“You can’t force me to go through with this, Liam. You can’t force me into anything!”

“Physically, no,” he agreed. “I’m counting on your sense of duty toward our son. He needs a stable environment. The kind money alone can’t provide. For a start, think of what it would mean to him just to have you there when he gets home from school.”

“You’re still talking as if it’s a foregone conclusion,” Regan said jerkily.

“I’m still counting on that sense of duty,” he returned. “Along with one or two other incentives.”

She kept her voice steady by sheer effort of will. “Such as sex, for instance?”

Liam gave a faint smile. “It’s a factor. A very vital factor.”

KAY THORPE was born in Sheffield, England, in 1935. She tried out a variety of jobs after leaving school. Writing began as a hobby, becoming a way of life only after she had her first completed novel accepted for publication in 1968. Since then, she’s written seventy books and lives now with her husband, son, German shepherd and lucky black cat on the outskirts of Chesterfield in Derbyshire. Her interests include reading, hiking and travel.

Bride on Demand
Kay Thorpe

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

GLIMPSED across a crowded room, the man was too far away for Regan to be wholly certain, but every instinct told her she was right. Liam Bentley! Of all the people in the world, he was the last she would have expected to see here—the last she would have wanted to see anywhere!

‘Your glass is empty,’ observed one of the men in the group she was with, in body if not in spirit, at the moment. ‘Let me get you a refill.’

Regan released the glass with a smile and a word of thanks, finding it easier to accept the offer than decline on the grounds that she had had enough to drink. Alcohol was the lifeblood of these affairs, stimulating even the blasé to enjoyment of a kind. Not her kind, she had to admit. Any more than the majority of these people were her kind. It had been a mistake to come at all.

Where Hugh was at present she had no idea. He had asked her to accompany him because his wife was out of town; though for all she had seen of him since they had arrived, a partner hardly seemed necessary.

She caught another, clearer glimpse of the dark-haired man between shifting heads, and knew she hadn’t been mistaken; those hard-hewn, handsome features were only too distinctive. Seven years hadn’t dulled the memory, hard as she had tried to school herself to forget. More than ever she wished she hadn’t come tonight.

‘Gin and lime, wasn’t it?’ asked the man who had taken the glass from her, handing it over brimming once more. ‘Cheers!’ he added, lifting his own glass.

Regan repeated the toast but took only the barest sip, aware of the frank appraisal he was giving her. Dennis something or other, she believed his name was.

‘Long hair is supposed to be passé this year, by all accounts,’ he commented lightly, ‘but it still appeals to most men.’ He grinned. ‘So does red hair and green eyes, if it comes to that.’

‘Auburn, if you please,’ Regan corrected with mock severity, making every effort to keep her party face going. ‘And I never follow trends.’

‘An individualist, eh? You’ve a lot in common with our hostess. She doesn’t exactly run with the crowd either.’

‘I haven’t met her yet,’ Regan admitted. ‘Which is she?’

He turned to view the throng. ‘Way over there, with that tall dark chap. Her latest. A banker, I believe. Loaded, naturally. Our Paula would hardly settle for anything less.’

The somewhat caustic note wasn’t lost on Regan. A thwarted suitor himself, maybe? she wondered. The tall dark chap was Liam Bentley. Paula herself was a blonde; whether natural or assumed it was impossible to tell from this distance. Whichever, she was certainly good-looking. Not that Liam would be likely to settle for anything less either. Running her own highly successful PR company, the woman obviously had a good business head on her shoulders too. They should make the perfect pair—other partners disregarding.

Dennis had angled himself so that the two of them were cut off from the rest of the group. ‘What say we go and find ourselves somewhere quieter to get to know one another?’ he suggested now. ‘There’s still time to have dinner.’

‘I’m not really hungry,’ Regan prevaricated. ‘The canapés they keep passing round are too tempting.’

‘Just a drink, then?’

Obviously not one to take a hint, decided Regan resignedly. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, thanks. I’m quite happy here.’

‘You don’t look it,’ he insisted. ‘In fact you—’

‘I’m with someone,’ she broke in. ‘I don’t think he’d be any too thrilled if I walked off with another man. Anyway, it’s time I started mingling a little more.’

‘Whoever he is, he’s not exactly attentive,’ came the parting shot as she moved away.

Almost as if he had overheard the remark, Hugh appeared at her elbow, the unfairly rakish features wearing an apologetic expression.

‘Sorry to leave you like that,’ he said. ‘I got tied up. Did you get to meet our hostess yet?’

‘No,’ Regan was bound to admit, adding hastily, ‘It isn’t really necessary.’

Hugh either didn’t hear the protest or took no heed of it. Sliding an arm about her slender waist, he steered her round the intervening groups to where the woman was holding court.

‘I thought it time we paid our respects, Paula,’ he announced. ‘This is Regan Holmes.’

The other woman’s regard held a certain speculation though little warmth. ‘Hallo.’

Regan returned the greeting, vibrantly aware of the man on Paula’s far side. She forced herself to meet the steel-grey eyes square on as Paula performed introductions all round, uncertain whether relief or chagrin held the upper hand when he showed no sign of recognition, even of the name. He looked, she had to admit, very little different from when she had last seen him. Obviously more than could be said for her. But then, she’d only known him a few weeks. Hardly surprising if he failed to remember just one of his many past conquests. Best in the circumstances anyway.

Duty done, Paula turned an intimate little smile on him. ‘Liam, darling, would you be an angel and freshen my glass for me?’

‘Surely,’ he agreed in those deep-timbred tones Regan recalled so well. ‘You’re in no urgent need at the moment?’ he added, with obvious reference to her own barely touched glass.

She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

Paula turned her attention back to the group at large as he moved off. Engrossed in animated discussion, neither Hugh nor anyone else appeared to notice when Regan slipped quietly away. What she needed was a breather—somewhere to be on her own for a few minutes. If it weren’t for Hugh, she would cut out and head for home right now, but he wouldn’t let her go alone and she hated to drag him away before he was ready.

She found her privacy in the bedroom where they had all deposited their outdoor wear. The early May evening was cool, and the bed was piled high. There would be a regular scrimmage if everyone decided to leave at the same time, she reflected. Like the rest of the house, the room itself was beautifully furnished and decorated. Money was no object to people in Paula Lambert’s position.

Sitting down before the gracious Queen Anne dressing table, Regan took a cosmetic purse from her handbag and renewed her lipstick. There was no discernible shine on her small straight nose, but she dabbed at it anyway. Thick and glossy, her hair curved inwards below chin level to frame a face too full of character for conventional beauty, cheekbones prominent beneath wide-set eyes the colour of spring grass, mouth a trifle over-generous. Apart from the hairstyle, surely not so far from the way she had looked at twenty-two? she mused.

Liam would be thirty-seven now. An age when a man might be expected to start showing a little silver at the temples, a little thickening about the waistline. There might be a slight deepening of lines about eyes and mouth, perhaps, but the jawline was just as firm, the body just as fit beneath the well-cut lounge suit he was wearing. She could see in her mind’s eye the bronzed breadth of his shoulders, the wiry curl of dark hair on his chest, the hard, ridged stomach muscle—and felt a warm trickle run down her spine at the memory.

Cut it out! she told herself harshly.

The opening of the door behind her jerked her abruptly out of her thoughts. Reflected in the mirror, Liam looked too overpoweringly familiar.

‘So this is where you got to,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think you must have left.’ He paused, as if in anticipation of some comment from her, adding, when she stayed silent, ‘It’s been a long time.’

Regan gathered herself together to get to her feet, emotions concealed behind the social façade she had learned to don at will. ‘I suppose it is.’

‘There’s no suppose about it.’ He winged an ironic glance over the curves outlined by the sleekly fitting bodice of her dark green dress. ‘Why make out not to know me just now?’

‘I was following your lead,’ she claimed with a dismissive little shrug.

The strong mouth slanted. ‘I was under the impression I was following yours.’

‘Seems we both misread the vibes, then.’

‘Apparently.’ He paused, the cynicism increasing as he studied her. ‘The man you’re with is married, I believe.’

The intimation was obvious, her response purely reflexive. ‘So?’

‘So can’t you find a man of your own?’

She could scotch the impression right now by telling the simple truth, came the fleeting thought, but she didn’t see why she should. ‘I might ask our hostess the same question,’ she said coolly. ‘Always providing she knows your true status to start with, of course. How is your wife?’

‘We were divorced several years ago.’

Thrown for a moment, Regan made an effort to control her inner emotions. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Condolences unnecessary. We’d been living separate lives for some considerable time before it.’

‘Oh, that does make a difference, of course. But then, your emotions never did run all that deep!’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘It’s time we were both getting back to the party. Paula doesn’t look the type to take too kindly to being abandoned for long.’

Liam swung the door fully closed again, standing there like a rock himself, face set in suddenly harsher lines. ‘You know, I thought when I first laid eyes on you tonight how little you’d changed, but I was wrong. The girl I knew was nothing like you.’

The tone cut deep, drawing unstudied words to her lips. ‘The girl you knew was a gullible fool just waiting to be taken advantage of! I learned to do the taking, that’s all.’

The curl of his lip gave added weight to the wave of self-disgust, but it was too late for retraction. What the hell was it to do with him anyway? She drew herself up to her full five feet seven, still, even in heels, several vital inches short of matching his height. ‘Are you going to let me pass? I don’t think we have anything else to talk about.’

Something sparked momentarily in the grey eyes, then he shrugged and moved a step aside. ‘After you.’

Regan hesitated, aware that to reach the door she would have to come within touching distance of him. Not that he was likely to touch her, she assured herself. He had already shown his contempt for what he believed she’d become. He could go on believing it too, for all she cared. His opinion was of no importance to her.

He made no move as she stalked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when his arm snaked about her waist from behind, jerking her round to bring her up against him, his free hand coming up behind her head to hold her still as he brought his mouth down on hers.

Unable to free herself, Regan did her best to stay immobile in his grasp, but there was no denying the swift surging heat as her body awoke to sensations so long dormant. No other man had ever stirred her the way Liam had stirred her—the way he could stir her still. She moved against him instinctively, involuntarily, feeling his hardness, remembering the driving power in his loins.

She was shaky when he finally lifted his head, both mind and body in turmoil. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

‘One department you haven’t changed in,’ he said sardonically. ‘Save it for the boyfriend—if a man twenty years older than you are can be called that.’

Hurting inside, she thrust herself away from him and turned blindly to grope for the door handle. Paula was just emerging from the room opposite when she yanked the door open. The other woman looked from Regan to the man at her back with suddenly narrowed eyes.

‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.

‘A private matter,’ said Liam flatly. ‘Nothing for you to concern yourself over. I’m going to get a drink.’

He moved off down the corridor, tall, dark and unyielding, leaving the two of them standing there like dummies. Paula was first to recover. The icy probe she turned on Regan cut to the quick.

‘I had an odd feeling that the two of you had met before,’ she clipped. ‘Just what game are you on?’

If the tone of the question hadn’t alienated her, the instinctive dislike she had felt on first meeting the woman was strong enough to swamp any desire on Regan’s part to offer explanation. For a brief disastrous moment the need to hit out at both her and Liam overruled all other concerns.

‘Bringing up a child single-handed is no game!’ she snapped back.

The other’s face went rigid, eyes darkening. ‘You’re claiming to have had Liam’s child!’

Realisation of what she had done hit Regan like a thunderbolt. What on earth had possessed her? she asked herself in consternation. More to the point, how did she retract?

‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this!’ Paula declared tautly before she could find the words. ‘You wait right here!’

Regan forced frozen limbs into action as the other woman moved off in Liam’s wake, mind devoid of everything but the need to get out of here. Turning back into the room she had so recently vacated, she tore her jacket from among the pile on the bed and slid it about her shoulders, then made for the door again. There were people in the hall when she got downstairs but no sign of either Paula or Liam, to her relief.

‘Leaving already?’ someone asked as she made her way through.

‘Going on somewhere,’ she answered quickly, and exited the house before any further questions could be put.

Only when she was outside in the cool night air did it occur to her that Hugh would wonder what on earth had happened to her, but it was too late now to start worrying about that. She set off alone along the echoing pavement, heading for the nearest tube station at Sloane Square. A bit risky for a woman on her own travelling on the underground at this hour, but she didn’t have enough money on her for a taxi even if she could have found one.

No doubt Liam would have little difficulty in persuading Paula of the lack of truth in the allegation, but he was hardly going to be content to leave it at that, she thought hollowly. Hugh could provide him with her address. What she’d done to his reputation by not putting the record straight was no joke either. She was ninety-nine per cent sure that he was faithful to his wife. Hopefully, Liam was on his own in taking their relationship for anything but what it was.

She reached her small but cosy flat around eleven-thirty after an uneventful journey out to Kilburn, surprising Sarah, who hadn’t been expecting her for at least another hour or so.

‘Any time,’ she said when Regan thanked her. ‘With Don so tied up with this new job, I’m more often than not free of an evening, and it’s hardly as though I’ve far to go home. Pop down for coffee in the morning if you feel like it,’ she added at the door.

Coffee was the last thing on Regan’s mind right now. Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant she would have to contact Hugh at his home in order to apologise for her unannounced departure—although what excuse she was going to come up with she couldn’t think. For a wild moment she contemplated phoning him now on the mobile he carried everywhere and asking him not to tell anyone where she was to be found. A waste of time in any case, she realised, when all Liam had to do was look up her name in the phone book.

There was no movement from the bed when she opened the door. Regan went over and straightened out the tangle of small, pyjama-clad limbs and duvet without raising a murmur, bending to press a tender kiss to the tousled head. She loved the weekends when the two of them could spend quality time together—lived the whole week in anticipation of it. Nothing had changed in that respect. Nothing would. Liam was hardly likely to stake a claim.

Back in the living room, she opened up the sofa bed in preparation before beginning to undress. With only the one small bedroom, and allowing for the disparity in retirement times, it made sense for Jamie to have sole possession. She was lucky, she supposed, to have her own kitchen and bathroom for the rent she was paying—although that was likely to take a considerable hike when her lease came up for renewal next month. A bridge that would have to be crossed.

She was between sheets by midnight, though not to sleep. Lying on her back staring sightlessly at the ceiling, she went back over the events of the evening with almost masochistic intent. She could still feel the pressure of Liam’s lips on hers, the hard muscularity of his body, dredging up memories she had fought so long to subdue. She hadn’t been totally devoid of masculine company these past years, but there had been no one she had come close to forming any kind of relationship with. Her own feelings, or lack of them, aside, it took a special kind of man to retain an interest in a single mother.

Her heart gave a gigantic jerk as the intercom connected to the outer door of the building buzzed, settling to a painful throb. There was only one person who would be making a call at this hour: one person angry enough to disregard everything but the need for settlement.

The buzz came again, held for longer this time. If she didn’t let him in there was a good chance that he’d rouse one of the other tenants. With Jamie fast asleep there was a possibility that she might still manage to keep his existence a secret, came the thought, as she rose reluctantly from the bed to switch on a lamp and go across to press the intercom button.

‘Who is it?’ she said warily, hoping against hope that it was a mistake after all.

‘Who the hell do you think it is?’ was the harsh retort. ‘Open this door. Now!’

Short of risking others becoming involved, there was little choice. Regan clicked the control then returned to the bed, sliding her feet into a pair of slippers and pulling on a wrap. Catching a glimpse of her face in the nearby wall mirror, she lifted her chin, willing herself to stay calm and in control. That it was going to be an uncomfortable few minutes there was no doubt, but if she kept her head she could get through it without giving anything away.

She needed no second bidding to go and open the flat door in answer to the peremptory knock. Liam seemed to fill the doorway, the expression on his face a forecast of what was to come. He advanced without waiting for an invitation, forcing Regan to step aside in order to avoid being mown down.

‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ he clipped.

She steeled herself afresh as she closed the door and turned to view him. ‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘It was a stupid thing to do.’

There was a certain sharpening in the penetrative quality of the grey eyes. ‘Stupid isn’t the word I’d use. Why? is the question I’d like answering.’

Her shrug was as indifferent as she could make it. ‘Retaliation, of course.’

‘A pretty unusual method of payback.’

She shrugged again. ‘Pure spur of the moment. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll have little difficulty convincing your…partner that there’s no truth in it.’

‘There’s no partnership,’ he said. ‘Business or otherwise.’

Some nameless emotion flickered at the back of Regan’s mind. ‘Girlfriend, then. I’ll write her a note admitting I lied, if you like.’

Liam regarded her narrowly for several seconds before shaking his head. ‘Not necessary.’ He cast a comprehensive glance about the room, opinion clearly expressed. ‘Is this all there is?’

‘I have a kitchen and bathroom.’ She did her best not to sound defensive. ‘What else is needed?’

‘There’s hardly room to swing a cat!’

‘I don’t have a cat.’ Regan stirred restlessly, aware that every passing minute increased the danger. ‘If you’ve said all you came to say, I’d like to get some sleep.’

The grey eyes returned to her, too perceptive by half. ‘I haven’t finished. Not by a long chalk. The man you were with tonight is a company director at Longmans.’

She lifted her chin, guessing what was coming. ‘Right.’

‘And you’re his secretary—standing in for his wife who couldn’t make it.’

‘Right again.’

‘So why the devil didn’t you tell me that in the first place!’

‘What difference would it have made?’ she asked. ‘Office affairs aren’t exactly unheard of!’

He regarded her long and hard, ignoring the innuendo. ‘Are you having an affair with him?’

That’s my affair, she hovered on the verge of retorting, biting it back on the reminder that it was Hugh’s life she was messing with not just her own. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I work for him, and occasionally socialise with him when Rosalyn is out of town—with her approval—but that’s as far as it goes. He’s a good friend, and I did him a thorough disservice.’

‘No more than I did to the two of you.’ Liam paused, expression difficult to decipher. ‘I’d have expected you to be married with a family by now. That seemed to be your main ambition at twenty-two.’

Regan kept a steady tone with difficulty. ‘I realised there was more to life.’

‘And this is it?’ he said with another disparaging glance around the room. ‘You had it in you to do a whole lot better.’

‘Compared with your lifestyle, I dare say this stinks,’ she shot back, unable to maintain the composure, ‘but it suits me!’ Limbs shaky, she indicated the door. ‘Just go, will you?’

‘Longmans pay good rates,’ he said as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You must be earning enough to afford something a bit more up-market than a second-floor bedsitter—especially when you’ve only yourself to think about. I could put you on to a reliable agency if it’s just a case of finding the right place.’

‘I don’t need any help! Not from you, or anyone!’ Regan was past caring about staying cool. Face flushed, eyes stormy, she yanked open the door. ‘Get lost, Liam!’

‘Now, that,’ he remarked almost conversationally, ‘is definitely more like the girl I once knew.’

‘The naive little thing you pulled out of the ranks to entertain you for a few weeks?’ Regan gave a brittle laugh. ‘She wouldn’t have said boo to a goose!’

‘Not the way I remember it.’ Liam’s voice had softened, a smile touching his lips. ‘The night I came back to the office to find you trying out my desk for size, you were far from being cowed.’

‘On the premise that I might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,’ she said, unable to stifle a reminiscent little smile of her own at the memory. ‘I expected to be fired on the spot for daring to infiltrate the hallowed upper-floor premises!’

‘Instead of which, you got yourself thoroughly kissed.’

Her smile vanished. ‘And the rest! As I said before, I was naive as they come.’

‘Irresistible,’ Liam said softly. ‘I’m not going to try apologising for the way I treated you. It’s too late for that. It isn’t too late to try making amends, though. I could help you get a job with better prospects for a start.’

Regan drew in a harsh breath. ‘I’m perfectly happy with the one I have, thanks! Are you going to go, or do I have to call for help to throw you out?’

For all the impression the threat made on him, she might as well have saved her breath. ‘I’ll go when I’m good and ready,’ he said. ‘Right now I’d welcome a cup of coffee. Decaf, if you have it.’

Regan gazed at him in frustration, aware that she wasn’t going to be calling on anyone to do anything at this hour of the morning. She knew a sudden sense of déjà vu as he shed his jacket and tossed it carelessly over a chair arm, muscle and sinew contracting as memory flooded in once more.

He’d always worn silk next to the skin. Her fingers itched to slide the length of his arms, feeling the muscular structure beneath the smoothness; to drift across the breadth of his shoulders and loosen his tie before beginning work on the buttons prohibiting contact with the warm male body beneath. She’d delighted in giving him pleasure—delighted in every aspect of their lovemaking.

She’d even believed him when he’d murmured words of love, she recalled cynically, bringing herself down to earth again with a thud. The shock when he’d told her he was getting married had been bad enough, the realisation that she was pregnant almost too much to bear. There had been a moment or two in the beginning, she had to admit, when she had contemplated abortion, but she could never have brought herself to go through with it.

‘Coffee?’ Liam repeated when she made no move. ‘We still have a lot to talk about.’

Regan couldn’t imagine what else there was to say, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be shifted. Her biggest fear was that Jamie would waken at the sound of voices and get out of bed to investigate. At six, he was already protective of her, regarding any man who came to the flat with suspicion. Not that there had been any for some time now. Word got around.

She closed the door quietly, belting the cotton wrap more firmly about her waist as she made for the kitchen. The room was warm enough without turning on the gas fire because it gathered rising heat from the lower regions. Not that she gave a damn whether Liam found it comfortable or not.

He followed her, standing in the doorway while she put the kettle on the boil and set a tray. The very feel of his eyes on her back made her all fingers and thumbs.

‘Why don’t you go and sit down?’ she exclaimed at length. ‘I’ll bring it through when it’s ready.’

‘It’s boiling now,’ he pointed out. ‘I’ll carry it through for you. Black for me, please.’

I know, she almost said, but that would have been too much of a give-away. ‘Sugar?’ she asked with deliberation.

‘None, thanks.’

He came all the way in to get the tray, his arm brushing hers in the confined space. She caught a faint whiff of aftershave—different from the one he had used when they’d been together, but emotive all the same. The tremor that ran the length of her spine left her weak at more than the knees. It took everything she had to keep her face from reflecting the turmoil going on inside her as she met his gaze.

‘Always the gentleman,’ she mocked.

‘If only on the surface,’ he responded without rancour. He ran his eyes over the tumbled auburn hair, softly lit by the low-wattage overhead bulb, the captivating lines of her face. ‘You’re still the only female I’ve ever known who looks as good minus the make-up as with it.’

‘Including your wife?’ she asked silkily, then shook her head in self-disgust. ‘Forget I said that.’

‘It’s forgotten.’ He indicated the door. ‘Lead on.’

She did so, sinking into one of the two small armchairs as he put the tray down on the low table set between them. Without buttons to hold it closed, her wrap parted over her knees. She drew the material across again swiftly, conscious of the brevity of the nightdress beneath and wishing she was wearing the satin pyjamas she had treated herself to as a Christmas present from Jamie.

‘You said we had a lot still to talk about,’ she reminded him when he made no attempt to open conversation but simply sat there studying her. ‘Such as what?’

‘Such as where you disappeared to after you walked out of your job for a start. It was as if you’d vanished off the face of the earth!’

‘I went home for a while,’ she said flatly.

Dark brows drew together. ‘You told me your parents were divorced, your father somewhere unknown, and your mother remarried to a man you had no time for and vice versa. That hardly sounds like home.’

‘Nevertheless, it’s where I went.’ Regan ironed out any emotion from her voice. ‘Why the follow-up, anyway?’

‘Guilty conscience,’ he admitted. ‘I’d played you a lousy hand. I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘Thoughtful of you.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ The irony was self-directed. ‘I know you’ve been with Longmans four years, but—’

‘How do you know?’ she demanded.

‘I had a chat with your boss.’

Green eyes darkened. ‘You’d no right to drag him into this!’

‘I was under the impression he was already in it, if you remember.’ He made a wry gesture. ‘It’s all right. I took full blame for the mistake.’

Whatever Hugh had told him about her, it obviously hadn’t included the fact that she had a child, Regan reflected gratefully. All the same, she had to get Liam out of here.

‘I really am tired,’ she said, pretending to stifle a yawn against the back of her hand. ‘I appreciate the offer to help me out, but it’s totally unnecessary.’ She added levelly, ‘I hope I haven’t caused you too much of a problem.’

His shrug was light. ‘Nothing I can’t handle. And the offer still stands. You know where to contact me if you change your mind.’

He got to his feet, the coffee barely touched. Regan rose with him, picking up his jacket from the chair and holding it out for him to slide his arms into the sleeves. She was taken totally by surprise when he stepped closer to enclose her face between his cupped fingers, unable to form a protest as his lips found hers in a kiss that transported her right back to that first, never-to-be-forgotten time.

Senses swimming, she could summon neither the immediate will nor the strength to break free. The jacket dropped from hands turned nerveless, kicked aside by Liam as he drew her closer to bring her tingling breasts into contact with the hard breadth of his chest. His mouth was a source of infinite pleasure, soft and firm at one and the same time, persuading her lips to part, to allow him access to the tender flesh within, the silky caress of his tongue arousing an unbridled response.

‘I want you,’ he breathed. ‘I always wanted you!’

So much so that he married someone else, came the thought, dragging her back from the brink.

‘Just go, will you?’ she said huskily. ‘I’m not playing that game again!’

Anticipating dissension, and ready for it, she was taken aback when he released her with a wry little shrug.

‘If that’s what you really want.’

‘It is.’ She made every effort to infuse certainty into her voice. ‘And I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused between you and Paula.’

His smile was fleeting. ‘No, you’re not. As a matter of fact, you’ve done me a favour.’

‘Oh, sure! You were racking your brains for an excuse to dump her!’ Limbs shaky, Regan bent to pick up his jacket from the floor, holding it out to him, eyes dark green pools. ‘Since when did you need help in that direction?’

He took the jacket from her and put it on without responding to the accusation, expression unrevealing. ‘It was good seeing you again, regardless,’ he said. ‘Take care.’

He was gone before she could draw breath to answer, leaving her standing there like a dummy. She had to force herself into movement, going over to lock the door in his wake. She still had her secret; that was all that mattered. It had to be all that mattered!

CHAPTER TWO

HUGH proved more intrigued than angry about the mix-up.

‘I gather Bentley has something of a proprietary interest in you himself,’ he said on Monday morning when Regan apologised to him. ‘A pretty long-standing one in fact. Paula was spitting cobs when he walked out on her. Not that I can blame him. She didn’t exactly keep the discussion under wraps.’ He paused, eyeing her shrewdly. ‘He is the father, isn’t he?’

There was little point in attempting to deny it, Regan acknowledged. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And thanks for not telling him about Jamie.’

‘I was in a bit of a dilemma, considering you’d already apparently let the cat out of the bag, but I reckoned you’d sort it out for yourself. What I can’t understand,’ he added curiously, ‘is why you kept it from him to start with. You were entitled to maintenance at the very least.’

‘I didn’t want anything from him!’ she said with force. ‘I still don’t. Jamie’s mine!’

‘Does he feel the same way now he knows about him?’ Hugh raised his eyebrows when she failed to respond. ‘You still haven’t told him?’

‘No.’ Regan looked down pointedly at the notebook ready-opened on her knee, wishing, not for the first time, that he would use a dictating machine like most people did these days. ‘You were giving me a letter.’

The hint was ignored, curiosity still unsatisfied. ‘Assuming he followed you home, as he said he was going to do, how the devil did you manage to keep him from finding out?’

‘Jamie was in bed. I convinced him I’d simply been indulging in a little payback.’ She put pencil to paper. ‘All’s well that ends well.’

Payback for what, exactly? was the question obviously hovering on Hugh’s lips, but he refrained from voicing it, for which she was thankful. Suggesting he mind his own business was hardly on the cards when she’d involved him in the situation herself. Hopefully, he would let the subject drop.

He did. For the time being, at any rate. Whether he would be content to let it go completely was something else. The problem with becoming personal friends with one’s boss, Regan reflected a trifle wryly. He’d have already put Rosalyn in the picture for sure.

Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to put Liam out of mind herself over the weekend. Seeing him again, having him near her again, had eroded every bit of armour she had built up over the years. She’d wanted him the same way he’d wanted her Friday night—hadn’t been able to sleep for the hunger he had aroused in her. It had been so long since she’d felt that need; so long since her whole body had come alive that way.

And it had to stop right here! she told herself forcibly, concentrating on the VDU in front of her. Cliché or no cliché, the past was a closed book from now on.

Except that it wasn’t, because Liam wouldn’t allow it to be. He was waiting when she left the office at five, standing by a gunmetal-grey Jaguar parked on double yellow lines.

‘I’m due a ticket,’ he said, nodding in the direction of a purposefully approaching traffic warden. ‘If you get in without argument we can be away before she gets here. We need to talk.’

Regan vacillated momentarily before giving in to the undeniably stronger urge and sliding into the front passenger seat. Liam closed the door and went round to get behind the wheel, firing the ignition with a flick of a lean brown wrist and heading out into the traffic stream with scant regard for the outraged hoots of those forced to give way.

‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ he remarked, looking anything but penitent. ‘That’s a very disappointed lady we’ve left back there.’

‘It’s a very reluctant lady you have in here,’ Regan returned coolly, mustering her reserves. ‘If it hadn’t been for the warden—’

‘I know. You’d have given me my marching orders. Not that I’d have accepted them. You were coming with me whether you liked it or not.’

She gave him a swift glance, taking in the set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes—feeling her stomach muscles start to curl again. ‘Is that a fact?’ was all she could come up with.

‘Sure is.’ His lips stretched in a brief smile. ‘Like I said, we need to talk.’

‘We said all there was to say the other night,’ she retorted.

‘Not nearly! We’ve seven years to fill in for starters.’

Regan kept her tone level with an effort. ‘I’ve no intention of rehashing the past. I’d be grateful if you’d drop me off along here. I’ve a train to catch.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked. ‘You’ve no one waiting for you to get home.’

Her heart jerked. ‘That’s hardly the point.’

‘I think it is. I don’t have anyone waiting for me either, so why don’t we go and find somewhere quiet and peaceful where we can relax over a drink? Soft only, in my case,’ he added as she made to speak. ‘I never touch alcohol when I’m driving.’

‘Very responsible of you,’ she commented with a caustic edge she couldn’t quite eradicate. ‘A model citizen at last!’

It was Liam’s turn to slant a glance, eyes narrowed a little. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that, but we all learn as we go along. You’ve changed a great deal yourself. In some ways, at any rate.’

‘I’ve changed, period,’ she said flatly. ‘I’ll be thirty in a couple of months. That makes me a mature woman.’

‘Age has damn all to do with it!’ he scoffed. ‘It’s in the mind not the body. If you consider yourself mature, you’ll stop playing the reluctant maiden and join me in that drink.’

Short of leaping from the car, did she have a choice? Regan asked herself. Sarah was used to her being late home after battling through the rush hour, and would have given Jamie his tea as usual. Providing she got there in time to have half an hour or so with him before he went to bed, he would be fine.

Only this had to be it so far as Liam was concerned. One drink, then goodbye.

He took her to a backstreet inn she wouldn’t have known existed, driving into the rear yard with the authority of entitlement.

‘My watering hole for many a long year,’ he said in reply to her unspoken question. ‘The landlord granted me parking rights on the strength of it. They serve pretty good bar meals if you’re feeling hungry.’

‘Just a drink,’ Regan reiterated, already beginning to regret having agreed to even that much. He would have accepted the refusal if she’d made it firm enough: he would have had to accept it.

Broad shoulders lifted in tolerant acknowledgment. ‘Whatever you say.’

There were only three other people in the small, un-spoiled Victorian-period bar at present. Liam seated her in one of the cushioned, high-backed alcoves before going to rap on the polished mahogany counter in order to attract attention from whoever was supposed to be serving.

The big bluff man who appeared offered a casual greeting. Regan could hear the sound of voices, underlaid by music, coming from some unseen source.

‘The taproom’s through the other side,’ Liam explained when he brought their drinks over. ‘It gets pretty busy in there. Hardly hear yourselves think, much less talk.’

He seated himself opposite, still too close for comfort with only the wrought-iron table between them, his foot touching one of hers. Regan controlled the impulse to draw sharply away, settling for a slower movement instead. Even so, she could tell from the glimmer of amusement in the grey eyes that he was only too well aware of her response to the contact.

‘Nice place,’ she said in an effort to sound natural. ‘There can’t be all that many left unmodernised.’

‘One of the blights of today’s cultural trends,’ Liam agreed. ‘Which dispenses with the small talk. We have more vital subjects to discuss.’

Green eyes held grey for several, heart-thudding moments. ‘Such as what?’ Regan managed with creditable calm.

‘Such as where we go from here, having found one another again.’

The thudding increased to a sudden crescendo, diminishing again as she reviewed the situation. ‘You mean now?’ she asked with deliberation. ‘A quick visit to your flat, perhaps, for old times’ sake?’

‘Stop playing the cynic,’ he retorted. ‘That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. Not,’ he tagged on with a glint, ‘that it would have been such a quick visit.’

Regan could imagine. His lovemaking had never been a hurried affair. Her inner thighs went into sudden spasm at the very thought. It was all she could do to conceal the emotions coursing through her.

‘Self-confidence you never lacked,’ she said acidly. ‘There was a time when it might have impressed me, but not any more.’

‘You prefer wimps these days?’ he queried. ‘Men you can manipulate?’

‘There’s such a thing as moderation,’ she flashed. ‘Not that you’re likely to understand what I’m talking about. It was always your needs that came first with you!’ She flushed as one dark brow rose in ironical comment. ‘Out of bed, at any rate.’

‘Thanks for the qualification,’ he said. ‘I’d hate to be labelled a selfish lover.’

‘Oh, I doubt if you ever give less than full satisfaction in that department!’ This time she was unable to keep the bitterness entirely at bay. She took a swallow of the gin and tonic he had ordered for her, coughing as the spirit caught the back of her throat, her eyes watering.

‘Try taking it a little more slowly,’ advised Liam with dry inflection. ‘Or not at all, if you’re only using it as a prop. I didn’t bring you here to trade insults,’ he went on when she made no answer. ‘I’ve a genuine interest.’ He studied her across the table, taking in the fine boning of her face, the heavily fringed green eyes and full, mobile mouth, his expression causing her heart to start hammering again. ‘Who wouldn’t have?’ he added softly.

Get out now! urged a small voice in her inner ear, but her limbs refused to obey instructions to move. She gazed back at him wordlessly, devouring the lean masculine features, the thick dark hair her fingers itched, as of old, to tangle with. He was, and always had been, a man most women would find enthralling by very virtue of the fact that he was so utterly male in a world where the demarcation lines were no longer as manifest as once they’d been. Such a thing as moderation, she had said a moment or two ago, but it didn’t mean a great deal at this precise moment.

‘Are you still in the same flat?’ she heard herself asking.

He shook his head. ‘I’ve moved on a piece since then.’

‘But you’re still with Chantry’s?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Well up the tree by now, I imagine.’

‘Some way to go yet.’ His lips slanted. ‘We’re back to the small talk.’

‘No, we’re not,’ she countered. ‘As you said, we’ve seven years to fill in.’

‘Not all from my side, though. Apart from you working for Longmans, and living in conditions that could be bettered, I know nothing about your life.’

He wasn’t going to know either, she thought, stirring herself to action with an ostentatious glance at her watch. ‘There’s nothing really worth telling. In any case, it’s time I got on my way.’

‘You’ll be right in the thick of it if you leave now,’ Liam pointed out. ‘Let things quieten down a bit, then I’ll drive you home.’

‘No!’ The refusal came out too tersely, drawing a sudden line between the dark brows; Regan made haste to amend the impression. ‘It’s too far out of your way.’

‘How would you know that when you don’t know where I live these days?’ he asked reasonably. ‘Anyway, I don’t have anything else on the agenda.’

‘Not for want of opportunity, I’m sure.’

The sarcasm drew a shrug. ‘Depends on the kind of opportunity we’re talking about. I take life rather more gently these days. Which brings us back to where we left off,’ he added before she could make any further comment. ‘You don’t mean to tell me nothing of any note at all occurred in seven years!’

Regan kept her tone carefully bland. ‘I’ve had my moments.’

‘And that’s as far as you’re prepared to go.’ The dark head inclined. ‘Far be it from me to pressure you. Why don’t we eat while we’re waiting? Save bothering later on.’

The temptation to extend the occasion was there, she had to admit. She rallied her forces to resist it. ‘I already told you I’m not hungry, but don’t let me stop you. I can still take the train.’

‘And I already told you I’d drive you home.’ Liam sounded just a mite intolerant. ‘Relax, will you? There’s no ulterior motive.’

‘It didn’t occur to me that there was,’ she denied.

‘Yes, it did. You think I might try something on. Well, rest easy on that score. I haven’t reached the desperation stage as yet.’ He searched her face again, eyes penetrating her defences. ‘About you, I’m not so sure. You look decidedly unfulfilled.’

‘As a psychologist, you make a good milkman,’ she responded cuttingly. ‘I don’t need a man to fulfil me!’

‘So you admit there isn’t one in your life at present?’

‘I admit nothing.’ Regan was fast becoming unravelled. ‘You can probe till you’re blue in the face for all the good it will do you! My private life is…private!’

‘Temper,’ he chided, the glint in his eyes not wholly of amusement. ‘You’re losing your grip.’

She quelled the retort rising to her lips, aware of other eyes on the pair of them. ‘A momentary lapse. The traffic isn’t going to ease up for another couple of hours so I’ll pass on the lift. There are times when it’s quicker by train.’

‘Except that there’s no terminal within easy walking distance of this place.’ Liam wasn’t giving an inch. ‘If you really must leave now, I’ll take you regardless of the traffic. At least you’ll be sitting down in comfort, not strap-hanging.’

She had to grant him that much. Getting a seat on a train at this time of day was a rare thing indeed. Only last week she’d found herself crushed next to a man who had taken advantage of their closeness to start running a hand along her leg—until she had changed his mind with a well-aimed heel in the unprotected top of his foot. He’d limped off the train at the next station with, hopefully, a lesson learned. But he hadn’t been the first, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last to indulge his base impulses.

‘Regan?’ Liam was eying her quizzically.

‘All right,’ she said, resigning herself to the inevitable. ‘Just don’t expect to be invited in on the strength of it.’

‘No strings attached,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t bother finishing the drink. You didn’t really want it in the first place.’

Regan didn’t attempt to deny it. She was here because there was a part of her that still found it impossible to regard him with the contempt he merited for past maltreatment—a part of her that yearned to give way to the emotions he still aroused in her. If it hadn’t been for Jamie, she might even have been tempted to go along with what he was suggesting and renew the affair.

Laying herself open to further hurt when he’d exhausted what new potential he fancied she might offer, came the cynical thought. It was academic anyway.

Liam revealed a remarkable knowledge of the inner-city road system and managed to avoid the worst of the congestion. All the same, it was almost a quarter to seven by the time they reached their destination.

‘So this is it?’ he said when Regan made to get out of the car with a murmured word of thanks. ‘I don’t get to see you again?’

‘There isn’t any point,’ she responded levelly.

His shrug was more sensed than seen. ‘A matter of opinion, but have it your own way.’

He drew away the moment she was out of the car, leaving her standing on the pavement feeling dull and depressed at the thought of never seeing him again. Yet what alternative was there? If she’d told him about Jamie he’d ten to one have felt bound to make some kind of financial reparation, but that would have been as far as it went. She was better off putting the whole affair to the back of her mind again.

Which was easier said than done. Jamie himself was drawn to comment on her absentmindedness when he was in the bath and she handed him the back-brush instead of the toy submarine he had requested.

‘You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you?’ he said.

‘Work,’ Regan improvised. ‘It’s been a busy day.’

‘Is that why you were late coming home?’

It wasn’t in her nature to lie, but this was one time when it was expedient. ‘Yes. Am I going to drive the battleship tonight?’

‘Ships are sailed,’ he corrected in the tolerant tone adopted by most males towards unmechanically-minded females.

‘Sail, then.’ Regan kept a straight face, resisting the urge to hug the small, sturdy body. With his mop of reddish hair and green eyes, he resembled her rather than his father, but there was a certain something emerging in his facial bone structure, even now, that struck a bell—especially after having seen the man in question so recently. Not that there was any doubt as to his parentage, anyway. Liam had been her first, and only, lover.

She did a few odd tasks after he was in bed, watched television for an hour or so, then attempted to pass some time reading, though her mind wasn’t on the written word. When the telephone rang at half past ten she was on the verge of retiring for the night. Liam’s voice sounded so close, so intimate.

‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he said softly. ‘I want you here with me right now, your hair spread across the pillow, your mouth yearning for my kisses, your body vibrating with desire for my touch! You were always so giving—so utterly without artifice!’

‘The word you’re looking for is artless,’ she said in an attempt to stem the swift-rising heat.

His laugh came low. ‘I know what I’m looking for. The girl I knew seven years ago is still there somewhere, lurking under that veneer. I aim to find her again.’

‘You’d have a long search.’ Regan was amazed at her surface composure, considering the furore going on inside her. ‘It’s no veneer, Liam. I’m a different person.’

The one you made me, she might have added.

‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘Goodnight, green eyes.’

He’d called her that in the past as a term of endearment. Replacing the receiver, Regan did her best to calm her inner tumult. It meant nothing. All he was in need of right now was a warm, responsive female body to share his bed; hers just happened to be the first name to spring to mind.

She tremored as memory ran riot, forming tangible images in her mind’s eye: that lean hard body stripped of all clothing and fully aroused, the ripple of muscle beneath her fingers, the electric prickle of his chest hair against her nipples. In Liam’s arms she had known no reticence, no inhibition. He had taught her so much about her own bodily needs.

There had been times during these past years when she had yearned to know that fulfilment again, but she’d still to meet someone who could make her feel even a fraction of what she’d felt for Liam.

What she still felt for Liam, if she were honest about it, which was all the more reason to keep him at arm’s length. She had made the mistake seven years ago of allowing her emotions to overrule caution. She’d persuaded herself that his ruthless, ambitious, womanising reputation was mostly the product of jealous minds, and look where that had left her. He might have mellowed a little on the surface, but people didn’t change fundamentally. The way he had treated Paula Lambert was proof enough of that.

In any case, there was Jamie to consider. Better no father at all than a reluctant one—who might deny responsibility to start with.

More than half anticipating some further approach, she told herself it was all for the best when she heard nothing more from him over the following few days. Life went on much as it had before, with work taking up the greater part of it. After one further, tentative enquiry, Hugh took the hint and let the subject drop. Her business was her business.

The weekend came round again, this time with no Friday soirée to dress for. Regan took Jamie to the local park to play on the swings and roundabouts for half an hour or so, returning home to a couple of games of Scrabble before tucking him into bed around eight-thirty.

Sarah came up with a bottle of wine. Don had gone out for a drink with a pal, she said, so why not follow suit? They drank a couple of glasses apiece, and enjoyed an undemanding hour talking about whatever came to mind. By the time they parted, Regan was feeling more than a little elevated.

It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, she saw in some surprise. The night was still young! So what? asked the voice of reason, bringing her sharply down again from the heights. So what indeed?

Early as it was, she might as well go to bed, she decided. At least there was the weekend to look forward to, although she’d have to cudgel her brains to find something different to do on Sunday. They’d just about exhausted the affordable pastimes.

She was about to pull out the sofa bed when the doorbell rang. Sarah must have forgotten something, she thought, going to open the door. A joke about the effects of too much wine ready on her lips, she froze in suspended animation for a moment on seeing who the caller was, catching up with a painful jolt as her heart regained its rhythm.

‘How did you get in?’ she demanded.

‘The usual way,’ Liam answered. ‘The outside door wasn’t completely closed.’

Don! she thought. He’d been careless before. Not that it mattered at this particular moment who had left the door open.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, knowing it a pretty stupid question.

His brief smile suggested a similar assessment. ‘I tried staying away. It didn’t work. I had to see you again.’

‘So, you’ve seen me,’ she retorted, hardening herself against the sudden temptation to let matters take their own course. ‘You know the way out.’

He stuck a foot in the door to keep it from closing. ‘Stop playing the hard case. It isn’t the way you feel.’

‘You’d know, of course!’ She was fighting to stay in control—reminding herself of the child asleep in the next room. ‘Always so sure!’

‘Sure I’m not going to give up on you without a hell of a lot more effort,’ he said. ‘Are you going to let me in, or do I have to apply pressure?’

‘It’s late.’ She was beginning to lose her grip on the situation. ‘I—’

‘It’s only a little after ten. Having got this far, I don’t intend leaving without having my say, so you may as well reconcile yourself.’

Her eyes held his for several heart-racing seconds before finally giving way. Jamie had been really tired, Regan reassured herself. He wouldn’t waken up.

‘You won’t be here long,’ she said flatly, opening the door wider.

He made no answer to that. Closing the door as he advanced into the room, she turned to face him, striking the same semi-defensive attitude as on that previous night. ‘So?’

There was no verbal answer to that either. He simply moved the couple of steps that brought him back to where she stood and pulled her into his arms.

The kiss blew her away in its emotive power, stripping her mind of everything but the desire for it never to end. She clung to him, lips moving beneath his, body seeking the heat and hardness it remembered so well and had craved for so long. The buttons of her blouse gave easily to the supple fingers; she drew in a shuddering breath at the feel of those same fingers on her bare skin, her nipples springing to vibrant life.

‘Lovelier than ever,’ he murmured. ‘So smooth and firm!’ He lowered his head to put his lips where his fingers had been, sending wave after wave of tremoring sensation through her.

Sanity returned like a stone dropped from a height as he sought the fastening of her skirt. This was all he wanted from her. All he had ever wanted from her! The swift raging anger was as much against herself for her weakness as him for his assumption.

‘Get away from me!’ she spat. ‘Just get away!’

Considering his obvious arousal, it was to his credit that he released her immediately. Face tense, eyes fired by warring emotions, he stood back.

‘My apologies. I let myself be carried away a little.’

Fingers trembling, Regan adjusted her bra and rebuttoned her blouse. A little! That had to be the understatement of the year! If she hadn’t pulled him up he would have taken her right there and then.

‘I have to take my share of the blame,’ she said, unable to bring herself to look at him directly. ‘I was carried away for a moment too.’

It had been a great deal more than a momentary lapse, he could have pointed out with truth, but he didn’t. ‘So what now?’ he said instead. ‘Do I walk out of that door and deny us both the chance to get it together again, or do we start over from scratch?’

With what aim? she wanted to ask, except that she already knew the answer. Long- or short-term, an affair was all he would have in mind.

‘I think you’d better just go,’ she said huskily. ‘You should never have come.’

‘Why?’ The grey eyes pierced her through. ‘What are you afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid, just not prepared to let you into my life again.’ Regan fumbled for the door handle at her back. ‘I’m sure you’re not short of other…entertainment.’

Liam made no move. Standing there, tall, lean and devastating in the dark blue suit, he made her long. Her jaw ached with the effort of keeping her chin up.

‘You think sex is all I’m interested in where you’re concerned?’ he said.

‘Was it ever anything else?’ she challenged. ‘You certainly never had any intention of marrying me. What you saw was a virgin ripe for the plucking!’

Liam made an abrupt gesture. ‘I didn’t know you were a virgin before I—’

‘You knew. Right from the moment you first kissed me you knew!’ Despite all she could do to control it, her voice had acquired a tremor. ‘I saw it in your eyes—that yen all men have to be the first.’

‘It didn’t stop you from carrying on,’ he returned hardily.

‘I didn’t want to stop. For the very first time since—’ She broke off, catching her lip between her teeth. ‘It hardly matters now.’

Liam regarded her in silence for a long moment, eyes thoughtfully narrowed. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ he said at length.

‘There’s a whole lot of things I’m not telling you,’ she responded. ‘I want you out of here, Liam. Now!’

He shook his head. ‘Not until you can convince me you really mean it.’

With her back against the door, she had nowhere to go to avoid him. This time she kept her lips closed when he kissed her, but there was no closing out the desire still roaming loose from the first time. It gathered like a storm, sending signals to every part of her body, building by the second to insupportable strengths.

It took the sound of a door opening to bring her crashing back to reality, but nowhere near fast enough to avert disaster.

‘What,’ demanded a fierce little voice, ‘are you doing with my mummy?’

CHAPTER THREE

LIAM’S head jerked sharply round, face registering an all too swift comprehension as they surveyed the diminutive, pyjama-clad figure.

‘I was kissing her,’ he said with remarkable equanimity in the circumstances, allowing Regan to slide from his grasp.

‘Why?’ Jamie interrogated.

Liam shot a brief, searing glance at Regan. ‘It’s what people do when they haven’t seen one another for a long time. Your mummy and I are old friends.’

‘It’s late at night,’ Jamie pointed out, in no way pacified by the answer. ‘I read the time on my clock.’

‘It’s all right, Jamie.’ Regan made a valiant effort to sound calm and collected. ‘Mr Bentley was just leaving.’

Liam spoke quietly but with unmistakable resolution. ‘Not yet. We’ve a lot of things still to discuss. Your mummy is safe with me, I promise you,’ he added to the boy. ‘We’re just going to talk.’

‘It’s all right,’ Regan repeated as Jamie looked undecided. ‘Really it is. You go on back to bed, or you’re going to be too tired to go swimming in the morning. I’ll come and tuck you in again.’

Obviously still a little doubtful, he turned back into the bedroom. Regan followed him without glancing at Liam, playing for time in which to sort out exactly what she was going to say. Not that there was a great deal she could tell other than the truth.

‘Did you like kissing that man?’ Jamie asked unexpectedly as he slid into the bed.

‘Not nearly as much as I like kissing you,’ Regan responded with forced lightness, popping one on the end of his small nose and drawing the usual grimace.

‘I’m six, not a baby!’ he protested indignantly. ‘I don’t like being kissed!’

‘You’ll change your mind one day.’ She pulled the duvet up and around him. ‘When you’re grown-up and start meeting girls.’

‘Girls!’ He pulled another face. ‘They’re rubbish!’

‘You’ll change your mind about that too.’ She ruffled his hair in lieu of another kiss, unable to stretch the interlude any further. ‘Sleep tight.’

‘Mind the bugs don’t bite,’ he murmured, eyes already closing.

Bugs would be a doddle compared with what she faced out there, she thought ruefully. If only she’d never gone to that damned party in the first place!

Liam was still on his feet when she went through. The expression on his face was no comfort at all.

‘You were going to let me go without ever knowing he existed!’ he accused. ‘My own son!’

‘What makes you so sure he’s yours?’ Regan demanded instinctively.

His lip curled. ‘How old is he? Six? Makes the chances of his being anyone else’s pretty unlikely. Unless you took up with somebody more or less immediately after we parted.’ He gave another grim smile at the look on her face. ‘I guess not.’

‘So he’s yours,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t change anything. If you—’

She stopped right there, voice drying in her throat as fury swept the lean features.

‘I discover I have a six-year-old son and it doesn’t change anything!’ he exclaimed. ‘What the hell do you think I’m made of?’

‘I only meant you don’t have to feel in any way obligated,’ she got out. ‘I want nothing from you. I didn’t even want you to know about him.’

Anger gave way to scepticism, no less withering in impact. ‘So why tell Paula about him in the first place?’

Regan made a small, helpless gesture. ‘It wasn’t intentional, believe me. I was… I needed…’ Her voice trailed away again as she acknowledged the impossibility of explaining just what she had felt at that time. ‘It just happened,’ she finished lamely.

‘Of course. Just pure spur of the moment!’

The irony spurred her flagging spirit, lifting her chin and bringing the light of battle back to her eyes. ‘If I was that keen to have you know about Jamie, why didn’t I let you discover the truth right away when you followed me back here?’

‘Probably because by then you’d begun to realise what you might be letting yourself in for.’

‘I already told you—’

‘I know what you already told me,’ he cut in. ‘It isn’t your decision to make. Not any more.’ He drew a long slow breath, bringing both voice and demeanour under control. ‘Accepting that it happened, what I don’t find easy to understand is how it happened when we were both of us taking precautions.’

‘I lied about that,’ she admitted. ‘I thought it was enough that you did.’

‘Obviously you were wrong.’ He viewed her dispassionately. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?’

Regan stuck both her hands in the pockets of her wrap to stop them from shaking, willing herself to look him directly in the eye. ‘For what purpose? So that you could offer to pay for an abortion?’

‘Don’t you dare—’ He broke off, shaking his head as if in repudiation of what he’d been about to say. ‘There’d have been no question of abortion.’

‘You’d have offered to marry me?’

‘Of course.’

It was Regan’s turn to curl a lip. ‘Under duress? No thanks!’

‘It wouldn’t have—’ He broke off again, jaw tense. ‘There’s little point in going over old ground. What we have to decide is where we go from here.’

‘Nowhere!’ she said with force. ‘I’ve managed fine up to now. I’ll carry on doing it without any help from you!’

There was no sign of the relief she still more than half anticipated in the grey eyes—more a firming of purpose. ‘If that child through there is mine, I’m sure as hell not going to stand back and let you get on with it!’

‘The operative word being if,’ she snapped back, stung by his use of it. ‘What actual proof do you have when it comes right down to it? He doesn’t even look like you!’

‘No, he looks like you, but the timing still applies.’

‘Providing I didn’t go off on the rebound, as you suggested I might have.’

A muscle jerked as his teeth came together. ‘Cut it out! You didn’t have it in you. Has it occurred to you that you’ve robbed him as well as yourself these past years?’

That pulled her up as nothing else could have done. Jamie had never been a deprived child in the basic sense, but there was no doubt that both in financial and emotional terms, he had lacked a father’s input.

‘I suppose, if you want to contribute to his upkeep from now on, I can hardly refuse,’ she said stiffly. ‘But that’s as far as it goes.’

‘No way.’ Liam hadn’t raised his voice but there was no doubting that he was adamant. ‘I may have missed the first six years of his life; I can at least have some say in the rest.’ He winged another glance about the room. ‘This is no place to bring up a child in. He needs somewhere to play, for a start.’

‘There’s a park within walking distance.’ Regan couldn’t completely eradicate the defensive note from her voice. ‘We go there every weekend. And he gets plenty of exercise at school.’

‘How about holidays? I don’t imagine you can afford to take more than the statutory time off from your job.’

‘I pay Sarah from the flat downstairs to look after him when I can’t be here. She’s very reliable—and she thinks the world of him.’

‘I’m sure of it. It’s still a long way from an ideal situation.’

Regan studied the taut features, vainly trying to read the mind behind the grey eyes. ‘What exactly are you suggesting?’

‘We obviously need to talk things through.’ Liam made a decisive movement. ‘Only not now. We both need time to consider. I’ll come back in the morning. Say nine-thirty.’

Short of packing their bags tonight and taking off for somewhere he wouldn’t be able to find them, there was nothing Regan could do but accept. ‘I suppose so,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Although Jamie is going to hate missing his swimming lesson.’

‘He can go later.’ There was a momentary pause as he regarded her, eyes shuttered against her. ‘You’d better get some sleep. You look exhausted.’

Hardly surprising, she thought, doubting that sleep would be forthcoming with so much going on in her mind. She watched him walk to the door, torn between conflicting emotions as he turned for a final word.

‘Nine-thirty,’ he repeated. ‘Be here.’

‘Do I have any choice?’ she asked.

‘None,’ he confirmed. ‘From now on, it’s a dual concern.’

Duel might be a more appropriate term, came the thought as the door closed in his wake. She had opened up a regular can of worms with that unthinking retort to Paula Lambert’s harassing.

Or had it really been so unthinking? queried the small inner voice. Wasn’t it just remotely possible that deep down she had wanted Liam to know about Jamie? Possible even tonight, in fact. He wouldn’t have forced his way in if she’d shown any positive rejection.

Regardless, she had made her bed and now must lie on it, because he wasn’t going to back off for certain.

Only neither was he going to take over in any fashion, she vowed. Jamie was her son. She would have the last word regarding his future.

She did sleep in the end, but was awake again at six, with no desire to make any further attempt to doze off. Jamie slept through to his usual seven, emerging in his pyjamas to cast a suspicious glance about the living room as if in anticipation of seeing last night’s visitor lurking somewhere.

‘He went home hours ago,’ Regan assured him. She hesitated before adding to the statement, aware that she was going to have to tell him the truth but not at all certain, even now, just how to put it. ‘He’s coming back this morning to talk to us both,’ she said at length.

Jamie looked puzzled. ‘Why?’

Regan drew a long slow breath and decided that the only way to deal with this was openly and honestly. ‘He’s your daddy,’ she said.

‘I don’t have a daddy,’ came the response. ‘He went away when I was a baby.’

‘That’s what I told you.’ She drew the diminutive figure to a seat on the now made-up sofa, resisting the urge to put her arms about him and tell him to forget the whole thing. ‘It was wrong of me to let you think he’d deserted us. The truth is that he never even knew about you.’

Green eyes regarded her unblinkingly. ‘Why didn’t he know about me?’

‘Because I didn’t tell him you’d been born.’

Jamie digested this in silence for a moment, never taking his eyes from her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell him?’

‘Because I believed he wouldn’t want to know.’

‘But he found out about me?’

‘Yes.’ There was no reason, Regan decided, to go into the way that knowledge had been acquired. ‘And now that he has…’ she swallowed on the hard lump in her throat ‘…he wants to be your daddy and look after you.’

Alarm leapt in the small face. ‘Instead of you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Regan made haste to despatch any such notion. ‘We’ll still be together, as always. It’s just that there’ll be more money to spend, that’s all.’

‘We’ve got lots of money already,’ came the loyal response. ‘We don’t need any more. And I don’t want a daddy!’ he added with an insistence that reminded Regan only too forcefully of the very man he was rejecting.

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