not that simple—’
‘Of course it’s that simple.’ Maureen said, cutting her off. ‘I saw you and Leo out there yesterday in the boat and on the beach. It’s clear to everyone that you love him and he loves you, so why should it matter one bit who Sam’s father really is?’ she insisted. ‘Why should a silly detail like that matter when you are going to marry a man who clearly worships the ground you walk on? Now, I’ll go check on Felicity and you stop worrying.’
How could Maureen know so much and yet be so wrong? Eve sat on the sand with Sam, watching him busily digging holes. All those hours of massaging and jet baths and a relaxing facial, all that pampering and all for nothing. Not even the magic of the island itself, the rustle of the palms and the vivid colours, none of it could dispel the tightness in her gut.
She didn’t love Leo.
Sure, she was worried about him and whatever it was that plagued his dreams and turned his skin cold with sweat, and she certainly had an unhealthy obsession with the man, one that had started that fateful day three years ago, and which had only gathered momentum after mind-blowing nights of sex.
And maybe she didn’t want to to think about going home tomorrow and never seeing him again.
But that was hardly the same as love.
As for Leo, no way did he love her. He was merely acting a part, plying her with attention as a means to an end, certainly not because he loved her. Ridiculous. They’d only been together a couple of days after all. What Maureen was witnessing was pure lust. Leo just had a bit more to throw around than most. He didn’t do family and he didn’t want her thinking he’d change his mind. Why else would he underline every endearment, every tender moment with a stinging reminder that it would soon end?
Sam oohed and pulled something from the sand then, shaking it, showing her what looked like some kind of shell, and she gave up thinking about questions she had no answers to, puzzles that made no sense. Tomorrow, she knew, she would go home and this brief interlude in her life would be over and she would have to find herself new clients and build a new fee base. And look after Sam. That’s what she should be worrying about.
‘Shall we see what it is, Sam?’ she said to the child, a launch catching her attention for just a moment as it powered past the bay, before taking Sam’s hand as they stepped into the shallows to wash this new treasure clean.
‘Boat!’ he said, pointing.
‘It is,’ she said. ‘A big one.’
Her sarong clung to her where she’d sat in the damp sand, her ankles looked lean and sexy as her feet were lapped by the shallows, all her attention on her child by her side, guiding him, encouraging him with just a touch or a word or a smile, and he knew in that instant he had never seen anything more beautiful or powerful or sexy.
All he knew was that he wanted her. He wanted to celebrate, knowing the deal was finally done, but he wanted something more fundamental too. More basic. More necessary.
Except he also knew he couldn’t let that happen. He’d realised that during his walk this morning and as much as he’d tried to find a way around it all day, even when he was supposed to be thinking about the Culshaw deal, he still knew it to be true. He couldn’t take the chance.
He watched, as mother and son washed something in the shallows, he couldnt tell what, and she must have sensed his presence because he hadn’t moved and she couldn’t have heard him, yet she’d turned her head and looked up and seen him. And he’d seen his name on her lips as she’d stood and she’d smiled, only a tentative smile, but after the way he’d abandoned her this morning, he didn’t deserve even that much.
And something bent and shifted and warmed inside that he could treat her so badly and still she could find a smile for him. He hoped it meant she liked him, just a little, just enough to one day find a way to forgive him for the way he had no choice but to treat her.
The wash was nothing really. No more than a ripple to any adult, and Leo had no idea it would be any different for a child, until he saw Sam pushed face first into the water with the rolling force of it.
‘Sam!’ he yelled, crossing the beach and pulling the child, spluttering and then squealing, from the water. ‘Is he all right?’ he asked, as she collected the wailing child, dropping to her towel, rocking him on her shoulder.
‘Oh, my God, I took my eye off him for a second,’ she said, her voice heavy with self-recrimination. ‘I’m so sorry, Sam,’ she said, kissing his head. ‘I should have seen that coming.’
‘Will he be okay?’ Leo asked, but Sam’s cries were already abating. He sniffled and hiccuped and caught sight of a passing sail, twisting in his mother’s arms as his arm shot out. ‘Boat!’
She sighed with relief. ‘He sounds fine. He got a shock. I think we all did.’
Leo squatted down beside them and they said nothing for a while, all watching the boat bob by.
‘You actually picked him up,’ she said. ‘Is that the first time you’ve ever held a child?’
He frowned as he considered her question, not because he didn’t already know the answer but because this weekend suddenly seemed filled with firsts: the first time he’d thought a cotton nightie sexy; the first time he’d looked at a woman holding a baby and got a hard on; the first time he’d felt remorse that he’d never see a particular woman again…
But, no, he wasn’t going there. What were his nightmares if not a warning of what would happen if he did?
‘It’s not something my job calls for much of, no.’
‘Well, thank you for acting so quickly. I don’t know what I was doing.’
He knew. She’d been looking at him with those damned eyes of hers. And he hadn’t wanted to let them go.
Sam soon grew restless in his mother’s arms and wiggled his way out, soon scouring the sands and collecting new treasure, keeping a healthy distance from the water, his mother shadowing his every movement.
‘So how goes the deal?’
‘It’s done.’
She looked up, her expression unreadable, and he wasn’t entirely certain what he’d been looking for. ‘Congratulations. You must be pleased.’
‘It’s a good feeling.’ Strangely, though, it didn’t feel as good as it usually did, didn’t feel as good as he’d expected it would. Maybe because of all the delays.
And then she was suddenly squatting down, writing Sam’s name with a stick in the sand while he looked on, clapping. ‘So we’re done here.’
And that didn’t make him feel any better. ‘Looks like it. Culshaw is planning a celebratory dinner for tonight and tomorrow we all go home.’
‘I thought you didn’t have a home.’
There was a lump in the back of his throat that shouldn’t have been there. He was supposed to be feeling good about this, wasn’t he? He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, watched her write ‘Mum’ in the sand. ‘Mum,’ she said to Sam, pointing.
Sam leaned over with his hands on his pudgy knees and solemnly studied the squiggles she’d made in the sand. ‘Mumumumum,’ sang Sam.
‘That’s right, clever clogs, you can read!’ And she gave him a big squeeze that he wriggled out of and scooted off down the beach.
‘Tell me about Sam’s father,’ Leo said, as they followed along behind.
She looked up suspiciously, her eyebrows jagging in the middle. Where was this coming from? ‘Why?’
‘Who was he?’
She shrugged. ‘Just some guy I met.’
‘You don’t strike me as the “just-some-guy-I-met” type.’
‘Oh,