.

long do you give them before you click?’ He intensified his gaze as he spoke and waited for her answer. Her viewing habits were irrelevant; her character intrigued him.

      ‘That depends on how bad it is, what else is on and how tired I am.’

      Clever, evasive answer.

      * * *

      The heat coursing through Cassie’s veins had nothing to do with the fake wood fire warming the room, and everything to do with the fact that Jack had turned his attention towards her. His smile and slight raise of one eyebrow hinted he read her true thoughts. He was wrong, couldn’t possibly know Mum’s favourite programme, always set to tape so never missed, was an enduring Aussie soapy.

      Stretching her back, she rose and reached for his bowl. ‘I’ll stack the dishwasher if you make the hot drinks?’

      ‘None for me,’ Mel said. ‘I’ll watch the news with you then I’m off to bed. I feel tired in the nicest possible way. Tomorrow I might have a baking session.’

      Which would leave Cassie alone with Jack unless he called it a night too. She’d had a long day, exacerbated by her body’s inexplicable reaction to him, new and unnerving. Could she feign plausible fatigue? How did she somehow know her excuse would be met with scepticism and that eyebrow quirk?

      The moment his aunt pushed back her seat to stand, he was there to ease it away and hold her arm. She spoke quietly to him with her back turned to Cassie, and his answering grin stirred a feather-light fluttering in her stomach.

      ‘Always, Mel.’ He picked up the empty glasses and large bowl. ‘You get settled in the lounge and rest. And I’ll expect cherry and ginger cake next visit.’

      He headed for the door, his husky chuckle flooding Cassie with a longing for the easy banter that came with deep affection.

      ‘Confident boy, isn’t he? Do you think he’d accept something fresh from the bakery?’ Mel’s tongue-in-cheek remark was accompanied with a gentle laugh.

      Cassie took a moment to answer, her mind still processing ‘boy’. She doubted there was a single immature cell in Jack Randell’s body.

      ‘From what I’ve seen, he’d settle for home brand plain biscuits to spend time with you, Mel.’

      ‘I admit to resorting to packaged cakes and biscuits since the accident, and he’s never even hinted the standard was lower.’

       CHAPTER FOUR

      JACK WAS FILLING the dishwasher when Cassie brought the remaining china into the kitchen. She kept a good space between them, admiring the way his muscles flexed as he reached up to the bench then bent forward to place each item.

      No, you don’t. You mustn’t.

      He pivoted round, as if sensing her appraisal. She wasn’t aware of having made a sound, and the gurgle of the coffee machine should have covered any if she had.

      ‘Coffee, tea or hot chocolate?’ His sombre eyes and polite tone put her on alert.

      ‘White tea, thank you. I’ll finish here.’

      Instead of moving away as she expected, he stepped sideways, resting his hands and butt against the bench and crossing one foot over the other. A very masculine stance which should not affect her. Renewed flutters in her stomach proved otherwise.

      ‘I’m not totally convinced about this extra sorting. It might prove too much for her.’ Corporate tone. And she knew there was no uncertainty in his mind at all.

      ‘Because you care for her.’

      His brow furrowed, his chest expanded and he crossed his arms as if preparing to challenge her reasoning. She forestalled him.

      ‘She’s been through a prolonged, trying time. Getting rid of clothes that no longer fit is cathartic and means she’s looking forward. I can schedule a few days at a time, and if she finds it tiring or too traumatic we can stop.’

      ‘Your contract will...’

      ‘Have an out clause which allows for either of those as well as unforeseen circumstances.’

      Jack wished he could explain why he wanted a longer break before Mel disposed of anything else. His treasured aunt was on a high at the moment, and he feared she might regret the impulse later. Any delaying tactic would be welcome. Unfortunately, his normally active mind was blank.

      Well, not really. It was a jumbled mass of thoughts and images of the dark-haired beauty who was regarding him with stunning, empathetic eyes. She had no conception of the perceptive and compassionate woman who’d been the mainstay of the family as long as he could remember. Mel had been the one they’d all turned to for guidance until Bob’s death had shaken her belief in life and herself.

      ‘She lost confidence in her own judgement. People she trusted as friends tried to scam her while she was grieving for Bob. Two years ago, an acquaintance claiming to have been a business colleague almost coerced her into signing a contract to put this house on the market.’

      He’d been in Queensland that time too. He pushed to his feet, needing action. The exasperated breath he took filled his nostrils with her delicate scent, distracting him. He shook his head, fisted his hands.

      ‘She had the sense to tell my cousin, and he warned the guy off. She wasn’t ready then—why now?’

      ‘She may not be.’

      What the hell? He glared at her, irked at her composed and conciliatory demeanour.

      ‘Then why the charade?’

      Her lips curled and his exasperation dissolved, his taut muscles slumping like Sam after a run. The combination of her beguiling eyes, enticing smile and husky voice was irresistible.

      ‘It’s not. She needs to know she’s in control after months of relying on you and your family for so much. I’ll ensure she doesn’t do anything irrational without consultation. You have to ensure no one else puts pressure on her in any way.’

      Easily done. Whatever was best for his aunt—his great-aunt. Accepting she was ageing cut deeper than he’d imagined. The thought that this home might no longer be his family’s focal meeting place was mind-numbing. The likelihood had been mentioned occasionally; now it was looming as a reality.

      Verbally committed to the new business purchase, he’d be unable to buy the property himself in the foreseeable future. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration as he turned towards the bench to make the tea and coffee.

      On the positive side, staggering the downsizing over months pushed any definite decision into next year. There would be time to find out what Mel really wanted, time for family discussions about the future ownership of the house they all loved. Time to work out an optimum solution for everyone.

      For now, strong coffee and reliving today’s encounters with Cassie Clarkson would probably keeping him awake tonight, surprisingly not an unpleasant prospect.

      He heard the dishwasher start up and glanced sideways to see Cassie pulling on rubber gloves to rinse the wineglasses. Picking up the two drinks, he left her alone, unable to think of a suitable parting remark.

      * * *

      Cassie let the hot water cascade over her hands, allowing treasured memories of her and Mum to flow back. If they were both home, they’d share the cooking and cleaning up, then often settle in front of the television with drinks and home-baked biscuits.

      The pain of losing her had barely diminished. The love and laughter they’d shared was as vivid and powerful as ever. She’d been the one who’d taught Cassie to believe in herself and never let anyone demean her, either as a woman or a person.

      Jack’s bond with his aunt was reminiscent of hers with Mum, as close as that of natural mother and child.