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Accidental Baby
KIM LAWRENCE
The unexpected father! When Jo had problems, she always turned to Declan Rafferty. He was gorgeous, sexy and highly eligible - but to Jo he was simply her best friend. So, crying on his shoulder after a failed romance, Jo was shocked to find herself wanting more from Declan than friendly words of advice.She wanted him to make love to her - and he seemed to want the same! But their one stolen night had unexpected consequences. Jo was pregnant, and not at all sure how Declan would react! Declan, however, had no doubts at all. They would get married, for the baby's sake… .She's sexy, she's successful… and she's PREGNANT!


“I’m the father!” (#uab00b6f5-640d-5ae3-b8c3-532e7f45c286)She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT! (#u48cf2ce8-5d07-52ae-abb8-9f01e2b94b75)Title Page (#ue4eb56de-a119-5cab-b507-736cd0398253)CHAPTER ONE (#ud66a18cd-ff5a-5456-8467-d393442ef434)CHAPTER TWO (#u32639493-d9ba-552b-a295-a46ab473c44c)CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I’m the father!”
Jo nodded solemnly and willed the emotional tears not to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Declan. I wanted to, but it’s not the sort of thing you can add as a postscript to a letter, is it?”
But her first instinct had been to call him. All she’d wanted was his arms around her, telling her it would be all right. Declan was always the person she ran to when she was in trouble.
“I won’t let you shut me out, Jo.”
“Whatever made you think I’d try? But we didn’t plan this. You didn’t want to become a father, at least not to my child. We can’t pretend we’re suddenly in love . . . . ”
She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT!
Relax and enjoy our new series of stories about spirited women and gorgeous men, whose passion results in pregnancies . . . sometimes unexpected! Of course, the birth of a baby is always a joyful event, and we can guarantee that our characters will become besotted moms and dads—but what happened in those nine months before?
Share the surprises, emotions, dramas and suspense as our parents-to-be come to terms with the prospect of bringing a new little life into the world . . . . All will discover that the business of making babies brings with it the most special love of all . . . .
Look out next month for:
The Unexpected Baby (#2040)
by Diana Hamilton
Accidental Baby
Kim Lawrence


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
LIAM RAFFERTY stared down at the sleeping figure beside him with a stunned expression. In a distracted manner he ran his fingers through his tousled dark hair. In profile her nose was tip-tilted and covered with a light sprinkling of freckles. Her long, dark eyelashes were tipped with gold and when her eyes opened he knew they would be deep green flecked with bronze.
When she woke . . . His fist went to his mouth and he bit back a groan. Abruptly the sleeping figure began to move, unfurling from the foetal position and rolling onto her back—arms above her head with her fingers pushed into the shoulder-length Titian-red tangle of curls that covered her small head. The sinuous undulations of her shm body caused the cotton sheet to slide down.
Liam, who had been about to do something sensible and decisive—like get some clothes on—paused. Not even the harshest critic could have found anything to criticise about her breasts, and Liam was by no means harsh. Her skin was milky pale and the light sprinkling of freckles over the uppermost curves was kind of cute. In the dark they’d just about fitted into the palm of—whoa, boy! He firmly shut off access to that particular memory.
Don’t panic, just think sensibly, calmly, he told himself firmly. Problem was the visual feast on offer was incredibly distracting. Would she wake if I just sort of pulled up the...? Too late! At least his eyes had been on her face when her sleepy eyes opened. If she’d caught him ogling!
A dreamy smile curved Jo Smith’s generous lips. ‘Hi, Liam,’ she murmured sleepily. She froze mid-stretch and her eyes opened to their fullest extent. ‘Liam?’ Her eyes ran down his bronzed torso and a strangled squeak escaped her lips. A firm, ‘We didn’t?’ was swiftly followed by a wail of, ‘We did!’
This was one of those situations, he reflected, when your imagination couldn’t prepare you for just how bad a situation was going to be. Despite his best intentions, Liam’s self-control slipped for just a second. It had been doing that a lot recently! Jo’s eyes followed the direction of his gaze and she snatched up the sheet and pulled it up to her chin, giving him the sort of look that made him feel like a defiler of purity.
‘Try and keep this in proportion, Jo. It’s not that bad.’
‘Not that bad!’ She went pink. Was he mad? This was worse than bad—this was a disaster.
‘I don’t blame you for hating me. I deserve it . . .’ he began miserably.
‘Don’t be stupid, I don’t hate you,’ she returned impatiently.
God, men could be so obtuse sometimes—even Liam. Couldn’t he see this changed everything? Things could never be the same again. They’d thrown away something precious and rare for a moment’s . . . The clarity of her thoughts lost a certain something as she honestly acknowledged it had taken more than a moment the first time, and as for the second! A tide of heat washed over her skin leaving it pink and tingling.
‘You don’t?’ That was something. He gave a sigh of relief, but the wariness in his blue eyes remained. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did,’ he continued, quite determined to shoulder full responsibility. ‘I took advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable.’
‘The way I recall it I didn’t exactly fight you off with a stick,’ she responded drily.
Liam cleared his throat and his gaze slid away from hers. I knew it! she thought He can’t even look at me. God, what have we done? One crazy, stupid slip and a lifetime’s friendship goes down the toilet.
‘That’s not the point,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m to blame.’
‘Have you any idea how ridiculous you sound, Liam Rafferty, talking like a character in a Victorian melodrama when you’re stark, staring naked?’ Even in her present state of agitation she couldn’t help giving an appreciative little sigh at how amazingly good his body actually was—her appreciation was purely aesthetic, of course. She wriggled into sitting position, bringing the thin cotton sheet around her like a tent.
‘For pity’s sake, Jo, I’m trying to say I’m sorry!’ he said, regarding her with growing irritation.
‘Charming!’ she replied, choosing to take exception to this apology.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning it was that awful, was it?’ Her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. ‘Was it?’ She silently cursed the note of anxiety that had crept into her voice.
‘You know it wasn’t, Jo.’ This time it was Jo who couldn’t maintain eye contact.
‘Right, good, excellent . . . ’ Briefly she closed her eyes in silent despair. What do I sound like?
The wooden bed-head creaked as Liam’s broad shoulders came to rest against it. ‘You’re not crying, are you, Jo?’
‘Of course I’m not crying!’ she returned, insulted that he could think she was that weak and wet. She’d always confidently denied the assertions of friends who said a man and woman couldn’t have a totally platonic relationship. Liam was her best friend; it was almost coincidental that he was a man. Circumstances had conspired to draw them together almost from birth: the proximity of their homes in rural East Anglia; the fact that their mothers had been school friends, and, whilst her father was the local vet, his was a successful horse-breeder. Leaving home and pursuing diverse careers hadn’t weakened the bond between them.
She felt his arm slide across the wooden frame just above her shoulders and then quite suddenly he withdrew it. That made her want to cry quite badly. Their friendship had always been a tactile one—that he had to think about touching her now and then decide not to was a sad reflection of the new shape of things. . .
‘It started with a hug,’ he reminded her gruffly.
He could still read her mind, then, some things didn’t change.
‘That bastard hurt you so much I wanted to make you feel better. Then what do I do?’ He hit his clenched fist into his open palm and the slapping sound made Jo jump.
He had made her feel better—very much better! ‘You were the one that tried to stop.’ She could feel her cheeks burning with mortification at the memory. ‘I wouldn’t let you. Don’t go all hair-shirty on me, Liam.’ I wonder if there are any buttons left on his shirt? She gulped as she recalled how she’d torn the garment off him.
‘A man doesn’t take advantage of a woman like that,’ he maintained stubbornly.
‘You’re a rat, heel, skunk. There—satisfied? Does it make you feel any better?’ she demanded tartly. ‘Are you going to let your urge to be noble ruin our friendship? It’s not as if we’re going to make a habit of this, is it?’ she pointed out practically.
I’m speaking rhetorically, she told herself. All the same, when his laughter came it was much too spontaneous for her taste. He could have at least pretended to think about it, she thought indignantly.
‘You’re right, Jo.’ This time his arm did go around her shoulders but Jo didn’t relax into his embrace. ‘We should just forget this ever happened.’ He couldn’t disguise the relief in his voice.
If the circumstances had been different Jo had no doubt that would have been exactly what she would have done. However, fate had stepped in to make that an impossibility for her.
‘Did you have a nice walk, dear?’
‘Lovely, thanks, Dad.’ The wind along the beach had made her cheeks glow. ‘I went farther than I meant to.’ She released the Velcro fastening on her waterproof jacket and shook back her hair. ‘What time are they expecting us?’
‘Half eight, but if you’re feeling too tired?’
‘Don’t fuss, Dad, there’s an angel,’ she pleaded. Her pleasure at all the pampering had already turned to impatience.
‘You’re meant to be taking things easy this weekend,’ he protested with a worried frown.
‘I am. If I relax much more I’ll disintegrate.’ Laughing, she went upstairs, mentally planning what she had in her wardrobe that would be suitable for the informal meal. She really would have to do some serious shopping very soon.
She’d thought her loose apple-green silky shirt was perfect, hiding a multitude of sins. Then she saw her sixteen-year-old sister in a minuscule miniskirt and skinny-rib top that left her tanned midriff bare. Her legs in knee-length leather platform boots went on for ever. Jo immediately felt extremely old and the size of a house.
‘Won’t you be cold, Jessie?’ Bill Smith asked casually as he averted his eyes from his daughter’s eye catching ensemble with a pained expression.
Jessie exchanged a grin with her elder sister. ‘He’s so subtle,’ she said admiringly. ‘What do you think, Jo?’ She gave a twirl.
‘You look great, Jessie,’ she replied honestly.
‘Yeah, I know.’ she said, preening herself in front of the mirror with a smug expression. ‘You’re looking a bit podgy, Jo, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘Thanks a lot.’ Jo received this news with admirable equanimity.
‘Jessie!’ Bill Smith protested.
‘I’m kidding, Dad, just kidding,’ Jessie replied, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
‘Let me look at you.’
‘Yes, Aunty Maggie,’ Jo said meekly as the older woman placed her hands on her shoulders and examined her face with keen eyes. ‘Will I pass?’
‘You may smile, but your mother, God rest her, would have expected me to keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t she, Pat?’
‘Indeed she would, but don’t keep them standing out there in the hall, woman. Come along in.’
The fire in the grate of the high-ceilinged Victorian drawing room was as warm as the welcome. Aunt Maggie had been her mother’s best friend and this house had been a second home to Jo during her childhood.
‘Jo!’ Jessie, who stepped into the room in front of her, yelled. ‘Why didn’t you tell us Liam would be here?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Jo said faintly as she was carried over the threshold by a combination of her Uncle Patrick’s strong, guiding arm and an avalanche of goodwill.
‘She didn’t say a word, Liam,’ Jessie was saying as she hung around the neck of the glamorous son of their nextdoor neighbours. ‘We all thought you were digging up sleaze and exposing baddies behind the Iron Curtain.’ She ruffled his collar-length wavy dark hair and grinned affectionately into his blue eyes. She’d decided recently that older men were fascinating and Liam must be almost thirty now.
‘The Iron Curtain dissolved some time back.’ He placed her firmly back down on her feet. ‘Don’t they teach you anything in school these days?’
In a daze Jo watched her father move forward to shake the hand of the tall, rangy figure who stood with his back to her. ‘Pat tells me you’ve been digging into the archives in Moscow. Something interesting on the burner?’
‘Could be,’ Liam replied easily, ‘but it’s early days.’
‘I read that article you did on the working conditions in sugar plantations on the Dominican Republic. It was an outstanding piece,’ Bill Smith said warmly.
‘The photographer I was working with was the best.’
‘He’s so modest,’ Maggie Rafferty said fondly. She was justifiably proud of her son’s reputation as a top investigative journalist. ‘He’s working on another book, you know.’
‘Modest!’ Pat at her elbow mocked gently. Jo wasn’t fooled; she knew he was every bit as proud of their son as his wife. Liam’s last book had stayed in the best-seller list for three months, which was pretty good for a critically acclaimed serious tome.
Liam turned around at the sound of his father’s mocking laughter and saw Jo for the first time. His smile didn’t fade, but it did freeze as though his facial muscles were momentarily paralysed. She could see the falseness, but she rather envied him his composure. He’d been expecting to see her, she reminded herself. It was all so ridiculously normal she wanted to laugh. Bad time for hysterical outbursts, Jo.
It was the very first time since that eventful morning-after that she’d actually seen him in the flesh, so to speak. There had been nothing deliberate about this; his job meant his lifestyle was gypsy-like. It had always been usual for them not to see each other for several months at a stretch. They’d written and spoken on the phone just as if it had never happened. But then that was the way they’d decided to play it, wasn’t it? And from Liam’s point of view it was probably working.
If Liam had felt any awkwardness at seeing her, he certainly recovered fast. He moved forward and kissed her on each cheek before pushing her to arm’s length, very much as his mother just had, and warmly examining her face.
‘I do believe you’re putting on weight, Jo, around the face,’ he said, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘It suits you,’ he concluded with a smile. In the past he’d teased her about her fragile frame.
‘Of course she’s putting on weight, silly boy,’ his mother put in in an indulgent tone.
‘I got told off for telling her she’s fat,’ Jessie observed indignantly, sinking down into an armchair and helping herself to a handful of nibbles.
‘She isn’t fat,’ their father put in.
‘Yet!’ Jessie chortled.
‘Mary was the size of a house with Jessie early on, but she kept her figure until quite late on with you. You’ll probably be the same with the first,’ Bill recalled, frowning at his younger daughter as she stuffed another handful of bite-size delicacies into her mouth. ‘You’ll spoil your meal.’
They all assumed! Of course they all assumed he knew—why wouldn’t they? If Jo had been planning how to share this news with Liam, which she hadn’t, this particular route wouldn’t have been favourite! It was something she had been going to get around to eventually, of course, but not just yet. She had been a bit hazy about when the right time might be. One thing she knew for certain: it wasn’t now! Liam had taken an involuntary step away from her and his gaze inevitably dropped to her waist, which was still almost as trim as it had been.
‘Good God,’ he said in a strangled voice, ‘you’re pregnant!’
‘He doesn’t know,’ Jessie’s youthful voice piped up. ‘I thought you two told each other everything.’
‘Not everything, it would seem,’ Liam said grimly.
‘Well, now you know,’ Jo said casually. He wouldn’t necessarily assume. . .
She saw immediately that this faint hope had been misplaced. Also, her casual tone hadn’t gone down well at all; the white line around his compressed lips was a dead give-away.
‘Last but not least.’ His voice sounded strangely unfamiliar to Jo.
‘Can I get you a drink, Bill? I know you’re off duty, but I was hoping you’d look in on the foal before dinner,’ Pat Rafferty asked, blissfully ignorant of the storm clouds gathering. ‘Girls, what can I get you?’
‘Gin and tonic,’ said the imperturbable Jessie.
‘Give her a Coke, Pat,’ Bill interjected.
‘Worth a try.’ Jessie was philosophical.
‘How could you, Jo?’ Liam’s raw, throbbing words ripped through the normality of casual chatter.
Suddenly the whole room was looking from her to Liam with startled incomprehension. ‘I don’t want to talk about it now.’ Please no scene.
He cruelly ignored the silent plea in her eyes. Why hadn’t she ever noticed how hard and yes—cruel his expression could be? There was something bordering on the austere in the hard-angled planes and contours of his face. She began to shiver and couldn’t stop—being intimidated by Liam of all people seemed a little crazy.
‘Come on, now, lad, I can see it’s a bit of a shock, but it’s not really any of our concern, is it?’ Pat said, placing a restraining hand on his son’s arm.
Liam’s eyes only left her face long enough to flicker briefly in his father’s direction. ‘I’d say my child is my concern, wouldn’t you?’
The instant’s silence was deafening and then suddenly everyone began talking at once.
‘I’m going to be a grandmother again,’ Maggie said faintly, sinking into a chair.
Jessie’s eyes were sparkling with interest. ‘I knew they shared everything but I didn’t know they shared that too!’ she whooped. ‘It gives a whole new meaning to “joined at the hip”.’
‘Jessica! That’s enough,’ her father barked.
‘Is this true, Liam?’ Pat asked slowly, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘Ask Jo,’ Liam replied, his ice-blue eyes daring her to contradict him.
‘I’ll never forgive you for this as long as I live!’ she declared passionately.
‘That might not be very long,’ he shot back equally grimly.
Maggie surged to her feet and clapped her hands together. ‘I’m so happy,’ she declared, tears pouring unchecked down her cheeks. ‘I always knew you two were meant for each other.’ She enfolded Jo in a warm embrace. ‘You two, at last. A grandmother, I can’t believe it.’
‘I’m having some difficulty adapting to it myself, Mother.’ He shot Jo a baleful look over Maggie’s shoulder.
Maggie released Jo only to clasp her son to her maternal bosom. ‘When are you getting married?’ she sniffed.
‘Married?’ Riding on the crest of his righteous anger, this question brought Liam down to earth with a bang, and Jo could hear the crash. The hypocritical pig, she fumed.
‘Yes, Liam,’ she asked innocently, ‘when are you going to make an honest woman of me?’
‘A wedding!’ Jessie squeaked, forgetting for a moment her teenage cool and general lack of interest. ‘Can I be bridesmaid?’
‘I think Jo and I need to discuss these things in private.’
‘Oh, yes, you’re very big on private now, aren’t you? Pity you didn’t think of that earlier. We don’t need to discuss anything, Liam Rafferty, because I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth!’ she concluded with enough passion to compensate for lack of originality. ‘This is my baby. I’m sorry, Aunt Maggie,’ she said as the older woman burst into tears again. ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ she shouted, turning on Liam. ‘It’s all your fault!’
‘Don’t think I’m not aware of that fact.’
Jo’s head came up with a snap. ‘I knew it!’ she said with grim satisfaction. ‘I just knew you’d say that. Well, let me tell you, Liam, the last thing I need at the moment is a speech about your shortcomings. I’m not interested in talking about liability or blame. I want this baby, not because it’s my responsibility, but because. . . because I love it!’ She clamped her hand over her trembling lips as her shaking voice became totally suspended by tears.
‘Oh, God, Jo.’ The anger died from Liam’s face leaving a conflict of emotions in its place. ‘Can we use the study, Dad?’
‘Of course, son. Just you go gently, or you’ll have me to answer to,’ Pat rumbled stiffly.
Anger flashed in his son’s eyes. ‘What do you think I am?’ Pat lifted one eloquent eyebrow and Liam grated his teeth. ‘I get the message. Will you talk to me, Jo?’
Her chin came up to a defiant angle and she glared at him through a sheen of unshed tears. ‘If I must,’ she muttered ungraciously.
Liam walked straight to the bureau in the study and reached for the half-empty bottle of his father’s favourite malt. ‘Want one?’ he asked. He paused, glass mid-air. ‘I forgot. . . ’ His eyes touched her middle and he visibly flinched.
‘Are you going to get drunk?’
‘It hadn’t occurred to me, but now you mention it. . . ’
‘Well, if you’re going to be flippant,’ she snapped defensively.
‘Flippant,’ he said, draining the shallow layer of amber liquid on the bottom of the glass, ‘is the last thing I feel. Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Jo? You wrote to me about everything else: work, the new wallpaper in your bathroom, your latest cookery class. I suppose it didn’t occur to you I might be interested to learn I’m about to be a father.’
She winced at the sarcasm in his voice. ‘You seem very sure it’s yours. Sure enough to announce it to our joint families,’ she reminded him bitterly.
There was a slash of colour across the slope of his sharply defined cheek-bones as he spoke. ‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ he acknowledged reluctantly, ‘but to say it was a shock might be the understatement of the century. As for it not being mine, the only other candidate I know of is Justin Wood, and the man isn’t capable of making that sort of mistake. He’s got the spontaneity of a computer.’
His sneering evaluation made her blood boil. ‘Pardon me if I don’t share your disdain for caution under the circumstances.’
Liam’s head went back as though she’d struck him. ‘I don’t make a habit of acting so recklessly,’ he grated from between clenched teeth.
Jo gave a sigh; this was getting them nowhere. ‘I know that, Liam,’ she said, wiping the back of her hand across her brow and feeling the light sheen of perspiration there. ‘Will you stop pacing? It’s making me dizzy.’
He was acting like a caged animal and that was probably what he felt like. Maybe one day Liam would reach the point in his life when he wanted to think about families and stability, but this wasn’t that point. I don’t want an unwilling captive, Liam, she wanted to say.
‘I’m the father.’ His blue eyes didn’t waver from hers as he sat down beside her on the old leather chesterfield.
She nodded solemnly and willed the emotional tears not to fall. ‘Don’t do that,’ she pleaded, wincing as the flexed joints of his interlocked fingers snapped. He looked at her blankly. ‘You’ll get arthritis.’ She reached out and touched his hand.
A faint movement of his lips disturbed the solemnity of his expression as he regarded her small hand against his darker skin. ‘Sounds like an old wives’ tale rather than scientific fact to me, Jo.’
‘Don’t knock old wives, they knew a thing or two.’ He turned his hands and her own were sandwiched between his. She looked up, startled. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Liam.’ The words came pouring out. ‘I wanted to, but it’s not the sort of thing you can add as a postscript to a letter, is it?’ Her eyes begged his understanding of the situation she’d found herself in. ‘What could you have done? There’s no way I would have had an abortion. Whichever way you look at it this is my problem, not yours.’
Her first instinct had been to call him. All she’d wanted was his arms around her, his telling her it would be all right, as he’d done innumerable times at crisis points in the past. It hadn’t really mattered that it wouldn’t be true this time. Liam was the person she always ran to when she was in trouble. It had taken a lot of self-control not to pick up the phone or, better still, catch the first plane.
The transitory softening of Liam’s features was replaced by hard anger as she announced her view of the situation. ‘And do you think I’d have asked you to have an abortion? Is that the sort of man you think I am, Jo?’ He shook his head slowly in disbelief.
‘It was never an option so it doesn’t really matter what I think,’ she faltered under the weight of his anger.
‘It sure as hell matters to me!’
‘Liam, you’re hurting me.’
Liam looked down and was surprised to see her small, delicate hand still ruthlessly crushed between his fingers. ‘Sorry.’ He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling steeply, as he released her. ‘I won’t let you shut me out, Jo.’
‘Whatever made you think I’d try?’ she responded immediately. ‘Of course this is your child, and he or she will know it, and know you, Liam. My friendship with you has always been one of the most important things in my life,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion. ‘But we have to be practical. We didn’t plan this. You didn’t want to become a father, at least not to my child.’ The pain was sharp, and it went surprisingly deep, but she continued in a composed voice.
‘I know we can’t pretend it didn’t happen any more, but equally we can’t pretend we’re suddenly in love.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘Even if it would make your mother a deliriously happy woman. I’m not trying to sideline you at all, Liam, only it’s not your body that’s involved in all this.’ She placed a protective hand over her belly. ‘There’s a limit to what you can do.’
Despite all these flawlessly logical arguments, Liam found himself unexpectedly assailed by a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. ‘You can’t do it all alone.’
Jo shrugged. ‘People do, and with a lot less family support than I have.’
‘What about after the. . . after the. . . ?’
‘Birth?’ she suggested. She watched him shake his head as though the idea still seemed incredible to him. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said kindly, ‘you’ll get used to the idea.’ Liam shot her a strange look. ‘I did,’ she continued. ‘I’m healthy and there’s no reason I can’t work right up to the last minute. Afterwards I’ve arranged to share a nanny—a three-way split, really, with friends of mine.’
‘You’ve really got this all worked out, haven’t you?’ He was looking at her as if he’d never actually seen her before.
‘Burying my head in the sand was never an option, Liam.’
‘Didn’t it occur to you I might want to help with the baby, afterwards?’
‘You?’ Laughter was a welcome release really from all the tension. ‘S. . . sorry—’ she hiccoughed ‘—we’ve got to be realistic here, Liam. Your lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to child-rearing. You can’t just transport a baby around like hand baggage; there’s a bit more to it than that.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘All right, there’s no need to get huffy. One day you’ll meet someone you’ll want to have a baby with. Maybe I will too.’ It could be that paragon did exist somewhere.
‘You’ve become an expert on the subject suddenly, then?’ he snarled rather unpleasantly.
‘I’ve read a lot.’
‘Ah, read,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘My sister had read a lot,’ he recalled. ‘She threw her library in the bin when Liam was six months. Babies trash plans.’
Trust him to zero in on her unspoken doubts and fears. ‘I’m flexible.’
‘Flexible enough to hold down a job that gives you the social life of a nun?’ he enquired sceptically. ‘Isn’t it this year they promised you a partnership? Wasn’t that why you lost the inestimable Justin? You couldn’t spare enough time to polish his ego, how the hell are you going to look after a baby?’
‘Well, even nuns have nights off—I’ve got some fairly conclusive proof of that!’
Liam’s eyes closed and he struck his forehead with his clenched fist. ‘Oh, Jo, what have I done to you? Your career, your plans. I know how hard you’ve worked.’
‘I was there too, remember.’ Passive she had not been.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do.’
Under the relentless scrutiny of his direct, unblinking gaze she found her throat closing as simultaneously her limbs grew heavy and totally uncooperative. At least I’m sitting down—falling in a heap would have given rise to unhealthy speculation.
‘There’s no point crying over spilt milk,’ she concluded with painfully false cheerfulness.
‘A novel euphemism.’
‘There’s no need to be snide and clever, Liam. We made a mistake, that’s what it all boils down to. I’m not going to let this baby suffer for that.’
‘A mistake.’ She couldn’t understand the bitterness in his deep voice.
‘Well, it wasn’t as if we intended such a tangible result of our. . . our. . . ’ She chewed on her lower lip and evinced a sudden and deep interest in the ugly print of a pheasant on the wall behind his head.
‘Words fail me too,’ he said, unexpectedly coming to her aid. ‘And that’s a problem I don’t normally have,’ he admitted frankly.
‘No, you always have had a lot to say for yourself,’ she agreed huskily. Could it be that Liam had been less successful than she’d imagined at wiping out the memory?
‘How did your dad take it, Jo?’
‘He thinks this wouldn’t have happened if Mum had still been alive.’ She sighed as a frown formed on her smooth brow. ‘It seems everyone feels responsible for me. I’m not stupid, I’ve thought about the difficulties of combining a career with being a single parent, but the bottom line is you and everyone else will have to abide by my decisions, Liam.’
‘This doesn’t have to be a battle, Jo.’ Uneasily she saw that his expression suggested he’d be prepared to participate if that was what it took.
‘That’s what I thought,’ she said wistfully. That had been before she’d witnessed firsthand his reaction to the news. Given his head, Liam would take the whole affair out of her hands, and she wasn’t going to have that!
‘I just want to support you.’ The scepticism on her face made his teeth jar together. ‘You’re not alone now.’
‘I don’t think Suzanna would be happy hearing you say that.’
‘Suzanna?’
‘The same Suzanna your letters have been full of for the last month.’ A female that perfect could not have slipped his mind so suddenly. They’d always discussed their partners quite frankly, and it had never bothered her before that he’d had a lot more to discuss than she had, but then she’d never been pregnant before, which probably accounted for the intense dislike she felt for this unknown paragon of womanly virtues.
‘Oh, that Suzanna.’
The self-conscious flush probably meant it was serious. I’m glad for him, she decided virtuously. ‘It might complicate matters if she knows you’re a prospective father,’ she remarked drily.
‘Hell, Jo, I still can’t believe it,’ Liam said hoarsely.
Jo observed his slightly unfocused expression with sympathy. ‘It takes time,’ she admitted. He looked as though he was still in shock, and she could readily relate to that.
‘Are you well? I mean, is everything all right?’ His eyes went to the non-existent bulge of her stomach.
‘I’m not very big, am I?’ She sighed. ‘But the doctor says things are progressing normally.’
‘I meant how are you?’
‘I’m still throwing up, and I seem to need fourteen hours’ sleep a night. But other than that. . . ’
‘God, no wonder Dad and Uncle Bill looked at me like I’d just crawled out from under a stone.’
‘I expect your reputation as a moral crusader can stand it.’
Liam gritted his teeth. ‘I’m not talking about my reputation. I’m thinking about what you’ve been through alone!’ he billowed. ‘What is it with you? Why are you determined to paint me as some lightweight incapable of accepting responsibility?’
‘Blame it on my hormones—I do. They got me into this mess so I might as well get some mileage out of them,’ she quipped a bit nervously. He was taking this even more badly than she’d anticipated.
‘I got you into this mess, as my father and yours will no doubt point out.’
She frowned. ‘I hope you’re not going to suggest anything stupid like getting married,’ she said suspiciously. ‘I’m prepared to make a lot of sacrifices for this baby, but there are limitations!’
There was a pause as Liam looked at her with a peculiar expression in his eyes. ‘In some quarters I’m considered quite a catch,’ he responded finally.
She gave a relieved laugh—at least he hadn’t totally lost his sense of humour. ‘Yes, but I know you a lot better than they do,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘I’m so glad you’re going to be sensible.’
‘Sensible?’ he said in an odd voice. ‘Because I’m not proposing to you?’
‘That would be disastrous, wouldn’t it?’ She wrinkled up her small nose. ‘I know platonic marriages based on friendship are meant to work very well, but I want a bit of. . . fire in mine. If I ever have one.’
‘Well, I hope you’re not relying on Justin Wood to supply the spark, Jo, because I’d say he’s the flame-resistant type.’ Unaccountably he looked extremely angry.
‘I don’t know what you’ve got against Justin,’ she responded crossly.
‘And I don’t know what you see in him! Never have done. I don’t know what you’re defending him for—he’s the one who gave you the push after. . . how long did this passionate affair go on for?’
‘You’re well aware I went out with Justin for two years. How would you like it if I criticised your girlfriends?’
‘And I suppose it wasn’t criticism when you suggested Tania’s figure owed more to silicone than nature?’
‘Which one was she? I forget. I know some people might say you lack staying power, but I—’
‘You have the tongue of a viper.’ The reluctant smile died from his face as he slipped off the sofa and knelt down beside her. ‘This is one situation you can’t joke yourself out of, Jo.’ He caught her hands firmly within his. ‘You feel like ice,’ he observed with a frown as he began to rub her fingers to restore circulation. ‘I think we’ve got to come to some sort of formal arrangement concerning the baby.’
‘Why does it have to be formal?’ For a minute there when he’d gone down on his knees she’d thought. . . ! Ridiculous. Liam wouldn’t be stupid enough to even suggest it. She had seen the way he’d reacted when his mother had mentioned the word ‘marriage’. His horror at the very thought had been apparent in that unguarded moment.
‘The idea of my child being brought up by a Justin clone makes my blood run cold,’ he said frankly.
Jo pulled her hands free of his crossly. ‘The implication being, you don’t trust me to put the interests of my child first.’
‘Our child,’ he reminded her.
Jo gave a frustrated sigh. ‘I wish I’d never told you.’ Life was complicated enough already without having a possessive father to contend with. The fact that what he said made sense didn’t help at all.
‘You didn’t!’ he reminded her, and she flushed under his ironic gaze and then went very pale. ‘I don’t want to pressure you.’ Unexpectedly he took her face in his hands. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her; his eyes were certainly lingering overlong on the full curve of her mouth. Her heart was thudding so loud he could probably feel the vibrations. ‘I’ll even break it to Mum there won’t be wedding bells.’ With a lopsided smile he released her.
‘Good luck.’ She was glad he hadn’t sealed their tentative bargaining with a kiss. Relief made her feel quite nauseous for a moment and she didn’t dare risk getting to her feet until her knees had stopped shaking.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU’LL get those lovely shiny shoes dirty if you come in here,’ Jo warned. The sight of the long legs attached to those shoes instantly put an end to a peaceful half-hour during which she’d managed not to think about anything taxing. She took her time straightening up to give her racing heart time to slow. ‘I’m feeding Napoleon.’
For a man who often bemoaned the fact that his clients could be sentimental about their animals, Bill Smith often brought home a selection of waifs and strays—occasionally one was just too unappealing or antisocial to be found a permanent home. Napoleon, a particularly vile-tempered billy-goat was one of this number, a permanent fixture for many years now.
‘A man could be excused for thinking you didn’t want me near you.’ He kept a wary eye on the goat. ‘That animal has never liked me.’
She couldn’t have asked for a more innocuous conversation; there was certainly nothing in his manner to explain her tumultuous pulse-rate and shaky knees.
‘Normally I’d say you shouldn’t endow animals with human characteristics, but in this case. . . I’ll tie him up—the bill might be hefty if he decides to eat that rather smart suit.’ Loose Italian styling in dark grey made him appear almost a stranger. ‘We don’t usually dress for Sunday lunch,’ she joked, to cover her growing confusion.
‘I don’t think I’m invited,’ Liam responded drily. ‘Your dad told me you were here.’ One dark brow quirked meaningfully. ‘I’ve a meeting, in Manchester,’ he added, casually smoothing down his silk tie.
Jo put down the plastic bucket and, hands thrust in the pockets of her jeans, she stepped out into the weak morning sunlight. ‘You’ve seen Dad, then. Was it very awful?’
‘You could say we had a frank exchange of views. His view being that I’m a selfish, untrustworthy bastard who has taken advantage of his hospitality by seducing his daughter.’
She winced whilst acknowledging privately it could have been worse. Dad’s language the previous night had been a lot less restrained. ‘I’m sorry, Liam, but he’s a bit upset right now.’
‘I didn’t say I disagreed with him.’
‘Don’t you start,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve had enough of that nonsense from him! I told Dad if anyone did the seducing it was me!’ Unpalatable though it might be, this was a fact and she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. Chin tilted, she dared him to contradict her.
Something flickered at the back of his eyes. ‘That must have gone down well. I’m surprised he didn’t turn the dogs on me.’
Jo smiled a little wanly as she thought of her father’s motley collection of other people’s rejects—one thing they all had in common was extreme docility. ‘If he had they might have drooled you to death. Do you remember when—?’
‘We need to do some serious talking, Jo.’ His expression made it clear he didn’t share her desire to reminisce. ‘You can’t act as though nothing has changed.’
He’s telling me that! ‘You prefer Greek tragedy? I’ll polish up my heart-rending sobs, shall I? You don’t have to tell me nothing is ever going to be the same—I’ve worked that out even hampered by my limited intelligence.’
He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Point taken, Jo. You just seem so. . . so calm about all this.’
She had to smile at that. He had no notion of the blind panic that had seized her when she’d first realised she was pregnant. ‘Your life doesn’t have to change fundamentally because of this.’ It was only natural he’d be concerned—having fatherhood thrust upon him was bound to be an unsettling experience.
His fingers tightened over the curve of her collar-bone and she winced. ‘Sorry,’ he grated, dropping his arm. ‘You’re assuming I couldn’t cope with the demands of fatherhood.’
The anger emanating from his tense body confused her. ‘I’m sure you could cope, I’m just saying you don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own. . . ’ The blast of fury from his blue eyes made her voice trail away.
‘Only you won’t be on your own, you’ll have my child.’
She suddenly realised she’d been naive not to expect this possessiveness, but it genuinely hadn’t occurred to her.
‘And the child will have you too, but not on a full-time basis. That’s all I was trying to say.’ Considering the obvious depth of his feeling she was prepared to overlook his hostility.
‘But you’ll grant me visitation rights.’
‘We won’t need anything like that,’ she said, shocked by his suggestion and the bitterness in his tone.
‘You say that now, but what about later when a new Justin is back on the scene? Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want to be a part-time father?’
What was he saying? They both knew nothing else was possible. She couldn’t believe this was Liam talking; he was like a stranger—a stranger, furthermore, she didn’t much like. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’
‘I’m making a valid point. I’m not prepared to leave the future to take care of itself, not when it’s my child we’re talking about.’
‘Our child,’ she said quietly.
‘Pardon?’
‘Our child,’ she said, her voice moving swiftly up the scales. ‘You keep saying my child this, my child that. I am involved in this,’ she reminded him sarcastically. ‘What a fool I was to assume that this would be easier because we’re friends! If I had to have a one-night stand I wish I’d had it with a stranger! It would have made things a lot easier.’
Under his tan Liam went white and the vivid colour of his eyes seemed more pronounced by contrast. ‘We’re all wise in retrospect. It would seem you’re stuck with me as the father of your child, Jo. You’d better come to terms with the fact I’m not about to disappear.’
‘Not even to Manchester,’ she reminded him. ‘If we’re talking priorities. . . ’ She could see from his expression that her jibe had hit home.
‘I have to go,’ he bit back. ‘If I could avoid it I would. I know the tuning stinks, but I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll talk.’
‘I’ll be at work tomorrow.’
‘Stay here and wait for me.’
He had a very elegant way of moving, but Jo was in no mood to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of his retreating back. Maybe Liam was accustomed to people jumping when he started flinging his orders about, but he’d discover she wasn’t one of them. Wait here for me indeed!
‘Thanks, Justin, you don’t have to do this, you know.’
‘Despite the way things turned out, Jo, I hope we can still be civilised,’ he replied rather stiffly. But then Justin, she reflected, never had been a casual person.
‘I’m really grateful,’ she said warmly as he stacked the books she passed him into a packing case. She looked around the half-empty office with sad eyes. To her mind her personal imprint was already vanishing from the small room along with the pot plants and books.
‘I wish you’d let me speak to my colleague about unfair dismissal proceedings,’ he said with a disapproving frown. ‘It’s all most irregular—you deserve compensation.’ His legal bram disliked seeing her waste an opportunity for recompense. ‘I’d represent you myself, but it’s not my field.’
Jo was touched by his offer. ‘No, I’ve thought about it and I don’t want to,’ she said firmly. ‘Besides, they were very careful not to say, We’re sacking you because single parents aren’t good for the image of MacGrew and Bartnett,’ she recalled bitterly. No, it had been all exquisitely polite. ‘There was only ever a verbal agreement that I’d be offered the partnership this year—you know that, Justin. They didn’t actually sack me—I could have accepted a demotion.’
‘But they knew you wouldn’t.’
The shake of her head conceded this. It hadn’t mattered to her four years ago that she’d been taken on as a token female in the well-known, but deeply conservative, firm of accountants. She had been given an opportunity to show how good she was at competing with the very best. She’d thrived on the competition.
Up until now it had seemed her tactics had paid off, she’d made her mark. She’d been so good for business that she had been unofficially told she was about to be offered a partnership. At twenty-seven, she would be the youngest partner they’d ever had. That was until she’d been summoned into the boardroom that morning. A ‘reduction in her workload’ was the way they’d put it.
‘Well, I think their whole attitude belongs in the Dark Ages,’ Justin said sternly.
Despite her simmering anger and sense of injustice, Jo almost smiled. She’d never imagined she’d see the day when the ultra-conventional Justin would side with contemporary morality. Despite his looks, which made him appear rather dangerous and dashing, he really was an old-fashioned traditionalist at heart. In reality he was only dangerous in a court of law, where, by all accounts he was a ruthless litigator. Justin was a classic example of the welltried maxim ‘Don’t judge a book by the cover’, she reflected.
She cursed as the pile of papers she was carrying slipped to the floor. She dropped to her knees and began gathering them up. Justin joined her; she was rather surprised he was risking getting dust on his immaculate pinstriped trousers. Justin took a great deal of pride in his appearance and she doubted he ever wore anything that hadn’t been exclusively tailormade for him.
‘I can’t understand how you’re being so calm. When I suggested we get married, your work was the reason you gave for turning me down. Now just a few months later here you are jobless . . pregnant.’
Barefoot and starving, she silently added. ‘Thanks, Justin, it had slipped my mind,’ she responded drily.
‘I thought giving you an ultimatum, walking out, would bring you to your senses. I never thought. . . ’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘It didn’t even occur to me this would happen. I wanted a child, it was you who said you weren’t ready,’ he accused, his voice thickening.
‘I’m so sorry, Justin.’ Recognising the depth of his feeling, she touched his shoulder. She’d never actually thought he’d take his moral blackmail to its logical conclusion, and when he had she’d been devastated.
Justin looked at her hand. ‘Things could have been so different,’ he said, covering her hand with his.
‘Oh, Justin!’ What could she say? She hadn’t been able to commit herself to a more formal alliance even to save their relationship. The sense of loss was still there, but time had given her a fresh perspective on the situation and she found she could hardly recall the raw emotions of their traumatic parting now.
I must be shallow and fickle, she concluded miserably. What she’d felt for Justin had just never been going to lead anywhere; her feelings had been too superficial. She could hardly believe now she’d been so traumatised.
‘I wish it was my baby you were carrying, darling.’
I don’t, Jo realised guiltily. The strength of her certainty came as something of a shock.
‘Well, it isn’t, mate, it’s mine.’ Liam was watching the tender scene with a distinctly jaundiced eye.
‘Liam, what are you doing here?’ This guilt thing was getting rather tiresome.
‘The question is what are you doing here? I thought we arranged to meet back home this morning!’
‘You arranged,’ she told him pointedly. ‘I can’t put my life on hold while I wait for you to put in an appearance.’
‘From what I hear, your life, at least professionally, has been put on hold. Couldn’t you just do nothing until I got back? Have you really handed in your notice?’
‘Call me peculiar, but I don’t feel I’m cut out to be the office junior,’ she snapped back, placing her sheaf of papers back on the desktop
‘They made it that obvious?’
‘It’s constructive dismissal.’ Jo was grateful for Justin’s intervention; the last thing she felt like doing was explaining the whole saga yet again.
‘I didn’t ask you! What’s he doing here anyway?’ Liam asked Jo belligerently after dismissing Justin with a sneer. ‘And what sort of idiot lets a pregnant woman go heaving around packing cases?’
‘How dare you talk to Justin like that?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘I know you’re not exactly happy about the situation, but it doesn’t give you the right to abuse my friends. For your information I asked Justin to help me.’ This wasn’t strictly true but Liam needed putting in his place with a firm hand.
Justin stood up, flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his dark trousers and straightened the rose in his lapel. ‘I expect Jo was looking to her more reliable friends.’
This blatant provocation took Jo’s breath away and she suspected Justin might be regretting it too. Liam was looking quite simply murderous. Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, his long-legged frame was physically intimidating, she had to admit. The black leather jacket, white tee shirt and jeans he wore served to emphasise the stark contrast between the two men. Whilst it might have been Justin’s looks which had initially attracted her, it had been the undemanding nature of their relationship which had kept them together. By comparison Liam was a very demanding and unreasonable sort of man.
Liam topped Justin’s six feet by several inches. They were both dark-haired but there the similarity ended. Liam’s hair wasn’t nicely trimmed, it was thick and silky, inclined to wave and at the moment touched his collar. She knew the length and lack of style weren’t a fashion statement, he just habitually forgot to keep hair appointments. Liam had the same olive colouring as his father and, with his rather prominent nose and thick, slanted eyebrows, he had none of Justin’s smooth good looks. What he did have in abundance was sex appeal—buckets of the stuff.
‘You sound like you have something to say, Wood. Don’t stop,’ Liam drawled, ‘I’m fascinated.’
Jo pulled at the collar of her silk shirt with a hint of desperation. The air-conditioned room was suddenly stifling. Why had she never noticed how, well, noticeable Liam was before?
‘Jo, what’s wrong?’ Liam’s sharp, anxious enquiry seemed to come from a long way off. ‘Get out the way, you idiot, she’s going to faint.’
‘Don’t fuss,’ she complained weakly as she was firmly laid down on the carpet.
‘Stay where you are,’ Liam barked. ‘You want to let the blood get to your brain—let’s face it, it’s not that easy to find.’ His fingers touched the inner aspect of her clammy wrist where her pulse was lively enough. ‘Have you done this before?’
‘Done what?’ Even when she closed her eyes the black dots still danced across her vision.
‘Fainted,’ came the impatient reply.
‘I’ve never fainted in my life.’
Liam bent his head to catch her words. ‘Give me strength!’ Strength didn’t seem to be something he lacked as he lifted her up into his arms. ‘Get out of the way!’ he snapped as he collided with Justin in the doorway.
‘You’ve spilt the water,’ Justin complained, empty glass in hand. ‘You can’t do that!’ he objected sharply as Liam shouldered his way past.
‘What is it I can’t do?’
‘Abduct her.’
‘Grow up, man!’ Liam recommended tersely. ‘I’m quite happy to exchange pleasantries with you at a time of your choosing.’
Pistols at dawn, my seconds will call on yours, Jo thought, swallowing an inappropriate giggle.
‘Only right now Jo needs to get out of this place.’ She saw him dismiss the small space she’d worked so hard for with a fastidious sneer before he strode off leaving Justin staring after him, a frustrated expression on his red face.
Justin wouldn’t do anything as undignified as chase after them, she knew that. He certainly wouldn’t have made a spectacle of himself by carrying her through the heart of the plush building.
‘Poor Justin.’ It obviously hadn’t occurred to Liam to do anything as obvious as ask her whether she required being rescued—dragged off like a sack of flour. Finesse never had been one of his more striking traits.
Liam snorted. ‘Poor Justin, my foot! He couldn’t wait to get out of the room when things went pear-shaped back there.’
There was a spot just between his shoulder and the angle of his square jaw that could have been created for the specific use of supporting her aching head. ‘He’s not very good with illness—not that I’m ill.’
‘If you’d told me that earlier I wouldn’t have caused untold injury to my back.’
Even though she was still angry with him, she laughed weakly. ‘I could probably walk now.’
‘Don’t spoil it, Jo, I’m quite enjoying myself,’ he confided against her ear. ‘All these years wasted perfecting my modern man technique,’ he complained. ‘Modern man, my foot! These women go a bundle on the caveman style. I’ve never been on the receiving end of so many come-hither looks in my life! Women never fail to amaze me!’
‘Glad to be of service. Who are you planning to drag off to your cave?’ Who was he kidding? He was always on the receiving end of come-hither looks. The resignation with which she generally viewed the peculiar tastes of her fellow females seemed to have deserted her for the moment.
‘Your cave seems the best destination.’
‘My keys are m my bag, which is in the office—we’ll have to go back.’ The thought of backtracking and being the focus of all those curious eyes again made her cringe.
‘I’ve got a key, remember. If I go back in there I’ll probably throttle that overdressed, self-opinionated bore.’
‘What a trusting soul I was to give you a key,’ she said wearily.
‘Meaning what, exactly? It works both ways, remember: you’ve got my key. Do you want to sit in the front or lie in the back?’ he asked as they reached the underground car park. He placed her carefully on the floor and unlocked the four-wheel drive he drove.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ she snapped, displaying her independence by climbing into the front seat. ‘And what I mean is, I had watering my plants in mind when I handed over the key, not assaulting my friends. You’ve been watching too many Rambo movies.’
He started up the engine. ‘If life was as simple as it is in action movies I’d be a happy man,’ he admitted, with a lamentable lack of shame for his ludicrous behaviour. ‘There are roadworks at the junction so make yourself comfortable, it’ll be a long ride. You told Wood I’m the father?’ His eyes flickered to her face.
Sensational, thrillingly blue eyes that were part of his Celtic heritage. She’d never associated sensational and thrilling with Liam’s eyes before. She suddenly experienced a deep longing to step back in time and have their relationship back on its smooth, familiar footing.
‘Before your dramatic announcement, you mean? Yes, I did.’ Just as well—the poor man would probably have had an apoplexy if he’d first learnt the truth that brutally. ‘I think I owed Justin the truth after all we’ve had together.’
Liam’s nostrils flared and he made a sound of disgust.
‘Does it bother you he knows? Is it meant to be a secret?’ she shouted, her indignation rising at his sneering response.
Jo saw the flicker of anger in his eyes as he shot her a swift sideways glance. ‘It seems I was the only one not in on the secret—he probably knew before me,’ he accused thickly. ‘Forgive my confusion but I’m obviously out of date. The last time you spoke about Justin, he’d broken your heart. Or don’t you remember the occasion?’
‘I’m hardly likely to forget, am I?’
‘Neither am I, Jo.’ The inflection in his deep voice sent the colour flaring in her cheeks. ‘You didn’t tell me he wanted to marry you.’
‘No.’ She’d been distracted. Had he forgotten, or was he remembering what she had said that night?
The possibility that he was recalling the same things she was made the fine, downy hair on her forearms stand on end. A shiver slithered slowly down her spine as, dry-mouthed, she risked a swift look in his direction from under the sheltering sweep of her eyelashes.
He’d come hotfoot in response to her tearful phone call when Justin had walked out on her. She’d been too absorbed by her own misery to register the lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth and the tell-tale shadow on his jaw. He’d held her whilst she’d wept, murmuring soothing nothings in appropriate places, sliding his fingers tenderly through her damp hair, pushing the tangled strands off her hot forehead and gently patting her back. When the storm hadn’t abated his lips had replaced his fingers on her damp cheeks, across her forehead, the tip of her nose.
Finally, when her sobs had subsided, she’d given an exhausted sigh. ‘What would I do without you?’ His tenderness brought a lump of emotion to her throat and made her voice husky. She put all the gratitude, warmth and love that filled her heart to overflowing into the kiss she pressed on his lips.
The sudden tension in him communicated itself to her immediately. Had she offended him? ‘I’m sorry. . . ’ she began, suddenly horribly afraid she’d overstepped some invisible boundary.
His blue eyes were burning with a strange light. She was ill prepared for the sudden weakness that pervaded her limbs—it went bone-deep. His glance flickered to the bare curve of her right shoulder, exposed where the baggy neck of her nightshirt had slipped. A sharp, painful sound swiftly cut off emerged from his chest.
Holding her upturned face, his thumbs running down the length of her jaw, he bent closer. Like a sleepwalker he repeated her own impulsive action exactly. It should have been chaste, clinical even, their lips were modestly closed. It wasn’t!
Frantic! When he lifted his mouth from hers she felt frantic. It couldn’t stop! He had to do that again, surely he could see that too? Through half-closed eyes she tried to read the hard lines and angles of his face.
His laugh grated on her sensitised nerve-endings. ‘Feel better now?’ He wasn’t reading the right page of the script. She shook her head in a gesture of denial; this wasn’t the time for prosaic words.
She felt a spurt of anger as he ruffled her hair, a need to lash out. Why must he always treat her like a child?
‘Do you feel better?’ she enquired in open challenge. She didn’t even try to understand the compulsion which drove her.
She couldn’t plead error in retrospect; it was quite deliberate when her hands moved under the hem of his shirt. Fingers spread, palms flat, she slowly slid her hands up over his flat, tight belly and higher still to the muscle-packed expanse of his chest. Nothing, she decided, could feel better than his warm, satiny skin—the texture was intoxicating. The deep shudder that rippled through his immobile form must have involved every muscle in his body.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
If his voice had been icily cold it might have doused the fire in her brain, but it wasn’t—it held a husky rasp that made her tremble even harder. Tremble, yes, I am, she realised, feeling oddly objective about this discovery.
‘We both know what I’m doing, Liam.’ Her voice was husky but incredibly calm. Calm was the last thing she felt, she felt reckless, and drunk on power. ‘It’s what I’ll do next that’s got me wondering.’
‘You’re not yourself.’
‘You’ve no idea what a relief that is.’ Herself was miserable, depressed. . . repressed, a small voice added.
‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’
‘I know that these buttons are hellish difficult. Could you help. . . ?’
He caught her wrists then, roughly, and pulled them away from his body. ‘Don’t play games.’
This had to be the most humiliating moment of her life! ‘Don’t look at me as if I’m an axe murderer! All I want is a kiss. If it’s too much trouble, don’t bother!’ she yelled, feeling totally mortified. She tossed her head and ripped her hands from his grasp. She held only a tenuous hope of salvaging even a shred of pride.
She didn’t get more than a step away before he reached her and, with one arm around her waist, lifted her feet off the ground. The impetus of his action as he turned her around drove them forwards until her back was against the wall. The breath was driven from her body.
Her head dropped forward. No wonder he was angry. She was acting like some sort of. . . of sex-starved tart. His hands were on her shoulders and she could feel his nearness from the heat of his body. She was too ashamed to look at him.
‘I’m sorry, don’t hate me. . . ’ Her voice cracked.
‘Hate? Oh, God, Jo, I could never, no, don’t cry again, darling. I know you’re feeling rejected; the bastard, I’d like to kill Justin,’ he said viciously. ‘You don’t need to indulge in casual sex to prove you’re desirable.’ She wanted to deny this analysis but he kissed the corner of her mouth, then the other corner. ‘I know you don’t believe me, but you’ll be better off without him.’
She did shake her head in denial this time, and the next kiss hit dead centre. He pulled back, but only a fraction. Jo opened her eyes; she still had her eyes open when they moved forward simultaneously. Her lips parted and there was only a momentary delay before he accepted her offer. He didn’t just accept it, he took the initiative out of her hands in a big way. She’d never experienced anything that came close to the onslaught of his lips and tongue as his teeth tugged and nipped, his tongue tasted and explored. Her body was filled with a languorous heat, her senses swam, she ached!
‘This is crazy!’ The groaned words were wrenched from him. He might have acknowledged insanity, but that didn’t stop his lips from continuing to strain hungrily against hers. His hands slipped to her hips barely covered by the plain cotton nightshirt she wore. The contact made her body jerk.
‘That’s lovely, don’t stop,’ she begged throatily. Lovely, exciting, sizzlingly erotic, it was all that and more! Jo had never felt so primitively aroused in her life. As her feet left the floor she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. She arched her back and provocatively pressed her slim, lithe body as close to him as possible.
‘Your skin’s so soft, so smooth.’ His tongue strayed over the graceful curve of her collar-bone for a moment and she whimpered with delirious pleasure.
Blindly, panting hard, Liam reached behind her for the door. More luck than judgement brought their erratic progress, interrupted as it was by gasps and moans as each new sensation was explored and enjoyed, to her narrow bed. He fell with her onto the bed, impressing her body into the soft mattress.
Her trailing arm sent the bedside light crashing onto the floor. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said as he lifted his head. She didn’t want to illuminate the scene, she didn’t want anything to intrude on the unreal quality of this incredible episode. Dark was safer.
If she paused long enough to think that it was Liam who was pulling her nightshirt over her head, and Liam whose tongue was tasting every inch of her aching breasts, it would spoil everything. She’d be left with the paradox of why she wanted—no, why she needed him to.
His need was as great as hers, even through the layers of his clothes she could feel that. He was in the grip of a desire just as blind as the one which drove her to rip at his shirt and curse softly with frustration as her fingers fumbled over the buckle of his belt.
When he took control of that problem she encouraged or very possibly distracted him with soft kisses pressed on the strong curve of his back. He lay back down and she eagerly insinuated herself closer to him, only to be momentarily thrown off her stride when he sat up again, laughing.
‘What?’ If he changed his mind now the consequences might well be fatal!
‘I’ve still got my boots on.’ Faint laughter still rumbled in the vault of his chest.
Laughter was rapidly replaced by frantic murmurs when he returned to her. Imprisoned by his heavy, hair-roughened thighs, her nostrils filled with the warm, masculine, aroused scent of his body, she lost what little control she had and every inhibition that had ever restrained her.
She wanted to taste him, touch him, and she did so with joyous abandon. The strength of his body and its eye-opening muscularity delighted her. He guided her forays with a firm hand, and in his turn touched her until her harsh gasps echoed in the dark room.
Over the years, she knew, he’d had enough practice at such things, but there was nothing slick or polished about him now. His responses were raw, his elegant, strong hands shook and his body trembled as though he were struggling against an invisible barrier. The next day her body bore the marks of his urgent caresses.
Waking at some point in the night, Jo’s mind instantly went into replay mode. The culmination of their wild, unrestrained coupling had resulted in an equally violent release. Sleepily, she tried to make sense of it. She didn’t have a strong sex drive, did she? I actually shouted! She sat up with a jolt. No. ‘I screamed!’ In the darkness the blush spread over her body.
Her action in the confined space sent the quilt slithering onto the floor. Run or retrieve the quilt? Not a complex decision, but one that taxed her flustered mind at that moment. If she hadn’t sat there dithering Liam wouldn’t have woken up!
He rolled over onto his side and threw his leg over her hip. The weight of his thigh immobilised her. ‘What did you say?’ The purr of his deep, sleepy murmur made her tense.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘Yes, you did.’ He paused, obviously trawling through his sleepy recollections before coming up with the goods. ‘You said, “‘I screamed.”’
‘Nonsense.’ She tried to pull the rumpled sheet up from the bottom of the bed.
‘You did, you know. You said—’
She didn’t need reminding of what she’d said, it was branded on her memory. ‘Don’t!’ she shrieked, putting both her hands firmly over what she hoped was his mouth. It was—despite the pressure of her fingers his lips parted and his tongue flickered over the centre of her palm.
She might have denied the words but she couldn’t deny the arousing quality of the damp touch. It was ridiculous but all the strength left her body in a silent whoosh. She fell forward and put her hands out to cushion her fall. It was all part of the weird conspiracy that Liam found her hands had been replaced by the soft contours of her breasts. It wasn’t an exchange he appeared to have any problems with.
‘A gift from the gods,’ he murmured as his mouth closed around one swollen rosy peak. His actions no longer had the raw urgency of earlier, but as she lay, her body spread-eagled over his, she couldn’t doubt the strength of his arousal.
She moaned and tried to raise herself up on her elbows. ‘We can’t do this.’
Liam’s hands came up to cover the curve of her buttocks, his thumbs hooked around the angle of her hipbones. ‘Actually, it wouldn’t be that difficult and there’s a strong possibility it would be pleasurable.’ Her breath caught sharply as his tongue unexpectedly traced the still damp area of her nipple. ‘You are so sensitive it’s incredible, especially there.’
‘Everywhere.’ With you, anyway, she realised in bewilderment.
The whispered admission brought a deep purr of male satisfaction from his throat. ‘Then I’ll have to be very attentive. You’ll have to tell me if there’s anywhere I miss.’
‘You can’t say things like that to me.’
‘Why, don’t you like to hear them?’ The taunting quality in his deep, caressing tones made her throat ache. Her body was taut and trembling with anticipation so she couldn’t immediately allow herself to accept. Excitement was building inside her until she couldn’t breathe.
‘You’re sorry for me.’
‘Lust isn’t pity.’
‘Is this lust?’ He tugged her down until her face was level with his, her breasts were crushed against his chest and her knees were either side of his thighs.
‘Does it need to have a name,’ he groaned, ‘when it feels so good? You smell of me. You taste of me.’ His open mouth moved over her neck. He obviously found the discovery exciting—his body surged suggestively against her.
‘I want to. . . ’
‘What, sweetheart? What do you want to do to me?’ His breath was warm and fragrant on her cheek. His hands moved slowly, sensuously over her back, down the curve of her thigh. He flexed her knee and ran his thumb over the sensitive skin of her instep. ‘If I tell you what I like, will it help?’
Every wicked, honeyed syllable was fraying the edges of her doubts and inhibitions until they snapped. ‘I want. . . want to do everything to you,’ she half sobbed. ‘And I want you to do everything to me.’
That was the end of her resistance and the beginning—the beginning of an experience that was infinitely more intimate than their earlier frantic encounter. A slow, sensuous voyage of discovery where the power of the word was as great as the power of taste and touch.
And such words—she couldn’t think now about the things she’d said without her skin burning. She hadn’t even suspected that the male mind could contain such erotic fantasies—she ought to have been shocked, but each velvet syllable that had dripped like honey from his lips had aroused her to even greater heights of passion.
‘I’ve been thinking.’
Totally disorientated, she blinked and tried to focus her glazed vision. Her own thoughts had absorbed her so deeply she couldn’t immediately respond.
‘Are you all right?’ he persisted.
‘Yes, fine.’
‘You looked a bit strange there for a minute.’
‘Don’t fuss.’ Just as well I wasn’t in the driver’s seat, she reflected grimly. It isn’t healthy, this constant preoccupation with an incident best forgotten. What’s wrong with me? It was a one-off—well, two-off to be accurate—the result of a freak set of circumstances, nothing more. Forget it ever happened, wasn’t that what Liam had said? He’d only slept with her out of pity, she reminded herself.

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