“I’m planning to get married.” About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright

“I’m planning to get married.”

For perhaps three seconds Tully didn’t move, just sat staring at her, his expression a total blank.

Then he moved like an explosion, scraping his chair away from the table so it screeched on the floor and the jacket hanging over the back swung violently. “You’re what?”

Looking at him looming over her, Lacey blinked. “I’m getting married,” she repeated.

His eyes looked black and brilliant, fixing intently on her. “So...” he said. “Who’s the lucky man?”

FROM HERE TO PATERNITY—romances that feature fantastic men who eventually make fabulous fathers. Some seek paternity, some have it thrust upon them, all will make it—whether they like it or not!

DAPHNE CLAIR lives in Aotearoa, New Zealand, with her Dutch-born husband. Their five children have left home but drift back at irregular intervals. At eight years old she embarked on her first novel about taming a tiger. This epic never reached a publisher, but metamorphosed male tigers still prowl the pages of her romance novels. Her other writing includes nonfiction, poetry and short stories, and she has won literary prizes in New Zealand and America. Daphne Clair also writes as Laurey Bright.

Grounds For Marriage

Daphne Clair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

IT SHOULDN’T be difficult to tell him, Lacey thought, tipping a tray of warm, sweet-smelling biscuits onto the wire rack to cool.

Her ears, alert for the sound, identified the muted hum of the Peugeot’s engine as the car swept into the drive outside, then the double slam of the doors, and Emma’s childish voice answered by Tully’s deep masculine one.

Lacey took a shaking breath. There was no reason for the flutter of nerves in her midriff, the unsteadiness of her hand as she picked up a biscuit that had dropped onto the counter and placed it on the rack. She stowed away the tray and pushed back a tress of light brown hair that had fallen across her cheek, curving it behind her ear with one finger.

Then the door burst open and Emma came in, her face flushed and eyes alight, wisps of dark, fine hair escaping from the hood of her padded windbreaker.

‘Mum, we’ve been horse-riding—it was neat fun! The lady said I’ve got a natural seat. Can I please have a pony of my own? Please?’

Emma was tall for a ten-year-old, taking after her father. Not for the first time, as Tully followed the child inside, Lacey thought how alike they were, with their near-black hair and inky blue eyes. Even some of Emma’s mannerisms resembled his. Of course, she would never have Tully’s masculine assurance, the underlying awareness of being male and liking it that was implicit in every movement he made. He couldn’t even stand still without radiating a subtle sexual challenge to every adult woman in the vicinity. It wasn’t deliberate, just part of his personality.

Over Emma’s head his amused eyes met Lacey’s. The heat of the stove had warmed the small, primrose-painted kitchen, and one long-fingered hand slid down the zip of his fleece-lined jacket as he closed the door to shut out the gusty wind. According to the radio news the ski fields at Tongariro were deep in snow, and in the South Island farmers were losing lambs. It never snowed in Auckland, which was close to New Zealand’s subtropical north, but grey days like this could be chilly.

Lacey said, ‘Owning a pony is a big responsibility, Emma. And expensive. We’ve nowhere to keep a horse.’ The suburban section on which the modest two-bedroom bungalow stood wasn’t even big enough for them to have a dog.

Some of the glow died from Emma’s face. ‘We could find somewhere. I’d look after it. I look after Ruffles.’

‘A cat is a bit different from a horse,’ Lacey pointed out.

‘Why?’ Emma’s voice held both disappointment and a hint of impending argument.

Tully ambled over to the counter and picked up a biscuit. ‘For one thing, it’s bigger,’ he said. ‘But we’ll talk about it when you’ve had a bit more practice, Em.’ He bit into the biscuit. ‘Mm. This is good.’

Distracted, Emma asked, ‘Can I have one?’ ‘They’re not ready,’ Lacey objected, eyeing Tully with exasperation as he grinned down at her, totally unintimidated. ‘They’ve only just come out of the oven.’

“That’s when they taste best,’ Tully said, and took another, tossing it to Emma. ‘Catch!’

She did so, giggling and then shooting a half-guilty, half-triumphant look at Lacey as she stuffed the biscuit into her mouth.

Giving up, Lacey took some cups from the hooks under the cupboards. ‘I suppose you want coffee?’ she asked Tully.

His mouth full of biscuit, he nodded, moving aside to allow her to reach the coffee maker.

‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Emma, when you’ve finished that go and hang up your jacket, and then you can do your homework.’

‘I’ll do it afterwards,’ Emma offered.

‘Now. I told you if it wasn’t done Friday night you’d have to do it Sunday afternoon.’

‘I’ll do it after tea.’

‘You’ll be tired.’

‘But Daddy—’

‘I want to talk to your father,’ Lacey said firmly. ‘Homework.’

Emma made a face and turned towards the door. Then she whirled, coming back to give Tully a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I had the greatest time today!’

‘Shut the door,’ Lacey ordered as she left the room. Tully looked after her with a smile that faded as he turned towards Lacey. ‘One biscuit won’t hurt her,’ he said.

Lacey poured coffee into two cups and set them on the laminated table. Tully had taken off his jacket and hooked it onto the back of a chair before sitting down. In well-worn jeans, with the cuffs of his cotton shirt pushed back and the collar open, he looked more like a manual worker of some sort than the managing director of a highly successful business.

He said, ‘Am I in for a lecture?’ With a mixture of impatience and mock-solemnity he added, ‘I’m sorry if I undermined your discipline.’

It wasn’t what she’d wanted to talk to him about, but she seized on the issue as a delaying tactic. ‘You do spoil her.’

For an instant his handsome face wore an expression that reminded her of Emma’s when she was being stubborn. ‘I don’t see it that way.’

Inwardly Lacey sighed. ‘How do you see it?’ she asked. Shrugging, he picked up his cup and stared into it without drinking. ‘I can’t be with her every day like you,’ he said, ‘so I try to make up for it when we’re together.’

‘By letting her have everything she wants?’ Lacey enquired dryly.

‘By showing her that I care for her—as best I can.’

‘Giving in to her every whim isn’t necessarily the way to show it.’

He shot her an exasperated look. ‘I don’t do that. I’ve read some child psychology books, too. Emma’s not a demanding child. What’s the point of denying her a perfectly reasonable request when I can well afford it?’

‘I’m not talking about the computer or the bicycle.’ They’d had stiff little discussions about both when he had bought them.

‘Right,’ Tully said. ‘Are we talking about one biscuit?’

Lacey shook her head. ‘Of course not. It’s just that you...’

She hadn’t meant the conversation to go this way. She’d pictured a friendly cup of coffee over a plate of fresh-baked biscuits, a few minutes of casual talk, and then herself saying, ‘By the way...’

She jumped up and turned to the counter, scooping half a dozen biscuits onto a plate that she put down on the table before resuming her seat.

‘A peace offering?’ Tully looked from her to the plate and back again. ‘Or coals of fire?’

Reluctantly, she smiled. ‘Neither. Help yourself.’

He took one of the biscuits and bit off half of it, sipped some coffee and said, ‘I get a kick out of watching her enjoy things. You don’t really think having fun is bad for her, do you?’

She said sharply, ‘It’s all very well for you to treat her as a combination of playmate and pet. Someone has to impose some discipline in her life.’

Tully put his cup down, his eyes going darker. ‘Someone being you?’

“There is no one else—is there?’ Her resentful hazel eyes met his.

A faint frown drew his black brows together. ‘You’ve always said you could manage alone...’

‘I have—for ten years. But apparently you don’t agree with the way I’ve raised Emma.’

He looked at her for a moment and said, ‘She’s a lovely kid and .a credit to you. But do you mind if I put in my two cents worth now and then?’

He’d put more—much more—than two cents worth into making Emma’s life, and Lacey’s, easier than it might have been. ‘No,’ she muttered finally. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’

‘You’re touchy today. It isn’t like you.’ He inspected her face searchingly. ‘Is something wrong?’

It was her cue. Somehow it no longer seemed the right time to break the news, but she tried to smile and look happy. She was happy! ‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she said. ‘Just the opposite, in fact. I... have something to tell you. Even Emma doesn’t know yet, because I thought she might blurt it out to you, and I would rather you heard it from me...’ She stopped to take a wavery breath.

Tully looked warily alert, his strong hand curled about his cup on the table. ‘So what is it?’

She swallowed, and said, ‘I’m planning to get married.’

For perhaps three seconds Tully didn’t move, just sat staring at her, his expression a total blank.

Then he moved like an explosion, scraping his chair away from the table so it screeched on the floor and the jacket hanging over the back swung violently. ‘You’re what?’

Looking at him looming over her, Lacey blinked. ‘I’m getting married,’ she repeated. ‘You heard me.’

Tully shook his head as though to clear it. ‘I heard. I just didn’t believe it.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ she said tartly. ‘I’m free and way past twenty-one—but not exactly over the hill yet—sane, not suffering from any communicable disease, and have all my own teeth...’

‘All right!’ Tully cut in gratingly. ‘I wasn’t trying to be insulting.’

‘Well, be sure to tell me when you are trying so I’ll know the difference!’

He gave a reluctant crack of laughter. ‘It was just... unexpected.’ He hooked the chair round with his foot so that its back faced her, dropping down astride it with his chin resting on his folded arms along the back. His eyes looked black and brilliant, fixing intently on her. ‘So...’ he said. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

Lacey relaxed slightly. The worst was over. ‘His name’s Julian,’ she said. ‘Julian Wye. He’s a solicitor.’

‘Emma’s never mentioned any Julian Wye. How long have you known him?’

‘I first met him a couple of years ago. He was a friend of a friend.’

‘And now he’s your friend. Your...fiancé?’

‘It’s not official yet. There are complications.’

‘What sort of complications?’

‘For one thing Emma may need time to get used to the idea, and Julian has a sixteen-year-old daughter—’

Tully’s head lifted as he straightened. ‘How old is this guy?’

‘Thirty-nine. He’s—’

‘He’s too old for you!’

‘I don’t think so. Anyway, it’s not relevant.’

‘You want to marry some guy who’s nearly forty, and you think it’s not relevant?’

‘I’m nearly thirty.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he argued. ‘I’m not even thirty yet. He’s a dozen years older than you!’

‘Eleven. Anyway,’ she said, brushing aside the question of relative ages, ‘the thing is, I need your help.’

‘Whoa!’ Tully said. ‘Just hang on a minute. What about the mother of this sixteen-year-old daughter of his? Is he divorced?’

‘She died,’ Lacey said. ‘Julian had to bring up Desma by himself.’

‘And she lives with him?’

‘Of course. He’s her father:

‘I’m Emma’s father.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it? I thought there was only one way to father a child. Leaving aside test-tubes...’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Ah. You mean we weren’t married.’ He paused. ‘You know the offer is still open.’

‘No, thanks!’ Lacey said decisively, and saw unexpected anger flare deep in his eyes. She supposed her vehemence had been less than tactful. ‘We’ve discussed all that,’ she reminded him.

‘Not for a long time. Years, in fact.’

‘Nothing’s changed.’

‘But apparently it has. Or it’s about to. You can’t tell me that everything will stay the same if you marry this... Julian.’

She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t want Emma to feel she has to choose between you and him. I need you to help her understand that it’s okay to grow fond of her new... her stepfather.’

For a while she was afraid he wasn’t going to answer, then he got up off the chair again and went to lean back against the counter, one foot hooked over the other ankle, his thumbs thrust into the waistband of his jeans. It was a casual attitude but he didn’t look casual. He looked like a large, wary, wild animal debating whether or not to attack. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’

A prickle of annoyance ran along her spine. ‘It’s for Emma’s sake,’ she said. ‘Surely you can see that?’ She assured him, ‘It won’t make any difference to your time with her. Julian knows that you have access to Emma, and he thoroughly approves.’

‘Good of him.’

‘I wouldn’t have considered marrying him if he’d suggested you stop seeing Emma,’ Lacey said quietly. ‘You know I’d never do anything that might hurt her.’

‘You won’t. How do you know what he might do?’

‘He’s not that sort of person. And it will be good for Emma to have a man in the house.’

‘I thought you were quite satisfied with our arrangement.’

‘It was the best we could do for her, and of course she will still feel the same about you.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Tully, you’re not jealous, are you?’

‘Jealous?’ He cast her a strange, surprised look. His eyes were nearly opaque as they drifted from her face to the baggy T-shirt and faded jeans disguising a figure that had long since lost its teenage chubbiness but would never be really slim, although the generous swell of her breasts and hips made her waist look smaller than it actually was.

‘Emma,’ Lacey said hastily, ‘loves you. Julian doesn’t want to replace you in any way.’

‘Oh yes, he does,’ Tully murmured almost absently, his gaze still on what he could discern of her body, not her face. ‘In at least one way he does.’

Made uncomfortable by his scrutiny, Lacey stood up and swept the coffee cups off the table to dump them in the sink. Turning on the hot tap, she said crossly, ‘You know that’s nonsense.’

Tully remained leaning on the counter beside her, his eyes thoughtful as he watched her rinsing the cups. ‘Did you tell Emma not to mention Julian to me?’

‘No, of course not!’ She stepped back to take a tea-towel from the wall. ‘Why would I do that?’

He shrugged. ‘I just think it’s a bit odd that she’s never said anything. Seeing you and he are so...close.’

Lacey was vigorously drying a cup. ‘Maybe she has talked about him but you didn’t notice. She chatters a lot.’

A smile momentarily curved his mouth. ‘She does. But if she’d mentioned anyone who’s special to you I’d have noticed.’

Carefully, Lacey hung the cup on a hook and picked up the remaining one. ‘She hasn’t seen all that much of him. We’ve been meeting each other mostly when Emma’s with you.’

‘And you haven’t told her that?’

‘Not every time.’ Why was she feeling so defensive? ‘She isn’t all that interested in what I do when she’s away. Children are pretty self-centred.’

Once or twice Julian had offered to include Emma in an outing. She had politely declined a visit to the zoo, saying she’d seen it before and didn’t think zoos were a good idea anyway. And although she’d enjoyed Kelly Tarlton’s Underwater World on Auckland’s waterfront, most of her knowledgeable comments on the sharks, fish and other denizens of the deep had been addressed to her mother. All Julian’s remarks had been answered in monosyllables.

When Lacey had asked Julian to come to the house for a meal, hoping that he could get to know her daughter better, Emma had made it obvious without being in the least bad-mannered that staying around the grown-ups bored her, and had asked permission to go off and do her own thing.

After Julian left, Lacey had asked her casually, ‘Do you like Julian, Emma?’

Emma, her eyes innocent and surprised, shrugged. ‘He’s all right, I s’pose, for a grown-up.’

‘I think he’s very nice,’ Lacey said cautiously ‘He likes you very much.’ He’d said she was a nice, well-behaved child.

‘He’s your friend,’ Emma said with patent indifference, ‘not mine. Can I have Riria over to play after school tomorrow?’

And that just about summed up their conversations about Julian, Lacey realised. Either Emma was oblivious to the fact that Julian was different from her mother’s other friends, or she was deliberately shutting out the possibility. Lacey suspected the latter, which was why she needed Tully’s help.

‘I want you to reassure her,’ she said, ‘that it isn’t going to cause any change to your relationship.’

‘How can you know that?’ Tully sounded slightly edgy, almost irritable.

Turning from hanging up the tea-towel, Lacey stared at him, perplexed, and with a hint of foreboding in the pit of her stomach. ‘You wouldn’t let it, surely!’

He stopped lounging against the counter and his hands gripped it behind him. ‘I may not have the choice,’ he said. ‘You don’t think you can just foist a stepfather on the child and expect it to make no difference, do you?’

‘I’m not foisting Julian on Emma! I’m trying to go about this in the most sensitive way possible. That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you first! So that you could help her to make the adjustment.’

‘You’re taking a lot for granted.’

She said coldly, ‘I thought I could take it for granted that you love Emma and want what’s best for her.’

Tully shifted his position, folding his arms as he leaned back on the counter again. His eyelids drooped a little and his voice was clipped when he said, ‘That’s exactly why I want to know more about this prospective bridegroom of yours. How can I be sure he’s a suitable stepfather for my daughter?’

‘I’d have thought you’d trust my judgement!’

His brows lifted in derision. ‘Your judgement?’ he queried, with the faintest emphasis.

‘I might have been lacking in it when I was seventeen,’ she said somewhat waspishly, ‘but I’ve developed some discrimination since then.’

He gave a silent whistle, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. ‘You pack a punch when your dander’s up, don’t you?’ He added thoughtfully, ‘I can’t recall that I’ve ever seen you in a real temper.’

‘Don’t push your luck.’

He laughed. ‘I’m only thinking of Emma’s welfare—and yours.’

‘I can look after my own welfare, thank you. And Emma’s. You know I wouldn’t risk making her unhappy.’

‘Not knowingly,’ he conceded. ‘But the soundest judgement can be clouded by love.’

‘You’d know.’ He had enough experience.

He laughed again, shortly. ‘I’m not in love with Julian. Maybe I should meet him.’

Strangely reluctant, she looked at him without answering, until his quizzical expression forced her to say something. ‘Do you really feel that’s necessary?’

‘We’re bound to bump into each other sooner or later,’ he pointed out. ‘If you want my cooperation, Lacey, I insist on meeting him. I won’t hand my daughter over to another man without knowing what sort of guy he is.’

‘You’re not being asked to hand her over!’

‘If he’s going to be her stepfather,’ Tully insisted, ‘it amounts to something like it.’

He had a point, although it galled her that Tully wouldn’t take her word for the fact that Julian was entirely trustworthy. ‘He’s brought up a daughter of his own,’ she said.

‘You said there was a problem there.’

‘I said it’s a complication,’ Lacey protested. ‘We don’t know how the girls will get on.’

‘They haven’t met?’

‘No.’ She’d met Desma several times but couldn’t claim to be close to her. From Julian she’d gathered that his daughter was in the difficult phase of mild rebellion common to many teenagers. ‘We both realise that we need to take our time, let the girls get used to the idea.’

‘Supposing they don’t like each other?’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when—if—we come to it. Emma’s not difficult to get along with.’

‘Desma’s older. What if she bullies Emma?’

‘That’s hardly likely,’ Lacey argued. ‘With the age gap, she’d more likely ignore a younger child altogether.’

Tully frowned. ‘Desma’s an only child?’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Then she’s accustomed to having her father to herself, I presume. If she’s jealous she could take it out on Emma.’

‘I’ll be on the watch for it,’ Lacey assured him with determined patience. ‘And I’m sure Julian won’t allow her to do that.’

‘Desma’s his daughter. What if he takes her side?’

‘For heaven’s sake, Tully! All these problems are purely theoretical.’

‘You ought to be prepared for them,’ Tully warned. ‘They’re common enough in blended families.’

‘Maybe you should set yourself up as a counsellor,’ she suggested, with more than a hint of sarcasm, ‘as you’re so knowledgeable about these things.’

‘I’m not claiming any special knowledge. I’ve seen some of my friends in similar situations, and read a few articles. Common sense should tell you it’s not going to be easy.’

‘Do you think the last ten years have been easy for me?’

She saw him visibly stiffen, as though she’d accused him. ‘I’ve done all I can to make it so,’ he said.

‘I know that.’ She looked at him helplessly. ‘You’ve done more than most men would have in the circumstances, and I’m grateful—’

He made an impatient gesture. ‘I owed it to you...and to Emma.’

‘I agree you owed it to Emma,’ she said, ‘but it would have been easy to walk away. That’s what everyone fully expected you to do.’

His jaw tightened. ‘You certainly have a great idea of my character.’

‘You were nineteen. It would have been understandable. But maybe now you owe it to Emma to help me establish a more normal family life for her.’

‘Are you saying you’re doing this for Emma’s sake?’ Tully enquired.

At the deliberate mockery and conjecture in his gaze, she felt a slight heat on her cheeks. ‘No, I’m not saying that. But it is a consideration.’

‘Be honest, Lacey,’ he said brutally. ‘You’ve got the hots for this Julian, and you want me to make it easy for you by talking Emma round.’

Her hands went out to close on the back of the nearest chair. ‘That’s a foul thing to say! And it’s not true!’

‘I’m sorry if you find my language too basic. You’re not going to pretend that sex doesn’t enter into it?’

‘Sex is a very small part of love. There are much more important things.’

‘Really? Tell me about them.’

‘Respect, for one. And consideration—tenderness, sharing...’

He made a disparaging little sound. ‘Does Julian think sex is unimportant?’

‘I didn’t say it’s unimportant.’

‘A small part of love? That doesn’t sound as though you place much importance on it.’

‘One thing I learned from my experience with you,’ she said acidly, ‘is that sex on its own is worth nothing!’

An oddly bleak expression flickered across his face. Then he asked, ‘Isn’t Emma worth something?’

‘I wouldn’t be without her for anything in the world. You know that! But at the time the last thing on our minds was making a baby.’ A starkly vivid memory flash caught her unawares, and her pulse rate momentarily increased.

‘That doesn’t mean it was worthless. At the time it meant a great deal to me. You were sweet and caring, and I felt very...grateful.’

‘You were drunk,’ Lacey reminded him ruthlessly. ‘And maudlin. The thing is, Emma does exist, and I’m trying to do the best for her. But I...I have needs, too.’

‘Needs?’ He scanned her face, and her skin burned.

‘I’d like a real family,’ she said steadily. ‘I want to be married.’

‘I’ve offered you marriage. More than once.’

She gave a tiny shrug, her lips tugging into a smile. ‘And I appreciate the offer, Tully., but it wouldn’t work.’

‘How do you know it wouldn’t work? We get on all right.’

They did, when he came to collect Emma, or just dropped in and ended up staying for a meal. And on the fairly rare occasions that he’d persuaded Lacey to join them for an outing. But he’d never really wanted to marry her. He’d be doing it for Emma. ‘We get on fine,’ she agreed, ‘as far as we need to for Emma’s sake. It’s quite different from sharing a home and...’

‘And a bed,’ he finished for her.

It wasn’t what she’d been going to say, but she let that go.

‘All right,’ he said abruptly. ‘I won’t promise anything, but I’ll keep an open mind. Only I’m not going to try to influence Emma, not until I meet this guy.’

Lacey supposed she could hardly ask more. She’d always been glad that Tully had been so ready to acknowledge Emma as his child and spend so much time with her. This was just a manifestation of his love and concern, so she shouldn’t complain. ‘I’ll try to arrange something.’

‘Yes, do that.’ He reached over and retrieved his jacket, swinging it across his shoulder. Again she saw a speculative, slightly surprised and perhaps even calculating gleam in his dark eyes as he stood for a moment or two just looking at her.

He was probably wondering what Julian saw in her. But not every man was spoiled for choice. ‘I’ll call Emma,’ she said hastily, ‘and tell her you’re leaving.’

As usual they walked out to the car with him. Emma returned his hug and kiss with gusto, and then he turned to Lacey. Expecting the customary peck on her cheek, she stood with her hand on Emma’s shoulder and lifted her face.

But this time, instead of brushing her cheek his lips came down warmly against hers, pressing them apart.

Lacey stepped back, her eyes flying wide, to find him looking at her with a mixture of challenge and curiosity. Then he abruptly turned and got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door and giving Emma a wave and a smile before backing out.

Confused, Lacey stared after the receding car. Her heart was pounding and she could still feel the possessive imprint of his kiss on her mouth.

What on earth had he meant by it?

CHAPTER TWO

‘OF COURSE I’ll meet Emma’s father,’ Julian said. ‘She’s a lucky little girl that he’s so concerned about her welfare.’

They were sitting in his car on Lacey’s driveway at the conclusion of a rare evening date, Emma having been invited to stay overnight at a friend’s house. It had been a treat for Lacey to see a show and share a leisurely supper without having to worry about getting home to let a baby-sitter off the hook. Most of her outings were daytime ones, when Emma was at school or out with Tully, and when she ate out it was generally lunch with a friend.

Julian had chosen a North Shore restaurant, driving over the Harbour Bridge at dusk while the light of the dying sun still sheened the waters of the Waitemata. After leaving the restaurant he had switched on the car heater against the wintry coolness of the night, making Lacey feel warm and pampered, replete with adult conversation and delicious food. And he had responded in his customary amiable, reasonable manner to her relaying of Tully’s request.

‘You’re such a nice man!’ she told him gratefully.

He chuckled, drawing her closer and rubbing his cheek gently against her temple. ‘Thank you. I’m very glad you think so. I hope your daughter will come to the same conclusion. I want to get to know her properly.’ His mouth touched her cheek, and wandered, seeking her lips.

Lacey returned his kiss, and let him push open her jacket and stroke her body, liking the pleasurable, tingling feelings he aroused.

After a few minutes Julian drew back, breathing heavily. ‘I’m too old for necking in a car,’ he said humorously. ‘Are you going to invite me in, Lacey?’

He must have noticed her hesitation, and she felt him begin to move away.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘if you like. But—’

‘I’m not trying to rush you into bed,’ he assured her. ‘I absolutely respect your views. When you have a daughter it’s important to live by the values you try to impart to her.’

‘I’ll make coffee,’ she offered, groping for the door handle.

When he left half an hour later, she washed up the coffee cups and told herself that her feeling of flatness and dissatisfaction was caused by physical frustration.

She’d been repressing her sexuality for years, quite deliberately and not without difficulty. If occasionally a stirring of desire had made itself felt she had ruthlessly quelled it. She had a child who was her first priority, and a close relationship with a man would only cause unnecessary complications in her life. She’d concentrated on keeping herself too busy to be bothered. Apart from looking after Emma, she had taken courses in computer keyboarding and office procedures so that she could work from home, and then embarked on a part-time degree course in business administration which she’d now nearly completed.

Tully had been intrigued by her choice and her determination, and she’d been grateful for his help, freely offered from his own experience of both university study and running his own business. The one thing she wouldn’t do was work for his firm, feeling that it smacked too much of either charity or a form of nepotism.

Tully was the only man she had room for in her life, and that was strictly on a platonic basis. Anything else would be courting disaster and heartbreak. For Emma’s sake as well as her own, she wouldn’t risk that.

She had occasionally been the recipient of advances from other men. Some rather obviously felt they were doing her a favour, and had been astonished when she rebuffed them. But on first meeting Julian she was totally unaware of any sexual overtones. She’d found him easy to talk to, friendly and sincere, and they’d had something in common, both being solo parents.

Despite his successful legal practice his manner was rather diffident, and she’d been surprised when she learned his age, because his smooth, pleasant face and the fine, straight brown hair combed back from a high forehead, combined with the slightness of his tall frame, gave him a youthful air.

She’d known him casually for almost a year before he asked her out, and he had courted her with gentleness and sensitivity, always ready to back off if she was hesitant about going too fast.

Like tonight, she thought as she pulled a shapeless brushed-cotton nightgown over her head. He hadn’t even touched her after they’d got inside, unless she counted the quick hug and kiss he’d given her before he left. He’d sat at the table with a finger threaded through the handle of his cup as he drank his coffee, and talked companionably about the show they’d seen, about the latest headline news, and for quite a long time about his daughter who, to his considerable concern, had acquired a boyfriend whom Julian suspected of having a delinquent past.

She had found herself picturing Tully sitting across from her instead, remembering the way he always curled his entire hand about his cup and firmly held it. And then for some reason she’d remembered the sure, compelling pressure of his lips on hers, not at all like Julian’s tender, carefully inquiring kisses.

She’d felt a sudden irritation as Julian went on worrying aloud about Desma. Brushing it aside, she chided herself for selfishness and tried to concentrate and make helpful comments. She knew how anxiety about a much-loved child could oust everything else from a parent’s mind.

Just before he left she’d suppressed an impulse to suggest they move to the sofa in the living room. Her need to be held, to feel close to someone for a while, for the comfort of a masculine shoulder to lean on temporarily, might be interpreted as an invitation to go further than she intended. And it would hardly be fair to Julian to raise expectations she didn’t mean to fulfil.

Climbing into bed, Lacey sighed. She would fulfil those expectations eventually, of course. She’d promised to marry Julian—when their respective daughters had accepted the idea. Sex with Julian would be... nice. She was sure of it.

Lacey had suggested that Julian come round for an evening meal the next time Tully had Emma for the day. That way, she thought, Emma would see that Tully didn’t object to her mother having a male friend, and the men would have a chance to get to know each other after Emma had gone to bed.

Julian arrived quite early. When Tully and Emma came in he was sitting at the kitchen table. Dressed in grey slacks and a soft yellow pullover over a spotless paler yellow shirt, he’d been drinking white wine while Lacey stirred a sauce on the stove.

Pushing her hair back from a face warmed by the heat of the stove, Lacey removed the sauce from the glowing ring and introduced the two men. ‘Julian, this is Tully Cleaver.’

Julian got to his feet and extended his hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet Emma’s father,’ he said.

Tully., ripping open the zip of his jacket, subjected the other man to a piercing appraisal, then nodded and briefly shook hands. His dark hair had tiny rain-beads on it and he carried the clean, fresh scent of the outdoors with him.

The cat, a large, fluffy black animal with a white ruff, bib and paws, had followed Emma inside. She scooped it up into her arms, and Tully reached over and absently scratched behind the velvety black ears, his eyes hardly moving from Julian, who had resumed his seat at the table. The cat set up a loud, rattling purr.

‘You can feed Ruffles now, Emma, before you take off your jacket,’ Lacey suggested. ‘Tully, can I get you a drink?’

‘I’ll do it,’ he said easily, casting a glance at Julian’s half-empty glass. ‘Can I pour some more for you?’ he asked. ‘What have you got?’

‘Dry white, thank you.’

‘It’s in the fridge,’ Lacey told him. ‘I’ll have one, too.’ She opened the oven for a quick check on the roast.

Tully hung his coat over a chair and took a wineglass from the cupboard. He filled it from the chilled bottle in the refrigerator and handed it to Lacey, then topped up Julian’s glass and poured himself a whisky from the supply that Lacey kept for him.

‘Why don’t we go into the other room?’ Lacey said. The kitchen seemed overcrowded now, although Emma had taken the cat food and a spoon and gone outside to feed Ruffles.

In the living room she had lit a fire. Julian went to one of the chairs set at right angles to the fireplace, and Fully stood near the other as Lacey sank down on the sofa. But when Julian had taken his seat, to Lacey’s surprise Tully moved and came to share the sofa with her, lounging in the corner with his arm lying along the back.

She looked down into her wineglass, and heard Tully say to Julian, ‘Lacey tells me you’re a solicitor. That means you don’t do court work, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s not my field, no.’ Julian’s light, precise voice was pleasant and even. ‘I do quite a lot of conveyancing. Property transfers, you know.’

‘Yes,’ Tully said. ‘I do know.’

‘Lace hasn’t told me what you do.’

Hearing the faint questioning note in his voice, Lacey looked up and saw the way Julian’s eyes passed rapidly over Tully’s casual shirt and well-used jeans.

Tully took a swig from his glass. ‘I make marine safety equipment,’ he said. ‘At least, the firm does.’

‘What firm is that?’

‘Cleaver’s,’ Tully said shortly.

‘A family business?’

After a moment Tully said, ‘That’s right.’ It had been a family business, founded by Tully’s grandfather, but Lacey knew that Tully now owned the New Zealand branch, having bought out his father who lived and operated his factories in Australia.

‘I think I read something about it recently,’ Julian mused. ‘You’re branching out from life-jackets and emergency craft into manufacturing some new type of rubber-and-wool boom to contain oil spills?’

‘And mop them up. Yes.’

‘It sounds very worthwhile, a real contribution towards preserving the environment.’

Tully swirled the whisky in his glass. ‘It’s also going to make the firm a good bit of money, I hope.’

Julian smiled uncertainly. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing wrong in that.’ He took a quick sip from his wineglass.

Lacey tried to think of something with which to fill the ensuing silence. ‘Have you and Emma been riding again?’ she asked Tully.

He smiled, turning his head to look into her eyes. ‘Try to keep her away. It’s true what she said. She does seem to be a natural on a horse.’

‘You’re an experienced rider?’ Julian looked interested.

Tully almost reluctantly dragged his eyes from Lacey. ‘I’m learning along with Emma,’ he said. ‘I was quoting the instructor.’

Julian’s brows rose in surprise. ‘That’s very commendable. Sharing Emma’s interests—I take off my hat to you, Tully.’

‘Thanks,’ Tully drawled, eyeing Julian with a look of judicious speculation. ‘Actually, I’m enjoying it.’

Emma came into the room, and Tully smiled at her, immediately shifting over to make room on the end of the sofa. His hip pressed against Lacey’s, his arm sliding further along behind her. If she leaned back a little she knew he would lay it casually about her shoulders. She didn’t lean back.

Julian smiled at Emma. ‘Your father’s been telling us about your riding lessons, Emma. Have you fallen off, yet?’

‘I don’t fall off,’ she told him loftily. ‘If you use your hands and your knees the right way you won’t fall.’

Lacey wrenched her attention away from Tully. ‘I don’t know, I have a feeling I might fall off all the same.’

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Emma said with great confidence. ‘I’d stop you—or Daddy. Wouldn’t we?’ she appealed to her father.

He grinned down at her. ‘We’d certainly do our best. But don’t forget, you and I are just learners, and they do say pride goes before a fall.’ Turning back to Lacey, he said, ‘Maybe you should join us next time. We could all give it a go.’

He was very close. She could smell the warm scent of his body, still carrying a faint tang of the outdoors. Her eyes were drawn to the outline of his mouth, the faintly shadowed male perfection of his skin. At this distance—or lack of it—his blatant masculinity was overwhelming.

‘Maybe,’ she said, deliberately shifting her gaze beyond him to Julian. ‘Should we, Julian? Do you think you’d enjoy riding?’

‘I think my riding days are over,’ he said. ‘I gave it up a long time ago.’

‘You used to ride? I didn’t know that.’

‘When I was a boy,’ he said, adding rather modestly, ‘I collected a few ribbons at shows.’

Oh, joy! She felt Tully sit up straighter beside her as his eyes swivelled to Julian. Emma had turned too, staring at Julian with new respect.

‘What sort of ribbons?’ Emma asked him.

‘Dressage and show-jumping.’

‘What’s dressage?’ Emma asked.

As Julian began to explain, Lacey went to check the dinner. She needed to remove herself from Tully. He ought to carry a health label—Warning: Proximity May Endanger Your Heart. Though surely hers was safe. She’d given it to Julian. And she’d had plenty of practice at ignoring her natural female response to Tully’s blatant masculinity.

She set a bowl of pansies in the centre of the dining table. They seldom used this room for its avowed purpose—usually it served as an office for Lacey’s typing and desk-top publishing business. Her word-processor, printer and photocopier occupied a long bench spanning one wall, while filing cabinets sat underneath, and the extendible dining table was useful for collating pages or making up layouts.

‘Mum, shall I set the table?’ Emma stood in the doorway.

Surprised, Lacey turned. ‘If you’d like to. I thought you’d be talking to Julian about horses.’

Emma’s face screwed up briefly. ‘Mm. Daddy said to come and ask if you needed any help.’

‘Did he?’ Lacey said grimly.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’ She smiled at Emma, banishing the suspicion that Tully had thought Julian was getting on too well with the child. Tully wasn’t a mean-minded man. More likely he wanted to talk to Julian himself.

But she had to fight an impulse to rush back into the living room and monitor what the men were saying. ‘Okay,’ she told Emma. ‘You set the table nicely while I turn over the potatoes.’

The meal went without any hitch, and the two men seemed cordial, if a bit formal with each other. Emma helped by chattering as usual, mostly to Tully. But when Julian put in a smiling question or remark here and there she answered politely enough.

‘Bedtime,’ Lacey told her after the dishes were cleared away and she’d been allowed to sit with them while they had coffee in the other room. ‘Go and have your bath and put on your pyjamas, then you can come and say good night.’

When she did so, looking innocent and soapy-clean, she inveigled Tully into tucking her in, and he went off with a good grace, holding her hand.

‘She has him wound around her little finger, doesn’t she?’ Julian remarked. He was sitting on an easy chair, and after dinner Lacey had chosen the one opposite, leaving the sofa for Tully and Emma.

‘She adores him.’ The fire was growing sluggish, and Lacey got up to put some wood on from the basket at the side of the hearth. Julian came over, removing the mesh fire screen, and replacing it for her as she straightened.

‘It’s going to be difficult,’ he said, ‘to compete.’

‘You don’t have to compete.’ Lacey looked at him, her eyes troubled. ‘It’s a different relationship. I want her to be clear about that.’

‘Mm. And do you think that when—if—I have to correct her, Emma will accept it from me? She’s never had a real father, has she?’ As Lacey opened her mouth to demur, he added, ‘Tully’s a weekend father, a fun-father, obviously. You told me he spoils her.’

She had said something of the sort once, when they were exchanging mutual confidences about their children and their problems. ‘He does like to give her things, but she’s not a spoiled child, is she?’

‘She’s a charmer,’ Julian said dryly. ‘And accustomed to being the centre of attention. I just wonder how she reacts when she isn’t, or if she doesn’t get her own way.’

Lacey felt a stirring of resentment, and reminded herself not to be oversensitive. ‘Well, of course she sulks sometimes, or slams a few doors. She’s only ten! But I don’t give in to her, and I won’t expect you to, either.’

He smiled. ‘Well, that’s all right then. As long as we back each other up there won’t be too many problems.’

She made to return to her chair, but he caught her hands in his. ‘It isn’t a heavy criticism,’ he said, giving her a wry, quizzical look. ‘No child is perfect—heaven knows, Desma isn’t! I expect you’ll find I have my blind spots, too. You’re not annoyed with me, are you?’

‘No, of course not.’ She smiled at him. It was a trifling point and he’d probably been right. She just wasn’t used to anyone pointing out her daughter’s small faults. Tully had certainly never done so, and he had every right, if anyone did...

Julian smiled back at her, obviously relieved. ‘Good.’ He leaned over and kissed her, his mouth moving persuasively on hers, coaxing a response.

‘Sorry.’ Thlly’s curt apology made Lacey start away from Julian in confusion, pulling her hands from his grasp.

Tully stood in the doorway with a thumb hooked into his belt, his expression sardonic. As he strolled into the room, Lacey took a step backwards and Julian ran a hand over his hair, turning away to look at the fire.

‘Is Emma settled?’ Lacey asked, resuming her chair and sitting very straight. She felt flustered, as though caught in a guilty act, and that was ridiculous.

‘She’s fine.’ Tully dropped onto the sofa. Watching Julian sit down again, he asked, ‘Where’s your daughter tonight?’

‘Seeing a film with some friends. I have to pick her up later.’

Tully nodded. ‘She’ll be off your hands soon, I suppose. How do you feel about being saddled with a pre-teen at this stage of your life?’

Julian seemed slightly startled, then made an effort at a smile. ‘It doesn’t bother me. I’ve had some practice. And I hope Desma will stick around for a few more years. Young people are staying home longer these days.’ Relaxing a trifle, he added, ‘I like children. My wife and I had hoped to have a couple more. Maybe...’ He glanced across at Lacey, his eyes warm.

Tully shifted on the sofa, planting his feet more firmly apart on the carpet. ‘You want another family,’ he asked, ‘at your age?’

Julian looked nettled, then amused. ‘I’m not in my dotage.’

‘Of course not,’ Tully said after a telling moment. ‘Prime of life, I’m sure.’ His eyes were unfocused, but they sharpened as he turned to look at Lacey. ‘Has your biological clock started ticking more loudly already?’ he asked her. ‘Do you want more kids?’

Swallowing anger, she said, ‘That’s something for Julian and me to discuss. I don’t think it has anything to do with you.’

‘If you’re planning to produce a pack of half brothers and sisters for Emma, I think it does have something to do with me,’ he said. ‘It’ll directly affect her. Isn’t that the whole idea of this cosy after-dinner chat? If you want me to endorse this marriage of yours, I want to know just what sort of family life you’re going to give my daughter.’

‘We don’t need your endorsement!’ Lacey said. ‘I just hoped it would make things easier all round.’

Julian cut in smoothly. ‘There are still things that Lacey and I need to talk through. We’re not in any great hurry.’

“You’re not?’ Tully looked at him with polite surprise. Then, his eyes narrowing, he turned his gaze to Lacey. ‘I guess you have plenty of time.’

Julian cleared his throat. ‘Tully,’ he said, leaning forward to face the other man, ‘I would like you to know that I admire and respect your willingness to take responsibility for... er... your youthful mistake. There aren’t many men of your age who would have done what you have. Of course, by law you’re obliged to financially support the child, but plenty of young fellows manage to wriggle out of that, and you’ve certainly gone much further than the letter of the law. All credit to you.’

Tully looked back at him woodenly. ‘I appreciate the testimonial,’ he said. ‘Just where do you think all this flattery is going to get you?’

‘Tully!’ Lacey protested, but Julian held up a staying hand to her, giving a little laugh. ‘It’s all right, Lacey. Tully and I understand each other.’

Tully’s dark brows lifted.

“The thing is,’ Julian went on, ‘the fact that Lacey chose to involve you at all in this is a matter of courtesy only. She actually isn’t obliged to consult your wishes.’ As Tully sat rigid and silent, he added, ‘I’m sure you appreciate that.’

Lacey held her breath. Don’t challenge Tully head-on, she wanted to warn Julian. He’ll take on anybody and anything...and win.

For perhaps two seconds there was no movement, no sound in the room. Then Tully stood up, quite slowly, and rocked on his heels, both hands on his belt. ‘Thanks for the free legal opinion,’ he said, his voice quite pleasant. ‘It’s good to have the position clarified.’

Julian sat back, looking up at him rather cautiously. ‘It’s best we all know where we stand, don’t you think?’

‘Oh, undoubtedly.’ Tully’s reply was too quick, and far too cordial. Lacey saw the deep glint in his eyes and stiffened in her chair, but all he said was, ‘I think I can do with another whisky, if you don’t mind, Lacey. No, don’t get up, I’ll fetch it.’ He turned to Julian. ‘Care to join me? Or can I get you some more white wine?’

After the briefest hesitation Julian said, ‘Thanks, I’ll join you with a whisky.’

‘Lacey?’

Lacey shook her head. ‘Not for me.’ This evening was definitely not going according to plan—the underlying friction was almost palpable. She could have done with a stiff drink, but a long time ago she’d had the value of a clear head in risky circumstances firmly implanted in her mind.

When Tully returned it was as though he’d decided to be as pleasant as possible for the remainder of the evening. He brought the whisky bottle with him, but after one glass Julian declined any more. ‘I have to drive home and pick up Desma on the way,’ he reminded them. ‘I can’t risk being over the limit.’

Tully poured himself another and nursed it while he questioned Julian about property values and the market forces, asked his opinion on a bill currently being debated in parliament designed to help lower-income home owners pay their mortgages, and listened with apparent attention to Julian’s exposition of the relative merits of fixed rate and variable loans.

He seemed content to let Julian take over the conversation, merely injecting an occasional remark or query—some of them, Lacey felt, oddly naive. By the time Julian moved on to explaining the impact of inflation on the building business, Lacey had to clench her jaws to hide an urge to yawn. She glanced at the electric clock on the wall, and saw Julian look at his watch.

With an exclamation of surprise, he stood up. ‘I have to go, I’m afraid. Can’t leave a teenager hanging about waiting at this hour. It’s been nice meeting you, Tully.’ He held out his hand and after a moment Tully rose and took it in his. ‘I hope you feel confident now that Emma will be in good hands. And I’m sure Lacey’s told you I have no objection at all to your continuing to see her as often as you like.’

Lacey waited for Tully to say he was leaving, too. When he didn’t she saw Julian to the door, and exchanged a hurried, unsatisfactory kiss with him before he drove off. Tully, she saw, had parked his Peugeot on the road.

When she returned to the living room Tully was sitting hunched forward with his head bent, his forearms resting on his knees. The glass in his hand was still half full of whisky.

She paused in the doorway, and without turning round he said, ‘Don’t just stand there. Come and sit down.’

She walked past the sofa, but as she made for one of the chairs again he reached out and fastened a hand on her wrist. ‘Not there.’ He pulled her down beside him. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re halfway across the room.’

‘It’s only a few feet.’ She tugged her hand from his grasp, but stayed on the sofa.

Tully gave her a crooked little smile. ‘Don’t argue, woman. It’s friendlier this way.’ He leaned back into the corner of the sofa, his eyelids drooping as he regarded her. Now that he had her where he wanted her, he didn’t seem in a hurry to initiate conversation, so she decided to get in first.

‘Why did you send Emma into the kitchen, earlier?’ she asked him.

‘To help you.’

‘Not to get her away from Julian?’ she challenged him.

His eyelids flickered. ‘How did you guess?’

‘You admit it?’ She was dismayed to have her suspicion so readily confirmed. If he was going to be deliberately unhelpful...

‘She was showing signs of terminal boredom. I didn’t think you’d want her yawning in his face.’

“They were talking about horses! Which, thanks to you, she’s crazy about at the moment.’

‘Julian was talking, blinding the poor kid with science. She was way out of her depth.’ He made a small grimace and shrugged. ‘I guess he’s not used to dealing with a ten-year-old any more.’

Lacey supposed that was so. He had certainly had difficulty hitting the right note with Emma over the dinner table. ‘They need to get to know each other properly,’ she said hopefully. ‘Maybe Julian was trying a bit too hard tonight. He’s very anxious for her to like him.’

Tully shifted his shoulders against the sofa back and stretched out his legs, contemplating the toes of his shoes for a second or two before shooting a hard, dark glance her way. ‘Are you really in love with that guy?’

The faintly disbelieving note of near-contempt in his voice made her defensive. ‘Of course I love Julian. He’s a very nice person.’ She moved uneasily, trying to relax. Somehow it wasn’t his niceness that had shown up tonight. And in an obscure way she knew Tully was entirely responsible for that. ‘I don’t know what you were trying to do, but it won’t work, Tully.’

‘Trying to do?’ he asked innocently. ‘I thought I was being the almost perfect...guest.’

She noticed the hesitation. Technically he might be a guest, but his place in her daughter’s life made him more than that. Tonight he’d acted rather like a host trying his best to put a not-very-welcome guest at ease, and perhaps it was unfair of her to suspect any deliberation on his part. But she couldn’t help feeling that he had set out to demonstrate his familiarity with the house and its occupants, to make Julian feel like an outsider. He’d even acted with a subtle possessiveness towards Lacey herself.

As if he’d been following her thoughts, Tully asked, ‘Is where you’re going to live one of the things you and Julian haven’t discussed yet?’

‘We’re thinking about it. Julian’s house has three bedrooms, so the girls wouldn’t have to share a room. Or we could buy a new place.’

‘So what will you do with this?’

‘That’s up to you.’

‘It’s half yours.’

Lacey shook her head. ‘That was only a legal safeguard for Emma’s sake, in case something happened to you. You paid for it.’

He didn’t look pleased, but he apparently decided not to pursue the subject. Instead he stared broodingly at the dying fire, sipping at the whisky in his glass.

Lacey said quietly, ‘Things change. Emma will get used to new surroundings, new circumstances. So will you.’

He turned to look at her, his eyes sombre. ‘It won’t be the same... will it?’

‘No, it won’t be the same.’ She felt a twinge of sadness, a painful tug of regret, and deliberately hardened her heart. ‘But it needn’t affect your relationship with Emma.’

His mouth twisted in a strange sort of smile. ‘As a matter of fact, I wasn’t thinking of Emma. I was thinking of my relationship with you.’

‘With... me?’

‘We do have one, you know.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘As Emma’s parents...’

‘Is that the only way you see me? As Emma’s father?’

Lacey frowned uncertainly. What did he want her to say? Not for anything would she betray to him how difficult it had been to make herself think of him in that role alone, how long it had taken her to forsake foolish teenage dreams. If he wanted his ego stroked, there were plenty of other women who would do it for him—along with anything else he asked of them. ‘How else should I see you?’ she asked reasonably. ‘If it wasn’t for Emma we wouldn’t have a relationship at all.’

He looked at her with speculation, as if considering the question. ‘How can you be sure?’ With spurious humility, he added, ‘Hard to believe though it may be, most of the women I know don’t actually view me first and foremost as a father.’

She didn’t find it hard to believe at all. He had lost none of the male charisma he’d had at nineteen. If anything it had intensified with maturity, and in her case familiarity had not bred contempt, but rather a guarded awareness. Caught once in the trap of his careless sexuality, she had made up her mind a long time ago that she wasn’t going to walk into it again. ‘I’m sure they don’t,’ she said crisply. ‘Fortunately, I know you better than most women do.’

His head cocked to one side, he said, ‘I suppose you do.’ He paused. ‘Why “fortunately”?’

She’d hoped he wouldn’t pick up on that. ‘For one thing,’ she said hastily, ‘you don’t have to worry that I’ll try to drag you to the altar.’

His eyes were enigmatic, but very intent. ‘Until recently I thought you had a distinct aversion to the state of matrimony yourself.’

‘I never said that.’

‘Mm. I gather that the aversion was to me.’

‘Not to you personally. To the idea of marriage with you.’

‘There’s a difference?’

‘Of course there’s a difference. Marrying just to give Emma two parents would have been disastrous.’

‘I agree it probably would have been when we were both teenagers. Although...’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? It might have worked out okay.’

Lacey shook her head. ‘We were too young.’

‘Too young to be parents? I guess so—objectively. But Emma’s okay.’

‘Yes. At least we got that right.’

‘You did. I’m well aware that I’m only a part-time father. And now...’ she was surprised at the fierce regret she saw in his face ‘...some one else may get the chance that I never had.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it.’

‘Didn’t you?’ His glance was almost hostile, before he got up and went to stand looking at the remains of the fire, his hand resting on the mantel above it. ‘No,’ he said. ‘How could you? I hardly knew myself.’ He turned to look at her searchingly. ‘You’re entitled to look for a bit of happiness. Heaven knows I’ve no right stop you. But are you sure it’s Julian you want?’

‘I’m old enough now to know exactly what I want,’ she said unequivocally, pushing away a small, nagging doubt. Of course she and Julian had a tacit understanding that much depended on their children’s reactions, but neither of them had expected any major problems to arise.

Why, just when Tully seemed to be capitulating completely to the idea, did she suddenly feel afraid, unsure of herself and of the future to which she’d virtually committed both herself and Emma? Saying it aloud in an unconscious effort to dispel the fear, she declared, ‘Julian and I love each other. I’ve told him I’ll marry him, and that’s what I intend to do.’

He looked at her silently, apparently weighing her answer.

Moving restlessly under his probing gaze, Lacey said, ‘So can I count on you letting Emma know that it’s all right with you?’

‘Don’t rush me,’ he said softly, and although his eyes remained on her face she had the impression that his mind had gone off on a tangent. ‘I’m thinking about it.’

‘How long do you need to think?’

He came away from the mantel. ‘I’ll let you know. Julian said there’s no hurry...’

That last almost sounded like a question, but she didn’t comment.

Stopping in front of her, he put a hand lightly under her chin, stooping towards her.

Remembering the last time he’d kissed her goodbye, Lacey instinctively turned her face aside.

His fingers tightened, forcing her to look at him. He was close; she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and as she watched his pupils dilated, filled with dark fire. She saw her own uplifted face reflected in them, felt an answering lick of fire deep inside her, an unwilled hunger.

Then Tully released her and stepped back. His chest moved with a quick breath. Somehow he looked nearly as disconcerted as Lacey felt.

She stood up. ‘I’ll see you out.’

‘Don’t bother.’

He gave her another probing, appraising look and left her staring rather blankly after him as he strode out of the room. A minute later she heard the outer door close.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN Tully telephoned her a few days later Lacey’s first hope was that he’d thought over her suggestion and decided to agree.

But instead he said, ‘I’ve been inveigled into taking part in a charity “Welcome to Spring” water derby at Mission Bay on Sunday. I thought Emma might like to come along and watch her. old man get a dunking or two.’

‘I’m sure she’d love it. I’ll ask her for you.’

‘You’d have to come, too. I don’t want to leave her on her own, especially near water. She could bring along a friend if she wants to, but they’d need an adult nearby.’

‘No convenient girlfriend at the moment?’ Lacey inquired rather dryly.

‘No current girlfriend,’ he confirmed. ‘So, are you free?’

On Saturday she and Julian had planned to introduce their daughters to each other over a Chinese brunch at a restaurant in the city and take them to a film. But Sunday they’d decided to spend apart. ‘I can come,’ she said. ‘What time shall we be there?’

‘There could be parking problems, but I’ve got a competitor’s pass. I’ll pick you up about ten.’

Emma had invited her friend Riria along, and they sat in the back seat of the car chattering while Lacey asked Tully, ‘How, exactly, did you get inveigled into this?’

‘I’m a ring-in. Some of the guys in the firm have been practising for weeks—we’ve been sponsoring their entry—but one of them came down with some kind of bug yesterday. It was going to be difficult finding a replacement at short notice, so I got volunteered for the job.’

‘It’s a team effort?’

‘There are some individual events but I’m part of a team, yes. We rack up points for every event entered, then the big one is the raft race at the end. Apparently anything goes, short of drowning the opposition.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ Lacey said.

‘It sounds highly uncomfortable. And I expect you and Emma to give due appreciation to my efforts for the cause.’

‘What do we do? Sponsor you? Lay bets on you?’

‘There’ll be people going round with buckets for donations. But I meant you can cheer me on... and cheer me up if we lose.’

‘What if you win?’

‘Ah! Then I expect the usual winner’s perks.’

‘I didn’t know I was supposed to bring a laurel wreath.’

He glanced at her. ‘It wasn’t a laurel wreath I was thinking of.’ His gaze slipped to her mouth briefly before he returned his attention to the road.

About to snap at him, I’m not one of your girlfriends! she stopped herself. He hadn’t said anything, really. And even if he had meant what she thought—which he had—it was only banter. That kind of thing came naturally to him; she’d been deflecting it for years without particularly thinking about it.

The day turned out to be a lot of fun, at least for the enthusiastic onlookers gathered on the grassy reserve along the beach front, and watching from balconies and vantage points among the houses and commercial buildings a road’s width from the beach. The Waitemata was dotted with small sailing craft dipping and twirling between the bay and the gentle distant slopes of Rangitoto, the island volcano that dominated the harbour.

Officially it was the first day of spring, and balmy sunshine promised a real New Zealand summer, but the water temperature was still wintry.

There were novelty swimming races for the hardy-or foolhardy—involving balloons, inflatable toys and various other props. Dressed in a wetsuit, Tully took part in a couple of those with his team, and they came second in a round-the-buoy relay. Emma was ecstatic when he returned to them after he had changed back into jeans and a woollen shirt, his damp hair slick and black.

To vary the programme a team of life-savers gave a demonstration, and there was a race between three long Maori canoes, their crews sporting the swirling blue patterns of traditional tattoos on their faces, most of them applied with ink but a few the genuine article. The event was one of the most thrilling of the day, the paddles flashing in and out of the water in an increasingly fast rhythm. Afterwards the winners performed a rousing victory haka on the beach, delighting the spectators.

Emma declared she was hungry, and Tully handed her some money and sent her off with Riria to the mobile stands selling hot dogs, chips, waffles and doughnuts.

He and Lacey stood watching the two girls thread their way through the crowd. A gust of wind blew Lacey’s hair across her eyes and she pushed it back, the movement catching Tully’s attention. He looked down at her and smiled. ‘Sometimes you look so much like Emma—or she like you.’

‘She’s like you!’ Lacey said, startled.

‘Her colouring, yes. But in the shape of her face she takes after you, and her hair’s fine and soft like yours...’ Idly he reached out a hand, lifting the strands and letting them fall against her cheek. Then, before she could do it, he carefully booked them behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek, lingering a little before he let his hand fall.

Lacey found it difficult to wrench her gaze away from his, and instinctively she took a half step back.

It’s nothing, she assured herself as she deliberately searched for and found Emma’s bright jacket. Tully was an attractive man, she’d always known that. It wasn’t the first time over the years that she had become momentarily—momentarily, she assured herself—acutely conscious of it. Few women would have been totally unmoved by him. Yet he’d probably be astonished if she told him that his casual gesture had made her blood race.

When the girls came back with the food Tully found a sheltered spot on the grass for them to sit on. Perhaps it was the presence of her friend, Lacey thought, but Emma was clearly having a much more enjoyable time than she’d had the day before, when Julian had taken them and Desma out.

The girls had eyed each other like a couple of wary puppies over the restaurant table, and while Emma was quiet and polite, Desma seemed to have an air of wellcultivated boredom.

During the film, a romantic comedy rated suitable for family viewing, they sat together between the two adults, and although they laughed at the comic incidents, when Julian enquired afterwards if they’d enjoyed it, Emma said without enthusiasm, ‘Yes, thank you.’

Desma had shrugged. ‘It was okay, I s’pose...’

As they parted, Julian’s rueful eyes had met Lacey’s. Well, they hadn’t expected too much of this initial meeting. But at least it was a start.

Later Tully got back into his wetsuit for the main event of the day, a team competition involving a water-based obstacle course, makeshift rafts, and a great deal of skulduggery on the part of the contestants, including flour bombs, water pistols and even fire hoses. Tully and his crew survived by a combination of skill and cunning, unfairly disabling most of the opposition, whose craft were clearly less expertly designed. His team was one of only two remaining contenders heading neck and neck for the finish line to a deafening roar from the crowd when a swell from a motorised boat further out to sea hit the two rafts, which veered towards each other and collided, pitching several of their occupants into the sea.

Rescue boats were at hand in case of mishaps, but for a second or two Lacey’s heart was in her mouth as she counted the heads bobbing in the water before identifying Tully’s seal-sleek one.

Emma, who had been jumping up and down and squealing with excitement, fell quiet, and Lacey put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Daddy’s okay,’ she said, looking down at her daughter’s crestfallen face. ‘And it doesn’t matter if they don’t win.’

She glanced back at the water and saw that some of his crew had clambered back on board the raft, but now she couldn’t see Tully.

She searched the choppy water with her eyes, then returned her gaze to the raft in case she’d missed him. No, none of those on board had his tall, broad-shouldered leanness combined with his dark hair. And all of them were looking over the side at the water.

Where was he? Lacey’s hand unconsciously tightened on Emma’s delicate shoulder bones.

Then two heads broke the water close to one of the rescue boats, and the crowd murmured to each other and raised hands to shade their eyes and see better against the glinting sun as a limp form was hauled onto its deck. Blood trickled down a whitened face.

‘That’s Daddy!’ Emma said excitedly.

Lacey’s breath stopped, until she saw what Emma meant. Tully was still in the water, leaning on the gunwale for a few seconds, then lifting a hand to the men in the boat as he pushed himself away.

He swam back to the raft, and the two crews sorted themselves out and completed the race, Tully’s coming in just barely ahead of the other.

Almost before they touched the sand he leapt off and, brushing aside well-wishers and congratulations, strode to where the rescue boat had come into shore, a couple of ambulance officers racing to meet it.

‘Is the man all right?’ Emma turned an anxious face to her mother.

‘I don’t know.’ A knot of people was gathering, and she couldn’t see what was going on.

An ambulance drove down near to the beach and the crowd fell back. There was a short pause before the vehicle went off, and then she saw Tully coming towards them.

Emma and Riria ran to meet him, and Lacey hurried along behind them.

‘Is he badly hurt?’ Lacey asked. ‘What happened?’

‘He must have banged his head as he went over. He blacked out for a few seconds but came round almost as soon as we got him into the boat. They’ve taken him to hospital for observation, but he’ll most likely be fine.’

Emma said, ‘You saved his life, didn’t you, Daddy?’ Tully looked down at her and laughed. ‘Not really. The rescue boats are there for that. I just helped a bit.’

Someone called his name, and he said, ‘Sorry, they want me for the victory ceremony. Don’t go away.’

Emma dragged Riria and Lacey after him to watch the team collect a gaudy trophy and a giant bottle of champagne that they showered all over each other and a good part of the crowd, who didn’t seem to mind.

On the way home, they stopped by the injured man’s home to make sure his wife knew what had happened and that she didn’t need any help, then dropped off Riria.

After swinging the car into the drive and pulling on the brake, Tully put his hand momentarily over Lacey’s. ‘Thanks for coming with Emma.’

She gave a small gasp. ‘Tully, you’re frozen!’

‘My hands are a bit chilled, maybe.’

His skin had felt icy against hers, although the car heater had been on. ‘Come inside,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you a hot drink.’

He looked faintly amused, but didn’t argue. Emma was already out of the car and waiting on the step for Lacey to unlock the door.

‘Would you like a warm bath?’ Lacey asked him when they were all inside.

‘Sounds tempting,’ he admitted. She saw now that his face had a pinched look that was unlike him. He gave an involuntary shiver, and she said, ‘Emma, fetch your father a towel from the airing cupboard—a big one. Go on,’ she urged him. ‘You know where the bathroom is.’

She switched on the electric jug before shedding her jacket and going to hang it in her bedroom. There was a heater in the hallway and she turned up the thermostat on her way back to the kitchen. Taking down the coffee jar, she paused at the sight of the whisky bottle pushed into the corner of the cupboard, then reached in and took it out.

She poured a generous shot into a glass, added minimal water, and made for the bathroom and tapped on the door. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Okay.’

She pushed open the door and found him lying back in the bath, his head turned enquiringly towards her. He had the tub half-filled with steaming water, but the scanty bubbles of soap on the surface weren’t hiding anything.

‘I didn’t realise you were already in the bath,’ she said, almost retreating, then changing her mind. That would be silly, and probably afford him some amusement. ‘I thought you might like a whisky.’ Fixing her eyes on his face, she advanced towards him and placed the glass in the hand he held out for it, then immediately backed away. ‘Coffee will be ready when you’ve finished in here.’

‘Thanks. You do know how to pamper a man, Lacey. You wouldn’t care to scrub my back, would you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t!’ She paused in the doorway.

He laughed. ‘I didn’t think so.’ Lifting the glass to her, he took a sip and then looked back at her, still grinning, but his eyes were oddly speculative. ‘Why the outrage? I haven’t asked you to get in here with me...though it’s an interesting thought.’

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