IMOGEN CHANGED INTO her swimming costume and tried to make sense of the expressions that had flashed across Jasper’s face whenever he’d glanced at his nephew. Consternation was ever present, which she got. But she didn’t understand his… She didn’t know what to call it—calculation, maybe? As if he viewed his nephew as a piece of problematic computer code he needed to decrypt. Or a to-do list he needed to tick off.
Beneath that, though, she also sensed the wonder George stirred in him. And the fact it was an ever-present threat to his detachment. It was as if Jasper was afraid to care even the slightest little bit for his baby nephew.
Maybe he was, but why? Because of his sister?
She slathered on sunscreen. It was none of her business. She knew that. But if George’s sister was an irresponsible piece of work or in some kind of trouble, then little George was going to need someone to rely on. Someone like Jasper.
She snapped the tube of suncream closed with the heel of her hand. Surely Jasper didn’t mean to abandon George at the end of all this—just hand him back to his mother when the time came and be done with him? Not without some follow-through. Not without making sure George was going to be okay. He had to maintain some contact with his nephew, even if it proved difficult. Right?
But even as she thought it, she was far from convinced Jasper saw it the same way. In fact, she was almost certain he saw it in a completely opposite light.
‘He’s a troubled man.’
Her aunt’s words played in her mind, and she found herself nodding.
‘He’s demanding and difficult.’
That had her shaking her head, though. He valued his privacy, and she doubted he’d suffer fools gladly, but he wasn’t unreasonable, and while he could be remote and aloof he wasn’t surly or supercilious. Those things gave her hope because she hadn’t imagined the surprise in his eyes, or the pleasure, when George had smiled at him.
If it hadn’t been for those glimpsed flashes of warmth, the thawing she sensed him trying to fight, then she’d…
She jammed a hat to her head.
Then you’d what? She mocked her reflection, rubbing in a dollop of cream still left on her nose. She wasn’t making a dent in Katherine’s aloofness at the moment, so what impact did she think she could have on Jasper?
The one thing she could do was to ensure little George’s stay here was as lovely as possible. And she meant to do that to the best of her ability.
Grabbing a tote, she tossed in a T-shirt and the sunscreen, before stalking into the kitchen to grab some cold drinks and a bottle of cold boiled water for George. Katherine, sitting at the kitchen table, gave a start and pushed the letter she was reading back into its envelope and slid it beneath the newspaper.
Imogen’s chest tightened, but she pretended she hadn’t seen the furtive movement. ‘We’re heading down to the beach. Want to join us?’
‘Imogen, I’m working!’
She seized a couple of pieces of fruit. ‘You’re entitled to some R & R. And I bet Jasper wouldn’t mind. In fact, I expect he’d welcome your company.’
‘I’m sorry, Imogen, but even if I wasn’t busy, I’m not a fan of the beach and all of that sand.’ She eyed the fruit Imogen still held. ‘And if you’re going to feed any of that banana to the baby, you better pack some wet wipes.’ She pointed. ‘In that cupboard to the left of the sink.’
With a sigh, she grabbed them and then gathered up her things. She paused in the doorway. ‘Auntie Kay, is everything okay?’
‘Of course it is,’ Katherine said brusquely. ‘Why wouldn’t it be, you silly child? Now, you’d better get your skates on. Jasper won’t like kicking his heels for too long. Enjoy your swim.’
She had no choice but to submit. But as she walked away, her mind raced. She needed to find a way to break through her aunt’s atypical reserve. Doing housework and looking after a baby were all well and fine, but she had to remember the real reason she was here on Tesoura.
* * *
They spread the blanket in the shade of a stand of palm trees that swayed gently in the breeze like something from every hopeful daydream she’d ever had about tropical islands. ‘Smell that glorious sea air, George. Feel how warm it is. Hear the sound of the waves.’
She closed her eyes and inhaled. Glorious.
When she opened her eyes, she found Jasper staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. George was clapping and beaming. George was the easiest to deal with, so she kept her gaze on him and clapped too. While she might’ve addressed the baby, her words had been aimed at the man. She wondered if Jasper ever did relaxed and casual. He might’ve changed into shorts and a T-shirt, but for all intents and purposes he might as well have still been wearing a suit jacket for all the relaxation he radiated.
Pointing that out, though, would be impertinent, and it’d achieve absolutely nothing. So, she kept on clapping her hands. ‘This was the game George and I played last night. For a very long time.’
‘Looks riveting.’
‘It’s just as well babies are so cute, because so much of their care falls into the categories of the mundane and downright boring.’
‘Which is the real reason you didn’t want to take on the job of full-time nanny?’
There was no censure in his voice, just curiosity, and she found her gaze swinging up. ‘Do you think housework is any less boring?’
One shoulder lifted. ‘Given the way you do it—dancing and singing off-key at the top of your voice—perhaps.’
His words made her laugh, but his almost-smile had things inside her wobbling. She dragged her gaze away. ‘Like I said, I just don’t want to lose all my leisure time.’ She needed the time and headspace to keep chipping away at her aunt.
‘So what now? I get the great good fortune to play the clapping game while you enjoy your said leisure time?’
The question could’ve sounded sulky and petulant, but it didn’t. He just looked—and sounded—at a genuine loss. She made a mental note not to swim for too long. She had no intention of abandoning him, not when he evidently felt so out of his depth. ‘There are lots of other games too. For example, we like playing choo-choo trains.’ She seized the bright red plastic train and pushed it across the blanket, making train noises.
George pursed his lips and made choo-choo sounds too, and then clapped and grinned.
Jasper shook his head. ‘I’m not doing that.’
Imogen gurgled a laugh at George. ‘Uncle Jasper thinks choo-choo trains are beneath his dignity.’
George bent at the waist, leaning towards her to laugh too, laughing because she was laughing. He was the sweetest little guy.
Her employer glared. ‘I’m wondering how you got to twenty-five years of age without someone throttling you, Ms Hartley.’
‘I’m guessing it’s because of my sparkling personality.’ She hummed a few bars of ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?’ from The Sound of Music. Without giving him time to respond, she pulled the bag he’d packed towards her. ‘Right, you have a couple of books here—’ the thick cardboard ones that were almost indestructible ‘—so you can read one of those to him. But you have to point to the picture and say the word. Making the appropriate sound will earn you bonus points.’ She pointed to a chicken and made chicken noises.
He opened his mouth, but she pushed the book into his hands before he could speak. ‘It also makes the game last longer and that can be a blessing when your hands are sore from the clapping game.’
He didn’t sigh, but it looked as if he wanted to.
‘First and foremost, you need to keep him safe.’
His shoulders immediately tensed. ‘What dangers am I guarding against?’
‘Well, he isn’t crawling yet, but he can roll and he can do a funny kind of tummy crawl. So he can get himself to the edge of the blanket…and there’s all of that sand…and everything he picks up goes in his mouth.’
He nodded. ‘No sand eating.’
‘Once babies begin to move, they can do so surprisingly quickly.’ She pointed to the water behind her.
He pointed a finger at her and then the water. ‘Not going to happen.’
‘I know. You’ll keep an eagle eye on him.’
He blinked.
‘Insects can be a problem too. We don’t want him bitten by an ant or stung by a bee or anything along those lines.’
He immediately traced the blanket’s perimeter with eyes that made her think of laser beams. She pulled in another of those wobbly breaths. His worry, his vigilance, his desire to do this thing—a thing he apparently didn’t want to do—to the very best of his ability, touched something inside her, made it soft and breathless. ‘And…um…finally…the sun. We don’t want him getting sunburned.’
His hands slammed to his hips. ‘Then why don’t we just take him back inside where it’s safe?’
‘Jasper,’ she said gently, ‘he’s your nephew. You’re free to take him back into the house whenever you want. But how would you feel cooped up inside all day? Besides, there are things you need to protect him from in there too—the sharp edges of coffee tables, making sure he doesn’t put something he shouldn’t in his mouth.’
He dragged a hand down his face, making her heart twist. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just…there’s a lot to consider.’
And he’d never expected to be in this situation. That much was apparent. She forced her lips upwards. ‘If it’s any consolation, vitamin D is most excellent for growing bones, and sunscreen will help take care of the sunburn.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘As will a hat.’
‘It’s in my pocket,’ he muttered. ‘He doesn’t like wearing it.’
She didn’t say anything, simply poured some sunscreen into her hand. ‘I’ve never put this stuff on a baby before, so it could prove interesting.’
He looked as if he wanted to run away. ‘How can I help?’
‘I don’t know. You might need to hold him. Let’s see how we do first.’
She smeared a line of the lotion down George’s nose and across each cheek, and started to rub it in. He gave a squeal of outrage and tried to turn his face away, but she was too quick for him. When she did it again, he frowned at her and then he opened his mouth and…well, he yelled at her to stop. It was the only way she could think to describe it, and she found herself laughing. ‘He reminded me of you then.’
‘I don’t frown like that.’
‘I beg to differ.’
‘And I would certainly never yell at you.’ He then seemed to recall that moment in his study when he’d found her sitting in front of his computer, and winced, scrubbing a hand across his hair.
She took pity on him. ‘Not without provocation,’ she agreed. ‘And in George’s eyes, sunscreen apparently provides ample provocation.’
His nose curled. ‘I can understand that. The stuff is sticky.’
If she didn’t still have a handful of sunscreen she’d have slammed her hands to her hips. ‘Are you telling me you’re not wearing sunscreen?’
‘I…’ His mouth opened and closed. ‘There wasn’t time.’
Without thought, she reached across and deposited a liberal amount of lotion to his face. George let loose with a long, ‘Ooh!’
‘Exactly, Master George, Uncle Jasper needs to set you a good example.’ But as she said the words, her stomach was clenching up tighter and tighter. She should never have touched him. What on earth had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking. She’d acted on impulse. And in this instance, impulse was bad. Really bad.
Or really divine. Depended on which way you wanted to look at it. Beneath her fingers Jasper’s skin felt warm and vital, vivid, and the strength of him seeped into her fingers and all the way through to her bones, making her feel buoyant and alive. Which was crazy. The scent of him—warm cotton and cardamom—had an unfamiliar yearning stretching through her.
She couldn’t look at him; afraid she’d betray the need racing through her. She stared doggedly at George instead. ‘I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have drowned you in suncream, but your nephew is watching this exchange intently. And I’m thinking that if I dab a final bit on your forehead and rub it in, then maybe he’ll be a bit more amenable and let me do the same to him.’
‘Right.’
That was said through a clenched jaw, and she did her best not to wince. She tried to not feel him as she did it, but her fingers were tingling by the time she’d finished.
Little George blinked when she repeated the procedure on him, and frowned, but he didn’t squeal or holler.
‘Okay.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘Let’s try arms next.’
Without a word, Jasper held out an arm, but she couldn’t help noticing the way his eyes had turned remote and distant. Cold. It was all she could do not to shiver.
To her amazement, though, George also held his arm out in imitation of his uncle. Holding her breath, she squirted lotion on both arms—man’s and child’s. ‘Quick,’ she murmured to Jasper. ‘Give me your other arm.’
Again, George copied, and she laid a line of cream down both arms—one strong and tanned, the other tiny, plump and pale. ‘Right, we’re ignoring your arms for the moment, Jasper. You take one of George’s arms while I do the other. You can rub yours in once we’re done.’ Which meant she wouldn’t have to touch him again.
Without a word, and with quick efficient movements that made her own efforts seem clumsy, Jasper gently rubbed the cream into George’s right arm. Wanting to distract George while she did his legs, she said, ‘Help Uncle Jasper rub the cream on his arms.’
She gave a quick demonstration, not actually touching Jasper, just pretending to, and George immediately leaned forward and started patting his uncle’s arm. Jasper turned to her, his eyes wide. ‘He…he understood exactly what you wanted him to do!’
‘He’s smart…and utterly adorable. And that—’ she pointed to his arm ‘—will keep him occupied for ages.’
While the lotion on Jasper’s other arm was about to drip onto the blanket. With an apologetic grimace, she reached across and rubbed it in. The action brought her face in close to his and she wondered if the consternation—the turmoil—in his eyes was reflected in hers. She edged back, her mouth going dry, and the shutters slammed down over his eyes, leaving her confused and flailing.
‘I think it’s time you went for your swim, Imogen.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea.’ She nodded. ‘Before you throttle me.’
Did she imagine it or did his lips just twitch?
She started to untie her sarong and his gaze immediately swung away to focus on the baby. It made her heart thump too hard. She swallowed and forced herself to focus on the reason she’d brought him and the baby out here. ‘What are you going to do if he cries?’
* * *
Jasper did his level best to keep his eyes on the baby. Imogen’s touch—on his face and his arm—had been innocent, almost absent-minded. But it had woken something inside him, and he desperately wanted to lull it back to sleep. Ogling her, near naked in a swimsuit, would not help him achieve that particular objective. Besides, he didn’t ogle. He’d never ogled. And he wasn’t starting now.
‘And here’s a hint. Calling for me is the wrong answer.’
Her voice was filled with laughter and he wanted to lean into it, play along, but experience warned him not to. While he might have to face the fact that he could like Imogen Hartley—quite a lot actually—there was no place in his life for her. He’d trusted a woman once—had foolishly come to rely on her, had thought they were a team. But she’d left, frightened off by his father’s threats. He didn’t blame her for leaving, not for a moment. But it’d taught him two hard lessons. The first—that he couldn’t rely on anyone but himself. The second—that it’d be wrong of him to put any woman in a position where she could be hurt by his father.
‘Jasper?’
She could whisper his name in a way that made the surface of his skin come alive.
She knelt back down to the blanket in front of him and the baby. ‘If you’re that uncomfortable with this, I’ll stay. I don’t have to go for a swim.’
‘No, you go for your swim.’ He didn’t want to deprive her of such an innocent pleasure. She’d been looking forward to it—had definitely earned it—and he’d do whatever he could to facilitate it. He made himself swallow, pulled his face into neat lines. ‘I’m just…out of practice at talking to people. Evidently I’ve been spending too much time in my own head.’
He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. He wanted to check his words, choke them back, but it was too late. Gritting his teeth, he forced his mind back to her original question. ‘If the baby cries, I’ll make sure nothing is hurting him, and then I’ll check his nappy.’ Um… ‘I saw a bottle of something in your bag…?’
‘It’s just cold boiled water.’
Right. ‘Well, I’ll see if he wants that.’
‘And if that doesn’t work?’
He tried not to scowl—neither she nor the baby deserved his malcontent. ‘I’ll distract him by playing choo-choo trains or something equally inane.’
The green flecks in her eyes shone bright and clear. She stared at him steadily now and he didn’t know if she was amused by him or concerned.
Don’t be an idiot.
If she was concerned about anyone it’d be the baby.
‘And if that doesn’t work,’ he added, doing his best not to frown, ‘I’ll sing to him.’
Her lips parted. ‘What a lovely idea.’
He stared at those parted lips and that monster he’d been trying to lull roared back to life—fierce, hungry and primal. Her eyes widened at whatever she saw in his face, and her tongue eased out to moisten her lips. They stared at each other, lost in some strange in-between world—but in between what he couldn’t say—and then the baby squealed, and she jerked back, and he could breathe again.
She leapt to her feet. ‘If he cries, pick him up and give him a cuddle. That might be all he needs—a bit of reassurance that he’s safe.’ And with that, her sarong floated to the ground and she set off towards the water.
He did his best not to notice her bare legs and arms or the curve of her hips. She wore a seriously sedate swimsuit, and a sun shirt. It shouldn’t make a man’s mouth dry with longing.
It shouldn’t.
Keep your head.
He’d been on his own too long, that was all. This was just an…adjustment.
A squeal at his elbow snagged his attention. He glanced down to find the baby pointing a wobbly arm after Imogen and frowning. ‘Immy’s going for a swim.’ He called her Immy to the baby because it was what she called herself. Come to Immy; Immy’s getting your bottle now.
George looked as if he might cry. ‘She’ll be back soon. It’s not worth getting upset about, kid, believe me. Look—’ he held out his arm, shuffling closer ‘—we haven’t rubbed all of this goop in yet.’
The baby gave a toothless grin and started patting Jasper’s arm with an enthusiasm that tugged at the older man’s heart. He was a clever little kid. Were all babies this smart? He’d bet they weren’t.
They spent a leisurely few minutes making sure it was all rubbed in, and then George stared at him expectantly. Right… He cleared his throat. ‘Do you want to play the clapping game?’ He clapped his hands together a few times. Nothing. ‘What about your train?’ He seized the train. ‘Would you like to play with that?’ No way was he making choo-choo noises, though.
The train was tossed across the blanket. Uh-huh…
The hat! He pulled it from his pocket and set it on the kid’s head. The kid immediately sounded a protest and went to pull it off, but Jasper whipped out his own cap and waved it about.
‘Look, I have a hat too.’
And he set it on his own head.
The baby pointed to it and bounced. ‘Um! Um! Um!’
He wanted Jasper’s hat? He handed it over. The kid pulled his own hat off and gave it to Jasper, and then tried to put Jasper’s cap on. He finally managed it, with a bit of help from his uncle, and did his best to look up at Jasper, but the brim covered his eyes. Fat hands lifted the brim, and when he finally made eye contact with Jasper, he laughed hysterically. Jasper couldn’t help but laugh too. The kid had a weird sense of humour. And that was the game they played for the next twenty minutes—swapping hats and laughing.
Boring and mundane? Perhaps. But he’d attended board meetings that had dragged worse and achieved less. And at least he was sitting in the sun on a beautiful beach.
The thought gave him pause. Since when did he care where he was or what the weather was like? Though a bit of sun was good for the baby. Imogen had said so. Personally, he didn’t care about either the beach or the sunshine. At least that was what he told himself.
He glanced back at the baby. Okay, this whole ‘looking after a kid’ thing wasn’t rocket science. It was something he could learn. He could make sure all the kid’s physical needs were met, and be friendly with the little guy, and keep his distance. He didn’t need to engage his emotions towards the baby any more than he did towards his staff back in Sydney. He cared about their well-being, naturally, but it didn’t matter to him on a personal level if they decided to leave his employment or anything. Just as it wouldn’t matter when Emily demanded the return of her child.
And as far as Jasper was concerned, that was the best-case scenario he could think of.
‘Look.’ He pointed down the beach. ‘Here comes Immy.’ She moved with an unconscious grace that had his chest drawing tight, making it hard to get air into his lungs. He swallowed and looked away. ‘I hope she enjoyed her swim, kid. She’s earned it.’ He had to do better where she was concerned. She’d gone above and beyond these last two days.
George glanced up at Jasper, eyes wide, and then his face split into a grin and he clapped his hands. Jasper found himself smiling back and clapping his hands too.
‘How was the water?’ he asked when she reached them, doing his best to look—and feel—unaffected.
‘Freezing!’ she said with her usual irrepressible cheerfulness, grabbing her towel and drying her face. ‘Makes you tingle all over.’
Tingling was the last thing he needed to think about, but she literally glowed from her swim. Something inside him responded to it. And there was nothing he could do about it. Other than try and ignore it.
‘Hey, Georgie, did you have fun?’ And then she squeezed a drop of water from her hair and let it fall to the baby’s foot.
George squealed. And when she made as if to drip more water on him, he squealed louder, seized a handful of Jasper’s shirt and hauled himself upright on wobbly legs. He’d have fallen, would’ve pitched forward to smack his face against Jasper’s knees, if Jasper hadn’t caught him. The kid then stood balanced on Jasper’s lap, and he bounced and chortled and waved his arms in glee that he’d evaded Imogen and her antics.
Jasper could barely draw breath. The baby had trusted him to catch him—to protect him and keep him safe.
George laughed up at his uncle now as if they’d shared a joke. Jasper’s mouth dried. That…that was just fanciful, right? Nine-month-old babies couldn’t share a joke with you.
The baby’s legs gave way, and he plopped down on Jasper’s knee, snuggling into him…and then he wrapped an arm across Jasper’s tummy and he cuddled him. Every hard thing inside Jasper’s heart melted to a puddle, and his arms went around little George of their own volition.
He stared down at his nephew, his heart filling with too much emotion. He said the rudest word he knew. Very softly.
He glanced up to find Imogen watching. She didn’t remonstrate with him for his bad language. Instead, she asked, ‘What just happened?’
The soft warmth of her voice helped to soothe the ragged edges of the panic pounding through him.
He didn’t bother trying to deny it. ‘I’m falling for him.’
She wrapped her towel about herself and sat on the edge of the blanket. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
His chest ached. His throat ached. And his head pounded. ‘I have absolutely no jurisdiction over this child, Imogen. When one of his parents demands his return, I have to hand him over. I won’t be able to keep George here.’
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, her gaze never leaving his. ‘But you can visit him, can’t you? And he can come for holidays here to Tesoura, right?’ She searched his face. ‘I’m not getting something. What am I not getting?’
A breath rattled out of him. ‘My sister is married to a man who beats her. I tried to help her break free of him, but she didn’t want that. Instead, she cut me from her life and said she never wanted to see me again.’
Her hand flew to her mouth. When her gaze lowered to the babe in his arms, her eyes filled. He wanted to hug her for her concern, for the way she worried about George. For her kindness.
‘No matter how much I might want to, I can’t protect George. Not from his own parents.’ And yet how on earth could he abandon George to a lifetime of fear and abuse?
Nausea churned through him. History was going to repeat, and he was powerless to stop it. The thought nearly broke him.
‘Despite all of that,’ Imogen said slowly, ‘your sister still sent the baby to you. That has to mean something, don’t you think? What did her letter say?’
‘Next to nothing!’ It hadn’t provided him with an ounce of reassurance. George jumped at his tone and started to fidget, Jasper soothed him the way he’d seen Imogen doing—holding him against his shoulder and rubbing his back. ‘“Dear Jasper,”’ he recited through gritted teeth, ‘“I know you’ve probably not forgiven me, but there are some things I need to take care of. In the meantime, I need someone to look after George. Please keep him safe until I can come for him. Emily.”’
She hadn’t signed off with ‘love’ or ‘best wishes’ or ‘sincerely’ or anything else. And she hadn’t given him any further explanation. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected more. His lips twisted. Hope sprang eternal, he supposed.
Imogen had stiffened. She stared straight at him as if expecting something more from him—in the same way he’d expected something more from Emily. ‘What?’
‘It sounds like she’s in trouble.’
He hated the way her words made his gut clench. ‘What makes you think that?’
Her hands lifted. ‘What makes you think there could be any other possible explanation?’
‘Experience.’
She blinked and eased back. He was going to have to explain, and he didn’t want to. But George needed all the allies he could get, and Jasper had no intention of ostracising a potential ally as kind and generous as Imogen. She made his nephew smile and she made him feel safe. That was worth more than gold.
He did what he could to find his equilibrium. ‘My father and brother-in-law are both shaped in the same mould.’
Her bottom lip wobbled. ‘They’re both…violent?’
‘They’re both miserable excuses for human beings.’
Her eyes filled again, and it made his chest twist. ‘I can’t stand either one of them,’ she said with quiet vehemence, and for some reason it warmed up parts of him that had started to chill.
‘My father wanted all of my mother’s attention. He resented Emily and me for taking up so much of her time. Sometimes, when it all got a bit too much for her, she’d farm us out to relatives for a couple of weeks or would send us off to some holiday camp.’
He’d hated it, but at the same time he’d welcomed the reprieve from his father’s anger.
Imogen worried at her lip. ‘She was probably trying to protect you.’
His head felt too heavy for his shoulders. ‘Or saving her own skin.’ And he didn’t blame her. But when he’d offered her a chance to escape her husband—when he’d offered her refuge and a chance to start a new life—she’d spurned it, had rejected him. Just like Emily.
‘That’s what you think Emily is doing with George?’
‘I know that on the day she sent George here, she and Aaron attended a big charity ball in Sydney—one of the biggest events of the social calendar—filled with all of the powerful and well-to-do. I also know that in the coming week Aaron is going to the States. No doubt Emily will be going with him.’
She pressed a hand to her brow. ‘What if you’re wrong? What if she’s in trouble and trying to break away from her husband? Him going to the States could provide her with the perfect opportunity to do that. Does she have anyone she can turn to? Would your parents take her in?’
‘My father would order her to return to Aaron.’ The two of them had always been as thick as thieves.
‘Friends?’
‘Aaron vets all of her friends—in truth he’s probably isolated her from them all by now.’ In the same way his father had his mother.
‘So she has no one to turn to?’
She had him! She had her brother. He broke out in a cold sweat. Despite everything she had to know that, didn’t she?