His face looked like thunder, his stance so tightly drawn she wondered if he might snap if he so much as moved. But he did move, picking up some documents on his desk, handing them to her. ‘These belong to you, I believe.’
Confused, she took them and tried to make sense of what she was holding. She blinked, not entirely recognising the property reference, still unsure what it all meant when she saw the mortgage discharged stamp on the second page. A sizzling snake wound its way up her spine. She looked up at him. ‘Is this what I think it is?’ He was waiting. She imagined he wasn’t used to people not understanding forms and papers and legal things, but she’d never seen a title deed before, if this was what it was.
‘It’s the title deed to your house on Spinifex Avenue. It’s yours now, lock stock and barrel.’
His words confirmed her wildest imaginings. ‘It’s mine! But what about Shayne? What happened? I thought he wanted his so-called share.’
He snorted with contempt. ‘The lawyers sorted that. In the end, as we suspected, he was happy to settle.’
‘But who paid him? Who paid the mortgage out?’
He brushed her questions aside. ‘Forget it—he came cheap. The mortgage even cheaper. I figured it was the least I could do.’
The least he could do when he’d already done so much? She looked down at the deeds, unable to believe what she was seeing. The house was hers. All hers. It was a dream come true.
Except…
Wanting the house belonged to a different dream. A dream that belonged to a different time, when she’d willingly go home after the birth. Willingly go home, alone.
A wave of logic swept her objections away. Because it didn’t matter what she thought or what she wanted or whether she was having second thoughts.
Dominic was only doing this because Dominic wanted her gone and she’d agreed that was what she would do. Was that so surprising? He’d always wanted her gone. He’d always expected her to leave. That was their arrangement, after all. Now he was doing everything possible to make it happen. And she would need somewhere to live.
Could she blame him for inadvertently making her life more difficult when he’d only just given her what she’d claimed she’d wanted all along?
Or should she thank him and not reveal how much his kind gesture was costing her when her mother’s house was the only lifeline she could trust?
‘Thank you,’ she said at last, hugging the title deeds to her chest.
The night was hot, the sheets were tangled and the baby had put on soccer boots. Angie decided to give up on trying to sleep for a while. Besides, did she really want to sleep when all she dreamed about lately was Dominic? He’d been so good to her. Too good, really. He’d spoiled her for anyone else, that was for sure. And now tonight, giving her the deeds for her house… How did you thank someone for doing that, for being so thoughtful, even when you longed for another outcome?
She stood by the windows looking out to sea, trying to catch a breeze, but the night was strangely silent, the sea calm and quiet, with nothing to stir even a ripple through the foliage.
Below her window the moon reflected off the surface of the pool. A swim would cool her heated body. A swim might even cool her heated desires, and that would be welcome, for she’d found it impossible to live in the same house as this man and not have heated desires. She glanced at the time. Insanely late. Nobody would be awake now. Nobody would see her. And a soak would relax her, she knew.
She put on the bikini she’d bought with Antonia, noticing how much more of her bump escaped between top and bottom now, and how little of her breasts the top covered, and dragged out one of her old singlet tops and put that over the top. There. Almost decent.
And then she grabbed a towel and padded through the sleeping house, heading for the pool.
The water was cool without being cold and Angie sighed as she slipped into its welcoming depths. It was bliss against her heated flesh.
She breast-stroked quietly across the pool, relishing the support it lent and the cool slip of water against her skin. She tingled with pleasure, reminding her of another sensual night, another’s sensual touch. Tremors bloomed inside her at the memories, just thinking about his big hands and how they’d felt on her body. Possessive. Deliberate.