The Tender Years Read Free Page B

begun buying materials from Arthur, and this practice had been carried on by his son, for without doubt the designs produced by Arthur’s company far surpassed any others on the market hereabouts. The friendship had grown despite the difference in ages; Arthur trusted Luke implicitly, hence the reason why he allowed him to take Christine off on these trips to Nassau. She’d had wonderful times, being taken out to dine with the kind of escort who attracted attention from every female around, old and young alike. Over six feet tall, with the sort of lithe and powerful physique that spelled sex appeal, he also possessed a full measure of maturity in spite of the fact that he was only twenty-seven years of age even now. At twenty-four he had been endowed with perception and common sense envied by many of his older business associates; at twenty-five he had made an astute and most profitable deal when he bought the hotel on Grand Bahama, and a year and a half later a similar deal was successfully carried through and one of the largest and most luxurious hotels in Nassau became his property. Christine had thoroughly enjoyed his company and his attention; she was flattered by it and she blossomed because of it. From the chrysalis of childhood emerged the beautiful imago—at least, Luke considered her beautiful, she knew. His opinion differed from that of her sister, who disliked brunettes anyway.
    He was speaking into her recollections, asking again what she was thinking about.
    ‘Us,’ she replied and a lovely smile broke as her eyes met his across the table. ‘The things we’ve done, and the things that you have done. You’re clever, Luke, and you’ll be a millionaire before you’re thirty.’
    ‘Does money matter?’ His gaze was curious and it was examining. He missed nothing about her—never did. The smile that gave a glow to her big violet eyes, the way her nose turned up a little at the end, the slant of her lashes so that her eyes seemed almond-shaped, the wide dear forehead with its halo of honey-tinted hair and that unruly little half fringe which, having caught the sun, was shades lighter than the rest of her hair. Her skin too was affected by the sun so that it was the colour of honey-gold and gleaming with health.
    ‘No, money doesn’t matter,’ she answered after a pause. But then she added thoughtfully, thinking of her adoptive father and his assiduous attention to his business, which she was sure came first in his life, ‘It seems, though, to be a mark of success or failure, depending on how much you have made in your life.’
    ‘You’re referring to Arthur?’
    ‘Yes, I was actually.’
    ‘He gives almost all of his time to his business—to the pastime of making money. That’s what you were thinking?’
    She nodded, picking up her glass to sip the martini and regarding Luke from above the rim. ‘He’s giving all his life to it so I don’t suppose you could call it a pastime.’
    ‘All his life . . .’ Luke paused in thought and a slight frown knit his brows. ‘But then, he has little else in life, has he?’
    It was Christine’s turn to frown. ‘He has a lovely home and a family.’
    The straight brows lifted a fraction. ‘You of all people should know he isn’t happy.’
    Christine looked down into her glass. She had suspected it but had never been quite sure. . . . ‘You mean Mother—Aunt Loreen?’ Why had she never been able to decide what to call her adoptive parents?
    ‘It isn’t a unique case by any means.’ Luke returned his attention to the menu but she knew his mind was elsewhere.
    She said guardedly, ‘Have you any proof, Luke? I mean, it’s an awful suspicion to have, isn’t it?’
    ‘I have no actual proof. As for the suspicion—you must have had it for some time?’ The menu was lowered again but now a waiter was hovering, pad in hand, and Luke handed her the menu.
    ‘Have you chosen?’ she asked.
    ‘I’ll have a steak Diane. It’s always good