The Bad Boy's Redemption. Joss WoodЧитать онлайн книгу.
coat rack stood next to the door and a large antique credenza squatted next to the wall, photographs in silver frames crowding its surface. A massive vase of haphazard flowers stood on a narrow high table, and the wall in front of him was dominated by two oversized canvas photographs of two young boys, their faces a chocolate smear.
‘My brothers,’ Lu explained as he stepped up to look at the photographs. ‘Come through this way. I thought we’d eat on the veranda.’
Will followed Lu through a huge kitchen and his mouth started to water at the smell of garlicky, herby, meaty pasta. The kitchen flowed into a large, messy lounge with battered leather couches, a laptop on a big coffee table and a large screen television. Oversized glass and wooden doors led onto a wraparound veranda, which had its own set of couches, a casual dining table and an incredible view over the city to the Indian Ocean.
‘I want to live here,’ Will muttered, placing the bottle on the table and dropping his mobile and keys next to it.
‘Yeah, the view is pretty impressive.’ Lu deftly poured wine into the empty glass on the table and handed it over.
Will sat down in the closest chair and tried to ignore the buzz in his pants when Lu sat down opposite him and folded her legs up under her butt. He pulled his eyes from that expanse of bare leg, looked around and liked what he saw. The house was huge, filled with old, once expensive furniture and eclectic art.
‘I love your house,’ Will said, after sipping his wine. ‘I’m crazy about buildings. Built in the thirties?’
‘1931 and inspired by the times: Art Deco rules. It was my grandparents’ and then my father’s,’ Lu explained. ‘My grandmother did all the stained-glass panels above the windows and next to the front door. My grandfather collected the furniture.’
He’d noticed the furniture on his walk-through, and now glanced through the open veranda doors into the lounge. He saw another set of canvas photographs: black and white, like the others in the hall, and brimming with emotion and energy. ‘Mind if I take a look?’
Lu shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’
The first canvas was of a fantastically, lushly beautiful woman, dressed in a corset and fishnet stockings, a walking cane across her ample chest. She had more curves than a mountain pass and, while her face was partially covered by the brim of a top hat, her expression radiated fun and excitement and raw sensuality.
He moved to the other photograph: a long, lanky man, lying in a hammock, a beer bottle in his hand and his eyes—Lu’s eyes—half closed. A golfing magazine lay face-down on his stomach.
* * *
Sexy, successful, attractive. Everything she wasn’t right now, Lu thought as she watched Will take a closer look at the photographs.
Everything she’d ever wanted to be but didn’t know how. The embodiment of what a successful life looked like.
His looks were an added bonus, she thought, but his success and the material wealth that came along with it was all his own, created by hard work. His hard work and dedication. How she envied him that—envied the fact that whatever he had, and she knew it was a lot, he could say that he’d earned it. Unlike her every possession, including her photography equipment, which came from the massive inheritance her parents had left behind.
An inheritance that would have been non-existent if her parents had died a couple of weeks later than they had. It had been a standard joke between them that there were many millions of reasons to bump the other off...and it was fascinatingly ironic that they’d died together, victims of an out-of-control articulated vehicle.
If they’d lived this house would have been a distant memory for her—sold to pay off the overdraft, the credit cards, the personal loans. At the time of their death they’d been, as Lu had later discovered, living on fresh air and the last couple of thousand on her father’s credit cards. The car and credit card payments hadn’t been made in months; the utilities bills had been late.
Sorting through the financial mess had been a nightmare on top of the horror of losing them. It was probably the biggest secret she’d kept from the twins: that they wouldn’t be enjoying such a privileged lifestyle if their parents had lived.
But her parents’ secret remained exactly that; she’d never told a living soul and would never tell the twins. One person feeling guilty and conflicted about the lifestyle of their family was enough. She didn’t need to burden them with that information; it was, as she well knew, a heavy load to carry.
The flip and very selfish side of that coin was that if her parents were still around they might not have anything like the material wealth surrounding them now, but she’d be supporting herself—working...contributing. She would be on a career path, settled and established. Maybe not rich, like Will, but comfortable, secure. Fulfilled because her security came from the sweat of her own brow and not because her parents had rushed off to a meeting with their bank manager and ended up under the chassis of a ten-ton truck.
So she was ten years behind? It wasn’t as if she was old and past her prime. She was young and fit and determined...and she had time. So what if most women her age were thinking about moving onto the next stage of their lives—marriage and babies? That was their life, not hers.
She’d catch up...she had to. In the couple of weeks since the boys had left she’d been clubbing—she was deliberately ignoring the issue of the spiked drink—she’d worked on her website, sorted out her studio and looked into dance classes.
She’d even invited a man around for dinner.
That was progress, wasn’t it?
Will walked back onto the veranda and leaned against the balcony. ‘Your parents?’
Lu nodded and sipped her wine. ‘My mother was a cabaret artiste and performer, my father a golf pro.’
‘Was?’
‘They’re dead. Car accident. Ten years ago,’ Lu said in a monotone, and she didn’t know that pain flickered in and out of her eyes.
Will winced. ‘Damn, I’m sorry about that. Did you take the photos?’
Lu nodded. ‘I took them shortly before they died; they were supposed to be used in an assignment I had due.’
Lu steeled herself. He’d ask about their death now; people always wanted to know the details.
‘And is photography your passion? Your business?’
When Lu recovered from her surprise at his change of subject she focused on the question. Her passion? Absolutely. Her business? She didn’t know. Could she even call herself a photographer? She didn’t have much of a reputation, didn’t have that much of a portfolio, and hardly any experience. Did updating her website and looking for new business mean that she was actually in business?
Well, she wasn’t a pseudo-mommy any more, so maybe she was.
She touched a camera that sat on the table next to her. ‘I always have one close by so I suppose it must be. Is rugby yours?’
‘My passion and my business? Absolutely.’
Will placed his ankle on his knee and Lu wondered why he made her skin prickle. Her veranda was spacious, but he made it seem smaller, cosier. Lu tried to put her finger on what he made her feel. Alive, she realised with a shock.
He made her feel alive. And that she mattered.
Dangerous thoughts, Lu, you need to switch gears. What had they been talking about? Rugby...
Lu’s eyes shot up, sharpened and collided with his. ‘Oh, and on the subject of photography and rugby, who took that photo of you for the Rays’ webpage?’
‘You looked up our webpage?’ Will asked, his mouth twitching with amusement.
Lu blushed, caught out. ‘I was...it just popped up.’ Oh, she was such a rotten liar. ‘Anyway...that photo of you? Who took it?’
‘What’s