Cleo caught her breath. Her mother—her adoptive mother—and her real mother had been friends! That at least accounted for the faded photograph she’d found among her parents’ papers, after they were dead.
She frowned now. ‘But it must have been a drain on their resources. I mean, my father—Henry, that is—didn’t have a job to go to, did he?’
‘No.’ Jacob moistened his lips. ‘We—Robert and I—oiled the wheels of the removal for him. It was…the least we could do.’
Cleo stared at him. ‘You mean, you paid him to adopt me?’ She was dismayed. ‘Oh God. No one told me that!’
‘Don’t take it so hard, my dear.’ Jacob blew out a breath. ‘You have to understand, the Novaks were not wealthy people.’
‘Even so…’
‘They looked after you, didn’t they? They loved you, I’m sure. And, judging by the way you’ve turned out, they did a damn good job of it as well.’
Cleo shook her head, aware that her eyes burned with unshed tears. It was all too much for her to handle. First the news that she wasn’t who she’d always thought she was. And now—horror of horrors—the fact that her parents had had to be paid to adopt her.
Well, they weren’t her parents, of course, she reminded herself. She mustn’t forget that. And it was true, they had loved her and she’d loved them. But how much of their love had been fabricated? she wondered. She would never know now.
‘This has been very hard for you,’ murmured her grandfather regretfully. ‘And believe me, if I could have done it any other way, I would. But we, Robert and I, respected the Novaks’ wishes not to contact you. They wanted you to have nothing more to do with this family, and I suppose I can’t blame them for that. But when I discovered they’d been killed in that accident—’
‘All bets were off,’ said Cleo bitterly, and her grandfather bowed his head in mute acknowledgement.
There was silence for a while. The breeze continued to bring a blessed freshness to the air, and the water in the pool rippled invitingly.
Glancing at her grandfather, Cleo saw he’d closed his eyes and she wondered a little anxiously if he was all right. But his chest was rising and falling rhythmically, so she felt a little better. Probably, he’d just fallen asleep.
She wished she’d agreed to take a swim now. The idea of submerging herself in the cool water was just as attractive as it had been before.
But she was glad they had had this conversation. At least she knew now why the Novaks had adopted her. Even if she felt as if the world as she’d known it had been destroyed.
Pushing herself to her feet, she walked to the edge of the terrace and stood looking down at the marble dolphin that continuously spouted water into the pool. She wished she could be as unfeeling as the fountain. But she was far too emotional for that.
‘Why don’t you?’ her grandfather’s voice interrupted her reverie. ‘Have that swim?’ he suggested, and she turned to gaze at him with incredulous eyes.
‘How did you know—?’
‘What you were thinking?’ His lined face creased into a grin. ‘We’re family, remember?’
Cleo shook her head. ‘I think you’re just very intuitive,’ she said.
‘Well, whatever I am, why don’t you take me at my word?’ He nodded towards the cabanas. ‘Humour me, Cleo. I’d love to watch my beautiful granddaughter enjoying herself at last.’
Cleo had her doubts, but the temptation was greater. Besides, she suspected Jacob would relax if she proved she hadn’t taken offence over what he’d told her.
And, after all, she’d wanted to know the truth, hadn’t she? She’d asked him to tell her how she’d come to be living with—with the Novaks. Not the other way about.
The cabana smelled of pine and salt water. Although it was a freshwater pool, she guessed the cabins were used by anyone who wanted to change. As Jacob had said, there was a fitted rail with a row of colourful swimsuits. Tank suits and bikinis, but not a one-piece outfit in sight.
Blowing out a breath, she examined the suits rather disappointedly. But short of abandoning the idea, she would have to choose one of them to wear.
And, after all, there was no one about—well, except Lily. But she couldn’t see Dominic’s mother caring to watch her take a swim.
She emerged from the cabana wearing the plainest tank suit in the collection. It was a deep blue, with white piping highlighting every seam and hem.
It left a narrow wedge of skin exposed at her midriff, but that didn’t worry her. She was used to that after wearing cropped T-shirts at home.
However, the high-sided briefs made her wonder with unwilling humour if she should have taken Norah’s advice and had a Brazilian wax before taking off her clothes.
Still, it was too late now. She left the cabana, pulling the elastic band off her hair and folding her hair in half before securing it again.
With her arms upraised, her breasts were lifted and the skimpy briefs threatened to reveal more than they concealed. And it was at that precise moment she saw Dominic, across the pool, standing beside her grandfather’s chair.
THE breath whooshed out of her lungs with a rush. Her body suffused with heat, yet goose pimples pebbled all over her skin.
She wanted to pull her arms down, to draw the cuffs of her briefs over her buttocks. To somehow compose herself so that he wouldn’t see how his appearance had affected her.
But for some reason, her limbs were frozen like a statue. And she thought how ironic it was that only minutes before she’d been imagining how unfeeling the marble dolphin was.
She wasn’t unfeeling; she was hot and unsteady. Her only consolation was that surely he couldn’t see the pointed hardness of her breasts outlined against the blue silk of her top.
Dominic, meanwhile, looked cool and indifferent. He was wearing another suit, although there was no formal vest or waistcoat in sight. Just Italian silk and pale grey cotton, his tie a splash of charcoal against his shirt.
She could always slip into the pool, Cleo thought, managing to bring her hands down at last, feeling the slick of moisture in her palms.
But that would be a rude and cowardly gesture. And she had no intention of proving Lily’s opinion was right.
Dominic meanwhile was wishing he’d never stepped onto the terrace. He’d seen his grandfather sitting there, alone, and he’d assumed Cleo had gone back to her room. All he’d intended was to clear the air with the old man before leaving. But now his eyes were riveted on the young woman who’d just emerged from the cabana.
God, she was beautiful, he thought. But there was something more than beauty alone that drew him to her. Sarah was beautiful, but he had never felt this way in her presence. Never felt his stomach clenching with awareness, or the wild rush of blood to his groin.
She had a sexual appeal that was beyond anything he had experienced before. And he couldn’t help comparing his feelings to the feelings his adoptive father had had for her mother.
He could almost scent her, he mused grimly, even while he rejected the notion. She made him feel like some kind of jungle predator, his senses spinning with the thought of her naked in his arms.
Dammit!
‘Is