The Guardian's Forbidden Mistress. Miranda Lee
seafood. Still, enough of that. What’s done is done. Now, sit up there next to Nick, Sarah, and tell us all about your new boyfriend whilst I pour the tea.’
Sarah smothered a groan, but did as she was told, though she didn’t sit right next to Nick, leaving one stool between them.
‘What would you like to know?’ she asked with brilliant nonchalance.
‘How old is he, for starters?’
Sarah realised she had no idea.
‘Thirty-five,’ she guessed. One year younger than Nick.
Nick’s head swung her way. ‘Handsome?’
‘Very. Looks like a movie star.’
Was she crazy, or did Nick’s eyes glitter when she said that?
‘How long have you been seeing each other?’ Flora asked.
Sarah decided to use the truth as much as possible. ‘We met shortly after last Easter. I hired him as my personal trainer.’
Nick made a small scoffing sound.
Sarah ignored him.
‘Why haven’t you mentioned him before?’ Flora asked.
Sarah winced. She should have realised she’d get the third degree about Derek, from both Nick and Flora. Again, she decided to stick to the truth as closely as she could.
‘We haven’t been boyfriend and girlfriend all that time,’ she replied. ‘That’s a more recent development. He asked me out for a drink one night after my workout, one thing led to another and…well, what can I say? I’m very happy.’
Sarah smiled, despite the lurch within her chest.
‘And very healthy, too,’ Flora said with a return smile. ‘Don’t you think so, Nick?’
‘I think she looks like she could do with some of your caramel slice.’
Sarah found a laugh from somewhere. ‘That’s funny coming from you. All your girlfriends have figures like rakes.’
‘Not all of them. You haven’t met Chloe, have you?’
‘I haven’t had the pleasure yet.’
‘You will. Tomorrow.’
‘How nice.’
‘You’ll like her.’
‘Oh, I doubt it. I never like any of your girlfriends, Nick. The same way you never like any of my boyfriends. I’ve already warned Derek.’
‘Should I warn Chloe?’
Sarah shrugged. ‘Why bother? It won’t change anything.’
‘Will you two stop bickering?’ Flora intervened. ‘It’s Christmas, the season of peace and love.’
Sarah almost pointed out that Nick didn’t believe in love, but she held her tongue. Sniping at Nick was not in keeping with her resolution to move on. But he’d really got under her skin with his remarks about her being skinny.
When Flora presented a plate full of caramel slice right in front of her, she couldn’t really refuse. But she did take the smallest piece and proceeded to eat it very slowly between long sips of tea. Nick chose the biggest portion, devoured it within seconds, then had the gall to take a second salivating slice. The lucky devil had one of those metabolisms that allowed him to eat whatever he liked without getting fat. Of course, he did work out with weights every other day, and swam a lot.
Although thirty-six now, he didn’t carry an extra ounce of fat on his long, lean body. Really, other than some muscling up around his chest and arms, Nick hadn’t changed much since the day they’d met.
Physically, that was. He’d changed a good deal in other ways, matching his personality to suit whatever company he was in, sometimes warm and charming, at other times adopting a confident air of cool sophistication and savoir-faire, both personas a long way from the introverted and rather angry young man he’d been when he’d first come to live at Goldmine.
Though he was never angry with me, Sarah recalled. Never. He had always been sweet, kind and generous with his time. He’d made a lonely little girl’s life much less lonely.
Oh, how she’d loved him for that!
Sarah much preferred the Nick of old to the one sitting beside her today.
In the beginning, when he’d launched himself into the business world, she’d admired his ambition. But success had made Nick greedy for the good life, feeding on hedonistic pleasures that were as fleeting as they were shallow. Other than the holiday house on Happy Island, he owned a penthouse on the Gold Coast and a chalet in the southern snowfields. When he wasn’t working at making more money, he flitted from one to the other, always accompanied by his latest lady-love.
Whoops, no. Amend that to latest playmate. Love was never part of Nick’s lifestyle.
Her father had always said how proud of Nick he was. He’d lauded Nick’s work ethics, his intellect and his entrepreneurial vision.
Sarah could see that, professionally, there was much to be proud of. But surely her father would have been disappointed, if he’d been alive today, at the way Nick conducted his personal life. There was something reprehensible about a man whose girlfriends never lasted longer than six months, and who boasted that he would never marry.
No, that was unfair. Nick had never boasted about his inability to fall in love. He’d merely stated it as a fact.
Sarah had to concede that at least Nick was honest in his relationships. She felt positive he never spun any of his girlfriends a line of bull. They’d always known that their role in his life was strictly sexual and definitely temporary.
‘Glad to see you’re still capable of enjoying your food.’
Nick’s droll remark jolted Sarah out of her reverie, her stomach contracting in horror once she realised she’d consumed a second piece of caramel slice without being aware of it.
She kept her cool, however, determined not to let Nick needle her further.
‘Who could resist Flora’s caramel slice?’ she tossed at him airily. ‘Next Christmas we’ll get back to having a smaller Christmas lunch, Flora, and you can cook whatever you like.’
‘You won’t keep your father’s tradition going?’ Nick asked in a challenging voice.
‘Is that what you think you’ve been doing, Nick?’ she countered. ‘When Dad was alive, Christmas lunch was a gathering of true friends, not a collection of business acquaintances.’
‘Is that so? I think perhaps you’re mistaken about that. Most of your father’s so-called friends were business contacts.’
Nick was right, of course. But people had still liked her father for himself, not just for what they could get out of him. At least, she liked to think so.
But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d seen him through rose-coloured glasses. Maybe, underneath his bonhomie, he’d been as hard and cynical as Nick.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d been a kind and generous man.
Not a brilliant dad, though. During her years at boarding-school he’d often made excuses for not being able to come to school functions, all of those excuses related to work. Then, when she came home for school holidays, she’d largely been left to her own devices.
If she was strictly honest, things hadn’t been much better when her mother was still alive. A dedicated career woman, Jess Steinway had been totally unprepared for the sacrifices motherhood entailed upon the arrival of an unexpected baby at forty. Sarah had been raised by a succession of impersonal nannies till she went to kindergarten, after which Flora had taken over as carer before and after school. But Flora, warm and chatty though she was, had mostly been too busy with the house to do much more than