LITMIR.BIZ

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got back in the car and started the engine, shuddering appreciatively as a blast of warm air flowed from the heater. He pulled carefully into the road and headed back the way they’d come.

      Laura stared miserably out of the window as her mind raced this way and that, so that it was a moment before she thought to question what was happening. ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘Home. To my house, that is.’ He barely spared her a glance as he concentrated on the appalling road conditions. The snow had caught everyone unawares and many drivers had abandoned their cars, making driving even more hazardous for other road users.

      ‘Your house? Oh, but we can’t! I mean, it’s very kind of you but I really can’t impose like that. If you could just take us to…to…’ She couldn’t continue for the simple reason that there wasn’t anywhere she could think of.

      ‘The only place I’m taking you is to my house.’ Mark’s tone was grim all of a sudden and she shivered as she heard the underlying note of steel it held. It was obvious that once Mark made up his mind he wouldn’t be easily swayed. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a blizzard blowing and I have no intention of driving round this damned town all night long.’

      His voice suddenly softened. ‘Anyway, you won’t be imposing, Laura. I’m happy to have you spend the night with us.’ He gave the softest chuckle. ‘And Lucy will be delighted to see you, I promise.’

      Lucy? Was that the name of his wife or his girlfriend even? For some reason she hadn’t given any thought to the fact that Mark might have someone waiting at home for him. Now it seemed to occupy her mind to the exclusion of everything else, even the worry about how she would find the money to pay for the repairs to the house. Yet why should the idea that Mark might be involved in a relationship seem so unpalatable?

      Laura had no idea neither did she spend time trying to work it out. She had a feeling that she might find the answer even less to her liking!

CHAPTER THREE

      ‘THIS is Lucy. Isn’t she beautiful?’

      There was a note in Mark’s voice that made Laura suspect that he’d guessed what she’d been thinking on the drive to his home. She shot him a quick look, wondering if he’d deliberately set out to tease her, before it struck her how ridiculous that idea was. It was no business of hers if Mark Dawson kept a whole harem in his flat, and they both knew that!

      She bent and ran a gentle hand over the white cat’s silky fur as it began to twine around her legs, deeming it wiser to concentrate her thoughts on a safer subject. ‘She’s lovely. Have you had her long?’

      ‘A couple of years. I found her wandering the streets close to where I used to live in Colchester. She was starving and had obviously been in an accident.’ He shrugged. ‘The vet said that eight out of ten pure white cats are deaf, like Lucy, and most end up getting run over because they can’t hear traffic. I contacted the police but nobody came forward to claim her so I adopted her. She doesn’t go out and seems content to be a house cat.’

      He drew Robbie forward, crouching down so that he was level with the child. ‘Come and say hello to Lucy, Robbie. If you stroke her like this…nice and gently…then she’ll be your friend.’

      Robbie tentatively ran his hand over the cat’s fur then smiled his delight as Lucy began to twine around his legs. ‘Pretty pussycat,’ he said, kneeling down so that he could tickle her tummy as she rolled onto her back.

      ‘She is pretty, isn’t she? And she likes you. I can tell.’ Mark hunkered down on his heels, gently running his large hand over the animal’s fur. ‘But Lucy is very special, Robbie. She can’t hear, so that means that you must always make sure that she can see you before you try to stroke her. Otherwise you might scare her and she could scratch you. OK?’

      Robbie nodded gravely. He looked up at Laura, a frown puckering his brow. ‘Me special? Like Lucy?’

      Laura smiled tenderly at him. Reaching out, she brushed the cowlick of fair hair back from his forehead, feeling her heart fill with love. Robbie’s handicap was clear to see in his widely spaced, slanting blue eyes and small features. He was bright enough to notice the times when people stared at him or made insensitive remarks. However, Laura had dealt with his bewilderment by explaining to him that he was very special and that was why sometimes people reacted the way they did. Now, as she looked at him, she knew that she no longer grieved for what might have been. He was her child and she loved and accepted him the way he was.

      ‘Of course you are, darling. You’re very special, just like Lucy.’

      ‘Right, then, young Robbie. If you want to stay here and play with Lucy then I can show your mum where everything is.’ Mark smiled as he straightened, although it was impossible not to see the compassion in his eyes as he looked from the child to her.

      Had he guessed how hard it was at times, dealing with people’s negative reactions, especially since Ian had died and she’d had nobody to share the heartache with? she wondered bemusedly.

      The realisation stunned her. She had known this man for a little over eight hours and already he seemed to understand so much about her life that it scared her, made her feel vulnerable. It was an effort to act naturally when he turned to her.

      ‘Can I interest you in the grand tour? It won’t take long, I promise. The flat is your typical bachelor pad…bedroom, bathroom, sitting-room and what passes for a kitchen.’

      She laughed, her fears melting away as she heard the rueful amusement in his voice. She was letting her imagination run away with her, something that happened rarely nowadays. Mark must have seen through his work the difficulties parents of handicapped children often faced and that explained his perception. There was nothing more to it than that!

      ‘Why not?’ she agreed lightly.

      Leaving Robbie sprawled on the floor, she followed Mark into the sitting-room and looked round curiously, immediately liking what she saw. Mark’s home had turned out to be the top floor of an old mansion house which had been divided into flats. In keeping with the proportions of the building, the sitting-room was huge, with a high ceiling and intricate plasterwork. It was rather sparsely furnished but it possessed a certain charm which stemmed from the eclectic mix of styles.

      Laura’s curious gaze skimmed over the claw-footed velvet sofa with its richly patterned throw, the brightly coloured floor cushions, the state-of-the-art CD player, and she smiled. Everything looked as though it were there for a purpose rather than just for show, and the room had a welcoming feel because of that.

      ‘It’s very nice,’ she pronounced when she realised that Mark was waiting for her to say something. ‘Very cosy and inviting.’

      ‘I like it.’ He grinned, his eyes reflecting genuine pleasure that she liked what she’d seen. ‘I’ve been here for about five months now and I’m slowly buying bits and pieces to turn the place into a home rather than just somewhere to sleep.’

      He put his hand to the back of her waist, guiding her back along the hall to the kitchen. It was as tiny as he’d said it was, little more than a narrow galley with cupboards on both sides and appliances neatly built in under the worktops. They both stood in the doorway and Mark laughed as he shot her a quick look.

      ‘Not the sort of kitchen a dedicated cook would enjoy working in, especially if he or she was claustrophobic! However, as my culinary expertise extends no further than “something” on toast, it suits me fine.’

      He gave the room a last, satisfied look then led her to the bathroom, which was very high-tech with its corner Jacuzzi and glass-enclosed shower. Laura made appropriately admiring noises but she could feel a little knot of tension bunching her stomach muscles as they made their way to the last room in the flat, Mark’s bedroom. She paused in the doorway, unable to explain her reluctance to enter his private domain, although that didn’t stop her taking a good look around.

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