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CHAPTER TWO

HER hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer.

‘Cam Raeburn.’

Her stomach knotted. ‘Hullo, Cam, it’s Roxy. I’m back and I’d like to come down to Raeburns’ Nest to see Emma,’ she said breathlessly, before he had a chance to cut in.

She didn’t like the pause that followed. ‘By all means,’ he agreed finally. ‘Why don’t you pack an overnight bag and stay for the weekend? If you can spare a whole weekend with your niece.’

She gritted her teeth, even as her heart jumped in panic at the thought of staying under the same roof as Cam Raeburn for a whole weekend. ‘I have all the time in the world,’ she assured him loftily. ‘My niece is my top priority from now on.’

And I’ll stay at Raeburns’ Nest for as long as it takes to convince you of that, she added under her breath. If she hoped to convince him that she was the best person to look after Emma, she would have to use the utmost care and tact…and be prepared to stay for however long it took.

‘Is it all right if I come now? This afternoon?’ she asked in a less confrontational tone. Sleeping off her jet lag would have to wait.

‘We’ll be here. You can remember where to come?’

She scowled at the implication that she’d seldom been home to visit her family. ‘I’ll find it,’ she ground out. She’d only been to Raeburns’ Nest once before…on the day of Emma’s christening five months ago, on her last visit home. Serena and Hamish had invited everyone back to their home after the simple ceremony at their local church.

As she showered and changed, Roxy brooded on the unwanted encounter.

There’d been no avoiding Cam in the tiny coastal church. As godmother and godfather to baby Emma, they’d had to stand side by side at the font.

Cam hadn’t changed a bit in the twelve months that had passed since Serena’s wedding. Still as good-looking as ever, as sexy as ever. The same tall, athletic build…the same amazing shoulders…the same shiny dark hair…the same glittering black eyes…but the softness she’d once seen in them had gone.

He’d been the first to break the ice. Every painful word, every charged look, was etched in her memory.

‘Back for long this time, Roxy?’

She bristled at his tone, at the cynically raised eyebrow. A year might have passed, but obviously nothing had changed. She’d thought for a fleeting second, as their eyes briefly met, that a spark had leapt to life in the lethal black depths, but it was gone in a flash.

His normal reaction to a woman—any woman, no doubt—until he’d remembered who she was. A footloose, scruffy-haired history freak who liked fossicking in the heat and dust in remote corners of the world, unearthing ancient civilisations.

‘I’ll be going away again sooner than I expected,’ she hissed back at him, tossing her head to show him she couldn’t wait to go—while wishing at the same time that she’d worn something a little more sophisticated to her niece’s christening than a long-sleeved granny dress, straw hat and flat-heeled shoes.

‘There’s been an exciting new find in the far north of Mexico,’ she crisply informed him, ‘and I’ve been invited to join the team there. I’m leaving next week.’

Despite the coolness between them, her body was reacting to his nearness, her nerve-ends quivering, her skin heating. It was his fault she’d decided to go away again so soon, his fault she’d extended her field trips since her sister’s wedding. If Cam’s passionate kisses had genuinely meant something…if he’d asked her to stay…if he’d wanted her to stay… But he hadn’t. He’d preferred the dark-eyed brunette.

He’d even brought another flashing-eyed bimbo to his niece’s christening!

‘Roxy…I don’t believe you’ve met Belinda.’ Cam’s eyes hadn’t even flickered as he’d introduced her to his latest dark-eyed stunner. ‘Belinda’s a member of my tennis club, back in Sydney.’

I bet you’ve done more than played tennis together, Roxy had thought nastily, noting the woman’s luscious red lips and provocative smile. A real femme fatale. Just Cam’s type.

The type who would never have dirty fingernails or a hair out of place.

She sighed. Tousle-haired, blue-eyed blondes with an odd dress sense and a craze for ancient civilizations were obviously not Cam’s type.

Roxy dismissed the galling memory, sighing heavily as she threw clothes into a bag—enough for a week or longer—then jumped into her car for the two-hour drive south. She wondered if the dark-eyed Belinda was still around. Or was there yet another ravishing brunette? Ravishing enough for Cam to want to marry?

It was a slow trip out of the city, and there was heavy traffic on the freeway south. After a trying hour and a half, she caught a glimpse of the coast, and the sprawling industrial city of Wollongong, where Cam’s flourishing chemical and fibremaking plant was, as well as his head office and a company house where he could stay if he wished. She knew that he also had a marketing office in Sydney—and a city penthouse.

She blew out a sigh. How could she compete with all that?

After another half an hour she saw the long sweep of the coast again, and the popular coastal township of Kiama, where her brother-in-law, Hamish, had co-owned a pharmacy.

Roxy gulped down a lump in her throat, still finding it hard to believe that Hamish and Serena had gone. They’d been so perfect for each other, so happy together. They’d shared everything. Even—tragically—a love of sailing.

Blinking away a blur of tears, she turned her thoughts to their baby daughter, wondering how her niece was getting on with Cam Raeburn—a very different type of man from the baby’s gentle, home-loving father, Hamish. Emma had been with Cam for six weeks now. Had they bonded in that time? Would the baby be upset, all over again, if she took her away from him?

Raeburns’ Nest was a few kilometers further down the coast, perched high on the rich green cliffs overlooking the ocean. Hamish and Cam had jointly inherited the family home on the death of their widowed father. The two brothers had shared the house until Cam married his wife, Kimberley, and built a new home in the lush Kangaroo Valley nearby—a house he’d sold after his divorce, moving back into his Sydney apartment and his company house at Wollongong. Hamish had stayed on at Raeburns’ Nest, bringing his beloved bride, Serena, to live there with him after their whirlwind two-month courtship.

Roxy’s hands began to tremble as the house came into view. Set in a couple of acres of natural bush, the big old sandstone house looked even more comfortably imposing then the last time she’d seen it, now that the new guest wing, which Hamish had been building on at the time, was complete. As she swung her baby Mazda into the gravel drive alongside the house, she caught a glimpse of the tree-lined tennis court and fenced in-ground swimming pool to the rear of the house, framed by trees, lawn and thick bush.

An ideal home for bringing up a family, she mused with a sigh, her spirits nosediving. How could her two-bedroomed city flat compete with a home like this? With luxury like this?

Dragging her bag from the rear seat, and the giant teddy bear she’d bought for the baby at L.A. airport, she followed a brick-paved path to the side door, avoiding the formal front entrance overlooking the cliffs.

She expected to see Cam’s housekeeper appear when she knocked, or even Mary, the nanny, but it was Cam himself who opened the door.

For a stunned second she stood staring at him, unable to speak. He looked so vastly different from her remembered image of him. On the only two occasions she’d met him before he’d been dressed to the nines—in formal black tie at Serena’s wedding, and twelve months later, at Emma’s christening, in a stylish grey suit, neat white shirt and red silk tie.

On both occasions his thick dark hair had been neatly slicked back and shiny clean, his handsome, strong-jawed face clean-shaven, his powerful shoulders enhanced by the superb cut of his jacket.

Today he was wearing frayed denim shorts and a faded T-shirt with food stains down the front. His strong face was shadowed with overnight growth, his thick hair uncombed, looking as if he’d just climbed out of bed, and his long tanned feet were bare, with an orange splotch on one of them.

She felt almost overdressed, for once, in her washed-out blue jeans, long-sleeved white shirt, loosely knotted at the waist, and well-worn sneakers.

Yet—she swallowed hard—his appearance didn’t repel her, as it should have. He looked incredibly, heart-stoppingly sexy.

As if realising he was under scrutiny, Cam’s mouth curved in a face-crinkling smile that was part mocking, part rueful.

‘I haven’t had time to shave yet, though I did manage a quick shower, after the baby threw up all over me. Lunchtime was interesting too…’ He brushed a hand over his stained T-shirt. ‘This was a clean shirt until Emma made it clear she doesn’t like mashed pumpkin. I’m on my own this weekend,’ he explained. ‘I gave Mary the weekend off to visit her family, and Philomena doesn’t come at weekends.’

Philomena, Roxy assumed, was his housekeeper. Since she wasn’t around at weekends, she was unlikely to be one of his bimbos!

‘You’re finding our niece a handful?’ she asked hopefully. If he was complaining already, it shouldn’t be too difficult to persuade him to hand Emma over.

‘Even the best mothers find babies a handful at times,’ he said dryly. ‘Come in, Roxy, I’ll show you to your room. You can see Emma later. She’s asleep at the moment and I don’t believe in waking a sleeping baby unnecessarily.’

Roxy bit her tongue, tempted as she was to protest at the implication that she was unnecessary. He was quite right not to wake the baby. Even if his motive might be suspect.

As he closed the door behind her he studied her face for a disconcerting few seconds. She sucked in a breath as strong warm fingers closed round her chin, tilting her face upward.

‘Well…they certainly did a good job.’ His tone was faintly caustic. Not a hint of sympathy. He drew back, letting her go as if the very touch of her repulsed him. ‘Though why in hell’s name you’d want to have cosmetic surgery in the first place, let alone now, when you could have been here at home comforting your father or your sister’s baby…well, it leaves me baffled. And disgusted, frankly.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘You think—’

‘Well, okay…so you were already in hospital with some virus—fair enough—but don’t deny you used the opportunity to have a little nip and a tuck while you were recuperating in that L.A. hospital.’

Roxy’s chest heaved, her breath coming in furious gulps. ‘Who—told—you—that?’ she managed to gasp out.

‘Your father told me…no, Blanche. Blanche, cutting in on poor old George, as usual.’ The corner of his lip quirked. He shared her opinion of Blanche. The only thing they did share, though she’d hoped at one time—a fleeting, futile hope—that they might one day share other things, too.

‘She told me, quite clearly, that you were having cosmetic surgery on your face,’ Cam said flatly.

Jealous, bitchy Blanche…Roxy’s hands balled into fists. ‘I didn’t have cosmetic surgery,’ she ground out. ‘I had microsurgery. To repair a wound. Trust Blanche to get it wrong.’ Deliberately, if she knew Blanche.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Microsurgery? A wound? Where?’ Again she had to suffer his scrutiny, his gaze searing into her already flushed skin.

She swallowed. ‘On my mouth. My lower lip. I tripped over a street kerb as I jumped out of a car in L.A. to rush into a shop. I crashed headfirst onto a concrete plant pot’

‘You were gallivanting around LA, shopping, after hearing the news of your sister’s death?’ Cam shook his head, cold contempt in his eyes. ‘Your father sent you an urgent fax six weeks ago, while you were still in northern Mexico. You sure were in no hurry to come home!’

She glared at him. ‘I didn’t get Dad’s tax until three weeks after he sent it! I was at a campsite in a remote part of northern Mexico at the time. Deliveries aren’t exactly reliable in that part of the world. By then the funeral had already been held.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘I was devastated at missing it.’

As she gulped in a breath, Cam eyed her skeptically. ‘But having missed it, you decided there was no rush.’ His tone was scathing, his unfair condemnation cutting into her like a knife.

‘I was rushing—that was the whole trouble! One of our team—an American—offered to drive me across the border to L.A. airport. We were on our way there when the accident happened. I’d leapt out on the way to buy a toy for Emma.’

As Cam’s gaze flickered to the giant teddy in her arms she shook her head. ‘I bought this yesterday—at L.A. airport. After my stupid fall, I ended up in hospital, having surgery—microsurgery—on a badly cut lip. And a couple of days later I was hit by a mysterious bug I must have picked up in Mexico.’

As she paused for breath she noted shakily that Cam’s eyes had lost some of their icy scorn. But not much. The very fact that she’d been away for so long—out of reach for so long—obviously weighed against her.

‘And it was bad enough to keep you in hospital for another three weeks?’

‘Yes!’ Indignation flashed in her eyes. ‘It completely knocked me out. I had a raging fever…I was delirious for days…and weak as a kitten for days after that. And because of the surgery on my lip, I couldn’t even talk to begin with!’

‘Well…your surgeons should be commended.’ She felt his dark gaze on her mouth. ‘There’s not a trace of any scarring. Or bruising. You’d never know you’d had anything done.’

She frowned. Did he still not believe her?

‘They did the repair from inside my mouth—that’s why there’s no visible scarring. And the swelling and bruising have had time to heal, thanks to that horrific virus. My mouth feels fine. Perfect. I feel fine.’ She didn’t want him to think she was still weak, and perhaps unable to take care of her niece.

‘You still look pale…and very thin…but if you’re feeling fine again, that’s splendid’ Taking her bag, he turned on his heel, freeing her at last of his burning gaze. ‘Come on, Roxy…let’s get you settled in.’