Adopted: One Baby

Vikki, certainly, had lost the ability to blush around the age of eleven. He couldn’t make Lorna out at all. What kind of woman was she? Her words suggested one thing. Her blush something completely different.

Lorna picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. He watched as her face crumpled at the bitter taste. ‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Like tar,’ he agreed. ‘It requires a strong constitution.’

She returned it to the table and splayed her hands out on the melamine tabletop. Nice hands. Long fingers with carefully manicured nails. He liked women with beautiful hands.

He rather liked the way her hair curled about her face, too. It emphasised her almond-shaped eyes. Deep, deep brown, with flecks of topaz.

Rafe pulled the newspaper onto his lap and picked up his mug, swigging down the last of his coffee. ‘Have you seen the baby now?’

‘Yes.’ Her hands moved across the tabletop once more. ‘I’ve called her Katherine. She needed a name.’

Lorna had a nice voice too. The faintest hint of an American twang laid over the top of a Home Counties accent. But it was the husky edge to it that made it so sexy.

If the circumstances had been different he might have been very interested in this new incarnation of Lorna Drummond.

Particularly because he remembered the old Lorna. She’d been the girl who was too bright to fit in easily with her peers, and she’d not been helped by a pair of unattractive glasses and some very unfashionable clothes. Mainly he remembered her as a blushing appendage to his more vivacious sister. Until today she probably hadn’t managed more than three words in his company.

‘Sorry. Really sorry.’ Ellie arrived, clutching her handbag and a large plastic supermarket bag.

Rafe stood up, picking up his newspaper. And then he noticed Lorna hadn’t drunk her coffee. ‘Do you want to finish your drink?’

She shook her head and bent down to pick up her handbag.

‘I stopped to ring the garage about my car—’

‘“Car” being a loose term for what Ellie drives,’ Rafe slid in, noticing the overly tight grip Lorna had on her handbag.

His sister glanced up at him and laughed. ‘You might be right. It’s going to be a six-hundred-pound bill. I said I’d let them know in the morning.’

‘Not worth it. You should scrap it. Get something else.’ Rafe took the shopping bag from her and led the way out across the car park. ‘I’ll help you if it’s a problem. I’d rather see you in something safe.’

As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he hadn’t spoken. The safety of cars wasn’t exactly the most tactful of conversation topics, and he’d been insensitive enough earlier. He wouldn’t forget how awful he’d felt when Lorna had crumpled at his feet.

He glanced across at her. To a casual observer she looked as if she had everything together. It was only the vacant look in her brown eyes and that tight grip on her handbag that gave her away.

Maybe Ellie was right about her. She’d been certain Lorna would come back to the UK when she heard about the accident—and she had. She was equally certain her friend wouldn’t walk away from her niece. Perhaps she wouldn’t. And if she planned on staying around Sittiford that might be interesting.

‘I’ll get in the back,’ Ellie said, as they approached his sleek vintage Jaguar.

Lorna slid into the seat next to him, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her tight cream skirt rose up. She really did have the most amazing legs. Long and lean. Tempting to slide his hand up the creamy skin, feel the softness of her inner thigh…

Rafe set his key in the ignition and turned it. What was the matter with him? He must have been single too long, because his thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

Even so, he watched as she adjusted her skirt. Caught a waft of her light perfume as she bent forward to put her bag down by her feet. She probably had beautiful feet. Slender, like her hands. Hands and feet usually went together, in his experience.

‘You know where we’re going?’ Ellie cut in to his X-rated thoughts.

‘Little Mellingham,’ he answered smoothly.

The village was barely three miles outside Sittiford. A small ribbon of a place. A mix of old and rather beautiful houses and bland council housing. He glanced over at his silent companion. Her face was mask-like, telling him nothing. But the hands in her lap were tense, and still clutched tightly together. She was barely coping.

‘You’ll need to tell me where to stop.’

Lorna looked over at him. Scared brown eyes. ‘On the main road will be fine.’

‘No.’ Ellie leant forward in the back seat. ‘I want to see you safely inside. I still think you should have come back to mine, really. For tonight anyway.’

‘I’ll be fine. You know I always manage.’ Lorna looked over her shoulder. ‘I might as well start clearing the house.’ Then, ‘It’s the second on the left.’

Rafe swung the car round the left hand bend, towards a small close of council housing.