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‘Look, I assure you that I don’t want … a husband … if that’s what you’re thinking …’ She could have cried at her own gaucheness. What on earth must he be thinking? She told herself it didn’t matter and that Heather was the prime concern here.
If Jay Fraser had been a woman there wouldn’t have been the slightest degree of awkwardness in her making the suggestion, but with his remarks about a second marriage and involvement very much to the forefront of her mind, Lucy hoped that he wouldn’t misconstrue her offer.
The silence stretched from seconds into minutes, while her heartbeat picked up to an almost unbearable speed. What on earth was he thinking? Why didn’t he say something, even if it was only a refusal?
When he did speak he sounded very abrupt. ‘You make me feel very ashamed of myself,’ he told her. ‘You’re being far more generous than I deserve. Almost every other woman I know would have enjoyed making me eat humble pie and be for the help you’ve just offered. It’s an art at which my ex-wife was an expert.’
‘Do you … do you still love her?’
Claire felt her face flame with embarrassment. What on earth had got into her? She looked away from him, and said indistinctly, ‘I’m sorry, that was unforgivable.’
‘It’s all right. You aren’t the first to ask. No, I don’t still love her. I don’t think any man can love a woman who rejects his child. To be honest with you, I no longer believe that passionate love exists. Sexual desire, yes, and non-sexual love of the kind I feel for Heather. And you … do you still love Lucy’s father …?’
She went white and stepped back from him, her eyes huge with pain. It was a natural enough question and he couldn’t know how she felt about the man who had fathered Lucy, nor could she tell him. She couldn’t tell anyone.
‘I …’
‘Forget it, I shouldn’t have asked. I take it there’s no chance of the two of you getting back together.’
He had obviously completely misread her reaction, and like someone in a dream Claire said thickly, ‘I … he’s dead …’
‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry.’
‘It … it was a long time ago. Before … before Lucy was born.’ She was lying. She had no idea whether Lucy’s father was alive or dead, or where he was. Or even who he was, a small voice reminded her, but she shuddered with the onset of familiar pain and loathing, forcing her mind to shift from the past to the present, before her memories could overwhelm her. ‘About Heather?’ she added.
‘If she can stay with you for the time being I’d be more than grateful. I’m going to have to get someone to replace Mrs Roberts, of course.’
‘There’s no need to rush. I’m very fond of Heather.’
‘Yes, I can see that.’
‘There’s something about her that reaches out to me. A need that Lucy doesn’t have, a loneliness.’ Claire broke off, suddenly conscious of what she was saying.
‘Yes, she is lonely,’ he agreed bitterly. ‘Susie was never much of a mother to her. She never wanted her at all …’ He too broke off, and Claire sensed that his marriage and his daughter were normally two subjects that he did not discuss with anyone.
It seemed that a strange bond had been formed between them, a bond that at the moment was very tenuous and fragile, and which instinctively Claire feared. She knew that sexually she had nothing to fear from him. A man like Jay Fraser did not need to force himself on a woman.
She watched him as he got up, aware of the way his shirt clung to his shoulder and tapered down to his waist. He was a very masculine man, and the knowledge made her shiver with distaste as she instinctively averted her eyes from his equally masculine stance.
‘While Heather is living with you, you must let me make some contribution to your household budget,’ he said.
‘No.’ Her refusal was immediate and firm. ‘No, I can’t let you do that.’
He frowned and Claire knew that he was a man who did not like to be beholden to others in any way at all.
‘If you won’t accept money from me, I’ll have to find a way of repaying you in kind,’ he said at last. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go; I’m expecting a call from the States. I’ll come round and see Heather tomorrow, if I may?’
Claire saw him to the door, watching as he slid his lean length behind the wheel of his car—a long, low-slung Jaguar sports car. He gave her a brief nod as he fastened his seat belt, and she went inside and closed the door. She was tired now and very drained, but too on edge to sleep. If anything had happened to Heather … It was almost as though the little girl was her own child. She mustn’t get too attached to her or, more importantly, allow Heather to get too attached to her. No, she must gradually reassure her that her father both loved and wanted her; she must instill in her enough self-confidence for her to go back to her father happily and gladly.
When Jay called the following day, she deliberately left father and daughter alone together, but it was Lucy who chatted away to him, demanding that he play, while Heather clung anxiously to her side.
‘I was going to suggest that if you could let me know when you’re likely to be home I could arrange to bring Heather back to you for those weekends?’
‘You think you can manage that, do you?’ he asked sardonically, ‘It seems to me that I’m featuring very much as the cruel father at the moment.’
‘Only because of what Mrs Roberts has been feeding her. She’s been using you as a threat to frighten her. She’ll get over it. She does love you, Jay.’
It was the first time she had used his name directly, and she wondered what had caused his eyes to change form light to dark grey like that.
