know you're used to getting your own way, and fast, but we talked about this. You promised me you were serious. You said you were in it for the long haul. Now, were you lying, or have you just lost your nerve?'

There was an uncomfortable silence, which Justin eventually ended by picking up his wineglass and chugging half its contents.

‘And that's not going to help matters.' Pippa's tone was tart. ‘You're going to have to work a little harder than this, Justin. The things that matter take work. When Lucy forgives you and agrees—'

‘What if she never forgives me?'

At once Pippa read his vulnerability and softened. ‘Well, she's not going to forgive you, is she, if you haven't got enough patience, if you don't love her enough to give her the time she needs, if you turn around and chase the first woman who catches your eye.'

‘It might make her jealous. It might make her realise she wants me after all.'

‘No, Justin, it will confirm what she's believed for a very long time. It will make her realise she's dodged a bullet. She does love you, Justin, I'm convinced of that. And I believe because she loves you, she will forgive you. But she needs you to prove you've changed. Think about it from Lucy's point of view. For years she watched you fool around with other women and still she let you into her heart. She gave you chance after chance, and in the end you lost her trust. Starting that old pattern all over again just proves to her you haven't changed at all. She deserves more than that, and so do you.'

‘So what do I do? She won't date me. She'll hardly even talk to me. Mum's party was supposed to be our new beginning, and you know how that ended.'

‘I know how it ended,' Pippa mused. ‘But I don't know how it started. What caused the fight?'

‘I asked her to go to the Bar Association Ball with me and she said she was already going. I asked her who with, and she said it was none of my business. And, well, then I …'

‘Then you what?'

‘Then I told her whoever it was, if she slept with him I'd make sure he never got another legal brief again.'

‘Oh, Justin, you can't say things like that.'

‘I know,' he said morosely. ‘I could make it happen, but there's a risk the Association would hear of it and suspend me.'

‘No, I meant you can't make threats like that to Lucy! Your double standards are breathtaking. While you're working things out with her, you have to be prepared she's going to try out some different relationships herself. She may well sleep with other men and that
isn't
any of your business. You're not going to win her back by trying to force her back to you.'

‘Well, what am I supposed to do, then? When I tried to remind her how great we are together, when I kissed her, she bloody hit me. How am I supposed to persuade her? Tell me what to do and I'll do it.'

‘Oh, come on, Justin. I've told you what to do. And if you don't like my suggestions then come up with some of your own. You're supposed to be the master negotiator—start thinking with your brain instead of your penis.'

Dark eyes narrowed, Justin glared at her and Pippa suddenly worried she'd gone too far. ‘Are you calling me a dickhead, Philippa Lloyd?'

Her relief was palpable. She shrugged lightly. ‘If the cap fits …'

He downed his wine and pulled her into a friendly hug. ‘Fair enough. I'll do as you say, but on one condition.'

Pippa pulled her head back from his chest and craned her neck to look at him. ‘You're making conditions for me, now? You're lucky I'm still hoping to retain you as a future wedding client. What is it?'

‘I need you to come to the ball with me. Lucy's going with someone else, you won't let me take the spectacularly sexy clerk, and I'm damned if I'm going stag so it'll have to be you.'

‘Justin, as ever, your charm leaves me breathless. How can I refuse?'

‘Excellent. Let's drink to it.'

‘No. I was serious, I want you out of here. I have to work tomorrow.'

‘Gardening or wedding?'

‘A wedding. And it's landscaping, not gardening, as you would know if you ever listened to my half of our conversations, and I—what are you looking at me like that for?'

‘Philippa, I am deeply, sincerely, seriously sorry for making you feel like I don't listen to you, and for belittling your magnificent artistry and skill in transforming suburban deserts into tropical oases.'

Pippa looked at him cynically. ‘And? Well, go on, there has to be an “and”.'

‘And nothing. I just wanted to let you know I appreciate you.'

‘
And?
'

‘You know, it really makes me uncomfortable how well you know me. Okay,
and
… it doesn't matter. I've disturbed you enough for one night. I'll let you go to bed, and take my pitiful excuse for a prize-winning photographic folio home with me.'

Pippa squealed with delight. ‘You won a prize? For your photos? Justin, that's fantastic! Show me! Is it a trophy?'

‘Better than a trophy.' He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket with a flourish and presented it to her, and when she was too slow opening it, took it back and extracted the glossy pamphlet, holding it so close Pippa had to screw up her eyes to read it.

‘A gallery exhibition? At the Powerhouse? Congratulations! I'm so thrilled for you.'

‘And it's opening next week. And of course I need you to come, because you are directly responsible for my success.'

‘
I
am? How?'

‘Well, putting aside your encouragement of the idea in the first place, and of my early bumbling attempts, you were the one who helped me caption my first nature assignment with the correct names of species. Without you, I would never have won this exhibition.'

‘Oh, Justin,' Pippa waved her hand in denial. ‘That was nothing …'

‘Really? Nothing? Excellent. So would you mind doing it again? It's just I need to get captions for the exhibition to the curator tomorrow, and I have all these new photos of green curly things I can't identify.'

Trapped. Pippa couldn't help but smile at his feigned helplessness. It seemed Justin knew her pretty well too. She discreetly checked her watch. ‘All right, you win. Show me the photos. But no more wine, and I still want you out the door in thirty minutes.'