Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) (19 page)

Hysterical good cheer, much?

Ben eased off the bed. “If the girls are okay with you, I’ll take off and swing by Russell’s. See if they’ve any flowers left.”

“Ben forgot it was Mother’s Day,” Jade said with a smug glance. “
Gran’ll be real mad, but I said he could share my card.”

“Oh. Well, they’re fine here with me. You’d better go—shoo!” Kezia f
lapped a hand in his direction.

If she stretched the fake smile any tighter, the co
rners of her mouth would split. Ben exited Kezia’s bedroom and the house as if his jeans had caught fire.

Like they were a real family?

What kind of ideas were Jade and Zoe cooking up? And although taking up embroidery was more likely than him taking on the commitment of a woman and her kid, Kezia’s apparent horror at the idea stung. Pissed him off a little too.

Problem was, he’d opened Pandora’s box—no pun intended—when he’d touched her the other afternoon. Together, they were too damn sexually explosive, and he was too bad an actor to pretend he didn’t crave a
nother taste. But embarking on a, God forbid,
committed relationship
…

He loped down the hill to the grocery store, the cool sea breeze not half as cold as the ice chips melting in his stomach.

Yet, he couldn’t go back to casual acquaintances. Being forced to deal with Kezia in social situations as
just friends
, potentially watching other men try their luck when he’d held her as she went to pieces in his arms, made him want to punch something.

And whatever that meant,
he’d deal with it another time.

Like never.

***

Kezia closed the cover on
Harry Potter’s
latest escapade and placed the book on Zoe’s nightstand. “That was exciting—how will we ever get to sleep?”

“Easy. I’m tired because you bossed me around all Mother’s Day. Why can’t there be a kids’ day?”

“Every day is kids’ day, and was I really so bossy?” Kezia brushed a stray curl off Zoe’s forehead.

“I had to do the breakfast dishes instead of going to play with Jade.”

“Jade went with Ben to Mrs. Harland’s place for lunch,” she said gently. “She needed to spend time with her family, and we needed to spend time together too.”

Zoe’s eyes cut right and her lower lip pooched out. “If we added our family to Jade’s, then we’d have a
real
one—with a mum and dad and kids.”

Kezia tucked her lips in tight to prevent a sigh from escaping. “You and I are a real family. Just like Jade and Ben’s family, George’s family with Sara and Hel
ena, and Madison and her Grandparents. A family is made up of people who love each other—”

“I know, I know.” Zoe hunched her shoulders under the folds of her duvet. “And one in four kids in New Zealand live with a single parent. I
Googled it.”

Just the sort of thing she’d expect Zoe to be curious about. Her girl loved trivia and statistics—when she was old enough to join Oban’s regular quiz nights, Zoe would knock Ford o
ff his perch as reigning champ.

“Yes. It’s a sad statistic.”

“Mamma? My dad’s been dead a long time, hasn’t he? I don’t remember him very well.”

No surprise that Zoe’s memories of her father were spotty. She was only four when he died in the car acc
ident, and his work had become an oasis and a convenient excuse to hide from his sick pre-schooler and exhausted wife. Her gut tightened around the old, indigestible ball of grief and disillusionment. While she no longer thought of Callum daily, the nasty little ball never completely went away. Usually it remained buried under newer, happier memories, but the smallest trigger could expose it all over again.

Kezia drew Zoe’s hand out from under the duvet and squeezed it gently. “You were so little and so very sick. It’s okay not to remember him.”

“Yes, but, Mamma, why haven’t you gotten married again? Is it because of me?” Zoe’s eyes glistened in the golden light of her bedside lamp.

Kezia’s heart bucked against her chest. “No, baby. Not at all. I love being your mamma and spending time with you. I don’t need a husband—I don’t need a man to make me happy.”

“Ben makes you happy.” A sly tone crept into Zoe’s voice. “You smile and laugh a lot when he’s around—and your face goes bright red sometimes.” Her eyes narrowed, the tip of her small, pink tongue catching in the corner of her mouth. “You like him, don’t you?”

Like him? Sexy body and wickedly talented mouth. Hands that caused her to shift uncomfortably on the edge of Zoe’s bed just thinking about them. So much easier if sexual attraction were the only element in play. But stir in respect, admiration, and the way her heart lifted like a helium balloon every time she saw Ben, add in simply liking the man—crankiness and all—and what did she have? A big, fat
disastro
in the making.

“Yes, I do like him. He’s a good friend, the same way George is your friend.”

“George’s a boy, so he can’t be a proper friend, but I like him okay—when he’s not being a pain in the
culo
.”

“Now where did you hear that?”

“You! You told Shaye that Ben was one once.”

Kezia strangled a laugh and reapplied her serious face. “Ah. Ben and I are friends, like I am with West or Kip. They’re all nice men, but I’m not marrying any of them.”

Zoe sighed. A
Mamma, you’re so slow
sigh. “You can’t marry West, ‘cause he and Piper are in
lurv
. You can’t marry Kip, either, ‘cause I asked him to be your boyfriend, and he said you were too good for him, but I don’t know what
that
means—”

Oh, dear Lord. Kezia squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, imagining Zoe marching up to Kip and sca
ring the heck out of the poor man.

“But there’s no reason why you couldn’t marry Ben. Then I’d have a sister, and you’d have someone to talk to after I go to bed.”

Someone to talk to. Instead of reading a book, watching another medical drama on TV, listening to the clock tick until Shaye got home so there’d be another adult to share her day with. How pathetic was she?

But she couldn’t deny that the idea of being wrapped up in Ben’s arms at the end of the day, that whispered conversations and hot kisses by firelight held a secret appeal. A
dangerous
appeal—one which she immediately squashed.

“
Cara
, you’re forgetting something very important. People marry because they love each other, and both people have to want to get married. Ben and I don’t love each other, and we don’t want to get married.”

“Well, he could still be your boyfriend.” Zoe patted her hand.

“How about a boy who is just a friend?”

Her eyebrows pinched together, and she crossed her arms. “I want Jade to be my sister.”

Kezia stroked her daughter’s velvety-soft cheek. “I used to want a sister too. But do you know what? Now I have Piper and Shaye, and they’re sisters here.” She touched a palm to her chest. “Where it counts.”

“I still want a real sister.”

“I hear you.” Stubborn little minx. “But it’s time for lights out.”

“All right, Mamma.” Zoe stretched her arms out for one last hug. “Love you.”

Kezia held Zoe close, burying her face in her curls, loving her daughter so hard she expected her heart to explode.

“I love you too.”

Kezia switched off the lamp and left the room, pausing in the darkened hallway, with a half-smile on her lips.
Any second now
…

“Mamma?”

“Yes, Zoe?”

“Bet Ben would
like
to be your boyfriend.”

“Goodnight, Miss Matchmaker.”

Bittersweet humor ached in her throat as she closed her daughter’s door. She couldn’t place her heart in a man’s hand for safekeeping ever again.

Chapter
10

One day he’d hook up outside speakers and blast the theme to
Jaws
while a Great White approached the submerged cage holding his clients. You made your own fun here on the Island.

Ben glanced down at the cage secured to The
Mollymawk’s stern. A flurry of bubbles foamed up from the six wetsuit-covered bodies inside. Piper, in the group’s center, turned and gave him a thumbs up, then flashed her open palm twice. Ten more minutes.

Two clients pointed at the sleek, grey and cream shape cruising through the water. The ragged dorsal fin broke the surface before the shark slid soundlessly into the depths. Ben held a healthy respect for the big ba
stards. Respect with a thin layer of horror, as one could’ve taken his father’s body.

Scrubbing a fist over his chest, Ben examined the divers’ air hoses. All remained untangled. He leaned out a little more to peer into the cage again—just a quick check. Wouldn’t it chap her ass knowing he still worried for her?

Nine years ago, when their father failed to surface after a thirty meter dive, Piper risked her life to bring him up from the deep. Alone, unable to muscle him back into the boat, she’d made a gut-wrenching decision to let their dad go. Searches by the coastguard and the Police’s National Dive Squad failed to find him. Michael Harland’s body was never recovered.

Ben stubbornly blamed himself and Piper for the a
ccident for years—hadn’t spoken to her from the day she left Oban until she returned to help run his dive tours in January. After their mother finally divulged the family secret of Michael’s alcoholism, Ben manned up and apologized to Piper for being such a jackass.

Ancient history—and too much of a downer to dwell on. He’d catch grief i
f Piper spotted him “brooding.”

An hour later, with a boatload of hyped-up, happy clients, Ben steered south toward Oban. Piper entered the wheelhouse carrying a steaming mug of coffee.

“Here you go, skipper.” She passed it to him and flopped into a helm seat.

The
Mollymawk crested another wave and wallowed into the trough.

“How’s your stomach?” He nodded at the camo
uflage-print band wrapped around her wrist. A band claiming to prevent seasickness.

Piper glanced down at the thin cuff. “So far, so good. I would’ve thrown you overboard if you’d gotten me the striped pink ones.”

“Am I the most thoughtful big brother ever, or what?”

“Wish I’d had one before I nearly puked all over West.”

“Nearly puking worked out well for the two of you in the long run.” He sipped the coffee and winked. “How did your hot, Saturday-night date go? Get your money’s worth?”

“Yeah, right.” The breath she blew out ruffled her short fringe. “Five hundred bucks down at the auction to sit in Due South with Betsy Taylor eyeballing us from the corner. An octogenarian chaperone making sure I didn’t give West a crotch rub under the tabl
ecloth. We should’ve stayed home.”

Ben grimaced, took another sip. “God, that charity auction. I swear I’ll rip the tongue out of the next pe
rson to ask if I’ve figured out the mystery bidder’s identity.”

“Oh…mmm.” Piper fiddled with a hole in the knee of her jeans.

A light switched on. A light connecting Piper’s continual insistence she didn’t know who wrote the check for two grand, to Kezia’s admission that her late husband was an architect. He hadn’t known the man’s occupation then—other than he’d been some sort of professional suit. But later, like all nosy bastards, he’d used the internet to find more information. He’d Googled Callum Murphy and discovered he’d been a partner in his father’s Wellington-based architectural firm. Callum’s fatal car crash had left his wife a wealthy woman.

“Kezia.”

Piper’s gaze zipped sideways. “What?”

“Kezia’s the mystery bidder. She never came fo
rward to claim the date she’d won because she doesn’t want to be seen with a man like me.” He injected just enough self-righteous indignation into his tone to needle Piper’s temper.

Piper jabbed his leg with her purple combat boot. “That’s not true, and you know it. Kezia didn’t claim the date because—” Her eyes locked on his and her mouth dropped. “You sneaky bugger.”

“Too easy, Pipe. How many years were you a cop again?”

She slumped farther down in her seat. “
Kez’ll kill me if she finds out I told you.”

“Relax. I guessed. I’m just yanking your chain for conformation.”

“I repeat—sneaky bugger.” She stretched out her long legs and crossed her ankles. “It really wasn’t because she didn’t want to be seen with you, okay?”

Across the choppy waves, thick streamers of low cloud topped Stewart Island’s bush-covered hills. A petrel arrowed into the sea off starboard side, and through the open wheelhouse door rose shouts of e
xcitement as a client spotted the sleek head of a sea lion.

Ben pulled his gaze away fr
om the windshield and shrugged.