The Forbidden Mistress

‘Then he must have told you about Grace.’

‘Told me what?’ But Oliver suspected he already knew. Sophie wasn’t particularly subtle when it came to personal matters.

She sniffed and shook her head, looking at him appealingly. ‘You don’t know what it’s been like for me,’ she exclaimed. ‘Since that woman came to work at the garden centre, things have gone from bad to worse.’

Oliver looked about him critically. ‘I’d have said the place was thriving,’ he remarked, and she uttered a most unladylike expletive.

‘In our relationship,’ she corrected him tersely. ‘Tom and I were already having problems before she came along. I’ll admit it. But I never dreamed he’d already found my replacement.’

Oliver felt a depressingly familiar sense of déjà vu. Not that he’d been seriously considering getting involved with someone who worked for his brother, he assured himself, but the news that Grace Lovell was Tom’s latest conquest wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She was too good for his brother, he thought grimly. Tom had already wrecked his marriage. He wouldn’t like to see him wreck her life as well.

He should have known, he grumbled silently. When Tom came to see him that afternoon, he should have guessed there was someone else involved. From the age of puberty, Tom had slept with countless women. He’d never married any of them, of course. Not even Sophie. So why should he, Oliver, have imagined that their relationship was any different?

‘He met her in Spain last year,’ Sophie was going on now, evidently under the mistaken impression that Oliver might be interested. ‘He’s gone out there before, when I’ve been unable to go with him. Not that your mother and father really want to see me, in any case. I’m persona non grata where they’re concerned.’

‘Sophie—’

‘He used to make the excuse that he needed to talk business with your father,’ she went on seamlessly. ‘I had no reason to doubt him. He and George often have their heads together when your father’s at home. I admit, he did seem a bit detached this time when he got home, but I put it down to his health. He’d said he was feeling a bit under the weather before he went away.’

Oliver held up both hands now, palms out to silence her. ‘Is this going somewhere, Sophie?’ he asked. ‘Because if not, I’ve got other things to do.’

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t be unkind to me, Oliver. I couldn’t bear it if you abandoned me. I know I’ve behaved abominably in the past, but you have to believe I regret it now.’

‘Sophie—’

‘No, listen to me. Perhaps it’s partly my fault that Tom found someone else. I kept comparing him to you. Yes, I did.’ This as Oliver gave her an incredulous stare. ‘It’s true. Tom and I were never meant to be together. I don’t know why I ever listened to his lies.’

‘That’s it. I’m out of here.’

Oliver had heard enough. Any minute now, she was going to say that she’d never stopped loving him and that she hoped he’d take her back.

As if.

Oliver scowled. When he’d had the—what he now acknowledged was a crazy—notion to make this diversion, he’d had no idea he’d be opening this can of worms. He’d wanted to see the garden centre. He’d half hoped he’d encounter his brother and get it over with. Now he didn’t know what to think. What did Tom really want from him?

Sophie had burst into tears at his words, her pale, delicate features stark and drawn. She’d aged, too, Oliver mused, resisting the comparison to Grace Lovell. But he knew his ex-wife well enough to realise that most of her distress was just an act.

‘Don’t go like this, Oliver,’ she begged now. ‘Please. You’ve got to help me. Tom says he can’t give me back the money I invested in the business, and I can’t support myself on what I earn at the charity shop.’

The money she’d invested in the business was her divorce settlement, but Oliver didn’t remind her of that. ‘Get another job,’ he said carelessly, heading towards the car park. He’d had enough of other people’s problems for one day.

‘I can’t,’ said Sophie desperately, trailing after him. ‘I don’t have any qualifications. You surely wouldn’t like to see your wife working behind the tills in some supermarket?’

‘Why not? Other women do it.’ Oliver paused when he reached his car. ‘And you’re not my wife, Sophie,’ he added, and for the first time it felt good to say it. ‘I’m sorry if things haven’t worked out the way you wanted, but that’s life. Get over it.’

Sophie’s chin wobbled, a tactic that would have tugged at his conscience years ago. But no longer. With a brief, ‘Tell Tom I couldn’t wait,’ he coiled his length behind the steering wheel, aware that he burned rubber as he accelerated out of the car park.

Grace saw Oliver leave from the window of the coffee shop. The small café was closing and she was helping Lucy Cameron clear the tables so the older woman could get away on time. Lucy had a family, four kids, all of school age, and Grace knew she didn’t like them being alone in the house after dark.

‘Was that who I think it was?’ Lucy asked now, joining Grace at the window as the Porsche peeled away off the site.

‘Who did you think it was?’ asked Grace, reluctant to sound too knowledgeable, and Lucy stepped back to give the younger woman a considering stare.

‘Well, it looked like Tom’s brother,’ she said. ‘I’d know that old Porsche he drives anywhere. I don’t know why he doesn’t get himself a new car. It’s not as if he couldn’t afford it.’

Grace eased her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. ‘Do you know him well?’ she asked, careful not to sound too interested, and Lucy shrugged before returning to her job of stacking the dishwasher.

‘Fairly well,’ she replied now. ‘Though it’s some time since I’ve seen him around here.’ She paused. ‘Did I see you talking to him? Didn’t he tell you who he was?’

Grace coloured, turning away so that Lucy couldn’t see her face. ‘I recognised him,’ she said. ‘He looks a bit like Tom, don’t you think? He’s darker, of course. And taller. But their features aren’t dissimilar.’

Lucy gave her a wry look. ‘It sounds to me as if you gave him a thorough once-over,’ she remarked. She frowned. ‘I always liked Oliver. I was really sorry when he and his brother fell out over—’

But she didn’t finish her sentence, and Grace guessed at once why she’d suddenly acquired an unexpected interest in the contents of the till. The clatter of heels on the tiled floor had warned her that they were no longer alone, and she was hardly surprised when Sophie Ferreira came purposefully towards her.

‘Where’s Tom?’ Sophie fairly spat the words, her bristling personality making up for what she lacked in height. ‘You can tell me now. I realise you were trying to protect him from Oliver, but he’s gone.’

‘I know.’ Despite the fact that she knew what Sophie thought of her, Grace refused to be intimidated. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She and Tom were friends, nothing more. ‘And I don’t know where Tom is. Perhaps he is at the pub. Why don’t you go and find out?’

‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do.’ Sophie’s angry response was out of all proportion to the offence. Clearly something hadn’t suited her and Grace was being made the scapegoat. ‘Anyway, when he does come back, tell him I want to see him. I’ll wait at the house. I’ve still got my key.’

Grace shrugged. ‘Okay.’ But she knew Tom wouldn’t like it. She didn’t like it much herself. The possibility that Sophie might take the opportunity to check out where Grace was sleeping now that she’d left had her hands balling into fists. But there was nothing she could do about it.

‘Right.’

If Sophie had expected an argument, she didn’t get one, and after a brief assessing glance in Lucy’s direction she turned and left the café. The two women saw her cross the yard to the car park and pull open the door of a late-model BMW. Then, following Oliver’s example, she drove out of the yard, turning in the opposite direction from the one he had taken.

‘Bitch,’ said Lucy succinctly, passing Grace on her way to the door to turn the sign to ‘Closed’. ‘That woman is a grade one bitch! I don’t know what Oliver ever saw in her.’

‘Or Tom,’ murmured Grace, but Lucy only grimaced.

‘Tom deserved her,’ she muttered, stomping back to the till. ‘I hope Oliver realises how lucky he’s been.’

Grace didn’t feel qualified to answer her. Sophie’s and Oliver’s divorce had been final long before she came on the scene. She’d heard the gossip, of course. How Tom had had an affair with his brother’s wife. But she’d also heard, from Tom admittedly, that Oliver had neglected Sophie in favour of his work. And no one could deny Sophie’s part in the breakup. Once again, according to Tom, it had been Sophie who had encouraged him, not the other way about.

Grace decided it was not something she wanted to get into a discussion over. Her own position, as a paying guest in Tom’s house, was open to enough speculation as it was. But when she’d come to work at the garden centre, Sophie and Tom had been living together. It had seemed a logical solution to her accommodation problem to accept Tom’s offer of the spare room.

Now, however, things were different. Sophie and Tom had split up and Grace didn’t know how to get out of staying in the house. The trouble was, it was so handy for the centre. On the outskirts of Tayford, not far from his parents’ home.

Mr and Mrs Ferreira had been instrumental in her accepting Tom’s offer in the first place. Grace wondered now if they’d had some intimation that all was not going well with their son and his lady friend—who just happened to be their other son’s ex-wife—and had hoped her presence might act as a calming influence. If so, it hadn’t worked. Sophie had never liked her, and Tom had attempted to compensate for her rudeness.

The upshot was, Sophie had got jealous and had started accusing her of having designs on Tom herself. Grace shook her head as she left Lucy to lock up the café and made her way to the offices that adjoined the main building. She liked Tom. Who wouldn’t? He was easy to get along with. But he’d never given her that hot, melting feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d experienced when she’d encountered Oliver Ferreira’s dark gaze.

Just for a moment she wondered how she’d feel if she were sharing a house with Oliver. His lean, dark-skinned face and tall athletic body were so different from his brother’s bland good looks. Oliver wasn’t good-looking in the formal sense, but he was very attractive. And sexy, she conceded tensely. No wonder Sophie wanted him back.

And she did want him back, Grace would bet her life on it. There’d been so much pent-up aggression in her tone when she’d told Grace to get lost. Oh, not in so many words, of course, but Grace knew her well enough now to know what she was thinking. Sophie needed a man to lean on, and Tom hadn’t come up to scratch.

She shivered then, wrapping her arms about herself and rubbing the bare flesh below the tight sleeves of her tee shirt. But it wasn’t the cold that was making her antsy. The shiver she’d felt was purely anticipation. Despite what Sophie wanted her to think, she hoped she saw Oliver again.