His woman. When had he allowed himself to think of her as that?
‘I’ll be awake and waiting for you,’ he said.
She slid behind the wheel of his car, as if she drove a high-performance sports vehicle every day, her dress sliding tantalisingly high up on her thighs. She laughed in exhilaration as the car started with a low, throaty roar.
‘I am so going to enjoy this,’ she called out to him.
He watched as she drove his favourite car, which no one else but he had ever driven, out of the garage and into the night, then he slammed his fist on the wall of the garage. He wanted to be with her. But here he was, surrounded by expensive cars in the garage of his multimillion-dollar mansion but cold and alone.
Only then came the full realisation of the prison he had created for himself.
* * *
Declan knew the second he got back in the house, his mother would grill him. She did not disappoint.
‘Who is Shelley Fairhill and where did you find her?’ she demanded, getting up from the sofa in the formal living room that was only used on her visits.
Declan shrugged. ‘She found me,’ he said. ‘She knocked on the door and asked could she help me with the garden.’
‘And you didn’t glower and send her on the way?’
‘Yes, I did,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘But she persevered.’ He added glowering to the list of words people used to describe him. Forbidding was still his favourite.
‘I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall for that encounter. Did she—?’
‘Long story.’
‘And one I’m unlikely to hear the details of,’ said his shrewd mother. ‘She’s beautiful, Declan. And obviously very talented at what she does.’
He nodded. What he felt about Shelley was his own business—he did not want to discuss it with anyone, certainly not his mother.
‘Have you even noticed how beautiful Shelley is?’ She put up her hand. ‘Don’t answer that. I saw the way you were looking at her—and the way she was looking at you.’
‘What do you mean, the way she was looking at me?’
His mother laughed. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I haven’t seen you smile so much for...for a long time.’
‘You’re imagining things,’ he said stiffly.
‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get to be where I am without being able to read people. By the way, why was her car parked in your driveway?’
Reluctantly he replied. ‘Because she’s living in the apartment.’
‘Oh,’ said his mother with raised eyebrows.
‘Nothing like that,’ he said too hastily. ‘She just needed somewhere to stay.’
His mother sighed. ‘I believe you. But for your sake I wish it were otherwise. She’s lovely, Declan—warm, open and she has kind eyes. I had a really good feeling about her.’
Declan gritted his teeth. ‘She’s all that and more,’ he said. ‘But what is it to you?’
His mother stilled. ‘Despite what you think, I’m desperately concerned about you. Lisa was the best thing that ever happened to you, to the family. But she’s gone, Declan. You’re young. You can’t let yourself just shrivel up and die inside because we lost Lisa. She would never have wanted you to lock yourself away like this.’
Declan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. ‘You know I—’
‘You blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault. Lisa died of a sudden embolism. Nothing could have predicted it or prevented it. And baby Alice? That precious little girl was just born too soon. You mustn’t let the tragedy of their loss cut you off from happiness in your future.’
Declan shifted from foot to foot. ‘It’s not like that.’ He had convinced Lisa to get pregnant when she’d wanted to wait and she’d died in childbirth. His fault.
‘Isn’t it?’ His mother persevered, much as she must do in court. ‘I know I didn’t love you enough when you were that fiercely intelligent, questioning little boy who had his own agenda from the word go. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I’m doing my best to make up for it. You need love more now than you did when you were that little boy.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’
‘But you must,’ she said. ‘Don’t close yourself off from the possibility of love. I saw how you looked at Shelley. I saw how she looked at you. You deserve love, no matter what you might think.’
Her voice caught in a tremor and he realised how difficult it was for his mother to be talking to him like this. He also saw how sincere she was.
‘I’ll take that on board,’ he said, relenting.
‘Whatever you might have thought in the past, whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’m on your side and I always will be. But I don’t want to grow into one of those old women protecting her sad, middle-aged son who never got over his wife’s loss. There’s a beautiful young woman there who might help you move on. Shelley won’t wait for ever, you know. Not a girl who looks like she does.’
‘It’s not just the way she looks,’ he muttered. ‘She’s kind, honest, good. So much more than just beautiful.’
He decided to tell his mother about the new bed of roses Shelley had planted in honour of Lisa and Alice.
‘What an incredibly sensitive and inspired thing to do.’ His mother’s voice was choked and she paused to wipe tears from her eyes. ‘The tragedy of it comes rushing back. I wish they were both still with us. I loved Lisa like a daughter. But this Shelley, she’s a rare one, Declan. Don’t let her go. Trust me, it will be like another little death for you if you do.’
Declan thought about what she’d said long after his mother left to go home. All through the long, lonely evening as he worked on the background of the Estella portrait and waited for the sound of his car bringing Shelley back home.
SHELLEY RECKONED SHE could have gone home from Lynne’s party with the phone numbers of at least three good-looking, single—or so they said—eligible men. And that wasn’t counting the television producer—she’d actually given him her number after ascertaining he was the real deal.
There was something to be said about a backless dress. Or maybe it was the reckless confidence that came from being so thoroughly kissed by the man she wanted before she’d sashayed on to the party. The power of pulling up to a party in a sports car probably did something to enhance her desirability to the male population, too.
But she didn’t collect any phone numbers. There was only one man who interested her and she was on her way home to him. Well, not technically home to him. He lived in the mansion, she lived in the housekeeper’s apartment and she’d be wise to remember that.
It was well past midnight when she pulled into the garage—the party was still in full swing but she’d only stayed as late as she did for Lynne’s sake. Before she could think about texting Declan that she was back, the connecting door from the main house opened and he was there. He still wore the same jacket, but his hair was dishevelled as though he had been pushing through it with his fingers as she’d noticed