The Last Summer of Being Single Read online

  A warm and coy smile beamed back at him. ‘I did something I had never done before. I fought back. It was tough.’ She snorted. ‘Make that very tough. My parents helped with professional references and somehow I managed to convince them that I could support myself without handouts. But it was still hard.’

  She looked down at Seb’s hands and turned them over so that she could trace the life line across his palm with a fingertip. He sucked in air as delicious shivers moved up his arm and into the part of his heart he had thought was closed off from the world and all it had to throw at him—closed off with the barriers of work and a relentless drive to succeed. Now this seriously amazing little woman was doing a pretty good job of tearing them down.

  ‘I didn’t blame them, you know. I’ve never blamed them. They had lost their son and wanted the best for Dan. Or maybe that was the best for them at the same time. I don’t know, but it was all about Dan in the end.’

  ‘And what about you, Ella? Are you saying that they wanted Dan to grow up in an ivory castle without his mother?’

  ‘Maybe. But I understand why his parents did it. Never more so. It just took me a few years to catch on.’

  ‘Are you justifying what they did?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. Her voice lowered an octave. ‘Focusing on what was best for Dan made me grow up in a hurry. Suddenly I had to prove to the local authorities that I had the ability to take care of a child on my own and pay the bills. A safe home. School. Medical care. That meant a regular income from a full-time job. Maybe even a bank account with some money in it.’

  She bared her teeth in a grimace. ‘That would be new. Believe me. Pensions and savings were for other people who had regular jobs.’

  ‘You didn’t have any savings at all?’

  Ella shook her head then blew out, hard.

  ‘They were the hardest six months of my life but eventually I left Barcelona a different person from the girl who was going to sing every night of the week just for the love of it, to please myself and my family, then move on to the next venue. I had changed. A lot.’ She paused and her eyes flicked up at Seb as he held his breath for what she was about to say next.

  ‘I had gone from being a girl who was always ready to take off for the next thrill at a minute’s notice to a single mother who was at home with a child who was going to get all of my attention if I wanted to keep him. I had to find a job. And fast.’

  ‘And then you met Nicole.’

  She nodded. ‘Actually I met one of Nicole’s friends at the Avignon Jazz Festival. My parents had a three-set gig so I brought Dan on the train from Barcelona. She asked me if I knew anyone who might be interested in working as a housekeeper for her friend who had a holiday home. Ta da! I loved to cook. I could learn to clean. Two days later I had a roof over our heads and a regular income. And we never went back.’

  She blew out dramatically and dropped her head back. ‘And there you have it. A brief introduction to the life and times of Ella Jayne Bailey Martinez.’

  Her head came back up and she squeezed Seb’s hands. ‘I am so sorry. I never intended to bore you silly. Can I blame it on the mistral? It does make some people melancholy.’

  ‘And perhaps a little scared about what the future might hold?’

  Ella bit her lip and swallowed, her face quiet and still, but her eyes were on fire.

  ‘I’ll remember the good times Chris and I shared together but I can’t control the past. Only the future.’ And she smiled at him. A smile that lit up her eyes and mouth and face. ‘Right?’

  ‘Absolutely. Does that mean you might be ready to go on your first dinner date in…how long has it been? Over four years? Well, that just has to be wrong!’

  He took one look at the stunned expression on her face and grinned. ‘I understand that there is some form of music festival in the area at the moment. I will be out for most of the day in Montpellier following up a few leads on André Morel, but I was wondering if you would care to join me tomorrow evening? Oh. Sorry, later this evening for some dinner and musical entertainment? It sounds like a fine excuse to start looking forward instead of backwards, and possibly even enjoy yourself.’

  ‘You want to take me out to dinner?’ She squeezed her eyes half closed. ‘No. Not if it is out of pity for the sob story you just squeezed out of me. Is it?’

  Then he tapped her gently on the underside of her chin with his knuckles.

  ‘It’s been a long time for me too, Ella.’ His voice was gentle and warm. ‘But now I’m asking you to trust me. Can you try and do that? Trust me as much as I want to be with you?’

  And before Ella had a chance to answer he shifted his head and brushed her lips with his, the tip of this tongue moistening her soft mouth. Begging her to respond as he moved slowly to her chin and neck, kissing her soft skin with all of the tenderness his heart could bring. Desperate not to break the deep connection he knew bonded them together.

  His mouth brushed along the length of her cheek, the stubble on his chin rough against the soft warmth of her skin, and tasted the salt of dried tears.

  Drawing back, he gazed at her in wonder for a few seconds before brushing away the teardrops that had fallen from the corners of her eyes with his thumbs as he cupped her face in his hands.

  ‘I am going to take that a yes. Was that a nod? Excellent,’ he said and he moved to kiss her again.

  Only at that second the electricity came back on in a blinding brightness against the relative gloom of their cosy nest and Ella buried her face in his shirt to escape the glare.

  ‘I think that’s a sign.’ Seb chuckled, and hugged Ella closer. ‘You did warn me this morning that it was going to be a very interesting day! I can hardly wait to see what tomorrow will bring!’

  Seb switched off the car engine, dropped his head back against the fine leather, and closed his eyes.

  He was exhausted. Physically and mentally.

  After the traumatic events of the previous day, he had found it impossible to get to sleep in the early hours of the morning and after a few hours of tossing and turning, listening to the wind howling outside the bedroom window, his mind burning hot with thoughts of Ella, he had finally admitted defeat and turned to the never-ending barrage of emails that had arrived from all over the world through a much slower connection than he was used to.

  News about the PSN Media offer had still not broken but it would not take long. On Monday morning the financial papers would be looking for interviews and press statements. And, of course, he would have to tell his staff before then.

  Matt had pre-recorded a simple video but that was nowhere good enough to reassure the people who worked for him. They needed details and facts. And it was his job to provide them.

  So spending almost a whole day driving around the Languedoc from one Morel family to another was a luxury he could ill afford, even if his cell phone had never stopped ringing. Yet, somehow, finding out the truth about who he was and the father he had never known seemed more important than ever before.

  Holding Ella in his arms last night when she told him about her past had opened a window for him on his own questions. He could hire a private detective and start a detailed investigation, but he knew that the Morel family would be much more likely to tell him the whole story about André Morel if they met him in person as Helene’s son.

  And he was right.

  It had taken him several hours to put together the snatches of thirty-year-old memories from each individual he had spoken to and create one complete picture.

  But now he knew what had happened. And why. And when.

  He could not wait to share what he had discovered with Ella.

  There was no one else he wanted to tell.

  Her trust had forged a link between them that was not going to be broken when he left for Sydney.

  He slowly opened his eyes and released the tension in his shoulders.

  His news could wait. His problem. His past.

  There was one more piece of i
nformation he could tell her—but it could wait until tomorrow. The woman deserved one night of happiness before hard reality crept back in.

  He had promised Ella Bailey an evening out and that was precisely what he was going to deliver. Time to find out if she was ready to be spoilt!

  Seb strolled around the side of the house as the sun began to dip below the top of the plane trees. He could hear cicadas in the vineyard, and a nightingale on the river bank nearby. And a smooth jazz piano melody.

  Ella was sitting at the piano in the living room with her eyes closed, her hands moving effortlessly across the keys. She was humming and singing along to the music that drifted out into the garden through the open patio doors, so enchanted by the song that she had not even heard his car glide up at the front of the house.

  She sang in such a sweet, tender tone that he stopped, happy to simply listen to her beautiful voice.

  It was such a magical sight that his senses filled with the serene beauty of the moment.

  And his heart swelled to bursting just looking at her.

  Ella was wearing a sleeveless blue dress the exact same colour of her eyes. Luminescent pale china-blue eyes the shade of a spring morning. It seemed to be gathered just below her breasts in the perfect place to make his blood pound and his heart beat even faster. There were flowers and beads in trailing patterns all over the short skirt that billowed out each side of the piano stool.

  By Ella’s standard it was positively modest and sedate.

  She looked stunning.

  This was the Ella who had dominated his mind every minute since he had left her that morning after spending an hour on the computer with Dan, showing him all the places where his charity projects were making a difference. Seb sucked in a breath of the sweet garden air. Somehow this amazing woman made him feel and do things that were so unexpected that they startled him.

  He had never played computer games or worked on education with children before and had felt so far out of his depth it had been ridiculous—for the first ten minutes, before he had started to share the joy and excitement of a six-year-old seeing new worlds for the first time.

  He was not used to acting on impulse. And he certainly wasn’t used to sharing his past with people he barely knew.

  But with Ella?

  She made him feel that he could act differently. And that was more than unsettling.

  Perhaps he was being selfish wanting to share the evening with her?

  In two days he could be on a flight back to Sydney with several years of frantic project work ahead of him—and no plans to return to France.

  So where did that leave him?

  The implications of what he was getting into were only too clear when he thought about her little boy, whom he had become so fond of in such a short period of time. The new owner of his power torch was living in the house he grew up in, playing with the kind of dogs he used to play with. It had been such a pleasure to show Dan the wonders of the technology that was so commonplace in his own life, but seemed somehow magical to a six-year-old. The few hours he had spent with Dan had been the most fun he had experienced in a long time.

  There was no way he could break Dan’s heart with broken promises.

  The public persona his media team had created for Sebastien Castellano was a carefully constructed myth created by experts keen to exploit the young sexy image of a man whom the cameras loved—exactly the kind of man investors wanted to know was in control of their communication systems. He could talk to TV reporters; he could walk up red carpets. But his personal life was another matter and one he never talked about.

  The truth was far simpler. The truth was that he had only ever dated single girls who knew that he was not interested in a long-term relationship.

  That policy had made him a very rich and successful man. And alone. There was no one waiting for him to come home to in Sydney. Or Perth or Tokyo or whatever city needed his skills. All he had waiting for him back in Sydney was an amazing high-tech apartment with every possible luxury. And emptiness.

  Ella had helped him to remember how it felt to be part of a close and loving happy family.

  Strange how he had been denying it to himself all of these years as he filled every second of every day with frenetic activity then went home alone to an empty apartment.

  Only now? More than once that afternoon he had seriously considered driving back to Montpellier and calling Ella to say that he had to deal with a company crisis and someone would collect his bag and it would not be far from the truth. There was always some project that could use his expertise should he want to use it as an excuse. He had his passport in one pocket, his organiser in the other. He could go anywhere in the world he wanted simply by making one telephone call. He could always tell Ella that Matt needed him.

  Instead he had driven back to this house. To this woman. Knowing that in his heart he wanted a few more minutes with Ella and her son when he could pretend that they were his family.

  It would be a whole lot easier for both of them if he left now, and blamed the negotiations for dragging him away.

  Walking away would be the sensible thing to do. And until now he had always been the sensible one.

  Except this was Ella and Dan he was talking about. There was no way that he was prepared to lie to either of them.

  And it had been worth it. Looking at Ella now, seeing her so happy, any doubts he might have had about their date or his reasons for being here were quashed.

  Ella was here. Now. In this moment. That was all that mattered.

  He wanted to find out if the skin on her neck and arms was as smooth as he remembered. To kiss her lips. Her stunning hair. To savour the precious time he could hold her in his arms.

  He felt almost guilty looking at her when she was so caught up in the music; she was completely oblivious to anything and anyone around her.

  He would have been content to stay watching her for hours except at that moment she swung her slim legs off the piano stool and raised her arms out above her head in a delicious cat stretch. And saw him. Watching her.

  With one flush of embarrassment she slid her feet into high-heeled slingback shoes and flicked her hair back over one shoulder as she stepped lightly over to the music system and pressed the play button. Classical jazz echoed out from the speakers in the living room.

  ‘It’s the other Ella Jane. Ella Jane Fitzgerald. Maybe one day I will be able to sing half as well!’

  As he strolled over to join her he noticed that hanging down tantalisingly between her breasts was a necklace made up of an odd assortment of objects. Shells, beads, precious stones set in silver, a collection as unique as she was. It suited her perfectly.

  Then something sparkled and he focused again, while trying not to ogle at her bosom.

  A thin circle of gold inset with diamonds and sapphires hung from one of the loops of her necklace. A quick glance at her ring finger confirmed it.

  She had taken off her wedding ring.

  Something inside him suddenly felt light and in the mood to join in the singing, preferably something with hallelujah in it.

  ‘I like your necklace,’ he said, trying to sound calm and casual.

  Her lips pressed together for a fraction of a second in recognition and understanding. ‘Thank you, it’s new.’ Only then she tilted her head to one side like a curious bird as she moved her shoulders from side to side in tune with the music. ‘You look very pleased with yourself. Are you going to tell me where you went today? You do know that I will wangle it out of you eventually, don’t you?’

  The joyous, playful tone of her voice was so contagious that Seb could not contain a tiny bubble of happiness, which emerged as a chuckle. And then another.

  ‘That’s for later. And where is the man of the house?’ he asked, pretending to look over her shoulder into the garden and then the house. ‘I come with date gifts.’

  ‘Gifts? A box of lovely chocolates would be nice. Or perhaps a new fairy godmother to provide some gl
ass slippers?’

  Seb snorted. ‘Please! As if I was that predictable?’ He swung a large heavy plastic bag from an upmarket electrical store onto the patio table. ‘The store didn’t do gift wrapping. I hope Dan likes it.’

  Ella peeked inside, looked at Seb with a puzzled expression, then pulled out two large cartons from inside the bag. ‘How very thoughtful of you, but, er, what are webcams?’

  Seb shook his head. ‘Dan told me that he was going to visit his grandparents next week, and I thought you mind find these useful. Think of it as a video camera attached to your computer. If you both have webcams, you can see each other and talk live. Every day if you like. Perhaps I had better set it up for you in the morning?’

  ‘I think you had better,’ Ella replied as she read the information on the side of the box. ‘Wow. I can see and talk to Dan through the computer any time I like? Well. That is, without doubt, the nicest date present I have ever received. Thank you; they are just what I have always wanted. Wait until I tell Dan! He already thinks that you are totally cool!’

  ‘I aim to please.’ Seb laughed and pulled out a wrist corsage with a single fresh pale orchid blossom from inside his jacket pocket. ‘I know. I am hopelessly old-fashioned. But I hope you like it. Sorry it’s a bit crushed.’

  Ella sucked in a breath and held her whole body still for a moment as she stared at the orchid as though it were an object from a distant planet.

  Seb’s face fell. ‘You hate it.’

  ‘Oh, no, nothing like that,’ Ella replied with a smile, trying to quickly reassure him. ‘It’s just that it has been a long time since a man bought me flowers. I didn’t realise until right now just how much I missed that. Thank you. I love it.’

  She quickly popped the flower onto her wrist and held out her arm to admire it.

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Um. I would have to agree,’ Seb replied, only his gaze hadn’t left Ella’s face. ‘Is Dan here?’

  ‘Oh, young mister Daniel is currently enjoying the delightful company of his school friends at a party at Sandrine’s. Apparently there are two birthdays to celebrate next week.’