‘Guiding him?’ Lucy queried, thinking James was not the kind of person to be guided anywhere he didn’t want to be led.
‘My incredibly clever husband was a top-flight barrister,’ Zoe proudly declared. ‘He taught James all the tricky things about contracts, putting him wise on what to look out for in the entertainment business. That’s a good part of why he’s so successful at managing his clients.’
‘Meticulous attention to detail,’ Lucy agreed, privately reasoning that James had probably taken every opportunity to pick Hugh Greenaway’s brains, already knowing where he wanted to go. He wasn’t a follower. Having worked so closely with him, Lucy was fairly sure James always had and always would forge his own path.
‘There is the personality angle, too,’ she pointed out to his mother. ‘He’s very good with people.’
Zoe laughed. ‘Well, something of me had to rub off on him.’
That could be so, but coping with all the honorary aunts and uncles and constant changes of school had more likely made getting along with people a survival art, Lucy thought. She wondered what, if anything, had ever touched him deeply. Maybe superficial relationships had become a habit—here today, gone tomorrow, enjoying whatever pleasure they gave him.
‘Have you been a widow long?’ she asked, really wanting to know more of James’ relationship with his stepfather.
‘Longer than I was a wife,’ she answered ruefully. ‘I only had nine years with Hugh. He loved sailing and always crewed for a friend in the Sydney to Hobart yacht race. Ten years ago a dreadful storm blew up during one of those races and Hugh was swept overboard, drowning before he could be rescued. It was a wicked, wicked waste of a life.’
‘He died as he lived, doing what he wanted,’ James sliced in, carrying out a cheeseboard with a plate of crackers and olives. ‘And if he hadn’t been a risk-taker, you wouldn’t have married him. One thing he didn’t do was waste his life, playing everything safe.’
His gaze swung to Lucy and the challenge in his eyes thumped into her heart. It was what she had resolved herself—not to play safe—and he wasn’t playing safe, either. They were both risking their work relationship, compelled to explore a desire that was by no means fulfilled…yet! Where it would lead—where it would end—neither of them knew. A brief fire or a lasting passion?
‘You’ve told me that a thousand times, darling, but it doesn’t stop me missing him when I come home,’ Zoe said plaintively.
James set the food down on a coffee-table within easy reach of the armchairs and shot his mother a sharply inquiring look. ‘Have you broken up with Wilbur?’
‘No, no. Wilbur’s a dear sweet man and he understands me. We do share a lot, but…’
‘There will never be another Hugh,’ came the quiet admonition.
Zoe rolled her eyes at him. ‘Do you have to be so sensible, James?’
‘It’s my job,’ he returned dryly. ‘Excuse me while I get my drink.’
‘Honestly!’ Zoe huffed at Lucy. ‘He’s been like that since he was a boy, making me face up to things instead of letting me float along in my usual haphazard fashion. Is he a terribly bossy boss?’
‘I’ve always found him very reasonable,’ Lucy replied, which was true, for the most part.
‘Ah, yes, but you’re sensible, too. Like minds, no doubt.’
Lucy had to smile. Being sensible was certainly not part of the current equation. But it was interesting to learn Zoe Hancock’s view of her son. It seemed that she looked to him to keep her life in order and there was no such dependency the other way. No mother domination at all. James was, without a doubt, what he had made of himself, and Lucy found that strength of mind and purpose immensely attractive.
He re-emerged from the kitchen, jiggling his drink as he took command of the conversation. ‘So, am I to understand there’s no problem in Melbourne apart from the threat of chicken pox?’ he demanded of his mother. ‘You haven’t come flying home for any other reason?’
‘Truly, darling, everything’s fine,’ she assured him. ‘Wilbur doesn’t want me to risk my health, either. It’s just a precaution, nothing more.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
He settled onto the cane armchair directly across the table from where Lucy sat, leaned forward, cut off a slice of brie from the selection of cheeses, spread it on a cracker and offered it to her, his vivid blue eyes appealing for her to take it.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her pulse beginning to gallop as he watched her lift it to her mouth and bite into it.
A sensual smile played on his lips as he proceeded to serve both his mother and himself. Lucy remembered how sensational his mouth was…kissing hers…and as enlightening as Zoe Hancock’s presence had been, she wished his mother elsewhere.
‘It’s such a lovely, balmy evening,’ Zoe remarked. ‘Who would have thought it would still be this warm in March?’
‘A late summer,’ James said and gave Lucy a look that simmered with hot invitation. ‘Would you like to have a swim in the pool before dinner?’
Pool? She quickly recalled the flight of steps going down beyond the landing that must lead onto this verandah and realised there was a ground level she hadn’t yet seen. ‘I’d love to, but…’ Surely he didn’t expect her to go skinny-dipping with his mother here, though she squirmed sensually at the wicked thought of swimming naked with him. She’d never swum nude in her life, but with James…
‘But what?’ he pressed, offering her the dish of olives.
She shook the wild fantasy out of her head. ‘I don’t have a swimming costume with me,’ she answered ruefully, choosing a black olive.
‘We keep a selection for guests in the cabana. I’m sure there’ll be something to fit you.’
‘Oh!’ She almost choked on the olive as his eyes burned into hers, feeding images of them being in the water together, none of them remotely connected to actually swimming. The something to fit her…did he mean him? She could barely catch enough breath to answer, ‘Okay. Sounds great!’
She could feel the strength of mind and purpose she so admired encompassing her, tugging on her like an irresistible magnet, and every nerve in her body was dancing in response.
‘What were you thinking of doing for dinner?’ Zoe asked.