*
Struggling to read the house numbers in the dark, Rachel drove slowly along View Street, Mosman, and pondered how different this was from the street on which she lived. There were no BMWs, Mercedes or Porsches parked on her street. No houses with tennis courts or vast manicured lawns.
She pulled up on the side of the road, got out of her car and took a long look at Jake’s house.
It wasn’t the kind of place she imagined he’d live at all. There was no style about it, no elegance or originality. The huge two storey Tuscan house was built to emulate the terracotta coloured rendered buildings of that part of Italy and looked severely out of place here.
The carefully landscaped grounds clearly required the skills of a professional gardener or perhaps a team of gardeners. A U shaped driveway fronted the building but she hadn’t wanted to park there.
She turned her head to take in the vista Jake had told her he enjoyed from his house. In the moonlight, she could just make out the Sydney Heads, the two thin landmasses through which all ships entered the harbour. She’d seen the view before from a park at the foot of the hill but the outlook from Jake’s house built high on a ridge was far superior.
Hearing footsteps, she turned to see Jake walking towards her from one corner of the house. Even in the dark, back lit by lights at the front of the house, he looked magnificent, his hips slim, his shoulders broad and masculine.
She waited for him to come closer. She had to be resolute. Unyielding.
“Rachel,” he said. “Come on in.”
She strode up the broad driveway towards him. “Big house.”
“Yep. Too big.”
He steered her towards the side of the house, away from the imposing double front door surrounded by ornate glasswork and the grand foyer which was no doubt behind it.
“What’s wrong with the front door?” she asked.
“Connor and I never use that door. We spend most of our time at the back of the house.”
Jake led her down a narrow path with overgrown creeper cascading over the fence on one side and a wall of climbing roses on the other. It opened onto a pretty courtyard with limestone paving and a wooden table with four whicker chairs. The garden seemed small for a house this size.
They stepped into the house through French doors. Two large Chesterfield leather sofas covered in cushions dominated the room. Children’s books and a couple of toy cars were piled at one end of the coffee table, leaving room for a platter of crackers and creamy camembert at the other.
She stepped over to a low cabinet covered in family photos and scanned them, only to find Bianca conspicuously missing from the pictures. Had he hidden her photos before she arrived?
Rachel searched for clues of a feminine presence but could find none.
“Take a seat,” he said. “Would you like a glass of wine? I had a glass of white with dinner. Or I can open a bottle of red for you.”
She could think of nothing she wanted less than to finish a bottle of wine with Jake. She didn’t plan on getting that comfortable with him. “No thanks. Just a coffee.”
She was amazed at her own reserve. It was like the calm in the eye of the cyclone, only this time she was the storm. And she would demolish everything in her path.
“Help yourself to some cheese.” Jake pointed to the platter on the coffee table and left to go to the kitchen.
What lay beneath his polite words? Did he think they were going to have pleasant conversation and refreshments?
Footsteps shuffled on the floor and Rachel turned to see a small child in racing car pyjamas.
She softened as soon as she saw him, a wave of warmth washing over her. It was amazing. He had the pale hair, soft translucent skin and rounded cheeks of a small child but with Jake’s deep, serious eyes.
The boy fiddled with a button. “Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s fixing the coffee,” Rachel said. “Connor, honey, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
He nodded. “I can’t get to sleep. I want Daddy to scratch my back for me. To help me sleep.”
“I’ll help you, sweetie.” Rachel placed her hand on his shoulder and nudged him gently back in the direction from which he’d come. “I’m not very good at back scratching but I can help you get back into bed.”
In the boy’s room, she straightened the sheets and doona and tucked him