“I know everyone thought Mum was his mistress,” Dani said moodily. “I’ve lived with the scandalised looks and whispers all my life. But my mum has more class in her little finger than all of them.”
“But there was you.” If Howard didn’t want to acknowledge his love child, why did he flaunt them, keep them in his house?
Her gaze was unwavering, if a little cool. “Howard’s not my father,” she said tiredly. “Look, I know you hate him and I know he has—had—his faults. But he looked after us.” She looked down, picking at the hem of her dress. “Which is a lot more than can be said for my real father.”
“Who is …?”
“Who cares?” she shot back. “Not him, that’s for sure.”
Quinn held up his hands, remembering the cliché about redheads and temper. “Sorry. Touchy subject, huh?”
He sympathised but was still reeling a little to find she wasn’t Blackstone’s daughter. That was a turn up for the books.
“Not touchy, boring.” Her voice dropped. “He didn’t want us. End of story.” She stared moodily out at nothing but sea, and the sun glinted off her copper curls. “I wouldn’t have minded very much if Howard was my father. At least he was there.”
Quinn supposed he should feel guilty. Sleeping with Dani wasn’t a victory over the old man, after all. Regardless, it still felt damn good.
And then she smiled brilliantly, unfolded those glorious legs and came to stand close and rummage through the hamper. “Who taught you to sail?”
“My father.” Quinn spent many a Saturday morning on the water as a kid until his parents decided the boat was a luxury and the money would be better spent elsewhere.
“Was it very rough, growing up in a foster home?”
“Rough?” He smiled. “Sometimes. Bloody noisy. It was more or less open house. I doubt even Mum and Dad knew how many kids were under the roof at any one time.”
“You called them Mum and Dad?”
“They are my mum and dad,” Quinn said, bemused.
“Well, yes, but how long were you with them?” She looked confused.
Quinn scratched his head. “All my life. I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I wasn’t a foster kid. All the other kids were.”
Dani’s face cleared. “Oh, I see. So you and your parents ran a foster home?”
“Something like that,” Quinn agreed. “They have a big old villa in Newtown, off King Street. Lots of rooms, all in various states of disrepair, and a kitchen that’s the size of a hotel dining room.”
“Not at all what I imagined for you.”
She moved back to her seat, but her enticing floral scent lingered and he sniffed carefully, keeping it for himself. “What did you imagine?”
Dani grinned. “A grand old mansion with a butler. Everybody dressed for dinner and speaking very na-i-cely.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry but you’re just so damned refined.”
Quinn chuckled. “My parents would love that. They are the most unpretentious people I know. Old hippies, very socially aware. They don’t care about money or nice things, only sharing what they have with the less fortunate.” He paused. “I’m sure I embarrass them, successful capitalist that I am. Not that they don’t hit me up every couple of months with some harebrained fund-raising scheme or other.”
She crossed one shapely leg over the other, snagging his attention, holding it for seconds. What was this hold she had over him? She was younger than him by seven years, but that wasn’t the allure. He’d found her his equal in maturity and intelligence.
“You must have seen some sad things, though.”
“Kids are selfish.” He opened his bottle of water. “I was too busy marking my territory.”
“Is that how you broke your nose?”
Quinn gave her a resigned smile. “Yep. That was Jake Vance, actually.”
“Jake?” She sat up.
“You know him?” Something in him bristled. He’d be surprised if she didn’t know of Jake; he was one of the most talked-about entrepreneurs in Australia. But as he was his best friend and also quite the ladies’ man, Quinn wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Jake and Dani being friendly.
“Not very well. I met him a couple of times. He was at Kim and Ric’s wedding, with Briana Davenport, actually, pre-Jarrod.”
Quinn nodded, relaxing. “I’d heard that.”
“Tell me about the broken nose,” Dani prompted.
“We didn’t see eye to eye when he first came to stay.” Quinn absently rubbed the bridge of his nose, recalling the mother of all his teenage fights.
“Jake Vance was a foster child?” She sounded disbelieving.
He supposed it was difficult to think of Jake like that when the whole country associated him with immense wealth.
“Not exactly. He had a mother, but there were some problems, mostly to do with his stepfather. He ran away from home, looking for work in the city and things didn’t pan out the way he’d hoped. Ma and Pa got to talking to him on the streets one day so he turned up at home.”
Quinn as a teenager was well used to sharing but liked to be asked nicely. Jake didn’t ask nicely. Quinn wasn’t about to lose his standing as top dog in his own house. The battle was epic, and at the end of it, neither boy could stand. And that was the start of a long and valued friendship.
“He’s my closest friend now. He and Lucy my foster sister. She was abused from the start. Came to us when she was eight and just stayed.” He caught her horrified look. “She and Jake had a thing a few years back, but now she lives in London. Corporate banker,” he finished proudly.
“How awful.” Dani shuddered. “What makes people such monsters?”
“I don’t suppose people start out that way,” Quinn said thoughtfully. “But it’s not that hard to be careful if you don’t want a baby.”
Dani nodded sadly, and he realised that was probably close to the bone for her. “Not these days, anyway,” he qualified, not meaning to suggest her mother and the mystery lover had been careless.
“So have the things you’ve seen and heard put you off having kids?” Her voice trailed off when a shadow passed over his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, Quinn.” Dani looked very uncomfortable suddenly.
“That’s okay. I was married, yes.”
“I remembered as soon as I’d asked. Laura Hartley, wasn’t it? I only know because she was at PLC around the same time as Kim. I was a couple of years after.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I didn’t know that.” PLC—Pymble Ladies College, a private college on the North Shore—had an excellent academic reputation, but it was strictly for rich kids.
“I’m sorry,” Dani repeated quietly. “I remember now hearing that she’d died.”
Quinn stared out over the waves. “We married when we were still at university. Laura wanted to be a social worker, whereas her parents …” his voice hardened as he continued, “They had other ideas. Sure, they sent her to a nice