Free The Secret Sinclair by Cathy Williams Page A

books at night before sleep …’ Except, she thought, suddenly flustered by the picture she had been busy painting, that was the
ideal
domestic situation—one in which two people were happily married and in love. It certainly wasn’t
their
situation. As she had told him—
and she had meant every word of it
—they had no relationship outside the artificial one imposed by circumstance.
    ‘Okay. I’ll bring Oliver in and you can start chopping some onions. They’re in the salad drawer in the fridge. Chop them really small.’
    ‘You want me to
cook
?’
    ‘Well, to help at any rate. And don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten how to cook. You used to cook on the compound.’
    ‘Different place, different country.’
    ‘So … you just eat out all the time?’ Sarah asked, distracted.
    ‘It’s more time-efficient.’
    ‘And what about with your girlfriends? Don’t you want to stay in sometimes? Do normal stuff?’
    The questions were out before she had the wit to keep her curiosity to herself, and now that she had voiced them, she realised that it had been on her mind, poised just beneath the surface, ever since she had laid eyes on him again. In fact, thinking about it, it was something she had asked herself over and over again through the years. Had he found someone else? Had another woman been able to capture his interest sufficiently for him to make the commitment that he had denied her? He hadn’t loved
her
, but had he fallen in love with someone else? Someone prettier or cleverer or more accomplished?
    ‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ she added, and laughed airily.
    ‘It is now. Haven’t you said that yourself? No women in Oliver’s presence … Rest assured that the only woman in my life at the moment is
you
…’
    ‘That’s not what I was asking and you know it, Raoul!’
    ‘No. You’re just curious to know what I’ve been getting up to these past few years. There’s nothing wrong with curiosity. Curiosity’s healthy.’
    ‘I don’t
care
what you’ve been getting up to!’ It was a lie. She cared. Who were these women he had dated? What had he felt for them? Anything? Had he preferred them to
her
? She was mortified just thinking about that particular question.
    ‘I haven’t been getting up to anything of interest,’ Raoul replied drily. ‘Yes, there have been women. But I’ve deterred them from doing anything that involved pots, pans, an apron, candlelight and home-cooked food.’
    ‘Oh, Raoul, you’re such a charmer.’ But a tendril of relief curled inside her. She squashed it. ‘Now, I’m going to fetch Oliver.’
    ‘Hey, what about you? Don’t I get the low-down on
your
life? No man at the moment, but any temptations? Do you cook your spaghetti Bolognese for anyone else aside from Oliver?’
    His voice was light and mildly amused, and he wondered why he felt so tense when it came to thinking of her with another man. He, after all, had never been and would never be a candidate when it came to marriage and rings on fingers. He was now a father, and that was shocking enough, but that was the only derailment to his carefully constructed life on the cards as far as he was concerned.
    ‘Maybe …’
    ‘Maybe? What does
that
mean?’ The amusement sounded forced. ‘Am I in competition with someone you’ve got hidden in a cupboard somewhere?’
    ‘No,’ Sarah admitted grudgingly. ‘I’ve been too busy being a single mum to think of complicating my life with a guy.’ She sensed rather than saw the shadow of satisfaction cross his face, and continued tartly, ‘But, as you’ve pointed out, life is going to get much easier for me now. It’s going to make a huge difference with you around, playing a role in Oliver’s life. I won’t be doing it on my own. Also, it’ll be nice not having to think about money, or rather the lack of it, all the time—and it’ll be fantastic having a bit of time to myself … time to do what I want to do.’
    ‘Which
doesn’t
mean