CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

Q UIN DIDN ’ T LIKE the way it felt to hear Sadie’s distinctively low-pitched voice mingling with Sol’s more high-pitched excitable tone, both emanating from his bedroom, where Sol had demanded she come as soon as she’d appeared at the house a short while before.

It felt disturbing and arousing and a million things all at once.

He’d all but shut the door on Sadie ever being a part of their lives again. It was conflicting, inspiring too many things for him to unpick. But one stood out... The hum in his blood when he heard her now. The slow-burning lick of desire, coiling his insides tight.

It had been like that from the moment he’d seen her.

The first day he’d laid eyes on her would be seared onto his memory for ever, whether he liked it or not. He’d been living in Sao Sebastiao for a few months by then, and one day he’d noticed a young woman on the beach, in the water, surfing...or attempting to surf...inelegantly.

He’d been intrigued by her because she’d seemed to be by herself. No friends. Like him. He’d watched her attempt to catch waves, and fail, and then get up and try again. Her tenacity had impressed him.

As had her physicality. The slim, lithe limbs. Toned muscles. He’d been able to tell she was pretty, even from a distance, but he’d had no idea how pretty until he’d seen her up close a couple of days later.

She’d disappeared from the beach after that first sighting, he’d thought he wouldn’t see her again, until he’d walked into the local barber shop and she’d greeted him.

As soon as their eyes had met he’d felt it like a surge of electricity, all the way through his body. And he’d realised, She’s not pretty...she’s beautiful. Those wide aquamarine eyes, that straight nose, wide mouth. Dark hair...darker than it was now. Framing her face and making her look pale, in spite of the sun-kissed glow and freckles.

She’d cut his hair and it had felt like a more intimate act than sex. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Her hands were small and deft, nails short. Unvarnished. And, against every instinct within him that had always told him not to trust women, there was something about Sadie, uniquely, that had lodged under his skin from that first meeting and started to dismantle all those defences without him even noticing.

He’d asked her out. But she’d declined. Not meeting his eye. He’d come back and asked her out again the next day. She’d blushed, but declined again, looking genuinely conflicted.

It had been the following day when he’d seen her trying to surf again and had witnessed the accident. She’d disappeared under the water for too long. He could remember the sense of panic as he’d raced to find her and pull her out of the water, giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The blood had flowed from a gash on her head.

When the emergency crew had arrived they’d just assumed he knew her, and without even questioning it he’d accompanied her to the hospital. When she’d woken, she’d frowned at Quin and said in a cracked voice, ‘Do I know you?’

He’d almost been insulted—he knew he’d made an impression on her—but then it had transpired very quickly that she didn’t remember anything at all from before the moment of the accident. Not her name or where she came from. She spoke with an English accent. He knew her name and where she worked because they’d met at the barber shop. When no one had come looking for her, Quin had offered to be the one to watch over her for the first few days after she left the hospital.

She’d had to be supervised, in case of further after-effects from her head injury. But, apart from the memory loss and the nasty gash on her head, there had been no further injuries or trauma.

Quin had taken her to the barber shop, where they’d told her where she lived, and they’d gone there—a small, modest studio apartment a few blocks from the beach. There had been no identifying things there, like pictures. Her mobile phone was gone—lost or stolen. The number had been inactive when he’d tried calling it. They’d found her passport, listing her as Sadie Ryan, twenty years old, with no next of kin. Born in Dublin, Ireland.

This had confused Sadie, and she’d said, ‘That doesn’t sound right. I don’t have an Irish accent...and I don’t think I’ve ever been there.’

The doctor had warned Quin not to let her get stressed, so he’d told her not to worry about it too much and that he’d look into trying to trace her and her family. Then they’d packed up her things so she could stay with him, as his beach bungalow had two bedrooms.

While she’d slept in the spare room he’d looked her up online and found no trace of her. Nothing. No social media presence. No records. No one seemed to be looking for her. Odd... But then a modest-sized city on the coast of Brazil, more akin to a sleepy beach town, was full of such nomads. He should have known—he was one of them.

He’d offered to put her details online with a picture, to advertise that she was looking for relatives, but she’d had the oddest reaction—one of almost fear. She’d said that she couldn’t explain why, but she didn’t want him to do that. So he hadn’t.

He’d put Sadie’s reluctance to be found and lack of online presence and any obvious family down to something that she could worry about when she got her memory back. He’d been able to empathise with her wanting to escape from her family, if that was the case.

As the days had passed she’d recovered from her injury in every other way except for her memory. She’d never moved back into her studio apartment. Finding out about her past had become less and less of a priority.

She’d never left Quin’s side during those early days of recuperation. They’d become entwined. They’d fallen in love. And the outside world had fallen away...

Sadie laughed now—a low chuckle, bringing Quin out of the past. He shook his head, angry with himself for letting those memories intrude. He hadn’t loved her. It had been infatuation borne out of lust.

He walked to the door of Sol’s room and stopped. Sadie was sitting cross-legged on the floor and looking up at Sol, who was standing on his bed, pointing to a poster of his current football hero. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and her hair was pulled up into a loose knot on her head, tendrils falling around her face. Quin was once again struck by her natural beauty.

Sol was saying, ‘Someday I’m going to be even better than him!’

Sadie smiled. ‘I saw the goal posts in the garden—you must practise a lot.’

Sol saw Quin and jumped off the bed. He came straight over, launching himself at his father, arms around his waist. ‘My papa is the best—he’s practising with me every day after school.’

Sadie got to her feet in a fluid motion. Quin’s pulse throbbed. She’d always been so naturally graceful. Except when it came to surfing. She’d never fully mastered the art, and had been too impatient, no matter what Quin said to her.

More memories.

He shoved them aside and said, more brusquely than he had intended, ‘Dinner is ready.’

He saw the way Sadie’s smile faltered at his tone. But Sol didn’t notice the chill in the air and let Quin go, skipping downstairs. Quin refused to let those huge eyes affect him. He turned away, but couldn’t deny how acutely conscious he was of Sadie as she followed him down to the kitchen-diner.

Roberto had prepared a light meal of pasta and sauce with salad and bread.

Sol grabbed some bread and Quin said, ‘Ah-ah—not so fast. Let’s try and pretend we’re a little more civilised, hmm?’

Sol put the bread back with a sheepish look at Sadie and sat down. Quin avoided looking at her. A part of him didn’t want to see how she was reacting to being with her son. Because he didn’t know how to deal with it yet. The most important thing was to keep her close, where he could be sure of knowing exactly what she was up to...

Once they were all seated, Quin handed Sol the bread and said, ‘ Now you can eat.’

Sol fell on the food, demonstrating his ravenous appetite.

Sadie ate too, with the healthy appetite that Quin remembered, cleaning her plate.

He couldn’t help observing, ‘You still eat fast.’

Sadie looked at him, eyes wide, a faint flush stealing into her cheeks.

Sol was indignant. ‘I eat the fastest in this house.’

Quin welcomed the distraction from looking at Sadie and remembering too much. His tone was dry. ‘It’s not a race.’

When he was finished, Sol emitted a barely concealed burp.

Quin said, ‘Okay, that’s enough, young man. Take your plate into the kitchen and have a piece of fruit for dessert. You can play one game, and then I’m coming to get you ready for bed.’

Sol jumped up, and then stopped and looked at Sadie. ‘Will you still be here tomorrow?’

Sadie’s eyes were huge. Mirror images of her son’s. It was almost laughable how alike they were. She glanced at Quin and he had to clamp down on his body’s response.

She looked at Sol. ‘I think so. I’m hoping to stay for as long as you’ll have me.’

‘Cool! See you tomorrow! Do you know how to play football? I’ll show you. Night!’

He disappeared up to his room in a blur of motion. Sadie looked at Quin. She seemed a little dazed.

Eventually she said, ‘He’s an amazing kid. You’re a good father, Quin.’

‘I had no choice.’

Her mouth tightened. ‘Parents have a choice, no matter what the circumstances. You could have easily outsourced his care, but clearly you haven’t. And Madalena seems to be almost like a grandmother to him.’

Quin made a snorting noise. ‘There’s no harm in that. He’s never met his real grandmother.’ He looked at Sadie. ‘Either of them.’

She went pale. ‘You know that I had no idea if I had any family or not...’

Quin arched a brow. ‘Had?’

He could see Sadie go even paler, visibly swallowing. ‘Actually...that’s what I need to talk to you about...to explain why—’

‘Papa! The game isn’t working! Can you make it work?’

Unnoticed, Sol had reappeared by the dining table and was holding up a console.

Quin cursed silently and stood up. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to hear why Sadie had left so precipitously, but he knew he had to. Maybe not right now, though.

He said to Sol, ‘Go back upstairs. I’ll come up in a minute.’

When Sol had left, he looked at Sadie. ‘We can’t talk about this now. I’ll be busy getting Sol to bed in a bit, so help yourself to anything else you’d like from the kitchen. Lights will come on in the garden to guide you back to the guesthouse. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Sadie stood up and picked up her plate and Quin’s, but he said, ‘Leave them. Roberto will clean up in the morning. Sara would normally be here, but she’s out of action.’

She put the plates back down. ‘Your housekeeper? Did something happen?’

‘She was involved in an accident today and she’ll be out of work for a week. It shouldn’t inconvenience you too much.’

Sadie looked genuinely concerned. ‘That’s awful...is she okay?’

Quin didn’t like this reminder of Sadie’s compassionate nature. Because it had obviously been false. No genuinely compassionate person could walk away from their baby. Or the man they’d professed to love.

He said, ‘Her car was totalled but she’s okay—just shaken. I gave her a week off to recover...’

Sadie gestured to the plates. ‘I’ll do this. I don’t mind—honestly. And I can do whatever else she was meant to be doing. It’ll give me a way to say thank you...for letting me be here.’

Quin felt a strong sense of rejection at the thought of Sadie doing his domestic chores—but then this wasn’t a regular situation. And there was also a little devil inside him that relished the thought of calling her bluff, to see if she really meant it. He had to admit, the notion of her doing menial work as some sort of recompense wasn’t altogether undesirable. The rage inside him that still burned bright for what she’d done demanded to be appeased.

But he said, ‘Are you sure? There’s no need. Between me, Roberto and Lena we can manage.’

Sadie shook her head. ‘I’m sure they’re busy enough. I insist—it’s the least I can do.’

Quin shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. Roberto will fill you in on Sara’s duties when he comes in tomorrow. Goodnight, Sadie.’

‘Are you sure this is okay?’

Lena was looking at Sadie with concern in her eyes. But Sadie couldn’t have been more sure that she wanted to keep herself busy. What else was she going to do in her lush isolation among the trees?

She nodded. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. I’d like to help out.’

Lena obviously wasn’t convinced. ‘But you’re—’

She stopped, clearly not wanting to state the obvious. Yet. The fact that Sadie was Sol’s mother, who had reappeared after four years of abandonment. That, as his mother, she shouldn’t be working like an employee.

Sadie forced a smile. ‘I’m happy to be here. And happy to be of use.’

Lena finally gave in and pushed a Tupperware box towards Sadie. ‘You can pack up Sol’s lunch, then, if that’s okay? And I’ll make sure he’s getting dressed.’ She rolled her eyes, ‘He’s probably playing one of his games...’

Sadie’s heart squeezed as the woman left the kitchen. That should be her job—chasing Sol to get ready for school. But she didn’t have that privilege yet. Would she ever?

The way Quin had looked at her last night did not bode well. He’d tolerated her presence and that had been about it. She supposed she should be glad that he was even allowing her to come and eat with them. Not confining her to the guesthouse.

She’d come up to the house early this morning, hoping that she might get to continue her aborted conversation with Quin. Give him the explanation of why she’d left. But she’d found Roberto clearing up after breakfast. He’d told her that Quin was in the home office, making calls, and that Sol was getting ready for school. He’d looked at her quizzically when she’d told him she was going to fill in for Sara, but he’d said nothing—just told her that he’d go over her duties once Sol had left for school. Then he’d insisted on her having breakfast, and had made her a delicious plate of scrambled eggs, ham and chives.

Sadie felt pathetically grateful that Roberto and Lena didn’t seem to be judging her for her absence.

She’d just closed the lid on the Tupperware lunchbox when Sol appeared in front of her, as if conjured out of her imagination. He looked smart in his shorts and school T-shirt. Hair smoothed.

He smiled. ‘You’re still here.’

Her heart squeezed again. ‘Yes.’

He touched a tooth in his mouth. ‘I have a loose tooth.’

Sadie came around the table and bent down. She could see it wobble. ‘If it comes out you’ll have to leave it under your pillow for the tooth fairy.’

Sol frowned. ‘What’s a tooth fairy? We leave it out for the bird, and the bird leaves a gift. Your tooth has to be really clean, so I cleaned extra-hard today, but it still didn’t come out.’

Sadie bit back a smile and stood up. ‘Ah...where I came from the tooth fairy takes the tooth from under your pillow and leaves a surprise, but I like the sound of a special bird.’

‘Where did you come from?’

That question hadn’t come from Sol. It had come from someone much more adult.

Sadie looked up to see Quin. She couldn’t find her breath for a moment...he was so stupendously gorgeous. Clean-shaven. Hair still damp from the shower. Dressed in a shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled up. Faded jeans.

It had only been around thirty-six hours since they’d met again, and yet it felt all at once like years and no time at all. Apart from that reference to a grandmother last night, Quin hadn’t yet mentioned her memory loss, or asked about it, but was he ready to hear what she had to say now? Was she ready?

‘Don’t you know where Sadie comes from, Papa?’

But Quin didn’t look at Sol. Sadie swallowed. Did he really want to do this here? Now? In front of their son?

She was about to answer, but then Quin broke the intense eye contact and said, ‘We’d better get moving, Sol. I’m going to drop you to school today.’

‘Yay! I’ll get my bag.’

‘See you out front in five minutes.’

Sol disappeared again, and now it was just Quin and Sadie. He arched a brow. Clearly waiting for an answer.

Sadie said in a husky voice, ‘I was born and brought up in England, just outside London.’

Something flashed across his face. ‘So your memory came back...or was it ever really gone?’

Sadie gulped. She’d never considered that he might doubt she’d really lost her memory. ‘Yes, it came back.’

‘So, you’re not Irish, then?’

‘Well...my father was Irish. But I never lived there.’

‘But you had an Irish passport?’

Yes, she had. But she hadn’t grown up with an Irish passport. She’d actually grown up with no passport. She’d only got her first passport to come to Brazil.

She opened her mouth again but Sol reappeared, trailing a small bag. ‘Okay, Papa, I’m ready.’

Quin’s jaw clenched. But then he said, ‘Okay, let’s go.’ And then to Sadie he said, ‘Lena and Roberto will show you the ropes. I’ll be out at a function later, and Sol is going to a sleepover, so we’ll see you tomorrow.’

Sol was already running out through the door. ‘Bye, Sadie!’

Sadie said a very faint ‘Bye...’ as she watched them leave, feeling all at once frustrated and relieved that her attempt to explain everything to Quin had been interrupted again.

Later that night Quin was not in a good mood as he took a swig of alcohol from the thick crystal tumbler in his hand. He was staring out through the massive glass wall of his living area, down to where he could just make out the guesthouse, illuminated through the trees.

He’d just endured a function in central Sao Paulo where all the women seemed to have made it a national sport to get his attention. His mouth tightened cynically. Amazing what becoming a billionaire could do for your eligibility.

Not that he’d ever not been eligible, he had to concede, with no sense of hubris.

He’d been distracted all evening—and not just by the women seeking his attention. He’d been distracted because he hadn’t been able to get one woman out of his head. The woman who had haunted him for four years. The woman who was no longer a ghost but very much alive and breathing—and existing mere metres from where he stood now.

That night in New York he’d finally been ready to cut her ghost and her memory loose. To get on with his life, take a lover... Only for her to appear in the flesh, thwarting him and setting him back. Four years.

He’d just had a conversation with Lena, who’d told him, ‘She knows her way around cleaning a house and doing laundry—that much is obvious. But, Quin—’

Before she’d been able to say anything more—like demanding to know what the hell was going on with this woman who had just appeared and who looked ridiculously like Sol—he’d terminated the conversation and she’d left to go back to her own house.

He didn’t like it that his conscience was prickling with the knowledge that he was keeping something huge from the two people who had been more of a family to him than his own family, and the fact that the mother of his child had been doing menial chores around his house.

It all mixed together with the residual anger, hurt, confusion, distrust...and lust ...to make a volatile mix.

He swallowed the rest of the drink and took off his bow tie. He opened his top button, feeling constricted. Restless. He could keep drinking and brooding, or he could go and confront the woman who was lodged in his side like a burr.

He pulled off his jacket, dropped it on a chair, then pulled back the glass door and went outside. The air was warm. Soft. When he felt hard. Prickly.

He walked down through the garden, and as he came closer to the trees and the guesthouse he could hear the soft strains of familiar music. But not that familiar... He hadn’t heard it in four years.

He came to a stop in the trees as the sensual voice of a well-known Brazilian jazz singer washed over him. For a crazy second he wondered if he was losing his mind. Had he hallucinated Sadie back into his life and now he was hearing things? She’d loved this artist and had used to play her all the time. She’d given birth to Sol with this music in the background.

He kept moving forward until he could see the house. Low lights were on, but he couldn’t see any sign of Sadie. He walked around and saw the front door was open. The music was louder now.

He walked inside and could smell her scent. Not a ghost, then. He went over to the sound system in the den area and pressed the off button. Silence enclosed him.

Then from behind him a voice said, ‘You used to say that I played her too much.’

Quin turned around and the blood rushed straight to his head. Sadie was standing before him in a short, belted robe. Long bare legs. Pale. Hair damp and falling in golden-red skeins around her shoulders.

He dimly realised she must have been swimming, just as she gestured with her hand behind her and said, ‘I hope you don’t mind... I had a swim.’

He shook his head, but everything had turned fuzzy. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Off the vee of skin exposed by the robe...the hint of plump cleavage.

Blood thundered through his veins. It had been so long. She’d tortured him for four years with X-rated dreams that had left him aching and frustrated. He’d been tortured by endless questions. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Yet now she was here in front of him, and he could actually ask her why , Quin perversely didn’t want to know. It was as if he’d intuited that once he knew why he would no longer have anything to hold on to.

The hatred. The justifiable anger. The pain. The loss.

He moved towards her as if pulled by a magnetic force. He couldn’t not . She looked at him, eyes wide. That mesmerising shade of blue and green. Depths he’d drowned in. But no more. There would be no drowning this time.

She spoke. ‘Quin...we should talk. Maybe now is good because Sol is away tonight. We have time—’

Quin put his hands on her arms and the words stopped. Good. He didn’t want words. Except to say, ‘I don’t want to talk right now. All I want is this .’

He pulled her into his body, where she fitted like a missing jigsaw piece, slotting into place against him. He lowered his head and took a breath as he closed his eyes and slanted his mouth over hers, and everything inside him turned to heat and fire and longing and an almost unbearable demand for satisfaction. It had been so long...and he’d never stopped wanting her.

Any recrimination he might have felt for giving in to this weakness was burnt to ashes in the conflagration of their kiss.