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She should forget the whole thing and nurse her embarrassment in private.
She was about to walk away when a voice came through the intercom.
Liza froze.
She pictured herself being watched by a team of guards in a control room.
She’d spent the whole of Sunday feeling ridiculous and fighting the temptation to drive home. But then she decided to do what she was encouraging her children to do—take responsibility.
“Hi. I’m Liza.” She stepped closer to the camera and the intercom. “My mother owns the house down the lane—I’m staying there. I’m here to see Finn Cool, although he probably won’t—” There was a buzz and the gates opened.
“Oh. Right.”
Left with no choice, Liza walked through the gates and they closed smoothly behind her, sealing her inside.
She walked along a winding drive shaded by huge bushes of rhododendrons and azaleas, and finally the house came into view.
It was spectacular, of course, which was nothing less than she would have expected. The front seemed to be constructed almost entirely of glass, with views across sloping gardens which dropped away sharply above a small beach accessible only from this property.
How the other half lived.
She drank in the view for a few moments and then the front door opened.
She’d expected a burly bodyguard or a scary housekeeper. What she hadn’t expected was to see Finn Cool himself, lounging against the door frame.
With his lean, handsome face and sleepy eyes he looked as dissolute and dangerous as he had when she’d first seen him in her kitchen, although at the time she’d been too stressed to admire him. He was wearing board shorts and a black T-shirt. His feet were bare and his jaw shadowed. She couldn’t work out if he’d just woken up, or hadn’t bothered shaving.
“Did you come alone, or are the police following you? If so, I need to open the gate again.”
The heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with the sun. “I came to apologize for calling the police. Obviously I had no idea—I mean, my mother never mentioned you.” There wasn’t much she could say to redeem herself so she flourished the bag she’d carried all the way from the cottage. “I brought you a peace offering.” She’d spent hours wondering what to give the man who had everything, and in the end settled on something homemade. Probably another mistake, but what was one more amidst so many?
He straightened. “You beat me to it. I was planning on coming over this afternoon to apologize to you.”
“You were going to apologize to me? Why?”
“For frightening you half to death. Luckily for me you have a gentler disposition than your mother or I’d currently be lying unconscious in hospital with a dent in my skull.” He flashed her a smile. “Sorry. I should have rung the doorbell instead of walking into the kitchen, but I didn’t know anyone would be there, so I used my key.” He stood back and pushed open the door. “Come in.”
“Oh there’s no need to—I mean, I wanted to give you—” Distracted by that smile, her words tripped over each other and she walked up the steps to the door and thrust out the bag. “It’s a lemon meringue pie, and a batch of my chocolate chip cookies. Two of my specialties. I wasn’t sure what to bring.” The fact that Finn Cool had a key to her mother’s house still hadn’t quite sunk in. Why hadn’t her mother mentioned it?
“You have more than two specialties? In that case you need to call the police on me more often so I can eat my way through your repertoire. Thank you, Liza. That was thoughtful. I’d say you shouldn’t have bothered, but I never turn down food. Come into the kitchen.” He took the bag and walked into the house.
Was he being polite? Surely the last thing he wanted was a strange woman in his home.
She waited a moment and then followed him, closing the door behind her.
She had to admit she was curious about the house, and it didn’t disappoint. Light flowed through a glass atrium high above them, bouncing off acres of white floor tiles. Italian, she thought, and almost drooled with envy. The designer had played with space and color, keeping the scheme mostly white but introducing flashes of blue that gave a Mediterranean feel. Liza had more than a passing interest in interior design. She’d even explored the idea of joining Sean in his practice, but in the end they’d decided that two people working in the same business wasn’t a good idea. And teaching had meant she was able to spend more time with the girls.
But still she occasionally hankered after it. She was incapable of walking into a property and not immediately imagining how she would change the interior.
But she’d change nothing about this house.
It was a modern architectural masterpiece. Sean would have appreciated the simplicity.
Thinking of Sean created a pang. The state of her marriage was never far from her mind, gnawing at her like toothache.
All she’d had from him this morning since that one conversation was a quick text. Have you seen my blue shirt?
It had made her question whether she’d been right to delay the conversation about the way she was feeling. At some point she needed to be honest with her family, and also tell them that things needed to change. They weren’t mind readers. If they were, then they wouldn’t still be texting her expecting her to sort out all their trivial problems. But the moment she did that any chance of having breathing space would be over and she badly wanted some time to herself. She deserved this!
