Anything can happen behind closed doors!

Do you dare to find out…?

Welcome again to DO NOT DISTURB!

Liam O’Reilly was a famous author and charmer. But then he met Laura, a student eager to learn what he had to teach…. Reunited after a long absence, they realized that they could no longer resist the passion that burned between them, and soon discovered that they definitely didn’t want to be disturbed!

Join Presents® author Carole Mortimer on a roller-coaster ride to love, a keeper story that you simply won’t want to put down.

So what happens when Laura finally succumbs to her long-denied passion for Liam?

Turn the pages and find out!

Liam’s Secret Son
Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Peter

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘DID you know there’s a contact lens in your cup of tea?’

Laura’s only outward show that she was in the least affected by the lilting Irish drawl she now heard behind her was a slight—barely perceptible, she hoped!—tremble of her hand as she continued to raise the cup to her lips.

Déjà vu…

Except she didn’t just have a feeling that this had happened before—it had happened before!

Where had he come from? She was sitting in the lounge of a luxurious hotel, was seated so that she could see both the main entrance and smaller back entrance, and yet somehow Liam had managed to enter without her being aware of it. He now stood behind her.

She carefully placed the cup and saucer back down on the tray on the table in front of her, her movements deliberate and slow. ‘In the first place, this is coffee; I don’t drink tea,’ she returned huskily, delaying the moment when she would have to turn around and face him. ‘And in the second—I don’t wear contact lenses!’

‘In that case…’ he was very close now, his warm breath stirring the dark tendrils of hair that curled at her nape ‘…you have the most incredibly beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.’

‘How can you possibly tell that from where you’re standing?’ she replied dryly, her face still averted.

‘Ah, Laura, now you’ve gone and broken the spell,’ Liam teased lightly, the Irish lilt in his voice stronger than ever. ‘Your next line in the script should have been something else entirely!’

Eight years ago, perhaps it had been. But this was another lifetime. A different Laura. She was no longer an impressionable English Literature student, in the third and final year of her degree.

And Liam was no longer a world-famous author come to give the students a lecture of whom she had been slightly in awe.

She drew in a deeply controlling breath before sitting forward and turning to face him, glad of that control as she found herself looking up into his handsome, laughing face.

He hadn’t changed a bit!

The thing that struck one most when first faced with Liam O’Reilly was his sheer size: six foot four inches tall, with a lithely muscular body that exuded vitality. He was dressed today, as always, with a complete disregard for his surroundings, in faded blue denims, blue tee shirt and black jacket. Second came recognition of the blue-black sheen to the overlong hair that brushed his shoulders, the intelligence in those intense blue eyes, the handsome face that looked as if it were carved out of hard, rugged stone.

But none of her inner dismay at the apparent lack of any change in his appearance showed as Laura continued to look at him with her ‘incredibly beautiful eyes’, one a clear shining blue, the other emerald-green. Which was the reason for his assumption, eight years ago, that she must have lost one of her tinted contact lenses.

She had been teased unmercifully about her different coloured eyes when she was at her all-girls, boarding-school, but as she’d grown older it had ceased to bother her as she’d come to realise that men actually found the strangeness of her eyes intriguing. As Liam once had…

She gave a cool smile. ‘I suppose I should feel flattered that you still remember that particular conversation,’ she dismissed with a shrug of her slender shoulders, aware even as she did so that the noise and bustle of the busy hotel had faded into the background.

Those deep blue eyes, surrounded by long dark lashes that should have looked ridiculous on such an otherwise muscularly attractive man—but somehow didn’t—narrowed speculatively. ‘But you aren’t, are you?’ he finally said slowly.

Flattered that he should still remember, after all these years, the first real conversation they had ever had? No, she wasn’t flattered. After what had followed, why on earth should she be?

No! She quickly brought her resentful thoughts under control. Anger was not an option. Better to make no reply at all than one that sounded in the least emotional.

Liam tilted his head thoughtfully to one side at her continued silence. ‘You’ve had all that beautiful long dark hair cut off,’ he murmured frowningly.

‘It’s easier to manage,’ she bit out abruptly, knowing that the short, dark cap of almost black hair made a perfect oval for her gamine features—those different-coloured eyes, the small pointed nose, the wide mouth and determined chin. The softening tendrils of hair at her temples and nape took away the severity of the short style.

‘I like it.’ He nodded approvingly.

Her earlier resentment returned. She didn’t care whether he liked her hair in this style or not. In fact, if she were completely honest, she didn’t care what Liam O’Reilly felt about anything!

She determinedly swallowed down those angry feelings. ‘Would you care to join me?’ She indicated the tray containing her pot of coffee. ‘I can ask for another cup.’

Liam gave a glance down at the serviceable watch he wore on his right wrist. He was left-handed, Laura remembered all too clearly. As were a lot of artistic people.

‘Or perhaps you’re already meeting someone here?’ she suggested lightly as she noted that glance.

‘As a matter of fact, I am,’ he admitted. ‘But not for a few more minutes yet,’ he added with satisfaction, moving around the chair she sat in to sprawl his long length into the chair opposite.

Laura would have never actually said that Liam sat in a chair; his exceptional height meant that chairs were either usually too low or too lacking in depth for him.

At five feet eight inches tall in her stockinged feet, Laura was quite tall herself, an image she deliberately nurtured nowadays by wearing tailored suits and blouses. Her suit was dark charcoal today, her blouse emerald-green. It was an image she was more than grateful for at this moment, Liam always having had the effect in the past of making her feel tiny. And very feminine.

‘Would you like coffee?’ she offered, her hands calmly clasped on her skirt-covered thighs as she coolly faced him.

‘No, thanks,’ he refused. ‘I find it almost as addictive as the cigarettes I once smoked.’ His mouth twisted with distaste.

Laura’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve given up smoking?’ When she had known him eight years ago he had smoked at least thirty a day. More so when he was working. When…?

Liam grinned at her surprise. ‘Hard to believe, isn’t it? Liam O’Reilly, the hard drinker, hard smoker is a reformed character.’

‘I doubt it’s quite as serious as that,’ she replied mockingly.

He gave a low laugh, those dark blue eyes gleaming as he looked across at her. ‘You’ve grown up, little Laura,’ he pronounced admiringly.

‘At twenty-nine, I should hope that I have!’

Which made him now thirty-nine, Laura realised, also noting, now that she could see him more clearly, that her first impression of his not having changed wasn’t quite correct. The last eight years had definitely left their mark. There were lines now beside his eyes and mouth that owed nothing to laughter, a sprinkling of grey in the blue-black hair at his temples.

‘Twenty-nine,’ Liam repeated thoughtfully, blue eyes narrowed. ‘And what have you been doing with yourself the last eight years, Laura?’ he prompted hardly, his gaze moving—subconsciously, it seemed—to the ring finger on her left hand.

A finger that, although completely bare, nevertheless showed the mark of her having once worn a ring there…

‘This and that,’ she dismissed unhelpfully, having no intention of telling him anything about herself. ‘And what about you? What have you been doing the last eight years?’

His mouth twisted. ‘Obviously not writing,’ he observed harshly.

‘No?’ Laura didn’t give away, by word or facial expression, the fact that she was well aware that no new Liam O’Reilly book had appeared on the bookshelves for over eight years. ‘But then, you probably didn’t need to write again after the amazing success you had with Time Bomb,’ she went on lightly.

“‘Didn’t need to write again!’” Liam repeated accusingly, no longer lounging back in his chair but sitting tensely forward, eyes gleaming like twin jewels, his face intensely alight with emotion.

‘I meant from a monetary angle, of course,’ Laura continued, still meeting the fierceness of his gaze unflinchingly. That she had hit upon a raw nerve she didn’t doubt. But she had a need to see his response to that direct hit. ‘You must have made millions out of Time Bomb. The film rights alone—’

‘And what good has all that money been to me when I haven’t written a word since?’ he rasped.

She shrugged. ‘Presumably it’s kept you in relative comfort over the last eight years—even without the drink and cigarettes!’ she teased. ‘You certainly seemed to be enjoying your life the last time I saw you,’ she couldn’t resist adding.

Which had to be an understatement! Liam had achieved a certain amount of success with the four books he’d published before the political thriller Time Bomb. But nothing like the explosion—and she excused the pun!—that had followed the publication of his fifth book.

Three weeks after the release of the hardback edition, Time Bomb had been number one in the bestseller lists. Liam had appeared on numerous television programmes, the film rights had been bought, and Liam had been whisked off to Hollywood to write the screenplay and help with the casting.

The last Laura had seen of Liam had been a photograph in the newspapers, when he’d married the beautiful blonde-haired actress who had been about to play the female lead in the film of his book.

And Laura Carter, the student Liam had been seeing before he’d left England, had been left behind and forgotten.

At first she had been bewildered by Liam’s abandonment, disbelieving that she could mean so little to him when she had been slavishly devoted to him. But as the days and then weeks had passed, with no word from him, she had become angry. This had been followed by bitterness when she’d seen the photograph in the newspapers of him with his bride, and finally had come acceptance that Liam no longer considered her a part—even remotely—of his new life in America. With that acceptance had come her desire to move on, to make a success of her own life.

Her poise now, the expensive cut of her clothes, the large diamond solitaire ring she wore on her right hand, all bore testimony to the fact that she had done exactly that.

Liam’s expression was bleak. ‘That must have been a long time ago,’ he answered her last remark sarcastically.

‘Maybe it was.’ Another lifetime again, she acknowledged inwardly. ‘So, what’s important enough now to bring you back from sunny California to a cold English winter?’ she prompted with a casual change of subject.

Liam forced himself to relax with obvious effort, once again leaning back in the chair, although his eyes still gleamed fiercely blue. ‘I didn’t come from California,’ he corrected. ‘I moved back to Ireland five years ago.’

Which was probably the reason his Irish brogue sounded slightly stronger than it had eight years ago, Laura decided. She hadn’t known of the move, of course, had deliberately not interested herself in any of Liam’s movements after learning of his marriage.

‘That must have been something of a cultural shock to your American wife,’ she remarked.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ he drawled scathingly. ‘Diana divorced me seven years ago. The marriage only lasted six months, Laura,’ he explained as she raised her brows questioningly. ‘Because of work commitments we only spent about six weeks of that time together,’ he added bitterly. ‘Not my idea of a marriage!’

Liam had only been married for six months! Six months! If she had only known—

What would she have done differently if she had known? Nothing, came the flat answer. Liam had made his choices, as she had made hers. Nothing, and no one, could ever change that.

Liam gave another glance at his wristwatch. ‘Look, I really do have to meet someone in a few minutes. In fact…’ He glanced around the crowded lounge with narrowed eyes. ‘I have to go now,’ he murmured as a man who had just entered the lounge caught and held his eye. ‘But I would like to see you again, Laura—

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she cut in briskly, also glancing across the room at the man who had just entered, returning the polite inclination of his head with one of her own. ‘It’s been—interesting seeing you again, Liam,’ she said without any trace of sincerity. ‘But I have to be going myself now.’ She stood up, slim and elegant in her fitted suit and blouse, the strap of her patent black leather bag thrown over her shoulder.

‘Laura!’ Liam grasped her arm as she would have moved smoothly past him. ‘I want to see you again,’ he told her determinedly.

She looked at him. ‘To talk about old times, Liam?’ she taunted, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’ She gave a humourless smile.

Liam’s eyes narrowed to blue slits. ‘I’m booked in here for another couple of days, Laura. Call me. If you don’t,’ he continued softly as she was about to refuse, ‘I’ll stay in London until I find you again,’ he assured her.

At least now she knew the reason she hadn’t seen him arrive at the hotel; he was actually a guest here and had probably come downstairs in the lift, which she couldn’t see from here in the lounge.

But that didn’t change the fact that there was an underlying threat to his words. Or that she had her own reasons for not wanting him to find her. Not yet, anyway.

‘How melodramatic you’ve become, Liam,’ she responded. ‘If it’s that important to you, I’ll give you a ring later.’ When she would make it plain to him that she had no intention of meeting him on a social level while he was in London!

He gave her an intense look before slowly releasing her arm. ‘It’s that important to me,’ he said, with a terse nod of his head.

She raised dark, sceptical brows at the admission. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do have to go.’ She spoke coolly, aware of Liam’s gaze on her as she walked across the lounge and out into the reception area, collecting her outdoor coat from the attendant there before stepping outside into the bitingly cold November wind.

Not that she felt the ice of that wind; the shock of seeing Liam again had completely numbed her now. Face to face with him, remembering all that had happened between them in the past, it hadn’t been too difficult to keep up a veneer of cool self-possession. But now she was alone, away from the hotel, reaction had begun to set in.

Eight years ago she had dreamt of meeting Liam again, just once, if only for a few minutes. Part of her had longed to see him again; another part of her had been angry at his cruel desertion.

‘Mrs Shipley.’ Paul, her driver, stood by the car parked beside the pavement, the back door held open invitingly.

‘Thank you,’ she accepted distractedly, grateful for the warmth and privacy of the back seat of the limousine as the driver closed the door behind her.

‘Back to the office, Mrs Shipley?’ Paul prompted politely once he was seated behind the wheel.

‘No. Yes! I—’

Get a grip, Laura, she ordered herself firmly. Okay, so she had seen Liam again. So what? No doubt he was still the charming rogue he had been eight years ago, but that didn’t make her the same impressionable Laura Carter. She was Laura Shipley now; she ran her own business, owned a house in London, a villa in Majorca, travelled in chauffeur-driven cars wherever she chose to go. A single meeting with Liam O’Reilly was not going to take any of that away from her.

‘Yes, Paul, back to the office.’ She spoke more firmly now, relaxing back in her seat as the car moved slowly out into the flow of traffic.

There was no hurry for her to return home; Bobby wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half yet. Besides, she had told Perry that she would wait at the office for his report.

She wondered how his own conversation with Liam was progressing…!

CHAPTER TWO

‘AMAZING,’ Perry enthused, pacing up and down the room excitedly an hour later. ‘I still can’t believe the way you just knew, three weeks ago, that despite the fact the author was claiming to be one Reilly O’Shea, the manuscript that landed on my desk was really by Liam O’Reilly!’

Laura sat behind her own wide, imposing desk watching her senior editor. The jacket to her suit had been discarded in the warmth of the office, her emerald silk blouse a perfect foil for her dark colouring.

The way she had just known…!

She’d read that last Liam O’Reilly novel from cover to cover. She knew every twist and turn of the writer’s mind; knew every phrase and nuance, how he dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’—of course she had recognised the manuscript that had been submitted to Shipley Publishing three weeks ago. Its sheer brilliance—brought to her attention by Perry—had been created by the same person!

She hadn’t quite been able to believe it, though, had found it incredible to believe that Liam might actually be writing again. Even more astounding was that the manuscript had been submitted under a different name, even if the name Reilly O’Shea wasn’t so far from Liam’s own. It was because of the uncertainty surrounding that name that she had felt today’s charade at the hotel necessary. It had been eight years since she last saw Liam, and he might have changed in that time—she certainly had! But if anyone could recognise Liam O’Reilly, no matter what the changes, she knew she could.

So she had deliberately arranged to be at the hotel today, strategically placed so that she might alert Perry when he arrived for his arranged meeting as to whether or not she had been correct in her assertion that the author was actually Liam O’Reilly.

It had not been part of the plan, however, for Liam to actually spot and recognise her! As it hadn’t been her intention to agree to telephone him later at his hotel…!

Laura still came over hot and then cold at the memory of that unexpected meeting between the two of them. Eight years. And apart from those added tell-tale lines, a little grey in the darkness of his hair, Liam looked exactly the same. The fact that he had recognised her too—despite her own changed hairstyle and the denims and tee shirts she’d used to wear having been replaced by the classically elegant suit and blouse—had momentarily stunned her.

But only momentarily, she was relieved to recall. The self-assurance she had acquired over the last eight years had stood her in good stead, even down to the acknowledging nod of her head she had given Perry when he’d arrived in the hotel lounge.

That Perry was pleased at the way his meeting with the author had gone was obvious. He was bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of Shipley Publishing being in possession of the long-awaited new Liam O’Reilly novel. Except that Laura knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that…

She calmly brought her senior editor back to earth. ‘What actually happened at the meeting, Perry?’

Perry dropped down into the chair opposite hers. Comfortably so, Laura noted abstractedly, unlike Liam earlier when he had tried to bend his long length into the chair at the hotel—Oh, bother Liam—and how he did or did not fit himself into chairs!

‘Well, I covered a lot of ground with him, but we still have a long way to go, of course.’ Some of Perry’s excitement faded as he frowned slightly. ‘The biggest obstacle we’re going to face is that, despite several promptings from me about previous books and other even broader hints, the man stuck like glue to the identity of Reilly O’Shea.’

Laura nodded. ‘Do you have any idea why?’

‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Perry replied. ‘It’s how we’re going to deal with it that’s the problem. We have our hands on a Liam O’Reilly manuscript, and—’

‘Can we just go back a couple of steps, Perry?’ Laura interrupted slowly. ‘You know why the man is determined not to admit to being Liam O’Reilly?’

Since reading the manuscript three weeks ago Laura had racked her brains as to a possible explanation for the use of a pseudonym. All to no avail. As Liam O’Reilly he could ask for, and receive, an exorbitant advance payment and subsequent royalty percentages. As a first-time author, a possible risk for any publishing house, he would receive much less. Also, a Liam O’Reilly novel was sure to receive much more publicity than that of an unknown author. And surely readership, after months, possibly years of work, was what every author wanted…?

‘Of course,’ the boyishly handsome Perry agreed; a little under six feet tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, he exuded an energy that totally belied his thirty-five years.

‘Then I wish you would explain it to me,’ Laura encouraged lightly. ‘Because I have no idea why such a successful author would want to keep his identity secret!’

‘For exactly that reason.’ Perry grinned. ‘Years ago, with the publication of his fifth book, the man became a phenomenon. Top of the bestseller lists, both hardback and then paperback, for almost a year, the darling of the literary world, a huge feather in the cap of any society hostess. Then the book was made into a film that carried off most of the Oscars for that year. The man was the star to outshine all stars!’

‘Yes?’ So far this explanation had done little other than tell her things she already knew.

‘I’ve started with an astronomical explanation so I may as well continue.’ Perry grimaced. ‘You see, he wasn’t a star, Laura, he was a comet. He came into our orbit, shone brightly for what was, after all, a very brief period in a single lifetime, and then disappeared again. Without trace, apparently.’

‘But—’

‘I have a feeling he wants to do things differently the second time around,’ Perry said quietly.

‘But as soon as it becomes public knowledge exactly who Reilly O’Shea is—’

‘It may not come to that,’ her senior editor interrupted firmly. ‘Despite the fact I accept I was actually talking to Liam O’Reilly today, I had to carry out the meeting as if I were talking to Reilly O’Shea. We obviously discussed the possibility of a contract to publish the manuscript…’ Perry hesitated. ‘He had some quite interesting clauses of his own that he would like in any such agreement.’

Laura raised dark brows at the arrogance of the man. ‘Such as?’

‘No personal publicity. No public appearances. In fact his privacy completely guaranteed, or it was no deal.’ Perry shrugged at her incredulous expression. ‘Strange requests from a first-time author, I agree,’ he commented dryly. ‘But not so strange coming from a man who has already had a taste of all those things—and hated every moment of it!’

As an interested bystander in that blaze of publicity, of those personal appearances, Laura couldn’t agree with Perry’s conclusion; eight years ago Liam had given the appearance of enjoying every moment of his success!

She sighed. ‘As you say, we obviously have a long way to go yet. How did you leave the meeting?’ she prompted interestedly.

‘He’s staying in London another couple of days, I said I would call him before he left. To be honest, it was one of the most difficult meetings I’ve ever had to attend. I loved Time Bomb eight years ago, but I have to say that I think Josie’s World is even better—and all the time I was talking to Reilly—Liam—I just wanted to tell him that!’ He shook his head.

‘I’m glad that you didn’t give in to the temptation,’ Laura remarked dryly, looking at the slender gold watch on her wrist before shuffling some papers together on her desk. ‘I have to go now, Perry, but we’ll talk about this again first thing in the morning.’ She paused. ‘Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure exactly how we proceed from here.’

What troubled her the most, she had to admit, was keeping her own identity out of any future negotiations with the author. For reasons of her own, she did not want Liam to know that she was Shipley Publishing…!

The dark blue telephone that stood on her bedside table seemed to be glowering at her, even when she didn’t actually look at it, silently reproaching her for not picking up the receiver and punching out the number of Liam’s hotel.

As was her custom for the last two years, she had retired to her bedroom once dinner was over, taking a pile of work with her. She was sitting up in bed now, her narrow silk-clad shoulders surrounded by sumptuous satin cream-coloured pillows, glasses perched on the end of her nose, as she read through the latest manuscript of Shipley’s most successful author.

So far, came that disquieting little voice in her head. Because she had no doubt, if they really could secure Liam’s novel, that he would instantly eclipse Elizabeth Starling as Shipley’s top author!

Elizabeth’s latest manuscript was good, in fact it was more than good, but it didn’t stand a chance of holding Laura’s attention tonight.

She lay back with a sigh, removing her gold-framed glasses. She really didn’t wear contact lenses, coloured or otherwise, but she did wear glasses for reading nowadays. Possibly because she did so much of it.

Not that she was complaining about her lot in life. Her marriage to Robert had been as fulfilling as it had been successful. It was because of him that she was now head of Shipley Publishing. If that position of power could also make things a little lonely at times, then it was by far outweighed by its compensations: financial security, this beautiful house in London, her villa in Majorca, the servants that ran both those homes so efficiently.

No, the reason for her restlessness tonight had nothing to do with any lack of material comfort in her own life.

Liam was expecting her to call him at his hotel. Part of her said, Forget what he expected; after the way he had treated her eight years ago he had no right to expect anything from her! But another part of her remembered his threat that if she didn’t call him then he would do everything in his power to find her. And that she most certainly did not want.

Besides, she had information that Liam certainly didn’t have—knew exactly the reason he was in London at the moment. Whereas he knew absolutely nothing about her life now. She wished it to remain that way.

‘Mr O’Reilly’s room, please,’ she requested briskly, once her call was answered at the hotel.

‘The line in Mr O’Reilly’s suite is ringing for you now,’ came back the competent reply.

A suite… Expensive in a prestigious hotel like that one. So Liam did still possess some of the wealth that had come to him years ago. She had wondered. It had never been easy to tell what his financial position might be from Liam’s outward appearance; he very rarely wore anything other than denims, casual shirt and a jacket. Exactly as he had today. He—

‘Yes?’ came the terse reply as the receiver was picked up the other end.

‘Liam,’ Laura returned, forcing her tone to sound casually light. ‘You asked me to call you,’ she reminded him. Unnecessarily, she was sure. There had been a determination about Liam earlier today that had brooked no argument against his request.

‘So I did, Laura,’ he returned in that lilting voice, his initial terseness having disappeared on recognition of her voice. ‘I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me.’

‘I’ve already eaten,’ she answered with inward satisfaction.

‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ Liam protested.

‘When I’m at home I always dine at seven-thirty,’ she said firmly.

‘And where’s home, Laura?’ he enquired huskily.

‘Nice try, Liam.’ She gave a softly confident laugh. Although her hand tightly gripping the receiver was slightly damp with tension…

‘I thought so,’ he came back mockingly. ‘You were a little less than enthusiastic about my calling you when I mentioned it at the hotel earlier today, too,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘Why the secrecy, Laura? Could it be that you don’t live alone?’ There was a sharp edge to his voice now.

‘How clever of you to guess, Liam,’ she teased. ‘Although it couldn’t have been that difficult. After all, it’s been eight years.’ And this man had been married and divorced in that time—wasn’t it logical that she might have done at least one of those things too?

‘You aren’t wearing a wedding ring,’ he bit out.

She hadn’t been mistaken earlier about the reason for that glance at her left hand! ‘Not all women do nowadays,’ Laura rejoined.

‘You would if you were my wife,’ Liam rasped.

‘If I were your wife I would also carry a certificate of insanity!’ she snapped.

Then wished she hadn’t. The silence that followed her outburst was icy cold, the only sound their joint breathing down the respective receivers.

Why had she said that? It was no good telling herself she had been goaded into it by Liam’s arrogance. Her intention had been to keep this call as short and impersonal as possible; two minutes into the conversation she had let Liam break through her reserve.

But once again it was that cool control that came to rescue the situation, allowing her to remain silent after her outburst.

‘You know, Laura—’ Liam was finally the one to break that silence, speaking slowly ‘—you and I should have met years ago.’

‘Strange, but I thought we did,’ she said acidly. ‘There must be something wrong with your memory, Liam,’ she added with barely contained sarcasm.

‘Nothing at all,’ Liam drawled. ‘But if you had been this Laura Carter eight years ago, perhaps things would have worked out differently between us.’

‘Oh, please, Liam.’ She sighed her disgust. ‘It has been eight years—and in that time I’ve probably heard every chat-up line there is. That one ranks right down there at the bottom!’ she assured him.

‘It isn’t a chat-up line! I’m not sure I even know any of them any more,’ he said self-disgustedly. ‘Unlike you, it seems, I’ve lived a very quiet life the last five years. Come and have a drink with me, Laura,’ he pressed.

‘I thought you said you didn’t drink any more,’ she reminded him dryly.

‘I occasionally indulge in a social glass of white wine,’ he corrected.

‘I’m afraid I’m booked up for the next two evenings,’ she refused.

It was just like Liam to assume that she could drop whatever arrangements she might have made in her social life just so that she could go and have a drink with him!

Probably because eight years ago she would have done exactly that. She had been head over heels in love with Liam then, had taken any opportunity she could to spend time with him, even to the point of letting down other friends if he’d asked to see her.

But that had been then. This was now. The two situations were completely different.

‘I meant now, Laura,’ Liam cut softly into her indignant thoughts.

‘Now?’ she repeated incredulously.

‘Why not?’ he pressed huskily.

‘Because I’m already in bed!’ she protested astoundedly.

And then wished that she hadn’t. It was, after all, only ten minutes past nine!

‘Alone?’ Liam prompted harshly.

What on earth—! ‘I would hardly be calling you if I weren’t!’ she answered with cold disdain.

‘You might be surprised at what some women are capable of,’ he rasped scathingly.

‘Not this woman,’ she assured him indignantly.

‘So you’re in bed. But alone. What’s to stop you joining me for that drink?’

Having to get up. To dress. To put on make-up she had already removed. Drive over to the hotel. All just to spend time with someone she didn’t want to be with!

‘I don’t think so, thanks,’ she refused distantly. ‘I did as you asked and called you. I don’t think I owe our past—friendship any more than that.’

‘I disagree,’ Liam refuted. ‘Aren’t you in the least bit curious about the last eight years, Laura? I know I am.’

Laura was suddenly very tense. ‘Curious about what, Liam?’ she enquired guardedly.

‘What’s happened to you during that time,’ he came back instantly. ‘Because you certainly aren’t the impressionable university student I knew back then!’

‘Thank goodness!’ she said with some relief. ‘Look, Liam, I only called you at all against my better judgement—’

‘Why against your better judgement, Laura? Am I so awful, so morally depraved, that you want nothing more to do with me?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Liam,’ she cried. ‘I don’t even know you any more—’

‘My point exactly,’ he pounced with satisfaction.

‘And I don’t want to know you, either!’ she concluded firmly.

‘That isn’t very kind, Laura.’

Kind! Had it been kind eight years ago when he’d left for Hollywood and just walked out of her life? When he hadn’t even called, sent so much as a postcard? Had never even troubled himself to find out if she were okay after he’d left?

This man didn’t even know the meaning of the word kind!

Thankfully she had found other people in her life who did…

‘We have nothing to talk about, Liam,’ she assured him flatly. ‘Absolutely nothing in common.’

If you took away the fact that she owned a publishing house, he was an author, and it would be mutually beneficial to both of them if Shipley Publishing were to acquire Liam’s latest novel…!

‘We have the past—’

‘It’s been my experience that to indulge in reminiscences is a complete waste of time, Liam,’ she told him bluntly. ‘People very rarely remember the same experience in exactly the same way!’

‘I remember our relationship eight years ago as something sweet and rather beautiful—’

‘Oh, please spare me that, Liam,’ she cut in disgustedly.

‘—in my life,’ he finished.

Maybe in retrospect that was how it now appeared to him. It was a pity he hadn’t felt the same way eight years ago!

‘Which just bears out my earlier statement about people acquiring differing impressions. Of the past or anything else,’ she said briskly. ‘I remember myself as a rather stupid twenty-one-year-old, totally infatuated with a world-famous author—an author who probably found me a complete pain in the—’

‘Now you’re being unkind again, Laura,’ Liam cut in. ‘To yourself, I mean.’

‘No, just realistic,’ she drawled. ‘No wonder you couldn’t wait to get away—from me as well as England!’

‘It wasn’t like that—’

‘It was exactly like that, Liam,’ she assured him laughingly. ‘I must have been such a nuisance, following you around all those months like some faithful little lap-dog, hanging on your every word, there every time you turned around—’

‘I said it wasn’t like that, Laura,’ he told her angrily. ‘The fact that you remember it as such is a good enough reason for us to meet up for that drink!’

‘You’re very persistent, Liam,’ she said wearily. ‘Or is it just a question of my being something of a challenge now that I’m obviously not as malleable as I used to be?’

‘I never thought of you as malleable!’ he barked.

She sighed, wondering exactly what she should do for the best.

As Laura, there was no doubt in her mind that she didn’t want to meet Liam; she still remembered all too vividly the pain she had felt after knowing him in the past. But as the owner of Shipley Publishing she knew that at some stage in the negotiations she was going to have to deal with him. Perhaps it was better to get any personal awkwardness between them out of the way before that became necessary? Although that didn’t include, at this stage, telling him that she was now Laura Shipley…

‘Or perhaps it’s just that you think your husband might object to your meeting me for a drink?’ Liam put in softly.

Laura stiffened resentfully. ‘Let’s leave my husband out of this,’ she retorted. Robert, and her marriage to him, were not things she ever intended to talk about to Liam. They might have a business relationship ahead of them, but that certainly didn’t involve confidences about her personal life.

‘Gladly,’ Liam returned shortly. ‘So what’s it to be, Laura? Meet me for a drink tonight? Or I come looking for you tomorrow?’

‘That sounds decidedly like a threat, Liam.’ It didn’t just sound like a threat—it was one!

‘If that’s the way you care to take it,’ he conceded with exasperation.

‘I think I should warn you—I don’t respond too well to threats,’ she told him stiffly.

‘Then don’t take it as one,’ he replied impatiently. ‘My goodness, Laura, you didn’t used to be this difficult!’

She had used not to be a lot of things. But it was those changes, in herself as well as her life, that now gave her the inner strength and security to accept his invitation. Liam couldn’t touch her emotionally. Not any more.

‘Okay, Liam, I’ll meet you for that drink,’ she accepted graciously.

‘Why ever couldn’t you have just agreed to do that ten minutes ago?’ he demanded.

‘I didn’t want to make it that easy for you,’ she told him with blunt honesty.

He sighed. ‘I would take a guess that you don’t intend making anything easy for me!’

She laughed softly. ‘You would guess correctly. Give me forty minutes or so to dress and get over to you,’ she continued briskly, throwing back the satin sheets to get out of bed.

‘I’ll have the champagne waiting on ice for you,’ he came back huskily.

Laura stiffened. ‘Let me make it clear from the onset, Liam—we do not have anything to celebrate,’ she told him flatly.

‘Maybe you don’t—but I do.’ He sounded completely unperturbed by her outburst. ‘I’ll tell you about it when you get here,’ he promised.

Laura dressed, frowning at her reflection in the mirror as she put on her make-up. Exactly what did Liam have to celebrate? What did he intend telling her about when she got to the hotel? She couldn’t believe, after the secrecy he had maintained concerning his manuscript, Josie’s World, that he intended telling her about that.

And if he did how she would actually respond?

In the circumstances, how could she respond…?

CHAPTER THREE

A QUICK look around the bar and lounge area on her arrival at the hotel a short time later showed her that Liam wasn’t in any of them. Which could mean only one thing…

Laura marched determinedly over to the reception desk, her eyes, with their different colours, sparkling angrily. ‘Could you call Mr O’Reilly’s suite, please, and tell him that Laura is waiting for him downstairs?’

‘Certainly, madam.’ The receptionist smiled at her before doing exactly that, putting her hand over the receiver after a minute or so’s conversation with Liam. ‘Mr O’Reilly would like you to join him in his suite on the third floor—’

‘Could you tell Mr O’Reilly that I am waiting for him downstairs in Reception—with or without the champagne!’ Laura was so angry her voice shook slightly, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

How dared he? How dared he assume she would go up to his suite for the agreed drink? Exactly who did he think he was? More to the point, what did he think she was?

The receptionist related the message, ending the call a few seconds later before smiling at Laura with vacuous politeness. ‘Mr O’Reilly says he will join you here in a few minutes.’

‘Thank you,’ Laura accepted stiffly, before marching over to sit in one of the sumptuous armchairs that filled the reception area, glaring across at the four lifts as she waited for Liam to appear from one of them, not even sure now that she was going to stay for the proposed drink!

She sat and fumed as she waited. Liam had a nerve, just assuming— The arrogance of him! The absolute, unmitigating gall of the man!

‘I would tell you how beautiful you look when you’re angry,’ an amused voice remarked behind her, very close to her ear, ‘but I very much doubt, in your present frame of mind, that you would appreciate the hackneyed compliment!’

Laura, having spun round angrily at the first sound of Liam’s voice, found herself with her face only inches away from his own.

For the second time today, exactly where had he come from?

She had seated herself facing towards the lifts this time, and still she had missed his arrival. The man was more elusive than a taxi in the theatre district of London on a Saturday evening!

‘I walked down,’ he drawled as he seemed to guess some of her thoughts.

‘Three floors?’ she gasped disbelievingly. The Liam she’d used to know had sometimes found walking from the bedroom to the kitchen too much effort!

He grinned at her obvious scepticism. ‘I’ve taken up hiking in the countryside since I moved back to Ireland.’ His expression darkened. ‘For a while it became my salvation!’

‘How nice,’ Laura returned insincerely, not wanting to hear the reasons why he had needed salvation. ‘You decided not to bring down the champagne, I see.’ She looked pointedly at his empty hands.

‘It’s waiting for us in the bar.’ He gave a sweep of his hand in that direction.

Meaning what? Laura wondered as she stood up. That he had intended the two of them drinking in the bar the whole time? Or that he had made a hasty call down to the barman and asked him to put a second bottle of champagne on ice? Somehow Laura had an idea it was the second option!

‘You think too much,’ Liam teased, moving to lightly clasp her arm as they strolled through to the bar. ‘You also look gorgeous,’ he added admiringly.

She frowned at the compliment. She had dressed in black trousers and a fitted black leather shirt deliberately, considering them to be smart but unalluring. The last thing she wanted was for Liam to think she was out to appear attractive to him. She had obviously failed!

Laura studied him as they sipped the champagne that had been poured for them, having unemotionally noted the female interest engendered in the bar by his dark Irish good looks. Some things never changed, she acknowledged dryly; Liam always had been able to attract every woman within a ten-yard-radius, no matter what her age!

‘So, Laura.’ Liam looked across at her with laughing blue eyes. ‘What’s your conclusion?’

She inwardly stiffened at his perception, while outwardly giving every impression she was completely relaxed sitting in the armchair placed next to his. ‘Concerning what?’ She was deliberately unhelpful.

‘Concerning any physical changes you might see in me after all these years,’ he drawled unconcernedly.

Unconcernedly, Laura guessed, because he knew that none of those changes had detracted from his rugged good looks.

She shrugged. ‘We’re both eight years older, Liam.’

He chuckled softly. ‘Very tactfully said, Laura—but in no way does it answer my question.’

She raised dark brows. ‘Because, quite honestly, I don’t see the point in the question, let alone the answer,’ she replied tersely.

Blue eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘What’s he like?’ he murmured slowly.

It took all of her inner control to maintain her composure. ‘Who?’ she finally asked stiffly.

‘The man you married.’

Her gaze was cool now. ‘Robert’s the most kind, wonderful, considerate person I have ever known,’ she answered without hesitation.

Liam looked less than pleased by her reply, scowling darkly. ‘But what’s he like in bed?’ he probed.

Laura, in the process of sipping her champagne, almost choked over the bubbly liquid, glaring at him with icy eyes. ‘How dare you?’ she gasped once she could catch her breath, her hand shaking slightly as she slammed her champagne glass down on the table that stood in front of them. ‘Just who do you think you are? You have absolutely no right—’

‘That bad, hmm?’ Liam put in consideringly, still studying her with narrowed eyes.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She glared at him, two bright red spots of angry colour in her cheeks.

‘Too defensive, Laura. Too outraged. Just too everything, really,’ he taunted. ‘The next thing you’re going to tell me is that the kindness, consideration and being wonderful far outweigh the fact that he doesn’t satisfy you in bed.’ He quirked mocking brows.

‘You’re completely wrong there, Liam,’ she replied scathingly, bending to pick up her clutch bag. ‘Because I have nothing further to say to you—about Robert or anything else!’ She stood up, looking down at him contemptuously. ‘You have changed in the last eight years, Liam—and certainly not for the better!’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake sit down, Laura,’ he said wearily. ‘Okay, I was out of order making those remarks about your husband.’ Even if they are true, his tone implied. ‘I apologise, okay?’ he prompted irritably as she still glared down at him.

‘No, it’s not okay,’ she told him from between stiff lips, completely unyielding.

He sat forward, reaching out to clasp one of her hands in his. ‘Did it ever occur to you that I might be feeling a little jealous?’ he asked. ‘After all, you used to think I was wonderful,’ he added self-derisively.

She gave a scornful laugh. ‘That was before I grew up enough to be able to pick the gold from the dross!’

Before he released her, Liam’s fingers tightened briefly about hers—the only outward sign he gave that he was angered by her deliberate insult.

And it had been deliberate, she inwardly acknowledged, provoked by his insulting remarks about Robert. She wouldn’t allow anyone to do that. Robert had been her salvation in a time of deep crisis.

She had also been thrown a little by Liam’s suggestion that he might actually be jealous of her feelings for Robert. Until she’d realised Liam might just feel put out, the feelings of adoration she had once had for him having now passed on to Robert!

For a moment, a very brief moment, she had actually thought she might have been mistaken about how unfeeling he had been in the past. She obviously wasn’t; Liam’s feelings of jealousy were just as selfish as all his other emotions had always been!

She gave a humourless smile. ‘I did try to warn you that this was a mistake, Liam,’ she said. ‘We have nothing in common now—if we ever did. Old friends meeting in this way—’

‘Old lovers!’ he corrected harshly, blue eyes alight with emotion. ‘Don’t try to totally negate our past together, Laura.’

She felt frozen to the spot, actually able to feel the colour drain from her cheeks. Negate their past? She would like to wipe it from her memory bank altogether!

Lovers… Yes, they had been lovers. But she had been determined, these last eight years, never to think of that again. She didn’t want to think about it!

‘Please sit down, Laura,’ Liam encouraged quietly. ‘I promise I’ll try not to be insulting again.’

‘You’ll try, Liam?’ she repeated dryly, giving a shake of her head at his arrogance. ‘You’ll have to do better than that if you expect me to stay!’

He gave a rueful smile. ‘You have to accept sometimes I can be insulting without meaning to be.’

Laura gave a pained wince. ‘And that’s the best excuse you can give for some of the things you’ve already said to me?’

‘Without actually lying—yes!’

She sat down abruptly. ‘You really are the most arrogant man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet!’

He grinned, leaning forward to replenish their champagne glasses. ‘Well, at least I have that distinction—the most arrogant man you’ve ever met.’

‘Arrogance is not a virtue, Liam.’

‘I’ll try to remember that,’ he said wryly. ‘Now, let’s drink a toast…’ He held her full glass of champagne out to her before picking up his own glass.

He had hinted on the telephone that he had something to celebrate, and Laura had wondered if he might mean the prospect of publication for his new book. If it should turn out that was what it was, what was she going to do? To carry on pleading ignorance would be deceptive in the extreme. But to tell him the truth, after his bluntness already this evening, would be even more unacceptable…

She swallowed hard. ‘A toast to what?’

‘Old lovers and new friends?’ he suggested.

She gave the ghost of a smile, relieved the toast hadn’t been what she had expected—although the alternative hadn’t been much better! ‘The first I choose to forget—the second isn’t very likely,’ she told him honestly.

‘Let’s drink to us anyway,’ he encouraged huskily.

‘To ‘us’…?

‘Did you tell him about us?’ Liam asked slowly, once the toast had been drunk.

She stiffened. ‘Robert, you mean?’ she said delaying.

‘Of course I mean Robert,’ he confirmed laughingly. ‘Unless you’ve had any other husbands the last eight years? Just out of interest,’ he continued lightly, ‘how long ago did you marry him?’

‘Robert and I were married seven and a half years ago,’ she answered flatly.

‘No time for any other husbands.’ Liam answered his own question. ‘And only a few months after I left for California,’ he added pointedly.

‘Nowhere near as hasty as your own marriage,’ Laura returned harshly. ‘You had barely arrived on the tarmac at Los Angeles airport before your own engagement, and subsequent marriage took place!’

She could still remember her feelings of absolute desolation when she had seen the speculation in the newspapers concerning his relationship with Diana Porter. That desolation had been complete when the photographs of his wedding had appeared a few weeks later. If it hadn’t been for Robert—

‘It looks as if neither of us were too heartbroken at our separation,’ Liam acknowledged. ‘I suppose your beloved uncle approves of Robert too?’

Laura’s movements were deliberate and calm as she placed her champagne glass back down on the low table in front of her. They had to be; her hand was shaking so much she was in danger of spilling the bubbly wine.

Her parents had been killed in a car crash when she was only sixteen, leaving her without any close family to speak of. It had been left to her godfather, her honorary ‘uncle’ and guardian, also the executor of her parents’ will, to organise the continued payment of her boarding-school fees, so enabling her to stay on at school and sit her ‘A’ levels before going on to university.

Obviously when she’d met Liam, eight and a half a years ago she had told him about her beloved godfather in the course of their own relationship. But the two men had never met.

Obviously her godfather had expressed curiosity about this worldly-wise man in her life, and she had suggested to Liam several times that perhaps the two men should meet. It had been a suggestion he had chosen to ignore.

And the reason for his reticence had become obvious once he had gone to America and married someone else within a few months: the complication of meeting the guardian of the young student whom he had only been casually involved with for six months previously had not entered into any of his plans! That would have made everything just a little too serious—and Liam hadn’t ever had any serious intentions where Laura was concerned!

She looked at him coldly now. ‘I don’t happen to think of any of this—any part of my life now, in fact—is your business, Liam,’ she told him icily. ‘Just as I have no interest in your personal life now,’ she concluded contemptuously.

Liam looked completely unperturbed by her coldness. ‘How about my professional one?’ he teased. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know what—?’

‘No!’ she sharply cut him off before he could say something that might put her in a compromising position. Telling her that Shipley Publishing was interested in publishing his latest novel would certainly do that! ‘No, Liam, I don’t want to know anything about your professional life either.’ She spoke more calmly. ‘In fact—’ she gave a glance at her wristwatch ‘—I really should be going now.’

‘Cinderella turns into a pumpkin at the stroke of eleven?’ Liam suggested.

She smiled, shaking her head. ‘You obviously don’t know your fairy-tales very well, Liam. Cinderella turned back into a ragged drudge. But not until midnight.’

He shrugged. ‘Put my ignorance down to my deprived childhood. My mother didn’t have the time to read me fairy-tales; she was too busy going out to work to keep my three sisters and myself after my father died.’

He made the remark without any show of bitterness in his tone, and yet Laura knew that it couldn’t have been easy for the four children, nor their mother. Their father had been killed when Liam, the eldest child, was only seven. She couldn’t imagine how Mary O’Reilly had managed during those years at all. The fact that Liam had become a successful writer by the time he was in his mid-twenties had helped all his family financially. But it couldn’t take away the struggle of the children’s early years.

But she didn’t want to think about the hardships of Liam’s fatherless childhood. The last thing she wanted was to see Liam in any sort of vulnerable light!

‘Are your mother and sisters all well?’ she felt compelled to enquire politely.

He smiled at the thought of his family. ‘Very much so. Mama lives very comfortably in a lovely cottage on the west coast of Ireland, and all three of my sisters are happily married with children of their own. Fourteen between them, at the last count.’

Laura smiled. ‘Your mother must love that.’

He grimaced. ‘My mother won’t be completely happy until I’ve provided her with a male grandchild to carry on the family name.’

Laura raised dark brows. ‘Surely there must be lots of O’Reillys in Ireland?’

‘To be sure there are,’ Liam answered with a deliberate Irish lilt to his voice. ‘But there aren’t any other male members of this particular O’Reilly branch,’ he explained ruefully.

‘So that puts the onus on you?’ she responded. ‘And is a little O’Reilly, male or female, a future possibility?’

‘Not this side of the next millennium!’ he bit out harshly.

‘Your poor mother!’ Laura rebuked, standing up in preparation for leaving. ‘Thank you for the champagne, Liam; I enjoyed it.’

‘If not the company, hmm?’ He stood up too, standing only inches away from her.

Laura wished he weren’t standing quite so close. She could smell the faint elusiveness of his aftershave, feel the heat that emanated from his body. But she didn’t want to be aware of him in any way.

‘The company was fine too,’ she said firmly. ‘Enjoy the rest of your stay in London, Liam. Perhaps the two of us will meet up accidentally again one day—in another eight years or so!’ She turned to leave.

‘I’ll walk as far as the door with you.’ Liam had moved to lightly grasp her elbow as he walked confidently beside her. ‘It’s the least I can do as I can’t actually see you home,’ he elaborated at her startled glance.

Laura didn’t even qualify the remark with a reply. She just wanted to get away from there, as far away from Liam as quickly as possible. If that meant suffering a few more minutes of his company, then so be it!

‘This is farther than the door,’ she observed, looking up pointedly at the awning over their heads as they stood outside the entrance to the hotel.

‘I didn’t think you would be too happy about my doing this actually inside the hotel,’ Liam murmured, before his head bent and his mouth claimed hers.

The kiss was so unexpected that for a moment Laura was totally stunned. But as she felt the heated waves of compliance sweeping over her, felt her body remembering the physical joy of this man even if she chose not to, she knew she had to break away. Now!

She wrenched her mouth away from Liam’s, pushing at his arms as they curved about her waist. ‘That was completely uncalled-for!’ she gasped as she at last managed to escape those steely bands, her breathing erratic in her agitation, a flush to her cheeks as she glared at him.

‘But necessary,’ Liam rasped. ‘For me.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I know you’re a married woman, and I apologise because of that. But—you can tell him from me he’s a lucky man.’

Her blue and green eyes flashed. ‘I intend forgetting any of—this, the moment I enter the taxi,’ she told him forcefully. ‘You’re even more despicable than I remember!’

He looked unconcerned. ‘Sticks and stones,’ he replied.

She would have liked to do more than break a few bones—she felt like hitting him over the head with something heavy and painful!

She hadn’t lost her temper like this in eight years. If ever! Only hours into meeting Liam again and she was a mass of seething emotions. All of which she could quite happily do without.

‘One day, Liam,’ she ground out between gritted teeth, ‘you’re going to come up against someone—a situation—you have no control over. Let me know when that day comes—I would like to sit and watch!’

He quirked dark brows. ‘You never used to be vindictive, Laura.’

There were so many things she had never used to be. She couldn’t even think back now, to the light-hearted, carefree young girl she had once been, without feeling a deep sorrow for the fact that she was no more. She had grown up eight years ago—overnight, it seemed—never to return.

‘I’m not vindictive now, either. Just a little jaded. Now I really must be going,’ she said briskly. ‘It’s late, and some of us have to go to work in the morning.’

Liam accompanied her to the taxi, holding the back door open for her. ‘What work do you do?’ he asked interestedly.

Laura looked up at him for several moments. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she owned and ran the Shipley Publishing house. But she knew she would be doing it for the wrong reasons, that a part of her—the part of her that was still angry at the way he had kissed her—just wanted to see the look of stunned disbelief on his face when she told him!

‘I’m a book editor,’ she told him economically, still clinging on to the truth as far as she dared without revealing everything. After all, it was true that she read all manuscripts due for publication by Shipley Publishing. She would be doing less than her job if she weren’t completely aware of what her own company was presenting to the public.

‘Really?’ Liam looked impressed. ‘What—?’

‘It’s been—interesting, Liam,’ she cut in dismissively. ‘But I really do have to—’

‘I want to see you again, Laura,’ he told her grimly.

‘Impossible,’ she told him firmly. ‘Goodnight,’ she added abruptly, before pulling the door shut in his face and leaning forward to give the driver her address as he accelerated the taxi away from the hotel.

She didn’t look back. Even though a part of her knew that Liam still stood on the pavement watching the car, and her, until they turned out of sight down a side road.

Which was when Laura finally felt able to sit back in her seat and let some of the tension flow out of her.

She had known it wasn’t a good idea to meet up with Liam again—had only given in because at the time she had felt it was preferable to having him seek her out. But the fact of the matter was that at some time in the near future Liam would have to know exactly who and what she was. And after spending the last hour in his company she wished she had simply waited for that to happen.

Anything would have been preferable to the last hour. To that kiss…!

She tentatively ran the tip of her tongue over the sensitivity of her lips, still able to feel the pressure of Liam’s mouth there, a slight tingling sensation that seemed almost to numb her lips.

How could he still affect her in that way? After all that had happened, all the pain, the disillusionment, how could she still feel this way?

What way did she feel?

Confused. Disorientated. Angry with herself. Angry with Liam. All of which was completely unproductive, when she needed to be focused, controlled, sure of herself.

The next time she saw Liam, she promised herself as she saw her journey was almost at an end, she would be exactly that!

The lights were on in the house when she let herself in a few minutes later and went straight to the kitchen, where she knew Amy Faulkner, her housekeeper, would be sitting drinking tea and watching television while she waited for Laura to return home.

Short, plump and homely, aged in her mid-fifties, Amy had been Robert’s housekeeper for almost twenty years when he and Laura were married. The older woman had welcomed Laura into the house as if she were the daughter she’d never had, and the two of them had got on from the beginning. Laura had been more than grateful for the other woman’s presence this last couple of years.

The housekeeper smiled at her warmly now as she stood up to turn down the sound on the predicted television programme. ‘Had a good evening, Mrs Shipley?’

Good? That wasn’t quite the way Laura would have chosen to describe it!

‘It was just business, Amy,’ she responded. ‘How’s everything been here?’

The older woman smiled. ‘Wonderful. He’s been fast asleep since before you went out. Not a sound out of him.’

Laura nodded distractedly. ‘I think I’ll just pop upstairs and check on him before going to bed myself. Thanks for taking over at such short notice this evening, Amy.’ She smiled her gratitude.

‘Any time, Laura. You know that,’ the other woman told her gently. ‘I know it can’t be easy for you. And he’s absolutely fine with me, you know.’

‘I do know.’ She squeezed Amy’s arm gratefully. ‘But thank you anyway.’

She made sure she was as quiet as possible going up the stairs, not wanting to wake him, moving with sure steps to the bedroom that adjoined her own.

A nightlight gave a warm glow to the room, allowing Laura to find her way without bumping into or stepping on anything to the rocking-chair that stood beside the bed.

She sat down in the rocking-chair, tears of love welling up in her eyes as she looked down at the sleeping figure in the bed.

Only his head and shoulders were actually visible above the bedcovers, the shoulders narrow, the mouth slightly open in sleep. Dark lashes fanned out over cheeks that glowed pale in the half-light, the hair dark and softly curling against the pillow.

Robert Shipley.

Junior, she inwardly added warmly. He always insisted on the ‘Junior.’

But to all who loved him he was Bobby.

Seven years old. Black-haired. Blue-eyed. Mischievous. With a bright enquiring mind.

He was the absolute love of Laura’s life…

He was also the reason that her private life had to be kept strictly that, where Liam O’Reilly was concerned.

Because Mary O’Reilly, Liam’s mother, although in complete ignorance of the fact, already had her much-wanted grandson.

Except his name wasn’t O’Reilly. And it never would be.

Even though Bobby was undoubtedly Liam O’Reilly’s son…

CHAPTER FOUR

‘—SAYS he wants to come in for a meeting.’

Laura stared up at Perry with unseeing eyes. She hadn’t heard anything more he said since he’d come into her office a few minutes ago and actually told her that Liam had rung him this morning.

She swallowed hard. ‘Sorry, Perry, what did you say?’ She frowned in an effort to concentrate.

She hadn’t slept well at all last night, with thoughts going round and round in her head, but none of them really going anywhere.

For over seven years, since she had decided to marry Robert, she had lived in dread of Liam somehow walking back into her life, of his taking one look at Bobby and trying to claim him for his own. Something she would never, ever allow. Liam had given up any rights to his son when he had callously walked out of her life eight years ago.

Of course there was no way he could have known she was pregnant when he left; she hadn’t known it herself then. But if Liam had bothered, just once, to contact her, she could have told him the two of them were expecting a child.

Instead, she had read in the newspapers of his marriage to another woman!

Pregnant, alone, terrified, she had hated him with a vengeance, never wanted to set eyes on him ever again.

Time had dulled those feelings, of course. Not least because Robert had been a wonderful husband and father. She owed him everything that she had become.

As time had passed Liam O’Reilly had become a thing of the past, an interlude in her life she could look back at with a certain amount of embarrassment. In retrospect, she could see she had thrown herself at him, had refused to read the signs that would have told her the feelings she’d had for him weren’t reciprocated.

Which didn’t mean she considered Liam completely blameless in what had ultimately happened; he had done nothing to stop their relationship becoming an intimate one. And being able to look at the situation with adult eyes didn’t mean she had forgiven him, or that she ever wanted to see him again either!

But there had been no way she could just ignore that manuscript when Perry had first shown it to her three weeks ago. He was her senior editor and had been presented with a brilliant manuscript, even though he hadn’t known the real identity of the author then. He had brought that manuscript to Laura for her immediate attention. There had been no way, without arousing Perry’s extreme curiosity, that she could have just ignored it. Even though she had guessed from the first chapter just who the author was!

‘Liam O’Reilly has decided to go back to Ireland later this evening,’ Perry repeated patiently. ‘He wants to come in and talk about a contract before he leaves.’

‘Reilly O’Shea,’ she corrected lightly, giving herself necessary time to think.

Liam wanted to come here. He might ask to meet the head of Shipley Publishing!

Her.

‘What did you tell him?’ she asked Perry cautiously.

‘That I have a really busy schedule for today, but that I’ll call him back.’

Liam had decided to go back to Ireland. Why? She didn’t believe for a moment that it had anything to do with their unsatisfactory meeting—from Liam’s point of view, that was!—the evening before.

His reasons for leaving London earlier than expected were actually irrelevant; what was important was that his change of plans meant he wanted to come here. Today.

She drew in a sharp breath, determinedly businesslike. ‘Are you and David—’ her rights manager ‘—ready to talk contracts with him?’

Perry hesitated. ‘Depends who we’re talking to, doesn’t it?’ He frowned, shaking his head. ‘This is a really tricky situation, Laura. I’m not sure that you shouldn’t deal with it personally.’

That was the very last thing she wanted!

She leant back in her leather chair, every inch the businesswoman in her black trouser suit and white silk blouse. ‘Power dressing’ Robert had called it, but at twenty-nine, she knew she was considered very young to be the head of a publishing house, and she needed every edge she could get.

‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of dealing with it yourself, Perry.’ She smiled at him confidently as he sat across the desk from her, playing to his ego.

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