Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,132

lid of the top of the antiseptic bottle.

‘Quattro …’ Siena tipped a healthy amount of antiseptic on to a fresh hunk of cotton wool.

‘Cinque …’ Siena dabbed at the scrape, turning Kane’s arm a dull brown.

‘Sei …’ Siena put the lid back on to the bottle.

‘Sette …’ Siena tore a hunk of bandage.

‘Otto …” Siena placed the bandage over Kane’s arm.

‘Nove …’ Siena ran a soft hand over the bandage, making sure it was in place.

‘Dieci! Well done! To the both of us. Now, can you remember them all?’

He shook his head. ‘Tell me again.’

Siena did so and had Kane repeat after her. Halfway through she felt a tingle on the back of her neck and she realised it was because James was watching her still. She glanced at him sideways. His half-smile had graduated into something not bigger but warmer and she felt a ridiculous flash of satisfaction.

A few moments later Siena realised she was still staring, caught up in James’s complex gaze for so long that she now knew he had a ring of midnight-blue around his silvery pupils.

James swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his strong throat, and Siena had the distinct feeling he would have been able to describe the exact colour of her eyes too.

‘Teach me another language!’ Kane insisted, shattering the extraordinary tension that had cocooned the room.

‘Not now,’ James said, as he took Kane by the hand and drew him off the seat. ‘I, for one, am in need of a drink.’

And, by the gravel echoing in his voice, Siena had the feeling that if it were not for the presence of Kane, a gin and tonic would have suited him better than lemonade too.

‘Can I tempt you?’ he asked.

She stood, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She knew he was talking about something as innocent as lemonade, but the implications of what it could have meant in a parallel universe resonated through her.

‘With lemonade?’ she qualified. ‘You bet.’

‘Yippee,’ Kane said. ‘Then I can show you my bedroom.’

And, just like that, Siena’s breath was sapped from her lungs.

CHAPTER THREE

‘UM, I don’t know, Kane …’ Siena said, backing away physically and mentally.

Before she could duck out the door Kane reached out and grabbed her hand, small, hot, sticky fingers closing over hers. ‘But I just got a new computer and it plays games and songs and stuff.’

His pale brown eyes began to glisten. His bottom lip trembled. A screaming kid she could handle. She’d been a pretty competent screaming kid once herself. But a kid with big brown eyes welling with tears? First she’d felt empathy for Freddy the cola-flinger and now this? It seemed that, despite the protestations of some of her cabin crew, she was only human after all.

‘You know what,’ Siena said, backtracking frantically, ‘I would love to see your backyard more. The reason I was driving down this street in the first place was because when I was your age I used to live in this very house.’

‘You did?’ Kane asked, his expression now wary.

‘I did. And the backyard was my favourite place. We had a swing set and a pool, and there was this one fence paling that was never attached properly and when I was not much bigger than you I could slip right through the hole it made.’

‘I know! Dad fixed it though when we first moved in. Wow, how cool. Which room was yours?’

‘The front room, I’d hazard to guess,’ James said.

Siena turned to him and nodded. ‘How’d you guess?’

‘When we repainted it took me a week to plug up all the holes left by poster pins.’

She grinned. ‘I was madly in love with several grunge rock bands for quite some time and I proved my love by covering every spare inch of pink floral wallpaper.’

‘I’ve no doubt,’ he said, the half-smile drawing her in. ‘And now?’

‘My tastes have become more … grown-up.’ ‘R and B?’

‘No. Reality,’ she said.

He laughed, the sound rolling over her like an ocean wave on the hottest day of summer, and Siena felt herself warming from the inside out. Okay, now she recognised what this feeling was. It was the zing that came from flirting, and flirting well.

But there was a kid, and a blonde, and crucial dry cleaning to consider. She determinedly switched conversational tack. ‘My brother Rick sold this place about three years ago. Rick Capuletti. Did you buy it from him?’

‘Dad bought this house for Mum as a wedding present,’ Kane all but shouted,