A Case For Trust Read online

  He’d had some forewarning she was there—her ute in the driveway was a dead giveaway—and Pippa could see in his clenched jaw and ramrod posture the effort he was making to tamp down his fury. For half an hour, she’d been imagining and discarding the words she’d say to him when he finally arrived but now she stayed grimly silent below Justin’s encompassing arm as Matt acknowledged his mother and sisters, then turned those chilly eyes on her and his brother.

  ‘Justin. Philippa.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve met Philippa? I was just about to introduce you.’ Eleanor appeared flustered, her gaze swinging between the two brothers as if she was expecting an outburst. But they were practised, silent combatants, Matt’s brow raised at the hand Justin was now casually resting across Pippa’s shoulder, Justin staring back with challenge in his eyes. In the end, Matt’s eyes flicked dismissively over Philippa before he turned to his mother. ‘Yes. We’ve met.’

  ‘And now I can tell you all my news! I got the job! I’m working for Legal Aid and I start in a fortnight!’ Marissa’s excited announcement smashed the tension, though Philippa took the opportunity of the hugs and congratulations to remove herself from the couch and Justin’s proximity. She hovered by the large picture window, breathing through her nerves, petting the dog that had followed her and allowing the family their private celebration.

  Her reprieve was brief. Under cover of offering her a drink, Matt gripped her elbow hard with the same hand she knew could as easily give insanity-provoking pleasure, and drew her close enough to hear his urgent order. ‘I don’t know or care under what pretext you’ve got yourself invited into my mother’s home, but you will get the hell out. Now.’

  ‘I can’t! I’ve been invited to stay for dinner.’

  ‘Make an excuse. Or I’ll make sure my entire family knows precisely what type of conniving slut they have sharing their hospitality.’

  Pippa bit back a pained gasp, but it was enough to draw the attention of Matt’s mother. ‘What are you two talking about over there? Come and join us. Philippa, your glass is empty, come and get another drink.’

  ‘Actually, Eleanor, Philippa was just making her excuses. She’s not well. She’s going home.’

  Pippa knew she didn’t imagine the look that passed between mother and elder son, but she couldn’t read it, any more than she could read the stiff formality that had Matt addressing his mother by her first name, or the weary acceptance she saw in Eleanor’s eyes as she approached them. Eleanor took one of Pippa’s hands between her own and squeezed it gently. ‘Of course. I kept you in the sun too long. Thank you for coming. I look forward to seeing you again soon.’

  Pippa said her goodbyes, received a brief hug from Justin under his brother’s frosty glare and hurried to her ute. Heart heavy, she forced herself to think of other things; to not replay the scene in the Mason home over and over; to not allow herself to feel again the thrill of being in Matt’s presence, a strange blend of apprehension, anticipation, desire and regret; to not worry if her gardening contract with Eleanor, so important to the future of her business, was still possible.

  There was no point worrying about it. If Matt had anything to do with it, she’d never see Eleanor or any other member of his family again.

  ***

  ‘What’s going on, Matt?’

  He knew he hadn’t avoided the sharp gaze of his mother; knew the questions would have to be answered. From the moment he’d walked in and stopped dead at the sight of that treacherous bitch curled up in his brother’s arms, Eleanor had been watching him. She knew him too well, read him too easily. He was a master at controlling his expressions—his profession demanded it—but somehow Eleanor always knew when he was angry or upset. He’d escaped to the kitchen, ostensibly to stack the dishwasher, but she’d followed him like a terrier after a rabbit. At least she’d waited until Georgia and Marissa had left to commence the inquisition. Still, he prevaricated.

  ‘The merger between the two insurance companies I told you about is taking up quite a bit of time. The securities commission is sniffing around it because—’

  ‘Matthew, you know that’s not what I meant. What’s going on with you and Justin? And Philippa?’

  Matt bit back a sigh of frustration. ‘Leave it alone, Eleanor. I’m sorting it out. He might have invited her here to dinner, but there’s no future for Justin and Philippa and the faster they both work that out the better.’

  ‘Justin didn’t invite Philippa to dinner. I did.’

  Matt stared at his mother as if she’d gone mad. ‘You did? How the hell did you come to be inviting her to dinner? How the hell do you even know her?’

  Her eldest son’s angry incredulity didn’t intimidate Eleanor in the slightest. She finished rinsing the coffeepot and left it to drain before turning to face him.

  ‘I saw her work at the kindergarten. She did a wonderful job there, and I’ve commissioned her to makeover the garden here.’

  ‘No way. There’s no bloody way that woman is going to be working here on our garden.’

  ‘Matthew, this is your home and it always will be. But it’s my house. And I’ll decide what work is done here, and by whom.’

  ‘For god’s sake!’ Matt thrust his hand through his hair in frustration. ‘I’m spending half my waking hours trying to keep Philippa Lloyd away from your middle son so he can patch things up with Lucy. You can see he’s interested in Philippa; why would you give her entree to the house and our family?’

  ‘Is that what I’m doing? I thought all I’d done was offer her a work contract.’

  ‘But can’t you see? She’s going to be under Justin’s nose for weeks, with her butter-wouldn’t-melt face and her skimpy little singlets and those horrendous boots. Can’t you see she’s wrangling her way in here? She’s doing everything she can to set herself up as the next Mrs Mason, and you’re aiding and abetting her.’

  ‘Matthew, you need to calm down. And stop using that lawyer language on me. I didn’t even know Justin and Philippa had met until Justin came home this evening. I hadn’t made the connection between Philippa the marriage celebrant and Philippa the landscape gardener, and I’m quite sure, from the expression on Philippa’s face when she saw Justin arrive tonight, that she hadn’t made the connection between us either. There’s no conspiracy here, only coincidence.’

  ‘I don’t believe in coincidence. And she’s a conniving slut.’

  ‘Matthew! How dare you say such a thing! What possible justification could you have to say that about any woman? Philippa’s intimate relationships are none of your business. Are they?’

  Matt felt the flush spread up his neck at his mother’s insistent glare. She was waiting for him to speak, expecting a response, and with a sudden rush of relief he realised she was waiting for an apology for his language and his sexist judgement, not for an explanation of his own intimate knowledge of Philippa. Careful, Matt, or she’ll soon work out it was your business, at least for one night.

  ‘You’re right. I apologise. I just don’t see how it’s possible Philippa could be suddenly appearing in our lives so … regularly. We’d never even heard her name two months ago; now every time I turn around she’s underfoot.’

  ‘Well, darling, there’s no other way to explain it. I met Philippa weeks ago at the kindergarten and asked her to come and look at our garden. She came out this afternoon, and I invited her to stay for dinner. There’s nothing else to it.’

  Matt was shaking his head slowly. ‘Even after all this time, you’re so naïve. Believe me, she might have acted surprised, but there’s no way Philippa Lloyd didn’t know exactly whose home she was coming to. She’s got her eye on the main chance and she’s as cunning as they come. She probably engineered the meeting with you at the kindergarten.’

  ‘Matt, that’s enough. Now you’re simply being ridiculous. You’ve a blind spot about this poor woman. I’ve heard your theories, but I saw no evidence tonight that Justin’s romantically interested in Philippa, or vice versa. You’re the on
e who seems fixated on her, and it’s high time you applied that sharp legal mind to the facts in front of you. I know you’ve always been suspicious of women, but this time you’re going too far.’

  ‘Not always suspicious. Not always, Eleanor. And if I’m suspicious now, I think I have good cause, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, Matt.’ It was an anguished whisper. ‘When are you going to let this go? Can’t you see it’s destroying you? And any chance of happiness for you? You can’t change things, and you mustn’t let one… slip, one incident … somebody else’s mistake, affect how you live your life. Don’t let it close you off to love.’

  ‘I’ve only your word that it was just one slip. And I’m not the only one affected. Have you asked yourself why your youngest son suddenly won’t come home anymore? Haven’t you wondered why Garrett’s always in Sydney or Saudi or Shanghai or wherever the hell he is this week, instead of home? That one slip has wrecked more lives than you know of, and I’m damned sure it’s not going to happen again in this family.’

  ‘So judgemental.’ Eleanor was shaking her head sadly. ‘I thought, with all the years you’ve spent examining human behaviour and its consequences, you’d have learned a little compassion by now, Matthew. One day, sweetheart, you’ll discover how it rewards, as well as what it costs, to really love. I hope for your sake you discover it soon, or you’ll end up a very sad and bitter man.’

  ‘I’ve seen love, and what it costs. I want no part of it. Do you think my father would agree with you, for example? Or Garrett’s? And if you want to teach me compassion, you might start by telling me the truth.’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve told you before. I made a promise.’

  ‘And that promise means more to you than your sons’ peace of mind?’

  ‘I made it for your peace of mind. Yours and Garrett’s. I did it for you, Matthew.’

  ‘So you keep saying. But don’t expect me to thank you for it.’

  ***

  The same old argument, over and over. Whether he was arguing with his mother or with his own self, Matt couldn’t make sense of the rights and wrongs of the family secret that had wrecked his relationship with his mother and sent his youngest brother searching the far corners of the globe for self-acceptance.

  Or rather, his half-brother. The identity of Garrett’s father, the man with whom Eleanor had betrayed Matt’s own father, remained a secret to all but Eleanor and Matt. The bitterness of knowing she had withheld the truth from him, Matt, who had always felt he’d had an extra-special bond with his mother, ate at his guts and tarnished every loving memory, as much as the knowledge she had cheated on his father. It was a subject she refused to address. The rest of the family, he was sure, were oblivious to her infidelity and its devastating result, and he was perfectly happy to keep them oblivious. But recently he’d realised Garrett might have begun to suspect, and while the last thing he wanted was the inevitable family rupture that would come from the disclosure of Garrett’s paternity, he knew that in Garrett’s shoes, he’d want the truth.

  If he’d needed an example of the fickleness of women, it was there in his mother. All his life, he’d believed the deep, warm and loving relationship he’d perceived between his parents was genuine, the real deal. It was only after his father’s death three years ago that he’d discovered a façade. The discovery had shaken his world, had made him question everything he’d ever believed about love, and marriage, and trust; had led him to politely but coldly dump the woman he’d been dating for six months. If Eleanor, who from his earliest years he’d placed on a pedestal of honour and integrity, could prove so easily toppled, then no woman could be trusted. It was as simple as that.

  Matt finally allowed the rage that had burned like a dull ember in his gut to fan into a firestorm. Philippa Bloody Lloyd had come straight from the bed she’d shared with him to his family home, sat in his family living room and allowed herself to be pawed by his brother, right under his own eyes. She’d promised she wouldn’t see Justin again; that was a lie. She’d said she wasn’t interested in Justin. Clearly another lie. She’d said she wasn’t having an affair with Justin, and but for timing, that would also soon prove a lie.

  It was history repeating itself. Two brothers, and one woman determined to play them against one another to advance her own interests.

  Except this time, Matt was determined, the woman wouldn’t win.

  Chapter 7

  Pippa moped about the house. With the kindergarten job finished and no other landscaping contract in sight—assuming she’d blown any chance of working on the Masons’ garden—she ought to be spending time on her marketing plan or her accounts or her filing. But … instead she moped.

  If she tried to pinpoint exactly when she started to feel like she was losing control of her life, it would be that horrible evening at Byron Bay when she first met Matt Mason. Since then she’d been confused, abused, had her phone stolen (now you’re exaggerating, Philippa), nearly missed a wedding, got drunk, got laid and probably got sacked from the best landscaping contract she could expect to win as a new business. And Matt Mason had been there every step of the way.

  She had no doubt, as soon as she’d left last night, Matt would have told his mother and brother of their affair. She didn’t remember a lot about the night she’d spent with him—sensations, mostly—but she remembered the look on his face that last time he’d woken her. She’d been telling herself it was lust laced with tenderness. She’d been lying to herself. It was lust laced with contempt. She had heard his warnings to stay away from Justin, she just hadn’t believed he was serious either in his accusation that she had split Justin and Lucy up, or in his intention to make her pay for it. But there’d been no doubting the fury and the resolution on his face last night when he saw her with Justin. There was no point trying to explain they were just friends. Matt was determined to believe the worst of her, and Pippa was exhausted from trying to work out why.

  But he’d said he would ruin her life, ruin her business, and now he had the perfect weapon to do so. Instinct told her he wasn’t a man to eschew a weapon like that, even if it implicated himself.

  The strident tone of her mobile phone cut through her morose thoughts. If she didn’t have outdoor work to worry about for a while, she could at least change the ringtone to something softer. There was a silver lining. She grimaced at her attempt to lighten her own mood, and answered the phone.

  ‘Philippa, it’s Eleanor. I’ve just seen the most gorgeous weeping melaleuca in a magazine, and I wanted to add it to our list of plants to investigate. Oh, sorry, how rude of me. I’m all caught up in this garden planning! How are you, dear? Did you get home safely last night? Feeling better?’

  Pippa was momentarily speechless, her brain frantically trying to process Eleanor’s questions. Did that mean Matt hadn’t …? Did she still …? For god’s sake, go with it, Lloyd!

  ‘Eleanor, how lovely to hear from you. Thank you, yes, I’m fine. And thank you for your hospitality last night. I’ve been awake half the night thinking about your garden.’ That much, at least, was true.

  ‘Me, too! I can’t wait to get started. The more I’ve thought about yesterday afternoon and our discussion, the more convinced I am you’re exactly the person I want working on this project, Philippa. So … a weeping melaleuca? In the top corner, perhaps?’

  Pippa sank onto her couch, almost woozy with relief as she listened to Eleanor’s excited chatter. Matt Mason might hate her guts, but he hadn’t yet killed her business.

  ***

  She’d never worked so hard in her life, but god, it was worth it. Any doubts Pippa had had about her physical capacity to take on a landscaping project the size of Eleanor’s were already abating as the rich, alluvial Brisbane soil yielded to her ministrations. Her financial capacity was another matter altogether, but Pippa mentally shrugged that concern aside. The bank had taken some persuading, but in the end it had agreed to remortgage her house to allow her the capital she needed to set up the necessary
accounts for equipment, materials and plant stock.

  She knew if she’d asked Eleanor, she could have received an advance payment, but that wasn’t the way Pippa did business. First payment would come with first results. In a few weeks, when the terraces were planted up and the new beds taking shape, then she’d be able to ask for a progress payment. Until then, she’d grit her teeth, skimp where she had to at home, and work like blazes to turn Eleanor’s dream into reality.

  She was never unaware of Matt Mason hovering in the background, but she did her level best to ignore him. Some evenings she’d come to the back door to let Eleanor know she was leaving, and find him leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a coffee, observing her out of narrowed eyes.

  From time to time he’d be there in the morning when she arrived, and she’d be forced to endure his uncompromising stare as she and Eleanor discussed the plan of work for the day. One afternoon, struggling under the weight of a timber sleeper she was shifting to a terrace, he’d appeared and silently lifted one end, ignoring her protests about the grimy marks it might leave on his pristine white business shirt and merely gesturing her to proceed. When they’d positioned the timber, he left just as silently, and Pippa realised she’d held her breath the entire time he’d been there.

  She could never afford to let her guard down. He was watching her all the time, waiting for her to slip up, and there was no way on earth she was going to. Her subversive body had tremored at his every approach, forgetting his threatening words, only remembering his torrid touch, and it took all Pippa’s control to stop her yearning, telltale eyes following him back to the house.

  What the hell was wrong with her? It had been a while, yes, since she’d been in an intimate relationship, but to be panting after Matt Mason just because she had vague memories of a frankly disturbingly amazing one-night stand wasn’t who she was. And to be panting after a man who used his power to try and intimidate her was disturbingly like her mother, who had forgiven year upon year of masculine abuse from her husband in the name of love and security. That certainly wasn’t who Pippa was. She didn’t blame her mother for her choices, not really, but there was no way she was going to emulate them.