The Forbidden Mistress Page 3

  ‘Why not? Other women do it.’ Oliver paused when he reached his car. ‘And you’re not my wife, Sophie,’ he added, and for the first time it felt good to say it. ‘I’m sorry if things haven’t worked out the way you wanted, but that’s life. Get over it.’

  Sophie’s chin wobbled, a tactic that would have tugged at his conscience years ago. But no longer. With a brief, ‘Tell Tom I couldn’t wait,’ he coiled his length behind the steering wheel, aware that he burned rubber as he accelerated out of the car park.

  Grace saw Oliver leave from the window of the coffee shop. The small café was closing and she was helping Lucy Cameron clear the tables so the older woman could get away on time. Lucy had a family, four kids, all of school age, and Grace knew she didn’t like them being alone in the house after dark.

  ‘Was that who I think it was?’ Lucy asked now, joining Grace at the window as the Porsche peeled away off the site.

  ‘Who did you think it was?’ asked Grace, reluctant to sound too knowledgeable, and Lucy stepped back to give the younger woman a considering stare.

  ‘Well, it looked like Tom’s brother,’ she said. ‘I’d know that old Porsche he drives anywhere. I don’t know why he doesn’t get himself a new car. It’s not as if he couldn’t afford it.’

  Grace eased her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. ‘Do you know him well?’ she asked, careful not to sound too interested, and Lucy shrugged before returning to her job of stacking the dishwasher.

  ‘Fairly well,’ she replied now. ‘Though it’s some time since I’ve seen him around here.’ She paused. ‘Did I see you talking to him? Didn’t he tell you who he was?’

  Grace coloured, turning away so that Lucy couldn’t see her face. ‘I recognised him,’ she said. ‘He looks a bit like Tom, don’t you think? He’s darker, of course. And taller. But their features aren’t dissimilar.’

  Lucy gave her a wry look. ‘It sounds to me as if you gave him a thorough once-over,’ she remarked. She frowned. ‘I always liked Oliver. I was really sorry when he and his brother fell out over—’

  But she didn’t finish her sentence, and Grace guessed at once why she’d suddenly acquired an unexpected interest in the contents of the till. The clatter of heels on the tiled floor had warned her that they were no longer alone, and she was hardly surprised when Sophie Ferreira came purposefully towards her.

  ‘Where’s Tom?’ Sophie fairly spat the words, her bristling personality making up for what she lacked in height. ‘You can tell me now. I realise you were trying to protect him from Oliver, but he’s gone.’

  ‘I know.’ Despite the fact that she knew what Sophie thought of her, Grace refused to be intimidated. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She and Tom were friends, nothing more. ‘And I don’t know where Tom is. Perhaps he is at the pub. Why don’t you go and find out?’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do.’ Sophie’s angry response was out of all proportion to the offence. Clearly something hadn’t suited her and Grace was being made the scapegoat. ‘Anyway, when he does come back, tell him I want to see him. I’ll wait at the house. I’ve still got my key.’

  Grace shrugged. ‘Okay.’ But she knew Tom wouldn’t like it. She didn’t like it much herself. The possibility that Sophie might take the opportunity to check out where Grace was sleeping now that she’d left had her hands balling into fists. But there was nothing she could do about it.

  ‘Right.’

  If Sophie had expected an argument, she didn’t get one, and after a brief assessing glance in Lucy’s direction she turned and left the café. The two women saw her cross the yard to the car park and pull open the door of a late-model BMW. Then, following Oliver’s example, she drove out of the yard, turning in the opposite direction from the one he had taken.

  ‘Bitch,’ said Lucy succinctly, passing Grace on her way to the door to turn the sign to ‘Closed’. ‘That woman is a grade one bitch! I don’t know what Oliver ever saw in her.’

  ‘Or Tom,’ murmured Grace, but Lucy only grimaced.

  ‘Tom deserved her,’ she muttered, stomping back to the till. ‘I hope Oliver realises how lucky he’s been.’

  Grace didn’t feel qualified to answer her. Sophie’s and Oliver’s divorce had been final long before she came on the scene. She’d heard the gossip, of course. How Tom had had an affair with his brother’s wife. But she’d also heard, from Tom admittedly, that Oliver had neglected Sophie in favour of his work. And no one could deny Sophie’s part in the breakup. Once again, according to Tom, it had been Sophie who had encouraged him, not the other way about.

  Grace decided it was not something she wanted to get into a discussion over. Her own position, as a paying guest in Tom’s house, was open to enough speculation as it was. But when she’d come to work at the garden centre, Sophie and Tom had been living together. It had seemed a logical solution to her accommodation problem to accept Tom’s offer of the spare room.

  Now, however, things were different. Sophie and Tom had split up and Grace didn’t know how to get out of staying in the house. The trouble was, it was so handy for the centre. On the outskirts of Tayford, not far from his parents’ home.

  Mr and Mrs Ferreira had been instrumental in her accepting Tom’s offer in the first place. Grace wondered now if they’d had some intimation that all was not going well with their son and his lady friend—who just happened to be their other son’s ex-wife—and had hoped her presence might act as a calming influence. If so, it hadn’t worked. Sophie had never liked her, and Tom had attempted to compensate for her rudeness.

  The upshot was, Sophie had got jealous and had started accusing her of having designs on Tom herself. Grace shook her head as she left Lucy to lock up the café and made her way to the offices that adjoined the main building. She liked Tom. Who wouldn’t? He was easy to get along with. But he’d never given her that hot, melting feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d experienced when she’d encountered Oliver Ferreira’s dark gaze.

  Just for a moment she wondered how she’d feel if she were sharing a house with Oliver. His lean, dark-skinned face and tall athletic body were so different from his brother’s bland good looks. Oliver wasn’t good-looking in the formal sense, but he was very attractive. And sexy, she conceded tensely. No wonder Sophie wanted him back.

  And she did want him back, Grace would bet her life on it. There’d been so much pent-up aggression in her tone when she’d told Grace to get lost. Oh, not in so many words, of course, but Grace knew her well enough now to know what she was thinking. Sophie needed a man to lean on, and Tom hadn’t come up to scratch.

  She shivered then, wrapping her arms about herself and rubbing the bare flesh below the tight sleeves of her tee shirt. But it wasn’t the cold that was making her antsy. The shiver she’d felt was purely anticipation. Despite what Sophie wanted her to think, she hoped she saw Oliver again.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt when she discovered Tom was in his office, working at the computer. He must have known Sophie was on the premises, and deliberately kept out of her way. If so, he’d missed seeing Oliver as well. Or was that deliberate, too?

  He looked round with a smile when he saw who it was in the doorway. ‘Hi,’ he said, subjecting her to a far too familiar appraisal. ‘How are things?’

  ‘Things are okay, I guess,’ said Grace slowly, propping her shoulder against the jamb. ‘Sophie’s at the house. Did you know?’

  ‘Sophie?’ He tried to sound surprised, but to her ears he failed abysmally. Then, as if realising he couldn’t fool her, his mouth pulled down at the corners. ‘I knew she was here,’ he confessed with a grimace. ‘I suppose she’s still agitating on about her money?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’ Grace refused to get involved in the ongoing saga. ‘Anyway, I just thought I’d warn you. In case you’d just got back.’ She sniffed the air. ‘Have you been drinking? Sophie told Oliver you’d be at the pub, but I defended you.’

  ‘Oliver!’ Tom looked genuinely taken aback
now. ‘Oliver was here?’

  ‘As you’d know for yourself, if you didn’t spend so much time hiding from your girlfriend,’ retorted Grace with feeling. ‘Anyway, I’m leaving. I’m meeting a friend for a drink and I don’t want to be late.’

  Tom frowned. ‘What friend?’ he asked, and she was tempted to tell him to mind his own business. But she didn’t.

  ‘A friend from the gym,’ she said. She spent a lot of her spare time at the leisure centre in Ponteland. Initially, she’d joined to give Tom and Sophie some time on their own. But lately, she’d been glad of a reason to avoid spending whole evenings alone with Tom. ‘You don’t know her,’ she added, straightening. ‘I’ll get something to eat while I’m out.’

  ‘Hey.’ Tom got up from his chair. ‘You still haven’t told me what Oliver was doing here. Did he want to see me?’ Then he grimaced impatiently. ‘Of course, he must have done. Why else would he come here?’

  ‘You tell me.’ Grace would prefer not to discuss Oliver right now. ‘Anyway, Sophie collared him as soon as she saw him.’

  ‘Sophie?’ Tom scowled now. ‘Goddammit, why didn’t you say so? She would have to turn up here today.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Grace didn’t understand his agitation. ‘You said you were seeing him today. I assumed you must have arranged for him to visit.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t. I went to his office this afternoon, as a matter of fact.’ Tom glanced at his watch now, and Grace decided it was time to beat a tactical retreat.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, deciding she would go to the cinema after her date with Cindy. The last thing she wanted was for Tom to have another row with Sophie and then expect her to provide a shoulder to cry on. ‘Don’t wait up.’

  Tom swore. ‘Do you have to meet this woman tonight?’ he demanded irritably. ‘After the day I’ve had, I could do without an undiluted diet of Sophie’s complaints. Come on, Grace, you know what she’s like. This will be another attempt to get her money. And I can’t stand knowing she can sink this business if she chooses.’

  Grace sighed. ‘Surely things aren’t that bad?’

  ‘They’re that bad,’ Tom insisted. ‘I wish I’d never encouraged her to invest in the first place.’

  ‘But you did.’ Grace frowned as a thought occurred to her. ‘Was that why you wanted to see Oliver today? Surely you don’t expect him to bail you out?’

  ‘No!’ Tom’s tone was sharp. Then, as if realising there was no point in lying to her, he lifted his shoulders in defeat. ‘Well, okay,’ he conceded. ‘Maybe I did entertain the thought that he might help me. He’s family, isn’t he? And it’s not as if he couldn’t afford it.’

  Grace gaped at him. ‘You can’t be serious, Tom. Oliver has every reason to hate your guts!’

  ‘Why? Because I took that hag away from him?’ Tom snorted. ‘He should be thanking me. He doesn’t know when he’s well off.’

  ‘I don’t think Oliver will see it that way,’ said Grace honestly. Despite his initial interest in her, he’d abandoned her soon enough when his ex-wife had turned up. And it was obvious Sophie had her sights set on rekindling that relationship. The way she’d gushed all over Oliver had made Grace feel physically sick.

  ‘He will,’ said Tom confidently. ‘I know Oliver. This was his father’s business, too, remember? He won’t want it to close. Just think how many people would be out of work.’

  Grace conceded he might have a point. ‘So why don’t you ask your father for help?’ she asked curiously. George Ferreira couldn’t wait to get back to the garden centre when he came home.

  ‘Dad doesn’t have that kind of money,’ Tom protested. ‘Sophie put two hundred thousand into the business. How do you think I was able to buy the smallholding next door?’

  Grace pulled a face. ‘And you think Oliver will cover her investment?’ she exclaimed incredulously. ‘Tom, that’s a pipedream and you know it.’

  His scowl reappeared and he strode restlessly about the office. ‘He’s got to,’ he muttered. ‘It’s a good investment.’

  ‘And did you tell him this?’ asked Grace. ‘Were you up front with him? Is that why he came here today, to check out how we’re doing?’

  ‘No, no and no,’ muttered Tom, hunching his shoulders. ‘I didn’t get around to it. He threatened to throw me out of the building.’

  ‘And this is the man who’s going to help you?’ Grace shook her head. ‘Get real, Tom. It’s not going to happen. You’re going to have to go to the bank again.’

  ‘He came here, didn’t he? I didn’t ask him to.’

  ‘Curiosity,’ said Grace dampeningly. ‘I got the impression he was curious, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I’ll find out tomorrow,’ said Tom, forcing a note of optimism into his voice. ‘He’s meeting me for lunch at The Crown.’

  ‘Okay.’ Grace turned towards the door. ‘Well, good luck with Sophie. I wouldn’t keep her waiting any longer than you have to, if I was you.’

  ‘So you won’t change your mind?’

  ‘I can’t.’ Grace was definite. ‘I’m sorry.’ She paused and then added encouragingly, ‘Perhaps if you were nice to her, she’d reduce her demands.’

  ‘Not a chance.’ Tom was gloomy. ‘She wants her pound of flesh and she’s determined to have it.’ He hesitated a moment and then rounded his desk again, flinging himself into his chair. ‘Just spare a thought for me when you’re slurping spritzers with your friend.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I’ VE got a favour to ask.’

  Tom cornered Grace in the kitchen of his house the next morning as she was hurriedly swallowing a cup of tea before leaving for work. She had hoped to avoid Tom and an inevitable discussion of what had gone on the night before. But for once he was up as early as she was, coming into the kitchen in his bathrobe, bare feet squeaking on the tiled floor.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, keeping the width of the pine-blocked table between them. ‘You’ll have to be quick. I have to open up this morning.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten.’ Tom’s tone turned a little testy. ‘I prepare the schedules, don’t I?’ Then, as if deciding being short with her wouldn’t achieve his ends, he forced a smile. ‘I want you to join Oliver and me for lunch.’

  Grace almost choked on the last dregs in her cup. ‘You have to be joking!’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Tom pushed his hands into the pockets of his robe, apparently uncaring that only a loosely tied belt protected what Grace was sure was his nude body from her gaze. ‘I’m not sure he believes me when I say that Sophie and I are finished. If he sees you and me together—’

  ‘No.’ Grace was horrified. She really would have to find a place of her own, she thought. Tom was definitely getting the wrong impression of why she’d stayed on after Sophie walked out. ‘I don’t want to be a party to any deal you make with your brother. And as far as Sophie is concerned, I’m sure she’ll see he gets the message for herself.’

  Tom’s jaw jutted sulkily. ‘I notice you haven’t asked how I got on last night.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ said Grace desperately. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. It’s nearly eight o’clock.’

  ‘She’s given me a couple of weeks,’ he said, as if Grace hadn’t answered him. ‘She’s as keen as I am to get Oliver involved. That way, she gets her money and possibly the man as well.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t want to know,’ she said, heading for the door. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Think about lunch,’ Tom advised, not giving up. ‘I’d have thought you’d want to save the garden centre as much as me.’

  That was a low blow, and Grace’s lips tightened for a moment before she said, ‘How on earth do you think my presence can make a difference?’

  ‘I’ve told you.’ Tom was encouraged now. ‘If he sees us together, he’ll think we’re an item—’

  ‘But we’re not!’

  ‘He needn’t know that,’ said Tom carelessly, but with the kind of
smug expression she most abhorred. He really did think she was interested in him, she thought helplessly. He was so confident of his sex appeal, he assumed it was just a matter of time before she fell into his arms and into his bed.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she murmured, despising her cowardice but deciding she could always cry off later in the morning and avoid a confrontation now. The trouble was, deep down, she was tempted to accept the invitation. It might be the only chance she had of seeing Oliver again.

  Apart from helping out around the centre, Grace’s main job was in the office. Her degree in maths and her computer skills had enabled her to reorganise the firm’s finances, and she was hoping to produce a web site to expand their mail-order sales.

  Her fellow workers, a teenage girl who did all the typing and filing, and an older man who had been there since Tom’s father was in charge, were gradually beginning to accept her. It occurred to her that if Tom’s pursuit of her became unmanageable, she might be forced to leave and she’d be sorry to do that.

  The morning was busy. Because of the speed of their turnover, at this time of the year some of their stock had to be brought in from abroad. A huge container truck from Holland arrived with a load of seasonal flowers, and several girls were employed preparing bridal wreaths and bridesmaids’ posies for weddings to be held the following day.

  Tom arrived about half past nine, smartly attired in a navy suit and crisp white shirt. Obviously for Oliver’s benefit, Grace reflected, glancing down at her own jeans and cotton tee shirt with some regret. If she did change her mind and accompanied Tom, she would have to go back to the house to change. The Crown was a fairly casual place, but it wasn’t like the coffee shop at the garden centre. There the patrons were mostly older couples and families with young children. They just wanted a snack or a hot drink before heading home.

  ‘I’ll be at the site, if anyone wants me,’ Tom announced to the office in general, and Gina Robb, who had a crush on him, gave him a provocative smile.