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‘Actually she already did that, back at your house,’ Anya said. ‘Spontaneously. Before your other relative trotted out his rather more forced effort.’
He glowered at her. ‘You told me you’d fallen.’
‘I did. I just didn’t happen to mention it was because Petra landed on top of me.’ She could see he was busting to take her to task, but she wasn’t going to provide him with any more ammunition. Her eyes fell to the object he was carrying. ‘What’s that?’
As a distraction for both of them, it did nicely. ‘A new battery for your car.’ He hefted the weighty cube as if it was a feather. ‘I picked it up from the garage for you on the way over.’
She noticed the tools in his other hand. ‘Thank you, but I’ve already arranged for the mechanic to come and put one in,’ she said sharply.
‘Not any more. I told Harry to cancel the call-out. Why pay for something that you can get done for free?’
She looked dubiously at him, knowing she should be annoyed at his high-handedness, but overcome by curiosity. ‘You know how to change a battery?’ He wore the same dark trousers, but had exchanged his shirt for a tight-fitting, v-necked, navy top which was casual yet obviously expensive. He didn’t look like someone who spent much time under the hood of a car.
‘All men are born knowing basic car maintenance. It’s in the genes.’ Her contemptuous snort produced a crooked smile. ‘In my case, literally. My father was a mechanic until my mother died and he took up boozing as a career; then he relied on me to keep the family crate running.’ He began heading for the open doors of her garage. ‘Why don’t you take Petra inside to entertain you with more of her grovelling while I do the swap…?’
Petra was already heading up the path before he finished speaking and Anya hesitated before darting after him. ‘What do I owe you for the battery?’ she demanded to know.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing is for nothing,’ she pointed out
He stopped and turned in the shadow of the garage. ‘My daughter’s life—is that nothing to you?’
She took a step back at his fierceness. It occurred to her that he’d only known Petra for a week and, although he might have accepted in abstract that he had been a father for the last fourteen years, he had been utterly unprepared for the huge emotional impact she had on him. He was discovering within himself depths of emotion that he hadn’t realised existed, or which had been long suppressed in order for him to survive. Even though he had been cynically off-hand in his telling of the circumstances surrounding Petra’s birth, Anya had sensed a powerful retroactive resentment of the way he had been totally shut out of his daughter’s life. At the time he had been made to feel that he had nothing of value to offer his own child and somewhere deep inside him a little of that fear probably still lurked.
‘I only meant that I don’t want to be beholden to you—’ she said, uneasy with the unwelcome insight.
‘Do you think I like feeling indebted to you?’ he asked tightly, his eyes cut-glass brilliant as they scored her face.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, fighting a sudden lightheadedness. ‘I don’t think you do, either. Since Petra arrived I think you’re not quite sure what you’re feeling about anything any more.’
‘Stop trying to get inside my head,’ he growled. ‘I’m not one of your students—’
‘Thank God!’
‘I’m a full-grown man and right now I’m going get my hands filthy doing a man’s job, so why don’t you run along and flitter about the kitchen or whatever it is prissy ladies do while someone else does their dirty work for them?’
Anya’s eyes flashed. ‘Why, you sexist pig! I didn’t ask you to dirty your hands for me.’
‘No, you’re certainly like your cousin in that respect. Kate never asked but she always managed to make it clear what she expected, and those expensive hands of hers never had to get soiled because someone else ended up paying for the privilege of meeting those haughty expectations. If she hadn’t had the papers to prove it, I never would have believed she’d grown up on a farm.’
She flinched at the accuracy of his vivid word picture. ‘My life and expectations are totally different from Kate’s, so don’t you dare start comparing us!’ she said in a voice shaking with repressed anger. ‘I may not be able to change a battery, but I can change a tyre and check the oil and wate
r, which is as much as most car owners can do. And I am not prissy!’ she was unable to resist adding in a fierce hiss.
She knew she had made a mistake when a slow, taunting smile curved his mouth and twin blue devils danced in his eyes as he leaned closer and murmured: ‘You always look prissy to me. Even in sexy green underwear with your pretty little breasts begging to be kissed you looked more naughty-but-nice-Miss-Adams than sultry and wicked Miss January. Not that prissy can’t be just as much of a turn-on to some men…’
Anya’s face was still bright red as she slammed into the house and found Petra flicking through her CD collection in the living room.
‘Is something wrong?’ Petra looked up at her, the small gold ring in her left nostril glinting as she turned her head.
‘Yes! That…that man!’ Anya’s hands clenched and unclenched by her sides.
Petra looked around, alarmed. ‘What man?’
‘Your father!’ It was rendered as the grossest of insults.
‘Oh.’ Petra’s blue eyes brightened with curiosity. ‘What’s the matter? I thought he was doing you a favour.’
