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Authors: Lindsay Armstrong
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available and he and I will have got to know each other better.’
Alex reclaimed her foot. ‘Thank you. That feels better and I think an ice pack will fix it. Uh—no, I don’t mind helping out with Nicky for a few days. So long as you understand it—it can’t be more than that.’
Max Goodwin stared at her narrowly and thoughtfully. ‘You say that with more conviction than seems necessary. Why, I wonder?’ he queried.
Alex drew a discreet breath and made a little gesture. ‘It’s just that these things can…balloon. That’s all.’
He stood up and walked over to the window with his hands shoved in his pockets. ‘I guess you’re wondering how this could have happened in the first place.’
‘Not really.’ She had no intention of going into the obviously tortured relationship that had existed between Max Goodwin and Nicky’s mother, although…‘Is there no hope of you putting your differences behind you—for Nicky’s sake?’
He turned away from the window and his face was set in harsh lines. ‘She was right. It was either heaven or hell and very little in between. Anyway—’ he lifted his shoulders ‘—it’s quite conceivable I may never have got to know about him. Would you find that easy to forgive?’
Alex stood up and put some weight on her foot. It didn’t seem to be too bad. ‘Uh—I don’t think it’s a question of that now, it’s a question of what’s best for your son. But, look, it has nothing to do with me. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and find him.’
She got to the door before he spoke, and it was a question that caused her maximum discomfort.
‘What are you running away from, Alex?’
She turned back very slowly and her surprise, although it was surprise that he should have guessed her emotions, not surprise at the question, was not feigned.
‘What do you mean?’
He rubbed his jaw and frowned. ‘I don’t know. I just get the feeling you can’t wait to get away.’
‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m not—I’m fine—I mean I’d just like to get changed, maybe have a cup of tea, that’s all.’
He studied her remorselessly, from head to toe. The amazingly transformed lovely cloud of fair, curly hair, the smart but discreet trouser suit, her shoes in her hand and her expression. That of someone caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, he decided.
Why? A moral sense of disgust? Not so unexpected, perhaps, from a girl with a very religious background. And yet, although he’d mistaken her for eighteen at first sight, she was a very mature twenty-one most of the time. She’d handled herself exceptionally well as an interpreter; he had no doubt there was an excellent intellect there. Matters of the flesh might be—another matter, however, he conceded.
Had she ever responded to a man, given herself in love or lust? Had those lovely eyes ever widened and her lips parted as she’d reached a pinnacle of rapture with a man?
Why was he wondering these things, though? Human nature for a red-blooded male, or a genuine desire to know what made his interpreter tick?
‘All right,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll have the housekeeper show you to your room. I’ve got a couple of free hours to spend with Nicky. I think I’ll take him, and the dog—’ he grimaced ‘—to the beach, so you can relax and put your foot up.’
Not only did the housekeeper show Alex to her room, she brought her tea and an ice pack for her ankle.
It was a delightful guest room. The walls were saffron and the three tall windows had cream wooden frames and calico roman blinds. The floor was wooden and pale smooth beech had been used for the double bed and bedside tables. There were two thick taupe rugs on either side of the bed, and a glass vase crammed with creamy pink-edged tulips on a dresser.
The bedspread was slightly darker than the walls, closer to sandalwood, and the bed was heaped with silk-covered cushions in the pale bluish green of beryl, and
Alex reclaimed her foot. ‘Thank you. That feels better and I think an ice pack will fix it. Uh—no, I don’t mind helping out with Nicky for a few days. So long as you understand it—it can’t be more than that.’
Max Goodwin stared at her narrowly and thoughtfully. ‘You say that with more conviction than seems necessary. Why, I wonder?’ he queried.
Alex drew a discreet breath and made a little gesture. ‘It’s just that these things can…balloon. That’s all.’
He stood up and walked over to the window with his hands shoved in his pockets. ‘I guess you’re wondering how this could have happened in the first place.’
‘Not really.’ She had no intention of going into the obviously tortured relationship that had existed between Max Goodwin and Nicky’s mother, although…‘Is there no hope of you putting your differences behind you—for Nicky’s sake?’
He turned away from the window and his face was set in harsh lines. ‘She was right. It was either heaven or hell and very little in between. Anyway—’ he lifted his shoulders ‘—it’s quite conceivable I may never have got to know about him. Would you find that easy to forgive?’
Alex stood up and put some weight on her foot. It didn’t seem to be too bad. ‘Uh—I don’t think it’s a question of that now, it’s a question of what’s best for your son. But, look, it has nothing to do with me. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and find him.’
She got to the door before he spoke, and it was a question that caused her maximum discomfort.
‘What are you running away from, Alex?’
She turned back very slowly and her surprise, although it was surprise that he should have guessed her emotions, not surprise at the question, was not feigned.
‘What do you mean?’
He rubbed his jaw and frowned. ‘I don’t know. I just get the feeling you can’t wait to get away.’
‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m not—I’m fine—I mean I’d just like to get changed, maybe have a cup of tea, that’s all.’
He studied her remorselessly, from head to toe. The amazingly transformed lovely cloud of fair, curly hair, the smart but discreet trouser suit, her shoes in her hand and her expression. That of someone caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, he decided.
Why? A moral sense of disgust? Not so unexpected, perhaps, from a girl with a very religious background. And yet, although he’d mistaken her for eighteen at first sight, she was a very mature twenty-one most of the time. She’d handled herself exceptionally well as an interpreter; he had no doubt there was an excellent intellect there. Matters of the flesh might be—another matter, however, he conceded.
Had she ever responded to a man, given herself in love or lust? Had those lovely eyes ever widened and her lips parted as she’d reached a pinnacle of rapture with a man?
Why was he wondering these things, though? Human nature for a red-blooded male, or a genuine desire to know what made his interpreter tick?
‘All right,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll have the housekeeper show you to your room. I’ve got a couple of free hours to spend with Nicky. I think I’ll take him, and the dog—’ he grimaced ‘—to the beach, so you can relax and put your foot up.’
Not only did the housekeeper show Alex to her room, she brought her tea and an ice pack for her ankle.
It was a delightful guest room. The walls were saffron and the three tall windows had cream wooden frames and calico roman blinds. The floor was wooden and pale smooth beech had been used for the double bed and bedside tables. There were two thick taupe rugs on either side of the bed, and a glass vase crammed with creamy pink-edged tulips on a dresser.
The bedspread was slightly darker than the walls, closer to sandalwood, and the bed was heaped with silk-covered cushions in the pale bluish green of beryl, and
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