‘Ready, Jas?’
Jas, who had been throwing stones into the water, nodded and ran off up the hill. Ben tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled after her. As he walked, an image from an article in one of the Sunday magazines filled his head. Tobias Thornton had given an extensive interview about his new life with a blonde actress whose name Ben was struggling to remember. Of course, there had been photos of Louise and Toby in their glory days.
He punched his hands deeper into his pockets. What did it mean if he admitted to himself that the photos had made him feel sick? He couldn’t figure out why; they were fairly innocuous shots of the then Mr and Mrs Thornton on the red carpet somewhere. The body language had been convincing-he’d had an arm around her waist and she’d hooked a hand around his neck. They’d been smiling.
Ben kicked a stone on the path and watched it hit a tree trunk, then roll down the hill out of sight. And then he thought about her eyes. There had been a deadness there, just a hint. Most people, if they’d noticed it at all, would have just assumed it was because it had been the five-hundredth photo they’d posed for that evening. Not him.
That same soul-deep weariness had been in her eyes the day he’d first met her, and no one had been watching her then. He had a good mind to track her ex down and give him a piece of his mind for putting it there.
Ben stopped in his tracks. What he really wanted to do was punch Tobias Thornton’s lights out. When had he suddenly got so primitive? He never wanted to hit people. It just wasn’t him. Not even Megan’s new man. Actually, he felt kind of sorry for that guy…
Slowly, he started walking again, then picked up speed because he realised that he couldn’t see Jas any more. He called out and a few moments later saw a flash of purple in between the trees up ahead.
His heart rate doubled. Would Louise be up there on the lawn, strolling as Jack played? Or would she be waiting for him in the kitchen, the kettle blowing steam? He could easily have sent a guy to care for the carnivorous plants in the greenhouses, but he’d kept on coming on Sundays, hoping she wouldn’t ask him why he still dealt with it personally.
Sunday was now officially his favourite day of the week. And he had a feeling that Louise knew the plants were just an excuse. Each week they spent more and more of his visit talking, walking round the grounds. He’d never drunk so much tea in his life. But if those giant mugs kept him leaning against the rustic kitchen counters while she hummed and pottered round the kitchen, stopping every now and then to smile at him, how could he complain?
At that moment the trees parted and he saw her. It felt as if every molecule of blood had drained from his body. She was chasing both Jack and Jasmine, who were running round in circles, and when she saw him she stopped, brushed the hair from her face and waved.
Normally, he didn’t have any problem speaking his mind. He was never rude or insensitive, but he just called things as he saw them. So why, when all he could think about was asking her out to dinner, or see if they could spend some time alone-just the two of them-did the syllables never leave his lips?
He was now within shouting distance. Hands that had been cold and stiff were now clammy in his pockets and he took them out and did a half-wave with one hand. Louise smiled and his insides jumped up and down for joy. The warm laughter in her eyes erased any form of sensible greeting.
Just admit it, Ben. You’ve got it bad.
He was here.
She waved, just to seem friendly. And, of course, if she didn’t smile it would look funny, so she did. Only she didn’t seem to be able to control how wide, how sparkling it was.
He took long strides across the lawn, minding the gouges of red earth revealed by the landscaping team. Something to do with re-establishing the rose garden, she’d been told. The details were a little fuzzy at present. He gave a little wave, but his face remained serious.
She didn’t care. She liked it when he looked serious. His jaw would tense sometimes when he was in this kind of mood and his eyes became dark. She allowed herself a little sigh before he got close enough to see the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest.
She was playing with fire, she knew. But there was nothing wrong with fire if you kept your distance, let it warm you but not scorch you. And that was what she intended to do. To keep her distance from Ben Oliver- romantically, at least. But it had been so long since she’d felt this alive.
What was the harm in a little crush? To feel her blood pumping and all those endorphins speeding round her system. It was good for her. And no harm ever came from a little bit of daydreaming.
That was all it would ever be. That was all she would allow herself.
It would be enough, because to indulge in more just wasn’t a good idea for her-or Jack. She’d felt this way before-worse, even. She’d fallen so totally in love that she’d lost herself completely, had allowed herself to become completely overshadowed. It would happen again if she let it. She couldn’t help herself. When she fell, she fell hard, completely.
She took a sideways look at Ben as he joined her and they silently started walking towards the kitchen. Jas and Jack had already disappeared inside and were probably trying to work out how they could raid the biscuit barrel without being rumbled.
He was walking with his head bowed, looking at the ground in front of his feet, but he must have sensed her looking at him, because he mirrored her and the smallest of smiles crossed his lips. Without warning, another sigh sneaked up and overtook her.
Ben Oliver represented all she’d ever wanted in a man, she could see that now. He was strong and kind, thoughtful and funny-although sometimes without meaning to be, but that just made it all the more charming.
He was all wrong for her, of course.
Or maybe, more to the point, she was all wrong for him. She could picture a new wife for Ben quite clearly in her mind: someone who was capable and strong. A woman who had a quiet confidence, a gentle heart. And when evening came, and it was time to turn out the light, he would reach across and stroke her face with the palm of his hand, look deep into her eyes…
Tiny pinpricks behind her eyes took her by surprise and she was glad they’d reached the back door and she could busy herself removing her coat and hat and putting the kettle on before she had to face him again.
He hadn’t said it out loud, but she knew he would do anything to keep his and Jas’s life on an even keel. And so it should be. It was just such a pity that the only thing she could bring him were the ups and downs of a rollercoaster life-a life that was way out of control and she was powerless to stop. She didn’t wish it on herself, so how could she wish it on him when he’d worked so hard to build a solid foundation for himself and his daughter?
Louise watched Ben as he sat down with the kids at the kitchen table and refereed as they argued about who had had the most cookies. Another sigh. And this one hurt right down to her toes. If only this could be real…
She shook herself and made the tea. There was no point wishing for things that couldn’t be, but something about Ben made her feel whole, alive in a way she’d never known. So she was going to hang on to that feeling as long as she could and use this crush, this infatuation-whatever it was-to help her heal.
And, one day, when she was good as new, she wouldn’t need to dream about him any more and she’d let the fantasies go and watch them swirl up into the air and blow away like the autumn leaves.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOUISE had convinced Jack to help her make gingerbread decorations for the Christmas tree. However, she’d overestimated the attention span of an eight-year-old less than a week before Christmas. Once Jack had consumed vast amounts of biscuit dough-mainly while she’d been demonstrating how to use the different shaped cookie cutters-he’d run off. She’d had to tell him off for sliding down the banisters twice already.
Carefully, she removed another tray of golden-brown angels from the oven, replaced them with uncooked stars and shut the oven door. They’d have enough biscuits for ten Christmas trees once they’d finished.
Later this afternoon, once Jack calmed down a little, they’d decorate the tree in the drawing room. She couldn’t wait to see his little face when they dimmed the house lights and hit the switch for the twinkling lights. Yes, late
