Cupcakes and Killer Heels Read online

  Cal’s fingers tightened on the wheel at Ruby’s toneless words, completely devoid of self-pity. Now would probably be a good time to change the subject. But instead of the impersonal apology that was supposed to come out of his mouth, he heard himself saying: ‘How old were you when she died?’

  ‘Ten.’

  Damn. His chest tightened at the curt reply.

  ‘That must have been really tough,’ he murmured, surprised by the surge of sympathy. His own mother had never had much time for him or Maddy. She’d always been far too busy navigating the wreck of her marriage. But losing her would have left a hole. If only a small one. Thinking of Ruby suffering such a loss at such a young age made him want to offer comfort. Not something he had a lot of experience with.

  She gave her head a slight shake. ‘It was, but she’d been sick for over a year. What was much tougher was discovering right after she’d died that she wasn’t the perfect person I’d always thought she was. Far from it, actually.’

  He concentrated on the road ahead, debating whether to ask the obvious next question. It wasn’t his business, but the bitter disillusionment in her tone was something he understood only too well.

  ‘What did you discover?’ he asked.

  Seemed his fascination with Ruby hadn’t dimmed in the least, and his usual caution had deserted him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  RUBY frowned, not sure how she’d ended up talking about her mother to Cal of all people. It wasn’t as if what her mother had done was a big secret or anything. But she didn’t normally discuss this stuff, particularly with men she was dating. It was a total downer.

  ‘Cal, it’s okay, you don’t have to listen to my life story,’ she said, trying to deflect him.

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘You can’t be remotely interested.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,’ he said, not sounding deterred in the least. ‘Come on. Whatever she did, it can’t have been all that terrible.’

  ‘You think?’ Animosity scoured her throat. ‘How about she screwed another man just after she married my dad. Got pregnant. And then passed the baby off as his?’

  The words spewed out, harsh and judgmental.

  ‘Okay, that’s pretty bad,’ Cal said beside her, the measured response making her suddenly feel ashamed. Not just for her anger, but for the bitterness behind it.

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t that bad.’ She huffed out a breath, studying Cal’s profile. ‘It was only one night, and Mum was barely nineteen. The guy in question was rich, handsome, sophisticated, by all accounts a total sex machine and he seduced her.’

  Cal’s strong hand gripped the gear shift and she felt the pulse of heat at the memory of his fingers on her skin. Perhaps it was about time she forgave her mother. After last night, she had firsthand experience of just how irresistible spectacular sex could be.

  ‘You’re more forgiving than I would be,’ Cal said. Almost as if he had read her thoughts. ‘So your father was the one who rejected you, then? When he found out you were illegitimate?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said you knew what it was like to be rejected by someone you love. When you got upset with me about Maddy.’

  Colour hit her cheeks at the reminder. God, had she actually said that out loud? She really had lost the plot earlier.

  ‘The baby in question wasn’t me. It was my brother, Nick.’

  ‘I see,’ he said carefully, then glanced towards her, his emerald eyes narrowed. ‘So who was it, then? Who rejected you?’

  He sounded annoyed, which didn’t make any sense.

  ‘I suppose I was referring to my brother, Nick. It has to do with what happened on the night my mum died.’ She paused, not sure how to explain it all. ‘When my dad found out he wasn’t Nick’s biological father.’ She stopped abruptly. Why was she talking about this? It was way too personal. ‘It’s a long story. And really boring actually,’ she finished.

  ‘Don’t forget we’ve still got five hours on the road. I can’t think of another way to pass the time.’ A smile tilted his lips. ‘That’s legal while I’m driving, that is.’

  She smiled back, the teasing comment easing some of the tension.

  ‘It’s not just long, remember. It’s boring,’ she replied. ‘I wouldn’t want you lapsing into a coma while you have my life in your hands.’

  He laughed, then put his hand on her knee, squeezed. ‘If you see me starting to nod off at the wheel, poke me in the ribs.’

  The light words and gesture were so tender and so surprising she felt an odd constriction in her throat. She looked away, the weight of his palm having a strange effect on her.

  She’d never talked about this before, but she couldn’t quite deny the urge to talk about it now. Maybe it was just that Cal’s logical, analytical, unemotional approach was seductive. Was it possible that he could shed some light on all the conflicting emotions from that long ago summer?

  How often had she asked herself if she could have done more? Maybe if she’d been older, or more aware of what was going on sooner, she could have solved the problem before it had become so huge it had been insurmountable.

  ‘All right, but, just so you know, you can stop me any time if this gets tedious.’ She took a deep breath.

  ‘Start from the beginning.’ His hand stroked her thigh. ‘The night your mum died.’

  ‘Okay.’ She let go of the breath. This shouldn’t be that hard. Not after all this time. ‘It was sweltering that night. My dad had closed the restaurant the day before. Which felt so weird.’

  ‘Your dad owns a restaurant?’

  ‘He used to, a little Tuscan place not far from the house I live in now. Nothing fancy, but my parents had put their whole lives into the business after they arrived from Italy. They ran it together with two other staff. Nick and me helped out in the mornings before school and on weekends.’

  ‘When you were ten?’ He sounded astonished.

  She grinned, recalling how much she had adored the constant bustle of the kitchen—watching her mum and dad work side by side. It had always made her feel so secure. Funny to think that image could still make her feel good. Even though she knew now the sense of security had been false.

  ‘Yes, well, I pretended to help and Nick did most of the work, bussing tables and doing the dirtiest kitchen duty. I loved it. He didn’t. Even before…’ Her voice trailed off. Did she really want to relive any of this?

  ‘So that explains your cupcake capabilities,’ Cal remarked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, the interruption successfully shifting her focus back to the task at hand. ‘I come from a long line of food aficionados.’

  ‘But Nick wasn’t into it?’

  ‘Nick hated everything about the catering industry. The noise, the constant stress and activity,’ she murmured. ‘But it wasn’t just that. There was something wrong between Nick and Mum. Even then.’ Why had she always refused to admit that until now?

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘She was so flamboyant. So passionate about everything. She had this huge appetite for life that spilled over into everything she did. But with Nick it was different.’ Ruby tried to push the guilt to one side, but it refused to budge. ‘She never hugged him or kissed him with anything like the same enthusiasm she did me. I guess my dad noticed too, because he filled the gap. He was brilliant with Nick, bringing him out of his shell, praising everything he did. But the night she died, that all changed.’ She rubbed the heel of her hand on her breastbone. The sick, choked up feeling came back.

  ‘We were all hurting,’ she whispered above the quiet hum of the car. ‘She was such a big part of our lives, our family and now she was gone. And as hard as it had been to watch the way she suffered with the cancer, the finality was worse. Nick said something. I can’t even remember what. And our dad, it was like he turned on him. He started ranting in Italian. Something about not wanting to look at Nick, not wanting to hear him speak.’ Tears scorched her throat, making it diff
icult to speak. ‘Nick went white with shock. I started crying. I begged Dad to stop. I know I grabbed hold of him and clung on. And he did stop. He apologised. And then he started to weep. He held me so tight I found bruises on my arms the next day. But he wouldn’t hug Nick. He wouldn’t even look at him.’

  She pushed away the tear that had slipped out with her fist. Her breath hitching. God, when was she finally going to get over this?

  ‘When did you find out about Nick being illegitimate?’

  She swallowed. Cal’s astute question bringing back the agony she’d gone through at the time. ‘I overheard my dad and Nick talking on the day of her funeral.’ She sighed. ‘Mum told Dad the truth on the night she died.’ Ruby paused, the sense of betrayal, of confusion still stupidly fresh. Not just because of the infidelity, but because her mother had confessed. Why had she confessed and destroyed everything? ‘My dad told Nick it didn’t matter. That he didn’t care. That he’d forgiven my mother and that he still considered him to be his son. But Nick couldn’t forgive her. He retreated into this sullen, angry silence. I tried to reach him.’ She sighed. ‘I had this mad idea that if I loved him more, I could make it up to him.’

  ‘Not mad,’ Cal interrupted, with implacable certainty. ‘Understandable. My sister did the same thing whenever my parents had one of their break-ups. She always tried to fix it. I think she thought if she could be a better daughter that somehow things would be all right.’

  ‘That’s it. That’s exactly it,’ she said, pathetically pleased to finally have those immature yearnings validated. ‘I thought the same thing. Our family was falling apart before my eyes. And there was no way to solve it. To make it better.’

  ‘What happened to Nick?’

  ‘He became a different person. He used to be so sensitive. So open. But after Mum died, he started to stay out late, hang out with the worst kids in the neighbourhood, bunked off school, got into fights. He wouldn’t talk to me. And him and Dad argued all the time—I suppose he was trying to test if my dad really loved him or not. And then when he was sixteen, they had this massive row one night and he left. My dad tried to find him. But he was just gone.’

  ‘So you never saw your brother again?’

  If only it could have been that simple.

  ‘I contacted him three years ago when my dad had a massive heart attack. Dad had to stop working and we sold the restaurant. I knew he was dying. He knew it too. And he asked me to find Nick. He wanted to see him one more time. So I hired an agency.’ To think even then, she’d still held out some hope that she could fix things. ‘Turns out he lives in San Francisco. He’s a scriptwriter. In Hollywood,’ she added, pride thickening her voice despite everything. ‘It took me three weeks of phone calls to his agent and then his PA before he called me back.’ She shook her head, the agony and devastation still far too real. ‘He didn’t want to know.’ She blinked, the sheen of tears turning the motorway’s grass verges to a misty green. ‘I rang him twice more, when Dad started to deteriorate, and he took the calls, but I couldn’t make him budge.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘That he didn’t want to see Dad again.’ She gulped down the silly sting of pain. ‘That was the worst bit, he kept referring to him as “your dad” like they weren’t even related. I lost my temper with him. I shouted, I pleaded, I argued and begged. But he wouldn’t listen. Dad died a few weeks later. I sent Nick an invite to the funeral and he didn’t show.’ She turned to Cal, saw the sharp frown of concentration on his brow. ‘So there you have it. The long and boringly anecdotal reason why I made such an idiot of myself this afternoon when your sister rang. I heard you talking to her and it was like all those feelings came back—of pain and frustration and helplessness—and I transferred all my unhappiness with Nick onto you.’

  Looking at the rigid line of Cal’s jaw, the muscle twitching as he kept his eyes on the road ahead, she wondered again at the idiotic impulse, but still felt relieved that she finally had a decent explanation. Her volatile reaction had never had anything to do with her and Cal. It had always been about her and Nick.

  ‘I expect you’re probably questioning the state of my mental health at the moment.’ She gave a strained laugh. ‘And I wouldn’t blame you in the least. But, honestly, I don’t usually make such a complete twit of myself. Especially not on such short acquaintance.’

  ‘There’s no need to apologise again,’ he murmured. ‘Given the context, your reaction makes sense.’ His eyes drifted over her face and figure before returning to the road ahead. ‘You’re a passionate person.’ His lips turned up at the corner. ‘I’ve got several reasons to be grateful for that.’

  Turning towards the console, Ruby drew her knees up, settled her cheek against the deep bucket seat and gazed at the man beside her. ‘You know, you’re an exceptionally good listener,’ she murmured, knowing he’d been much more than that. With his straightforward questions and observations he’d helped her see the breakdown of her family in a new light. She could see now she’d tried, she’d done her best and she had to stop blaming herself for something that had never been in her power to fix.

  His brow lifted. ‘It’s part of my job to listen,’ he said, but she detected a note of caution that made her smile. He sounded taken aback, wary and even a little embarrassed. Who would have suspected that her Scottish Warlord would be flummoxed by a simple compliment?

  Her eyelids grew heavy as she breathed in the pleasant scent of new leather that permeated the car. She stretched as a huge yawn overtook her. The outpouring of emotion had drained her.

  ‘I’ve hit the wall.’ She yawned again, all the activity of the last twenty-four hours catching up with her in one energy-sapping rush.

  ‘Tilt the seat back and get some sleep,’ he said, switching the radio back up and adjusting the station until an old reggae song crooned gently out of the speakers. ‘We’ve got hours yet.’

  Fatigue tugged at Ruby’s limbs making them feel weightless as the quiet hum of the powerful engine lulled her into sleep. Her lips tipped up as she floated on a wave of exhaustion. Incredible to think she’d laid eyes on Callum Westmore for the first time only yesterday morning. The man certainly knew how to make an impression on a girl. In more ways than one.

  Cal’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he flashed the car ahead of them in the outside lane, which was poking along at a sedate ten miles under the speed limit. The surge of adrenaline that coursed through him as he pressed his foot on the accelerator and flew past it made the anger in his gut harden.

  Right about now he’d like to take a horsewhip to Nick Delisantro.

  Ruby’s big brother sounded like a self-serving, self-absorbed son of a bitch. Maybe Cal was never going to be a candidate for the Brother of the Year Award, but he’d never treat Maddy with the cold, careless contempt this Nick guy had treated Ruby.

  Hearing the hitch in Ruby’s voice as she’d talked about the phone calls, he knew what it must have cost her—his proud and passionate Ruby—to watch her father die knowing she hadn’t been able to fulfil his dying wish. Nick Delisantro’s selfishness beggared belief, the guy needed to be…

  Whoa there. ‘What the…?’ The whispered curse burst out.

  His Ruby. Where the hell had that come from?

  He slanted a sideways look at the woman curled up in the passenger seat, her wildly curling hair framing high cheekbones, the dusky skin a pale gold in the sunlight. Drawing a deep breath into his lungs—he let it out gradually. Relaxing his death grip on the steering wheel, he glanced at the speedometer and slowed the car.

  Ruby Delisantro was not ‘his Ruby'. Not even close. He hardly knew her.

  All right, maybe he’d had some of the best sex of his life in her company.

  Heat swelled in his groin as he thought back to what she’d done to him that afternoon.

  Make that the best sex of his life. And he planned to have more before the weekend was over. But come tomorrow evening, when they got back to London, their fl
ing would be over.

  She was not his. And she never would be.

  He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. Spotting the sign for the M5, he merged into the inside lane to take the exit signposting The South West.

  He didn’t do long-term relationships. He didn’t like getting that involved in other people’s lives, because he hated the lack of privacy, and the breaking down of personal boundaries that always came with it.

  As the car accelerated back into the outside lane, the screaming tension in his shoulders finally started to subside.

  That moment of possessiveness, of connection between him and Ruby, had been nothing more than fatigue. They’d been up most of the night, spent several hours walking the Heath and then jumped straight back into bed for an encore as soon as they’d returned to his flat. When you factored in the long drive and the unsettling prospect of spending a weekend with his sister’s family it was probably no wonder he’d let down his guard.

  From now on he’d be more careful. And if he got curious about Ruby and her past again, he’d bite his damn tongue off before he gave in to the desire to know more.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘GOOD GOD.’ Ruby tilted her head back to gawk at Trewan Manor as Cal turned the car into the hedge-lined driveway.

  With its towering gables and ramparts and the huge mullioned windows, the stone mansion looked like a cross between Cinderella’s castle and the feverish imaginings of some mad Victorian architect. Ruby had first spotted the place as they wound their way up the coast road. Perched on the cliff, the gothic edifice looked dramatic and forbidding. But up close, Ruby noticed the welcoming touches—the flower-drenched boxes on the sills, the red glow of the dying sun sparkling on the sandstone, the fresh scent of sea salt and newly mown grass, and the Barbie scooter discarded on the front step—that turned the fairytale castle into a family home.

  ‘How long has your sister lived here?’ she asked as she stepped onto the gravel.

  ‘Since she met Rye,’ Cal remarked as he yanked their bags out of the back seat.