Aunt Lucy's Lover

‘I look young for my age, too,’ he volunteered. ‘But I try not to worry about it.’

She could hear the smile in his voice and bristled some more.

‘By the way, bring your swimmers and shorts with you,’ he added. ‘It’s pretty warm here at the moment. How long will you be staying?’

‘Just the month.’

‘Ah,’ he said with a long sigh. ‘What a pity. Still, we can talk about that more when you get here. I’m glad you rang, Jessica. I’m really looking forward to meeting you. I’m just sorry I can’t welcome you myself at the airport. I’ll try to get back by the time you arrive at the house. Au revoir for now. Have a good flight.’

He hung up, leaving Jessica not sure what she thought about him now. Clearly, he was middle-aged. He’d been most amused at her saying he sounded thirty.

If she were honest, she had to admit he’d been very nice to her, and not at all resentful of her inheritance. She wondered what he wanted to talk to her about. Did he hope to persuade her to stay and run the guesthouse? If he did, then he’d be wasting his breath. She had no intention of doing any such thing.

But she did want to talk to him. She wanted to find out everything he knew about her aunt. Maybe this Evie would know things, as well, depending on how many years she’d been Aunt Lucy’s cook.

Thinking of cooks reminded Jessica how hungry she was. Levering herself up from the bed, she headed for the door and the kitchen, dressed in nothing but her camisole and pantihose. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wardrobe as she passed and recalled the rather bland details she’d given Mr. Slade. Twenty-eight, tall, slim, black hair, worn up.

Not much of a description. Difficult to form a complete picture. But she could hardly have added she had a face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of Vogue, and a body one of her lovers had said he’d kill for.

He had certainly lied for it, she thought tartly.

‘And what do you look like, Mr. Slade?’ she mused out loud as she continued on to the kitchen. ‘Tall, I’ll bet. And slim. Men who look young for their age are always slim. And you won’t be bald. No way. You’ll have a full head of hair with only a little grey. And you’ll be handsome, won’t you, Mr. Slade? In a middle-aged sort of way. And just a little bit of a ladies’ man, I’ll warrant.’

Jessica wondered anew if he’d really been her aunt’s lover, or just a good friend. He’d said nothing to indicate either way. Really, she hadn’t handled that call very well. She’d found out absolutely nothing! Mr. Slade’s youthful voice and manner had sent her off on a cynical tangent, and by the time she’d realised her mistake, the call had been over.

Still, it was only three days till Sunday. Not long. In no time she’d be landing at Norfolk Island airport and be right on the doorstep of discovering all she wanted to know.

A nervous wave rippled down Jessica’s spine, and she shivered. It had not escaped her logical mind that something pretty awful must have happened for her mother to lie like she had. Maybe she’d done something wicked and shameful, then run away from home. Or something wicked and shameful had been done to her, with the same result.

Jessica wasn’t sure what that something could have been. Whatever had happened, she meant to find out the truth. Oh, yes, she meant to find out everything!

CHAPTER THREE

JESSICA’S flight on Sunday morning took two and a half hours. Two and a half long hours of butterflies in her stomach. Some due to her fear of flying; most to fear of the unknown that awaited her on Norfolk Island.

She stared through her window the whole way, despite high cloud preventing a view of the ocean below. Not that she was really looking. She was thinking, and speculating, and worrying. It was only when they began their descent that the sight of the island itself jolted her back to the physical reality of her destination.

Goodness, but it was picturesque, a dot of deep tropical green within a wide blue expanse of sea. But so small! Jessica knew from the travel brochures that the island only measured five kilometres by eight. This hadn’t bothered her till she saw that the airstrip was even smaller. She hoped the plane could stop in time, that it wouldn’t plunge off the end of the runway into the sea.

The plane began to bank steeply at that moment, a wing blocking Jessica’s view of the island. All she could see was water—deep, deep water. Her insides started to churn. She did so hate flying, especially the landing part.

The plane landed without incident, thank heavens, quickly taxiing over to a collection of small terminal buildings. There was a short delay while everything was sprayed for God knows what and some lady with a foreign accent gave a brief talk over the intercom about the island and its rules and regulations.

Jessica rolled her eyes when she heard the speed limit was only fifty kilometres an hour around the island generally, and a crawling twenty-five kilometres an hour through the town and down on the foreshores at Kingston. Drivers were warned they had to give way to all livestock on the roads.

Lord, she thought with rueful amusement. This was as far removed from Sydney as one could get!

The formalities finally over, she hoisted her roomy tan handbag onto her shoulder and alighted, relieved to find that it wasn’t all that hot outside, despite the sun beginning to peep through the parting clouds. She’d worn a summer-weight pants-suit for travelling, a tailored cream outfit that didn’t crease. But it had a lined jacket and wasn’t the coolest thing she owned.

Her hair was cool, though, slicked back into the tight chic knot she always wore for work. Her makeup was expertly done to highlight her big dark eyes and full mouth. Her jewellery was discreet and expensive. A gold chain around her neck. Gold studs in her lobes. A gold watch around her slender wrist.

She looked sleek and sophisticated, and a lot more composed than she was feeling.

The short walk across the tarmac to the small customs building was enough for Jessica to see that whilst the air temperature felt moderate, the humidity was high. As soon as she arrived at her aunt’s house she’d change into something lighter.

In no time Jessica had secured her suitcase and was through customs. It seemed there was some advantage coming to tiny places like this. She’d barely walked into the terminal building when a funny little barrel-shaped woman with frizzy grey hair touched her on the arm.

‘You’d have to be Jessica,’ she said, smiling up at her.

‘And you must be Evie,’ Jessica responded, smiling back. Impossible not to. Mr. Slade had been right about that. Evie was the sort of person one liked on sight. She had a round face with twinkling grey eyes and a warm smile. She wore a shapeless floral tent dress and might have been sixty.

Jessica was given a brief but all-encompassing appraisal. ‘You don’t look much like your mother, do you?’

She certainly didn’t. Her mother had been petite and fair with blue eyes.

Still, Jessica’s heart leapt at Evie’s observation.

‘You knew my mother?’

‘Well, of course I knew your mother, lovie! I’ve lived on this island for near nigh forty years now. Everyone knows everyone around here. You’ll soon learn that. I knew your grandparents, too. Come on,’ Evie urged, taking her arm. ‘Let’s get out of this crowd and into some fresh air.’

Jessica allowed herself to be led down some steps and out into a half-empty car park. Her thoughts were whirling. If Evie had known her grandparents, did that mean they’d lived here on this island, as well? Had her aunt and her mother been born here? Were her family islanders?

The desire to bombard Evie with questions was great, but something held Jessica back for the moment. Probably an instinctive reluctance to admit she was so ignorant about her own past.

Or was she afraid to find out the truth, now that it was within her grasp?

‘The car’s over here,’ Evie said.

It was a Mazda. Small, white, dented and dusty. It was also unlocked, with the keys in the ignition.

Jessica could not believe her eyes. ‘Er, don’t you think you should have locked your car?’ she said as she climbed into the passenger seat, not wanting to criticise but unable to keep silent.

Evie laughed. ‘No one locks their car on Norfolk Island, lovie. You’ll get used to it.’

‘I doubt it,’ Jessica muttered, shaking her head. Imagine doing such a silly thing in Sydney!

‘Think about it,’ Evie said, starting up the engine. ‘Where are they going to go if they steal it?’

Jessica had to admit that was true, but she knew she’d still be locking the car doors, no matter what the locals did.

‘It’s not my car, actually,’ Evie added as she angled her way out of the car park. ‘It used to belong to Lucy, but she gave it to Sebastian before she died.’

Jessica frowned at this news. So Mr. Slade had been given something, after all. Okay, so it wasn’t much of a car but maybe he’d been given other gifts, as well. For all she knew, her aunt might have handed over quite a degree of money to her loyal and loving companion before she died. It would explain why he’d received nothing in the will.

‘This is the main street,’ Evie piped up. ‘A lot of the shops have duty-free goods, you know. It’s one of the main pastimes for visitors. Shopping.’

There were, indeed, a lot of shops lining the road. Some of them were open but most looked pretty well deserted, as were the sidewalks. There was a young boy on a bike, plus a middle-aged couple wandering along, hand in hand. It looked as quiet and dead a place as Jessica had originally thought.

‘It’s pretty slow on a Sunday,’ Evie said. ‘Things will be hopping here tomorrow.’

Jessica decided Evie’s idea of hopping might be a fraction different from her own.

‘Sebastian seemed to think you might want me to come in and do the shopping and cooking while you’re here, like I did for Lucy,’ Evie rattled on. ‘He’s been looking after himself and the place since Lucy’s death, though I do drop by occasionally to give the house a dust through. I only live next door and men never think of dusting.’

‘That was kind of you, Evie. Yes, I think I would like you to do that. I’ll pay you whatever Lucy did. Will that be all right?’

Evie waved her indifference to talking about payment. ‘Whatever. I don’t really need the money,’ she said. ‘My husband left me plenty when he died. I just like to keep busy. And I love cooking. Eating, too.’ She grinned over at Jessica. ‘So what do you like to eat? Do you have any favourite foods or dishes?’

‘Not really. I’m not fussy at all. Cook whatever you like. I’ll just enjoy being pampered for a change. Cooking is not one of my strong points.’

Actually, she could cook quite well, had had to when she was growing up to survive. If she’d waited for her mother to cook her a meal she would have starved. But she didn’t fancy cooking for Mr. Slade. It had also crossed her mind that she’d be able to question Evie with more ease if she was around the house on a regular basis.

‘That’s fixed, then,’ Evie said happily. ‘I’ll come in every morning around eleven-thirty and make lunch. Then I’ll come back around five to cook dinner for seven-thirty. I don’t do breakfast. Lucy always did that for herself. How does that sound?’

‘Marvellous.’ Jessica sighed her satisfaction with the arrangement and settled back to look around some more.

The wide streets of the shopping centre were quickly left behind and they moved onto a narrower road, with what looked like farms on either side. A few cows grazed lethargically along the common. The Mazda squeezed past a truck going the other way, then a car, then a utility, Jessica noting that Evie exchanged waves with all three drivers as they passed by.

She commented on this and was told it was a local custom, and that even the tourists got into the spirit of the Norfolk Island wave within a day of arrival. Jessica was quietly impressed with their friendliness, despite cynically thinking that if all Sydney drivers did that in city traffic, everyone would go barmy. Still, it was rather sweet, in a way.

‘Here we are,’ Evie announced, slowing down and turning into a gateway that had a cattle grid between its posts and an iron archway above, which said with proud simplicity, Lucy’s Place.

The gravel driveway rose gradually, any view either side blocked with thickly wooded Norfolk pines. Finally, the pine borders ceased, and there in front of Jessica was the most beautiful old wooden house she had ever seen. Painted cream, with a green pitched iron roof and huge wooden verandas all round, it stood on the crest of the hill with a stately grandeur and dignity that were quite breathtaking.

Jessica was surprised, both by its elegant beauty and its effect on her. She’d heard of falling in love at first sight, but she’d always thought of that in connection with a man, not a house.

A sudden movement on the veranda snapped her out of her astonished admiration. Someone had been sitting there and was now standing up and moving towards the front steps. A man, dressed in shorts and nothing else, holding a tall glass in his hand. A young man with shoulder-length fair hair.

He stopped and leant against one of the posts at the top of the steps and watched as Evie brought the car round to a halt at the base of the front steps.

Jessica frowned at him through the passenger window. This couldn’t be Mr. Slade, surely. She couldn’t see the details of his face—it was in shadow—but that was not the body of a middle-aged man. Or the hair.

Maybe he was a workman. A gardener, perhaps. Or the man who mowed the lawns. There were plenty to mow, she’d noted, the house set in huge rolling lawns. There was quite a bit of garden, as well, beds of flowers underneath the verandas, backed by multicoloured hibiscus bushes.

‘I see Sebastian made it back from fishing in time to greet you,’ Evie said, shattering Jessica’s delusion over the man’s identity.

He straightened as the car braked to a halt, lifting the glass to his lips and at the same time taking a step forward out of the shadow of the veranda. Jessica sucked in a sharp breath as sunlight fell upon silky golden locks and smooth bronzed shoulders. He continued drinking as he walked slowly down the steps, taking deep swallows and seemingly unconscious of his quite extraordinary beauty.

A couple of drops of water fell from the base of the frosted glass onto his almost hairless chest, Jessica’s fascinated eyes following them as they trickled down to pool in his navel, which was sinfully exposed above the low-slung white shorts.

Jessica found herself swallowing, her throat suddenly dry. Her eyes dropped further as he continued his measured descent, taking in every inch of his leanly muscled legs. They lifted at last to once again encounter his face, no longer obscured by the glass.

It was as disturbingly attractive as the rest of him, with a strong straight nose, an elegantly sculptured jawline, bedroom blue eyes and a far too sexy mouth. As he drew nearer, Jessica’s stunned fascination gradually turned to a simmering fury.

Hadn’t seen thirty in many years, my foot! she thought angrily. Even if he did look young for his age, he could be no more than thirty-five. If that!

Before he reached the bottom step she’d flung open the car door and stepped out, drawing herself up to her full height and glaring scornfully into that now treacherously smiling face. No one had to tell Jessica what sort of man he was. She hadn’t come down in the last shower.

His smile faltered, then faded, his narrowed blue gaze staring, first into her cold black eyes, then down over her stiffly held body and up again.

Was he taken aback by her obvious contempt for him? Had he imagined for one moment that he could fool her, too?

Jessica almost laughed. Sebastian Slade was everything she’d feared when she’d first heard of him. And possibly more.

Despite all this, she swiftly and sensibly decided to hide her feelings, smoothing the derision from her face and stepping forward with her hand politely stretched out. There was no need to be overtly rude to him. She knew the score now. Why make her stay more awkward than it would already be?

She would endure his undoubted hypocrisy for the next month then send him packing without anything to remember her by, except a few parting shots. Oh, yes, she would tell him what she thought of him on that final day. And she’d enjoy every word!

He hesitated to take her hand, staring at it for a few seconds before staring into her face. His expression reminded her of the way Aunt Lucy had stared at her that day. What was it about the way she looked that was so surprising? Okay, so she didn’t look like her mother, but she was very like her father, who’d been tall, with dark eyes and hair.

Jessica was beginning to feel a little unnerved by his intense regard when Evie joined them, laughing.

‘You should see the look on your face, Sebastian,’ she said as she swept the empty glass out of his hand. ‘Yes, Lucy’s niece is a striking-looking woman, isn’t she? Not exactly what you expected, eh what?’

‘Not exactly,’ he said, a rueful smile hovering about his sensually carved mouth.

She found herself glaring at that mouth and wondering caustically if it had pressed treacherous kisses to her aunt’s lips. It would be naive of her to think that a woman in her fifties would not take a lover twenty years her junior. It happened a lot in the name of lust. Lust for a beautiful young male body on her aunt’s part. Lust for money and material gain on Mr. Slade’s.

‘Welcome to Norfolk Island,’ he said formally at last, taking her hand in his. ‘And welcome to Lucy’s Place. How do you like it?’

I’d like it a lot more, she thought crossly, if you’d let go my hand. And if you’d go put some more clothes on. Damn, but the man was breathtakingly attractive. On a rating of zero to ten, his sex appeal would measure twenty.

‘It’s lovely,’ she said truthfully, but stiffly.

‘Do you think you might change your mind about staying on and living here, then?’

‘No, I can’t see that happening,’ she replied, despite feeling a definite tug at her heartstrings. Anyone would love to live in such a beautiful house. But a house did not make a home, and life on Norfolk Island was not for her, however sweet their customs.

Was that relief she glimpsed in his eyes, or disappointment? Actually, it looked more like frustration. Jessica’s brain began to tick over. Did Mr. Slade have some secret agenda where she was concerned? Did he need more than a month to achieve his goal?

And what could that goal be? she puzzled. To move on to the next victim, perhaps? To seduce his dearly departed lover’s heiress?

Jessica shuddered at the thought.

‘She’ll change her mind,’ Evie said confidently, and moved up the steps. ‘Her case is on the back seat, Sebastian,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Flex your muscles and bring it inside. I’ll go rustle up some lunch.’

At least he released her hand then. And moved away.

Jessica was annoyed with herself for letting him get under her skin, even a little. Still, she had to admit that his physical charisma was incredible. It was as well she was on her guard against him.

‘I won’t, you know,’ she said tartly when he returned with her case.

‘Won’t what?’

‘Stay on and live here. There’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind.’

‘What makes you think I’d want to change your mind?’

The coldness in his voice surprised her, as did the scorn that flashed across his face. It was hardly the way a man would act if he had seduction on his mind.

‘I promised Lucy I would make your month’s stay as enjoyable as possible,’ he went on, just as coldly, ‘and that I would show you what the island has to offer. But I can see already you’re not the sort of girl to appreciate simple things or a simple lifestyle, so I won’t overtax myself playing persuader.’

‘You’re too kind,’ she countered, matching his icy tone.

His top lip lifted slightly, just short of a sneer. ‘Tell me, Miss Rawlins. What’s the sum total of your reason for coming here? Are you interested at all in finding out about your heritage and your roots? Or is this simply a matter of money?’

Jessica began quivering with suppressed rage. ‘Don’t you dare presume to judge me, you…you gigolo!’

He actually dropped her case. It tumbled down the steps, but he made no move to try to retrieve it. He simply stood there, staring wide-eyed into her flushed face.

‘Gigolo?’ he exclaimed.

His shock was echoed by her own. Whatever had possessed her to say such a stupid thing! As true as it might be, it had been a tactless and very rude accusation. Still, having voiced her private beliefs, Jessica was not about to back down. Why should she when he’d virtually accused her of being a mercenary money-grabbing bitch?

‘Are you saying you weren’t my aunt’s lover?’ she asked scornfully. ‘That you haven’t been hanging around here for what you could get?’

‘Good God. What a nasty piece of work you are!’

‘Don’t try to turn the tables on me, Mr. Slade,’ she bit out. ‘You’re the one described in my aunt’s will as her loyal and loving companion, yet you must be twenty years younger than she was. You’re the one who’s wangled it so that you’re still living here free of charge. I’ve no doubt you always did! And you’re the one who inherits everything if I don’t comply with my aunt’s peculiar wishes. Are you saying you never made love to her? That you didn’t worm your way into her affections with sex? That she didn’t give you her car, and God knows what else, for services rendered?’

Jessica reeled under the chilling contempt in his arctic blue eyes. ‘I’m going to forget you said that, because if I don’t, I might be tempted to break my word to the nicest woman I’ve ever known. You might be her niece, but I can see you don’t have a single gene of hers. No doubt you take after your pathetic parents!’

Jessica’s face went bright red. ‘You didn’t even know my parents! And you certainly don’t know me!’

His mouth opened to say something, then closed again. He looked away from her, his hands lifting to rake through his hair before looking back, a shuddering sigh emptying his lungs.

‘Let’s stop this right now,’ he said with cool firmness. ‘I have no intention of spending the next month exchanging verbal darts with you. Neither will I defend the relationship I had with your aunt, other than to say I never sought anything from her but her friendship, which I hope I gave back in kind.’

‘Are you saying that you weren’t her lover?’ Jessica challenged.

His top lip curled with more contempt as his gaze swept over her. ‘Would you believe me if I said no?’

‘Try me.’

His cold gaze swept over her quite insultingly.

‘No, I don’t think I will,’ he said at last with a derisive glitter in his eyes.

Jessica stiffened. ‘Very funny. If you won’t deny it, then I will have to presume that you were.’

‘Believe what you like,’ he replied with cold indifference.

‘Oh, I will, Mr. Slade,’ she said tartly. ‘I will. As to your accusation that I’m only here for the money… I won’t be holier than thou and say money isn’t important to me. It is. But not to the extent you’ve implied. Still, I, too, see no need to defend myself. I’m not sure if you know this, but I had no idea I even had an aunt till recently, when she showed up at the hotel where I work.’

‘Yes, I do know about that,’ he said, surprising her.

‘But…but I thought you didn’t know of my existence till the will showed up.’

‘I didn’t know your full name and address till the will showed up. But I did know Lucy had found she had a niece named Jessica working in a hotel in Sydney, and that she’d left everything to you in her will. Lucy only spoke of you by your first name. I naturally assumed I would know all the necessary details once the will was read, but when Lucy died, I couldn’t find the damned thing. It had slipped behind a drawer, you see.’