“I’m Craig Adams and I’d like to sleep with you.” About the Author Title Page Dedication PROLOGUE 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 CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN EPILOGUE Copyright

“I’m Craig Adams and I’d like to sleep with you.”

She forced the type of “cool” smile she’d practised at least a hundred times in the mirror and willed her voice to calmness.

“Really? Well, I’m Taylor Radcliffe and you’re out of luck—I don’t sleep around.”

“I’m not asking you to sleep with anyone but me, Taylor Radcliffe.”

“You’re still out of luck,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink for courage. “I’m a virgin.”

“Then you’ll be starting at the top!”

FROM HERE TO PATERNITY—romances that feature fantastic men who eventually make fabulous fathers. Some seek paternity, some have it thrust upon them. All will make it—whether they like it or not!

ALISON KELLY, a self-confessed sports junkie, plays netball, volleyball and touch football, and lives in Australia’s Hunter Valley. She has three children and the type of husband women tell their daughters doesn’t exist in real life! He’s not only a better cook than Alison, but he isn’t afraid of vacuum cleaners, washing machines or supermarkets. Which is just as well, otherwise this book would have been written by a starving woman in a pigsty!

Humor, emotion, passion...Alison Kelly has it all! We know you’ll love the warm, witty writing style of this lively new talent for Presents.

Yesterday’s Bride

Alison Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

FOR TRACY & BROOKE RUSSO,

THE INSPIRATION BEHIND

TAYLOR & MELANIE

PROLOGUE

AFTER returning her gaze from across the crowded yard for what seemed like an eternity, he straightened and pushed off the picket fence he’d been nonchalantly propped against and started towards her.

The current of electric excitement that rushed through her body caused her heart to lurch and the drink she held to slop over her hand. She swallowed hard, unfamiliar with the confused messages her brain and body were radiating through her. She recognized one as fear, but wasn’t sure if it stemmed from the possibility he might veer off the direct course he was taking to her or that he wouldn’t.

With each swaggering step the denim-and-leather-clad male took, her teenage heart beat faster, until it was drumming so fiercely it crashed into her lungs and took her breath away.

‘G’day, I’m Craig Adams and I’d like to sleep with you.’

She forced the type of ‘cool’ smile she’d practised at least a hundred times in the mirror and willed her voice to calmness. ‘Really? Well, I’m Taylor Radcliffe and you’re out of luck—I don’t sleep around.’

‘I’m not asking you to sleep with anyone but me, Taylor Radcliffe.’

‘You’re still out of luck,’ she replied, taking a sip of her drink for courage. ‘I’m a virgin.’

‘Then you’ll be starting at the top.’

‘But if I start at the top the only place I can go is down.’

His grin was sinful. ‘See you’ve got the hang of it already! I like a fast learner.’

The innuendo was hardly veiled. But even as Taylor backed up against the paling, she was excited rather than afraid of the stranger’s arrogant and direct pick-up technique.

‘I’ve been warned off you by my friend,’ she informed him. ‘You’re not considered financially desirable.’

‘You, on the other hand, Taylor Radcliffe, are considered very financially desirable,’ he returned, planting his hands on the fence just above her shoulder.

‘Ah! So you want me for my money.’

‘No. I just want you,’ he whispered against her already opening mouth. ‘For the rest of my life.’

Four months later they married. She was eighteen; he was twenty-one...

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT the hell have you done to your hair?’

For five years Taylor had wondered what her estranged husband’s first words would be when they met again. Yet in all her mental scenarios not once had she imagined his reaction to be outrage because she’d changed her hairstyle.

Then again, considering his opening line when they’d first met, nothing Craig Adams said should have surprised her. Despite the fact he was now a conservatively dressed thirty-two-year-old executive, his slow, provocative brown-eyed appraisal of her body was as brash as it had been twelve years earlier when he’d worn leather and blue jeans. And it stirred the same surge of feral excitement Taylor had hoped she’d outgrown....

‘Answer me, Taylor!’

The impatient command startled her from her introspection. ‘I’ve had it cut and permed.’ At his blank look she added, ‘My hair. I’ve had it—’

‘I’m not the slightest bit interested in your hair!’ he snapped, contradicting his earlier words. ‘I want to know what you’re doing barging in here without an appointment!’

‘Appointment? In case you’ve forgotten, I own half this business!’

‘Hardly! I sign the bloody dividend cheques you’ve been receiving the past five years!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed. ‘There’s no need to shout. Melanie’s in the outer office and I don’t want her to hear us arguing.’

His expression was one of utter astonishment. ‘Melanie?’

‘Yes. That’s why I’m here. She wants you to have lunch with us.’

‘What?’

‘I asked you to stop shouting. She wants—’

‘I heard what you said, Taylor. What I want to know is why.’

‘Because you’re her father.’ She saw him physically wince at the words and hated him for it.

‘She doesn’t even know me!’

‘That’s why she wants you to have lunch with us. She wants to meet you.’

Craig moved from behind his desk to gaze dazedly at the panoramic view of Sydney Harbour, trying to marshal his confused thoughts and shell-shocked emotions into some kind of order.

Each month as he automatically wrote out the child-support cheque, he dimly acknowledged the fact that some day his daughter would probably insist on seeking him out. He’d resigned himself to the fact. But he’d also figured he wouldn’t have to deal with her until at least another ten years down the track, when the kid might have had some chance of understanding how he felt. Suddenly someday was today. And it was too soon—for him and for Melanie.

How did you tell a five-year-old that you resented her like hell for depriving you of the only woman you’d ever loved? For stuffing up what had been a wonderful marriage? ’Struth, even his parents hadn’t dumped that on him until he was nearly eleven! Damn Taylor! She had no right barging in here unannounced and dumping this on him! No right walking back into his life and turning it on its ear! Yet again.

He wheeled around and nailed her with a cold stare. ‘You should have warned me about this! This isn’t the sort of thing you spring on a person, Taylor!’

She knew he was right, but she’d hoped that turning up unexpectedly would make the possibility of Craig refusing to see her that much less likely. ‘I guess I should have called,’ she conceded. ‘But Melanie wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘Melanie wanted? I’ve never heard anything so ludicrous! Do you mean to tell me you flew here to pander to the whim of a kid?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We drove.’

‘You drove from Adelaide to Sydney so she could have lunch with me?’

‘We don’t live in Adelaide any more.’ She took a steadying breath, almost frightened of what his reaction to her next words would be. ‘We moved back to Sydney a month ago.’

‘You...you’re here? Living here? In Sydney?’

If Craig’s tone reflected anything other than disbelief, she could only have said it was horror. Disappointment nearly crushed her. Did he hate her that much?

‘So,’ he continued, again turning to the window, ‘where are you living?’

It amazed Craig he could even speak much less ask appropriate questions. It seemed ridiculous that a day that had started out as routinely as this one had could take such a drastic turn for the unbelievable.

Taylor was back. Back in Sydney. Back in his life.

Closing his eyes to the scenic view and his ears to Taylor’s explanation for her move east, Craig tried to get a handle on what he was feeling. But his emotions seemed like a five-thousand-piece jigsaw that had just been tipped out of its box—a jumbled, fragmented mess, bearing little resemblance to the orderly picture the pieces were supposed to form.

For two years after she’d left him, he’d started each day half expecting, half hoping she would walk into his office and say she’d made a mistake. Tell him he was the most important thing in her world and that without him she’d shrivel up and die. It wasn’t an image prompted by ego or vanity; once it had been their daily litany. Then the baby had arrived and seemingly overnight everything changed....

Taylor had ceased to display even a token amount of affection towards him and she adopted a new litany—she was too tired...too busy...Melanie needed her more than him...he had to keep the business going! Her excuses had been boundless, pathetically transparent and signified the beginning of the end where their marriage was concerned.

At first he’d tried to fight the inevitable, and when that failed he’d tried to ignore it, but to no avail. Without warning or even an acknowledgement that their marriage was in trouble, Taylor had left him.

‘Craig, are you listening? I asked—’

‘I heard you,’ he said wearily. ‘You asked me whether I would meet with Melanie.’

He turned back to the woman to whom he’d once given his heart. Her beauty, as exquisite as ever, made him angry; her body, as streamlined as it had been at eighteen, made him hard. He swore, sitting down so the desk could at least let him keep his dignity.

‘Craig, Mel doesn’t know the details of...what happened.’

Her attempt at diplomacy drew a harsh laugh from his lips. ‘Jeez, Taylor, I’m sure you could be more specific if you tried! Exactly what details are you referring to?’

His bitterness stabbed at Taylor’s heart, her own urge to respond twisting the knife. She clamped her teeth shut against the pain and the cruel retort that came too easily to her tongue. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but for Melanie’s sake she wouldn’t let past bitterness contaminate the present.

‘I mean, Craig,’ she said, forcing her voice to evenness, ‘that she doesn’t know you hold her responsible for what happened between us.’

‘Don’t you hold her responsible?’

‘No,’ she said with assurance. ‘It was lack of trust that killed what we had, not Melanie.’

‘Lack of trust, or misplaced trust?’

She sighed. ‘You’ll never believe I didn’t intentionally conceive Melanie, will you?’ His gaze was rigidly accusing and Taylor had to force herself not to flinch.

‘No,’ he responded, ‘I won’t.’

‘No one but you, Craig, has ever called me a liar.’

‘I’ve never used that word.’

True, but he’d made manipulative, calculating and scheming sound just as derogatory. Just as painful. Just as chilling. ‘You implied it,’ she said. ‘It’s the same thing.’

‘Listen, Taylor,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘We agreed before we got married that given our own childhood experiences, we would never have children. It was a joint decision and any change to that agreement should have also been a joint one!’

‘But my getting pregnant was an accident!’

‘You know you sound even more insistent now than you did when you first made that claim! I’d almost believe you if I didn’t remember you casually tossing up the idea of having a family.’

‘I didn’t casually toss up anything!’ she flared. ‘I told you I thought that after six years of marriage, we could handle the pressures of being parents and—’

The thump of his fist on the glass-topped desk as he sprang to his feet quelled Taylor’s speech.

‘And when I disagreed, you said I was right! You admitted letting yourself be swayed by the fact so many of our friends were starting families! And then—’ he snapped his fingers ‘—bingo, you’re accidentally pregnant!’

Craig felt an old anger rising as he recalled how Taylor had venomously and repeatedly denied his accusations that she’d deliberately planned the situation; how she’d tearfully claimed she’d been taking the Pill religiously. He didn’t believe her, of course, and the ensuing rows had been loud and plentiful, but since neither of them advocated abortion, Craig had resigned himself to the fact that a baby was going to encroach upon their happiness.

Taylor had sworn a child would never come between them, that it would actually bring them closer, and for a while there he’d believed her. If he were honest with himself, and surely after five years he could be that at least, there had been a time when he’d begun to look forward to the child’s birth. Then things had started to go wrong. Now he wanted only to forget it. Only he wasn’t going to be granted that wish. He turned back to the woman assigned by the devil to disrupt his ordered life.

She was beautiful. So extraordinarily, hauntingly beautiful that even after all this time he’d often wake hard with wanting her, hungry for the feel of her exquisitely sculptured body writhing in sweat beneath his. The shorter cut of her tawny hair in no way detracted from her beauty, only enhanced the long, graceful curve of her neck, making the visual progression down to her high, firm breasts all the more exciting. The short skirt she wore hugged her hips and displayed legs most men only dreamed of having wrapped around them. He wasn’t immune to that dream, but the knowledge that for him it had once been reality empowered it with nightmare-like side-effects.

Though her heart pounded and her hormones were running amok in a rush of sensuality, Taylor forced herself not to squirm under Craig’s slow scrutiny of her body. It wasn’t easy, for even without touching her he had the power to make her ache with want. No one but him had ever possessed her body, yet she knew with certainty no one but him would ever be able to satisfy it. His hands and mouth had introduced her to pleasures she’d never imagined possible and it was difficult for her to remain focused on the purpose of her visit when she’d been deprived of such pleasures for half a decade. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach; raw desire began building within her.

When he finally brought his eyes level with her face, the urge to go to him almost overpowered her. Only one thing held her immobile. The knowledge that passion didn’t equate with trust. It was trust she wanted to see illuminate the bottomless depths of Craig’s dark brown eyes.

She managed to hold his gaze for nearly a minute before eventually lowering her lashes. It was a minuscule victory, but a victory none the less. Once she’d have succumbed to his visual seduction within seconds. This time she’d met it with impunity—well, outward impunity at least.

Perhaps seeing those identical eyes in her daughter had increased her resistance, for there was no doubt Melanie was a carbon copy of her father. They shared the same almost-black hair, the same deep-set eyes and wide brow, and the same neat, flat ears. Fortunately for Melanie, though, her beautifully delicate nose had been spared being pushed slightly off-centre in a rugby brawl and a cricket bat hadn’t left a scar two inches below her left eye!

Fury welled in Craig at the sight of her half smirk. ‘What’s so funny, Taylor?’ he demanded, angry at being her source of amusement.

‘I was thinking how lucky Melanie is that your nose is the result of a rugby game and not hereditary. She’s the image of you, Craig,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t even get a look in.’

Shocked as he was by her admission, he wondered if he hadn’t imagined the sadness tinging the words. So, his daughter looked like him. Funny he’d never given any thought at all to what the child might look like. Now it seemed he would be finding out firsthand.

‘What’s she like?’ he asked.

‘That’s something you’ll have to find out yourself. I’m biased. I think she’s wonderful.’

This time her smile was full-strength pride and happiness, and having been starved of it for five years, Craig was unprepared for its potency. It put his pulse speed up and all but knocked the breath from his lungs. Strange how something as simple as a smile could practically bring a grown man to his knees, but then Taylor’s had always had that effect on him. From the first time he’d seen her, he realized her happiness ensured his happiness....

Why then was he standing here contemplating meeting the person who had stolen that happiness?

About to refuse the lunch invitation, he glimpsed a flash of fear in the clear emerald eyes that studied him. What was it she feared? The past or the future? Herself or him?

‘What do you want me to do, Taylor?’ he asked.

‘Me? I...’

Caught off guard by his question, she paused and took a slow breath, the rise and fall of her breasts taunting him. Gripping the sides of his chair, Craig forced his face to remain impassive.

‘I want the decision to be entirely yours, just as lunch was Melanie’s. What I don’t want, Craig, is for her to be hurt.’ There was a wealth of warning in her voice.

‘And what,’ he asked coolly, ‘do you think would hurt her the most? My refusal or my acceptance?’

‘Your bitterness.’ There’d been no hesitation in her answer.

Amazement froze every muscle in Craig the instant he saw the child. Looking into the tiny face was like looking at a childhood photograph of himself-identical colouring and identical brown eyes.

The notion that this child was his own flesh and blood created alternate waves of terror and masculine pride within him. He had the urge to embrace her, but feared the consequences of doing so. Such an action was bound to be fraught with emotional danger although whether for him or the kid, he wasn’t sure.

Though physically Melanie looked nothing like Taylor, Craig experienced the same sensation of uncertainty under her thorough visual inspection as he had when Taylor had looked him over from the other side of the yard twelve years ago. There was interest but no indication of whether the observer was pleased or disappointed by what they found. She had Taylor’s style and panache, too, he decided, taking in the miniature hiking boots, khaki shirt and shorts, and the baseball cap worn backwards atop her long, straight hair.

The child darted a quick, uncertain look at her mother, before bringing her brown eyes back to him. Uncomfortable with the ongoing silence, Craig cleared his throat. ‘Hello, Melanie.’ He wasn’t surprised to hear his voice lacked some of its usual confidence.

‘Hello.’

The response was soft but not hesitant as she boldly stepped to within two feet of him and tilted her head back. She was small—barely reaching his mid-thigh.

‘How tall are you?’ she inquired.

Stunned to discover the kid had obviously been sizing him up, too, he was slow to reply. The delay earned him an impatient look.

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Sure I do! I’m...six foot four.’

The child nodded and continued to silently appraise him. Craig looked to Taylor for some indication as to what was expected of him now and was nonplussed to see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. It had a heart-wrenching and sobering effect. He glanced back at the little girl.

‘So,’ he said, ‘you want me to have lunch with you, huh?’ She nodded solemnly in response, but her steady gaze hinted she was expecting more input from him. ‘Right then...well, er, do you like Italian food?’

‘Do you?’ she countered.

‘Well...yes. Yes, I do.’

‘I don’t.’ She gave a theatrical shudder. ‘I hate Italian food.’

‘I thought all kids liked pizza.’ Craig was basing his assumption on the fact there were always kids in pizza commercials.

‘Pizza isn’t Italian. Pizza is normal food.’

‘Normal food...’ he echoed. ‘I see...’ He didn’t and looked towards Taylor for verbal backup, but her eyes remained focused only on her daughter. He was obviously on his own. ‘Well, I guess we could have pizza for lunch if—’

‘No,’ the pint-size female vetoed the idea. ‘I don’t feel like pizza. Know what kids really like?’

He shook his head. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t have a clue about—’

A childish giggle cut him off. ‘What’s your favourite food in the whole world?’

Again she caught him mentally off stride. ‘My favourite food in the whole world?’ He paused, trying to recall if he had one. ‘I guess it’d have to be grilled barramundi.’

‘Oh.’ If the child’s tone hadn’t told him he’d again come up with the wrong answer, her stance would have. Her arms were folded and she was frowning at him as if she were a teacher and he a troublesome pupil. ‘You do like McDonald’s, though, don’t you?’ she prompted. ‘Everybody likes McDonald’s.’

Craig wasn’t crazy about the direction this conversation was taking, but he had no chance to voice his objections.

‘Cheeseburgers are my favourite,’ Melanie told him. ‘Cept Mummy—’ her tone was scathing ‘—hardly ever lets me go there ’less it’s for a real special reason.’

Peripherally aware of Taylor’s tense stance, Craig struggled for both patience and a tactful response. ‘Yes, well...I guess mothers are like that,’ he said.

‘Fathers aren’t, though,’ the child stated. ‘My friend Renee’s father takes her there every Friday.’

‘Lucky Renee!’ he muttered, earning a withering look from Taylor.

‘Struth! What was he supposed to say, for God’s sake? He knew zilch about kids and even less about what fathers were and weren’t supposed to do. ‘Well, I guess,’ he said cautiously, ‘it’s all right on Fridays—’

‘It’s Friday today!’

His stomach pleaded a silent protest at the child’s reaction and again he looked at Taylor. She knew he’d never been partial to hamburgers, not even designer ones.

‘You can always have chicken nuggets,’ she suggested neutrally.

‘Thanks, you’re a big help!’ he muttered before addressing the child again. ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have something else—Chinese, French, fried chicken...’

He wondered how much vigorous shaking a kid’s head could take before it actually fell off. Ah heck! How bad could it be?

‘OK,’ he said wearily, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. ‘McDonald’s it is, then.’

Across Melanie’s head, Taylor mouthed the words thank you and gave him a smile so warm he was tempted to tell her he’d buy the kid her own franchise if Taylor would only keep looking at him like that!

Reacting to long-past memories and old habits, his hand moved inviting Taylor’s into it, but she averted her gaze, and it was her daughter’s hand she reached for...not his.

CHAPTER TWO

AS THEY sat amid the bustle and laughter of the family-orientated restaurant, the heavy silence hanging over their table wasn’t conducive to making Taylor feel comfortable. The air seemed like a volatile mix of suppressed anger, bottled-up resentment and raw sexuality, which threatened to explode at any moment. She knew if it did, her child would be the most critically injured.

It was obvious Craig was anxious to be anywhere but where he was, and Taylor resented the way her body was reacting to his reluctant presence. Why were the random memories running through her head only the kind that caused a surge of sensual adrenalin to course through her? Lord knew more than enough unpleasant scenarios had been played out between her and Craig in the later stages of their marriage. Why was it they seemed incidental now?

With the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight, she realized it would have been better had she arranged for Melanie to meet her father alone. Her daughter was all too aware of the undertow of tension rippling beneath the stop-start conversation of the last fifteen or so minutes; it showed in her uncharacteristic quietness.

Reaching for her fries, Taylor realized they, like - everything else, were now cold. But it didn’t matter. Emotionally she’d been too wound up to eat; only for Mel’s sake had she made an effort. Yet considering how every time she lifted her eyes from her food, she’d encountered rich brown masculine ones that negated her ability to chew, swallow or execute any of the automatic steps of eating, she didn’t think she’d convinced anyone she was enjoying the meal.

‘Not hungry?’ Craig asked. She gave a tight smile and shook her head. His eyes skimmed over her face as if taking an inventory of her features, then with a seductive smile he helped himself to her half-eaten burger. ‘I am.’

Without taking his eyes from hers, he bit slowly into the same spot she had. Remembering how those even white teeth had felt nibbling on her flesh, she felt her stomach somersault as a wave of heat rose from her toes into her cheeks. Oh, hell! This was insane!

‘What about you, Mel?’ Craig was asking. ‘Would you like something else?’

‘No, thank you.’

He frowned, then reached for his wallet. ‘Sure you wouldn’t like to go buy yourself an ice cream or something?’ he urged.

Melanie cast a concerned look at him, then quickly lowered her eyes and shook her head. ‘No, thank you,’ she said again.

Her daughter’s lifeless response prompted Craig to send Taylor a what’s wrong with her? look.

Annoyed at his pseudo-innocence, she sent him a furious well, what do you expect? glare in return. Why wouldn’t the poor kid have clammed up? Taylor fumed silently. He’d practically ignored her since they’d left the office! He’d been so busy studying her, Melanie could have sprouted wings and flown away and he wouldn’t have noticed! It didn’t matter that she had been more than a little preoccupied with less than motherly thoughts. After all, Melanie could have lunch with her any time. Craig was here at Mel’s request; the least he could do was be attentive to her.

Not that she owed him any favours, Taylor told herself, but for Melanie’s sake she’d better give him some direction if this lunch wasn’t going to turn into an even bigger disaster than it already was! Ensuring her daughter wasn’t watching, she pointed first at Craig, then at her own mouth and finally at Melanie. Then she opened her hand in imitation of a duck quacking to indicate Craig should say something to the child.

It took a couple of seconds before comprehension dawned on Craig’s handsome features.

What? he mouthed back.

Anything! she returned.

I don’t know what to say to her! Craig enunciated each word silently. Damn, he thought, it was all very well for Taylor to look at him as if he was a complete moron when it came to children, but he’d never had to deal with them. She’d never given him the chance! He glanced at the small dark head beside him, seeking inspiration, but none came. How could a businessman of his calibre be so devoid of something appropriate to say? Why, when he’d rescued deals with some of the most high-powered men in the world, was he being awestruck by a pint-size kid?

His attention again became focused on Taylor. Mouth pursed, she looked daggers at him, then again started to speak voicelessly. The silent movement of her lips and the hint of tongue and teeth revealed by her actions stirred heat in his loins. Cursing mentally, he shifted in his seat, trying to concentrate on what she was mouthing to him, rather than on her delicious mouth.

Dammit! He couldn’t make out what the last word was. He sent her a blank look and watched intently as she mouthed her message again.

Ask her about...Hell! He still couldn’t make it out.

‘She said, “Ask her about school”.’

Guiltily, both adults looked at the owner of the tiny voice. Obviously the child had intercepted her mother’s message to him and interpreted it better than him.

‘Er...yes. How is school? Do you like it?’ he asked woodenly.

‘I don’t know,’ the little girl responded. ‘I haven’t started yet.’

Taylor blushed under Craig’s stinging glare. ‘I...I only enrolled her today. She starts next week. At St Catherine’s. My old school. It has a junior school as well as high school. Mel’s going to the junior school.’

‘I’m sure I’d have assumed the high school if you hadn’t pointed that out,’ he said drily.

‘I’m not old enough for high school—’ Melanie again stopped short and pondered the man beside her. ‘What should I say?’ she asked both adults.

Taylor frowned. ‘About what, darling?’

‘To finish talking to him.’

Unsure exactly what her daughter was on about, Taylor hedged. ‘Um...what do you think you should say...to finish talking to him?’

The little girl wore a considering expression for a few moments then delivered a direct gaze to the man beside her. ‘Is Daddy okay?’

Taylor’s gasp was nothing compared to the half-strangled gurgle Craig emitted and one look was enough to tell her Daddy wasn’t okay. His face was drained of all colour and he looked as if he’d been poleaxed!

‘I...I’m fine. I think,’ he muttered, reefing at his already-loose tie.

‘No, I mean do you want me to call you Daddy or Craig or mister or sir or...?’

The kid was counting off the various titles on her fingers, but Craig had no idea how to answer her. ‘Er...well—’ he paused and tried to gather his thoughts

‘—maybe you should ask Taylor...I mean your mother...Mummy...’

“This is something you two should decide between yourselves,’ Taylor responded quickly.

In that instant, Craig was swamped by a dozen emotions, all generated by the woman sitting opposite him. Passion was easily the most dominant one, but he wasn’t sure whether it would be best purged by reaching across and kissing her or reaching across and choking her. In view of her amused grin, he fancied the latter.

‘Well?’ Melanie pressed. ‘What do you want me to call you?’

Slowly he turned to the child. For a little girl, she certainly had a big attitude, he decided, amused by her arched eyebrow. He stiffened, knowing the same had been said of him as a kid. He felt his heart swell—his daughter. His own flesh and blood. He was both humbled and proud to think she resembled him so closely.

‘Daddy sounds pretty good to me,’ he said, clearing his throat when his words sounded a bit scratchy. ‘It’ll probably take us both a bit of time to get used to it, though,’ he told her.

‘It’ll be easy for me!’ Melanie proclaimed, her wide smile reflecting in her eyes. ‘I’m used to talking to your picture and calling you Daddy.’

‘My picture?’

‘Yeah, the one Mummy keeps on her dressing table.’

Craig raised an eyebrow and studied his estranged wife. ‘Now, that’s interesting.’

Taylor could have cheerfully throttled her beloved daughter on the spot but she managed a careless shrug. ‘It’s important for children to identify with a father figure,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe in telling horror stories about absent parents. So I just omit the gory bits!’

‘So why not keep it on Melanie’s dressing-table?’

‘Because there’s no room on it! It’s already chock-a-block with her favourite stuffed animals.’

Melanie stood up. ‘I’m going to the toilet.’

‘Again? You went at the office.’ Taylor almost groaned on hearing her inane response. Melanie was old enough to decide when she needed to relieve herself! The truth was she was uncomfortable with the thought of being left alone with Craig. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asked hopefully.

The five-year-old rolled her eyes. ‘Mummy, I’m not a baby!’

‘Frightened to be alone with me, Taylor?’ Craig’s sexy drawl, coated in amusement, came on the heels of Melanie’s departure.

Taylor ignored the remark. At twenty-nine, she hoped she was sophisticated enough to deal with her feelings for Craig Adams. Now she wondered if she wasn’t every bit as naive as she’d been when she left him five years earlier. Around this man her emotions always seemed to bamboozle her common sense. Nothing, it seemed, had changed. But there was no reason he had to know that. From here on she’d treat him like any other male acquaintance—with polite pleasantness, nothing more.

‘So...’ She hoped he didn’t notice the breathy sound of her voice. ‘How’s the business doing?’

‘You can’t tell from the size of the dividend cheques?’

‘I didn’t mean financially. I was curious about what sort of expansions we’ve made.’

‘We’ve made?’ He scowled. ‘Listen, Taylor, you’ve been a silent partner in this firm for the best part of six years. Don’t think you can waltz back here and start quizzing me on how I run the company!’

‘I...I never meant to imply...’ She paused and tried again. ‘I was only making conversation—’

‘Ah! Sorry I didn’t realize your interest was only superficial!’

‘It’s not!’ she protested, angry at his accusation. Once Adams Relief had been as much the focus of her life as his. When they’d started the temporary-staffing business, a year after their marriage, they’d only listed replacement office staff on their books, but within eight months they had several highly qualified people capable of stepping into managerial positions. Three years from the inception of the business, Craig had seen an opportunity for expansion. Himself a qualified mechanic who’d completed his business-management degree at night, he saw the need for qualified tradesmen to be provided on a relief basis and so Adams Relief stretched its services to cater for this demand, also.

Taylor had to admit that for a long time, like Craig, she had regarded Adams Relief as their ‘child’ and had delighted in watching it grow and develop under their guidance. But unexpectedly her maternal instincts started to surface and she became less and less satisfied with the idea of being solely career orientated. Craig, however, had been so completely opposed to amending their original decision to never have children, Taylor hadn’t raised the issue a second time and pushed the idea from her mind. At least she tried.

Perhaps it was some sort of trick of her subconscious that allowed her to fall pregnant. Perhaps it was a case of wishing too hard and too often, but regardless of what quirk of nature saw her get pregnant while using contraceptives, the fact was she did.

Thinking of her precious daughter, she was eternally grateful the decision had been taken from her hands.

‘Rest assured, Craig,’ she said, ‘I have no desire to try to interfere with the way you’ve been running the firm.’

‘Too busy overseeing the Radcliffe family fortunes, are we?’

‘I won’t even dignify that remark with an answer!’

‘You’re right. That was uncalled for.’ He presented her with an apologetic look. ‘I really was sorry to hear about your parents. A hotel fire is a tragic way to die. It can’t have been easy for you to deal with.’

‘I coped. And at least they went together.’ She gave a small ironic smile. ‘I doubt either of them could have survived without the other. Or wanted to.’

Craig recognized the flash of pain in her face. He knew that as a child, Taylor had spent her life on the outside, looking in at parents too wrapped up in themselves to notice their little girl. She’d always claimed if she ever loved anyone as completely as her parents loved each other, she’d never have children. Six years into their marriage, she’d changed her mind.

‘They were quite different once my father retired and Mel and I moved to Adelaide,’ she said softly as if reading his thoughts. ‘Father especially was quite taken with Melanie, and Mother showed me dozens of albums full of photographs of me as a baby.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘Of course, there aren’t many of me from the age of five onwards. Boarding-schools aren’t big on taking snaps of pupils.’

‘So how come you’re so keen to send Melanie to St Catherine’s?’

‘Because it’s an excellent school.’

‘Well, I think she’s far too young for boarding-school—’

‘You think!’ Taylor practically spat the words. ‘For your information, she’ll be a day pupil not a boarder! And besides,’ she said tersely, ‘you’ve been a silent partner where Mel’s concerned for the past five years! I’ve managed to make all the right decisions thus far—’

‘Have you?’ His interjection was ignored.

‘And I don’t need your two cents’ worth now!’

‘I’m back!’ The reappearance of Melanie interrupted them.

‘Good girl,’ Taylor said, rising to her feet and gathering up her handbag, ‘because we have to leave now.’

‘Ohhh.’ The protest was the universal whine of a five-year-old. Taylor ignored it not because of anything she’d read in a good-parenting manual, but because self-preservation demanded she end this fiasco as quickly as possible.

Craig caught her by the elbow. ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’ It wasn’t a question but his tone stopped it short of being a command.

‘Can we, Mummy?’ Melanie pleaded, tugging Taylor’s hand.

‘I’m sorry, but I play basketball on Friday nights,’ Taylor said, grateful for the excuse.

‘You still play basketball?’

‘I happen to believe in staying in shape and keeping fit.’

‘Well,’ he whispered, ‘there’s no denying you’re in great shape, but I’d like to test out your fitness for myself. How about tomorrow night, say eight o’clock?’ He smiled at her blushing confusion.

‘Nnnoo...I don’t like to have Melanie out late two nights in a row,’ she said, dislodging his grip and hurrying to the street. He kept pace with her.

‘I wasn’t suggesting you bring Melanie,’ he muttered.

If she’d hoped the fresh air would help clear her mind and soothe her jumbled nerves, she was wrong. The warm, early-February breeze seemed determined to sweep the musky scent of his favourite aftershave into her nostrils and into every cell of her memory. Sensual panic rushed through her, partly created by his scent and the tone of his voice, and partly by the feel of his breath on her neck. Her stride faltered and he grasped her elbow with lightning reflexes to prevent her stumbling. She jerked free as if scalded.

‘I...I can’t get a sitter. I’ve lost touch with most of my old friends,’ she said.

‘Even your old school pal, Dr Liz O’Shea?’

‘Liz plays on the team with me when she’s not on duty.’

‘Well, then, hire a professional.’ Her look of outraged horror told Craig he’d made a tactical mistake.

‘I will not leave Melanie with strangers! The answer is no!’

He shoved his hands into his pockets, pondering the idea of hauling her into his arms and kissing her into agreement, but one look at her determined features crushed the egotistical belief he could do it. But he wasn’t prepared to let her walk away without knowing for sure he was going to see her again. Soon.

He was struggling with a solution when he caught sight of the childish smile being beamed up at him. Well, he thought, returning the little girl’s grin, All’s fair in love and war.

‘Hey, Melanie,’ he said, ‘how would you feel if I called over one night next week to check how you were doing at school?’

‘Craig!’ Taylor’s blurted anger was drowned out by her daughter.

‘Wow, that’d be great! You could have dinner with us!’

‘Now there’s a great idea!’ He patted the child’s head, his eyes on Taylor. ‘I’m free Monday,’ he said, finding the fury in her green eyes nostalgic.

‘Monday’s no good! Mel will be too tired after her first day at school.’

‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘Tuesday’s equally good for me.’

‘Tuesday she has ballet!’

‘There’s always Wednesday—’

‘No, there isn’t!’ she said triumphantly. ‘I have basketball practice until seven.’

‘We’ll make it after seven, then,’ Craig countered, his hands balling into frustrated fists in his pockets.

‘Er...no, I...’

‘Say seven forty-five?’

‘I...I...um...I—’

‘Oh, please, Mummy? Pretty please?’

Melanie’s beseeching look and misty eyes tugged at Taylor’s maternal instincts while Craig’s arrogant smirk pushed at her violent streak. Great! She had a choice between a confrontation with the devil in Craig and a crying jag to rival the deep blue sea from Melanie. She could either score points for herself or break her daughter’s heart.

Her resigned sigh and half-hearted nod sent such a tide of relief rushing through Craig that he knew he was smiling like an idiot. ‘Thanks, Taylor, I’d love to come.’

Her response was a murderous look and he was relieved to have the kid nudge his leg to gain his attention.

‘Aren’t you gonna thank me, too?’ she asked him.

‘Eh, well sure,’ he said, crouching to put himself on the same level as the girl. The small arm that snaked out and hooked around his neck in an instinctively trusting action caught him off guard. He quickly lifted his eyes to the woman who bad conceived this child against his wishes, seeking her guidance as to what was expected of him. But she’d turned away.

‘Well, Melanie...’ He paused, still at a loss as to what to say to the owner of the huge smile and innocent brown eyes fixed on him. ‘I...eh...thanks for lunch. And...and I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.’ Quickly he set her away from him and stood up.

Blinking the blur from her eyes, Taylor made a production of looking for her car keys, hoping he’d say a quick goodbye and leave.

‘Taylor?’

She lifted her head impatiently. ‘Yes?’

‘She seems a nice kid.’

He was so close she could count the rate of the pulse in his neck. Traitorously her mind recalled how quickly passion accelerated that pulse, how it had felt to have it throbbing beneath her tongue as she licked the sweat of lovemaking from the skin covering it.

‘What’s your address?’

From her body’s reaction to his voice, he could have been asking her to strip. Goose bumps carpeted her skin, her own pulse went into a tailspin and her vocal cords seemed paralysed—along with every other part of her his eyes touched. It became a mental struggle to recall where she lived and her voice trembled slightly when she finally told him.

Taking hold of her wrist and softly brushing his thumb over it, he murmured, ‘Sure you’re not free beforehand?’

For Taylor the temptation to say to hell with basketball was almost overwhelming. She swallowed hard before answering in case the wild idea verbalized itself. ‘Seven forty-five Wednesday,’ she said firmly, removing her hand from his grasp.

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Melanie will be looking forward to it.’

‘She won’t be the only one, will she, Tay?’

Tay! No one but him had ever called her that. His use of it now was intended as a deliberate reminder of shared intimacies. Ha! As if she’d needed reminding.

He uttered no other farewell, and, determined she wouldn’t, either, Taylor took Melanie’s hand and walked away. The child twisted, waving cheerfully to the tall, darkly handsome stranger who was her father.

‘I think he likes me, Mummy,’ she said proudly, buckling her seat-belt. ‘Why else would he ask if he could come and visit me next week?’ she mused aloud.

Why? thought Taylor, revving the car with more vigour than was necessary. Because, dammit, he used you as a means to see me! And heaven help me, I let him do it!

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER an hour of torture at the hands of old memories, Taylor sprang from her bed and slipped into her robe. The silk was cool against her heated skin and she descended the stairs wishing she could at least pretend the summer heat was the cause of her restlessness and inability to sleep. But knowing she’d find no reprieve in wishful thinking, she crossed the moonlit family room to the bar.

She reached for the bottle of tequila knowing alcohol cured nothing and that two previous encounters with the potent Mexican liquor had proven she and it incompatible. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and since she’d never taken sleeping pills in her life, booze was her last resort. Unscrewing the lid on the bottle, she poured what amounted to roughly a triple shot of the alcohol, then, deciding that was too desperate a measure, trickled half back into the bottle. For a moment she pondered the idea of adding ice.

‘Oh, great, Taylor!’ she muttered, recalling how Craig in their first year of marriage had set a precedent, which had made ice a special treat for hot summer nights like this one. ‘Ice cubes are the last thing you should be thinking about!’

Determinedly she downed the straight tequila, shuddering when she lowered the glass and dreading the thought of how her head would ache in the morning. Yet the prospect of the blissful oblivion the alcohol would induce overrode all the other negative factors. Even an almost paralysing hangover was preferable to the achingly arousing thoughts that had been dominating her mind since lunch.

Back upstairs, she crawled between her lilac sheets praying the effects of the alcohol would rapidly overpower both her sleeplessness and the sensual memories invading her head.

The heat gave the air the consistency of marshmallows, sapping a person of all energy, and she half wished she was back in the air-conditioned luxury of her parents’ bayside home. So much had changed in the past six months, she more than anyone or anything and far more than she would ever have imagined. In the midst of tossing to free herself of the sheet twisting around her lower body, she started as something cool and moist brushed her cheekbone.

Drowsy confusion continued to fog her mind as the slippery coldness edged down along her jaw and across her bottom lip. Instinctively her tongue sought to identify the cause. It tasted cold, hard wetness and warm male flesh. She quivered, a ribbon of pleasure fluttering through her.

‘Craig...’ Her voice emerged as a breathy query, yet her body’s sensual reaction confirmed his identity even before he spoke.

‘You expecting someone else to slip into your bed tonight?’

She shook her head at the amused, raspy-voiced question, opening her eyes to the utterly male smile she adored. Yet not even the smile was enough to stop her gaze from straying down over his muscled chest, firm abdomen and slim hips. Her throat, constricting at the sight of his nude, muscular perfection, emitted a sound of feral admiration that made him grin.

‘Missed me, huh?’ he asked smugly.

His lips sought her mouth, giving her no chance of verbal response, but hell yes, she’d missed him! Her arms clamped tightly around his neck; they’d been parted mere hours, yet she’d missed him with an intensity she’d thought would kill her.

‘I didn’t expect to see you until the end of the week,’ she said when they broke apart, dazed as much by his unexpected presence as the effects of his kiss.

‘I know, but I was worried about you.’

‘Worried? You don’t think I can last three days without you?’

Chucking her indignantly jutted chin, he grinned. ‘It wasn’t the days that concerned me. I know how much trouble you have sleeping in summer, so I decided I’d better be here to keep you cool.’

Stifling a smile, she raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course it was solely my best interests you had at heart.’

‘Yeah.’ He all but purred the word, and, taking what she now recognized to be an ice cube, he drew it around her hairline to the pulse behind her ear.

‘Feel good?’ he asked, his gaze intense.

‘It feels great, but it’s not going to work,’ she told him. ‘You’re only making me hotter...’ Her words died to a sigh as the frozen cube was trailed down her throat and across her chest.

‘Hot, babe?’ he whispered, manoeuvring the cool wetness into the valley of her breasts, then mopping it up with his tongue. ‘How hot?’

Arousal flamed in her and Taylor gripped the sheets in an effort to stay centred.

‘Tell me how hot I make you,’ he urged. ‘Better yet—’ he paused only until her eyes lifted to his, then straddled her with slow, easy grace ‘—show me.’

As he said the words, the cube made contact with her nipple, sending her bucking from the mattress. Desire seared her bones as furiously as his hardness branded her belly. She made a futile grab for him but in one smooth motion he snared her wrists and stretched her arms above her head.

‘Easy, honey, I’m not through cooling you.’

The taste and temperature of his kiss had Taylor equating hell with the North Pole, and as passion engulfed her, she wondered if a person could drown in fire, or combust from love. Dimly she became aware of his reaching for another ice cube from the tray by the bed, but nothing in her wildest dreams had prepared her for what he did with it.

Placing it between his teeth, he began guiding it from the base of her throat along the length of her, the combination of her overheated skin and his breath creating melting rivulets that trickled along the ridges of her ribcage as slowly as he flowed down her body. With both her blood and flesh growing more heated by the moment, each time Craig replaced one spent ice cube with a cooler, fresher one, Taylor expected to hear it sizzle as it met her skin and evaporated on contact. By the time his trail of torture reached her navel, her breathing was as ragged and erratic as the reactionary tremors that surfaced across her belly, but erupted from a far deeper core.

Millimetre by erotically slow millimetre, he orally steered the ice lower and lower until her nerve endings were ablaze to the point where she thought she would explode into a zillion pieces without ever finding the completion she craved. Her experience with this man’s torrid sensuality meant there was no question as to why the ice didn’t feel cold against the most sensitive part of her femininity. Every pulse in her body was screaming at sound-barrier pitch for release and her hips lifted with wanton demand for its delivery.

She was almost frantic with need for him when his dexterous mouth and hands stilled. Tossing her head, she writhed beneath him. ‘Now!’ she cried. ‘Don’t stop...now!’

‘Look at me, Tay....’ His words were breathless and strained, but the touch of his hand on her forehead signified their importance.

Forcing her lashes open, she stared at up the sweat-drenched male perfection poised above her and her heart almost exploded at the depth of emotion shining from his eyes into hers.

‘I love you, Tay. I love you more than you’ll ever believe. And nothing will ever change that.’

‘Oh...Crai—’

His mouth claimed hers in a humid, hungry kiss that she never had a chance of controlling. Then he eased away and, with a smug, satisfied smile, moved his hips intimately against her. ‘Now?’ he asked.

‘Yes, yes...now. Now...’

Taylor struggled to shrug free of the hand shaking her shoulder. It wasn’t Craig’s hand...it was too small. Too fragile...

‘Mummy! Mummy, wake up! You’re having a bad dream!’

Panting for breath and blinking against the glare of the bedside lamp, Taylor tried to sit up. To speak. To ignore the fact she was quaking with unsatisfied desire. To comprehend what the wide-eyed child hovering by her bed was doing in her and Craig’s tiny apartment in the middle of the night.

‘It’s okay, Mummy,’ the dark-haired child assured her. ‘You must have been dreaming about being on Grandpa’s farm.’ She giggled. ‘You kept yelling “Cow! Cow!”’

Reality struck with a crippling blow, catapulting Taylor from past pleasures to present pain. It hurt her to breathe, nearly killed her to think. Acid tears burned her eyes and throat. Tears for what she’d lost with the only man she’d ever loved and for what she’d gained with her daughter. His daughter.

‘Mummy, if you want, I could get in bed with you so you aren’t scared any more.’

Taylor pulled her daughter into a fierce hug, silent tears scalding paths down her face and her body trembling, as despair clawed her heart.

What had happened to them? What the hell had happened to the all-consuming love they’d shared? And when, dear lord, when would she stop feeling its loss?

It was well after midnight before Craig had the luxury of removing his tie and stretching out in his favourite reclining chair. He sighed wearily, lifting the glass of bourbon to his lips and savouring its soothing warmth.

His dinner meeting had gone on far longer than he’d anticipated or wanted. He allowed himself a smile as he ruefully admitted that part of the reason had been his inability to keep his mind on what was being discussed. If Taylor had consented to seeing him tonight, he’d have cancelled the engagement without a second thought. Considering the way the events of the day had distracted him from the business at hand, he would have been best served to have done so, regardless! His mind had been constantly sidetracked from the topic under discussion by images of a beautiful, green-eyed, honey-haired woman.

Taylor was back. Sexier and more beautiful than ever. And with her she’d brought a small, almost porcelain fragile, child who by rights should never have survived beyond a few days of life. He shivered as an image of his daughter’s face imprinted itself in his mind. His daughter. The reason Taylor had walked out on him.

He took another sip of his drink, wondering if the confused emotions he felt towards the child were genuine or simply a side-effect of those he felt for her mother. And what exactly was he feeling?

Guilt? Yeah. Well, sure. He’d always felt he’d failed Taylor in some way from the moment she’d suggested they consider having a child, but suddenly the guilt felt different. Fresher, more biting.

His anger was nothing new; it had remained just below the surface of his day-to-day existence for the past five years. He’d never been sure if the bulk of it was directed at Taylor for walking out or himself for letting her. He also allowed himself to admit that until today a huge chunk of it had been focused on Melanie.

Melanie. Until scant hours ago, he’d rarely thought of the child and never by name. It had been the easiest way of managing the gut-wrenching jealousy that consumed him. Jealousy.

God! Yet another ugly emotion he’d fallen victim to, made worse by the fact it had been directed towards a tiny premature baby. The notion left a sick taste in his mouth and he quickly poured himself another drink, tossing it down in one gulp. Sighing, he contemplated the empty glass. For five years his life had been equally empty. Ever since the love Taylor always claimed was exclusively his had been redirected.

If she’d turned her affection to another man, Craig knew he’d have fought tooth and nail to win her back; he was cocky enough to believe no man was capable of taking her from him. But he hadn’t counted on losing her to a baby. How did a grown man compete with a helpless child? Of course, back then he’d never really tried to compete; shattered by the discovery he’d been relegated to a distant second on Taylor’s list of priorities, it had been easier to simply let her go.

And now? Well, now she was back. He didn’t delude himself it was because she loved him—oh, no. It was maternal love that had prompted her to introduce him to his daughter. And neither did he delude himself he could forgive her for deliberately falling pregnant, but he sure as hell intended to make amends for the way he’d held the child responsible for what had happened between them.

There was an unaffected honesty about Melanie that intrigued him and he had little doubt he’d grow to like the child. To be honest, he hoped she’d grow to like him, too, for reasons other than the fact he was her father. But he knew he had no love to give his daughter; her mother had that and she always would. It was his trust Taylor had forfeited.

He might never have wanted to be a father, but he sure as hell was going to be one now.

Strangely, having made that decision eased some of the tension from his body. Then again, he thought drily, perhaps it was simply the Jack Daniel’s kicking in. Pouring another glass, he forced his mind to that part of his life he normally only confronted in nightmares—The Past....

In the sterile surrounds of the hospital waiting room, Craig’s hand shook as he took the polystyrene cup from Taylor’s closest friend, Liz O’Shea. Emotional turmoil made him oblivious to the hot liquid that spilled onto his hand.

‘Why, Liz? Why did she have to go and put herself at risk like this? I never wanted or needed a baby. She knew that! But I can’t live without her. I can’t live without Taylor!’

‘Craig, her doctor is the best. She’s in good hands. There’s not a thing on God’s earth you can do now except wait.’

It had seemed like a lifetime later that Craig looked up and saw the obstetrician striding towards them.

‘Well?’ he demanded of the older man. ‘Where is she? What’s happened?’

‘She’s resting, Mr Adams. But things aren’t good.’

‘What do you mean, aren’t good? If anything—’

‘Mr Adams, your wife is in labour.’

‘But it’s too early!’

‘Taylor has a condition called placenta previa, caused by—’

‘I don’t give a stuff what it’s called or what causes it! I want to know if she’s going to be all right!’

‘I expect so, yes. But your wife is going to have to remain here. It’s the baby we need to concern ourselves with—’

‘Forget the baby! It’s Taylor I care about. You put her first!’ He grabbed the front of the doctor’s coat. ‘You understand me? It’s Taylor who’s important here!’

‘For heaven’s sake, Craig! Pull yourself together and listen!’ Liz urged, shaking his arm.

Realizing what he was doing, Craig released the doctor’s coat and stepped away.

‘I...I’m sorry, Doctor. It’s just that if anything happened...’

The doctor’s face relaxed. ‘Believe me, I do understand.’

‘So,’ Craig said wearily, ‘what’s the bottom line in all this?’

‘Your wife is in labour at twenty-five weeks along. Far, far too early. However, if we can keep the baby at bay until even twenty-seven weeks, I’ll be a lot happier. I’ve made arrangements to have the baby transferred to the hospital with the best antenatal facilities in the city as soon as it’s born. But I’ll be honest with you. Even then, the child’s chances of survival aren’t good.’

‘Taylor is your first priority,’ Craig reminded him.

From then on, Craig haunted the hospital, going home only to shower, change and snatch a few hours’ sleep. Twice more he had to stand helplessly by as Taylor again went into labour despite all the drugs administered to forestall such occurrences and the millions of dollars’ worth of equipment monitoring both her and her unborn child. He watched, too, as she endured painful steroid injections aimed at accelerating the unborn child’s lung capacity, physically flinching when agony distorted her beautiful face and squeezed tears from her exhaustion-glazed eyes. When he voiced his feelings about how much it hurt him to watch her suffer, Taylor gave a weak smile and clutched his hand.

‘Darling, every bit of prodding, poking and pain is worth it, if it delays delivery. The doctors said if I can hang in for two more weeks, our baby will have a much better chance of surviving.’ Fierce determination lit her weary features. ‘I’m going to do it, Craig. I have to.’

And she did, just. Exactly fourteen days after her admission, Taylor went into labour for the final time, haemorrhaging heavily, but Craig wasn’t with her, and by the time he reached the hospital, Taylor was undergoing an emergency Caesarean, and a short time later he learned he was the father of a three-month-premature baby girl.

He rushed straight to Taylor expecting to find her still recovering from the effects of the anaesthetic, but was shocked to learn only a spinal block had been administered and that she’d been conscious throughout the operation. Yet joy made Taylor oblivious to his anger about the procedure.

‘Craig, she’s so beautiful! So very, very beautiful!’

At the obvious awe in her voice, he felt a stab of rage; having seen the child, she would find its death that much harder to bear. Taylor seemed totally unaware of what was bound to happen.

‘Oh, darling! She’s only nine inches long but wait till you see her! She’s perfect! She even cried all by herself! Not many babies that early can!’ Taylor’s voice was as bright with pride as her eyes were with tears and Craig had to swallow hard before speaking.

‘I know, honey,’ he said. ‘But how are you feeling? That’s what I want to know.’

‘I’m great!’ she responded, ashen face and sunken cheeks refuting her words. ‘But don’t worry about that! Go and see your daughter!’

‘I will. Later. Right—’

‘No, Craig, now! She’s being transferred to one of the larger hospitals. One with better facilities.’

‘Okay, I’ll go,’ he said, wanting to pacify her. ‘But I’ll be back here quick smart, so don’t go anywhere!’ he teased, brushing his hand gently along her cheek.

Taylor smiled and shook her head. ‘They want to baptize her here before she’s moved...I’d like to call her Melanie Brooke. Is that all right with you?’

He nodded. ‘Sure, honey. Melanie Brooke is fine,’ he replied, feeling he was making promises he couldn’t keep.

Taylor received daily videos of her daughter from the hospital the child was transferred to, right up until she was discharged a week later with the proviso she take things extremely slowly. Despite the doctors’ warnings, she insisted on spending eighteen-hour days with her daughter, ignoring Craig’s pleas for her to get some rest, to spend more time at home, more time with him. Taylor obsessively followed her own agenda. So it was a pleasant surprise when one Saturday, while he was going over some work he’d brought home, she walked into the study in the middle of the afternoon.

‘You’re home early.’

She slumped wearily onto the sofa. ‘I’m going back later.’

Craig crouched before her, stroking her hair and her pale, fatigue-etched face. ‘I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you rest for a couple of hours, then we can go out for a romantic dinner, followed by dancing and—?’

Recoiling from his touch, she shrieked, ‘Dancing! My daughter stopped breathing today and you expect me to go dancing?’

‘Taylor! I had no idea...I’m sorry!’

She leaped to her feet, rage energizing her. ‘Sorry! Sorry! Craig, you’re probably only sorry that they revived her!’

‘Honey, that’s not true!’

‘Good!’ she screeched through her tears. ‘Because Melanie isn’t going to die! She’s tough! Like me! She’s not a quitter like her father! She won’t die! I won’t let her. I tell her that every day....’

‘Tay, honey, you have to be prepared for the worst.’ He reached for her, but she jumped away as if fearing contamination.

‘You’re a quitter, Craig Adams! I hate you!’ She was beyond reasoning with. ‘You never wanted a baby and the first time you saw this one you decided she was too small and too weak to survive, and that suited you! Well, she will survive! You hear me? She will!’

The strain between them from that point on became unbearable and Craig felt her drifting farther and farther away from him. In an effort to hang on to some semblance of the life they’d once shared, he threw himself into their business with maniacal ferocity. He even tried to establish a deal with the biggest staffing agency in Japan as he and Taylor had once wistfully discussed doing. But Taylor wasn’t interested in talking about it, about anything. She rarely even mentioned the baby to him, and when she did, it was always ‘my daughter, my Melanie’.

The final most bitter blow came when he arrived back from a three-day trip to Tokyo, which Taylor had insisted he take despite his reluctance to leave her. He’d walked into a silent house to discover an envelope with his name on it. Its handwritten contents read:

Dear Craig,

The doctors have said Melanie is well enough to leave hospital now so I’m taking my daughter home. Since you always believed I trapped you into fatherhood, I’ve decided to set you free—I think this is best, not just for us, but for Melanie.

I’m going to stay with my parents in Adelaide. You can contact me there to sort out whatever legal things have to be done about the business. But since the business was always more your ‘baby’ than mine, I know it’s better off with you, just as Melanie is better off with me.

There was no signature, but then none had been needed.

Now, nursing an empty bottle and a potential hangover, Craig wondered if five years later there was anything left to salvage between Taylor and him.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘YOU stupid, great useless animal!’ Taylor muttered as the huge, lumbering St Bernard raced to beat her up the stairs. ‘I’m not going to bed! I’m only getting changed!’

‘You better hurry,’ Melanie advised from the floor of the family room. ‘Daddy’ll be here in seven minutes.’

Taylor forced a smile. Like she needed reminding! Mel had been acting like the countdown voice for Mission Control ever since they’d got home from basketball practice. She on the other hand had been hoping for a phone call from Craig saying he had to cancel.

Glancing across at her daughter carefully colouring a picture intended for Craig, Taylor instantly regretted her selfish thoughts. It was important to Melanie that her father come—vitally important. She bit her lip as doubts that had kept her sleepless since she’d arrived back in Sydney assailed her yet again.

Had she done the right thing in coming back and practically forcing Craig to acknowledge Melanie’s existence? Even more disturbing was the question that had kept her awake each night since she’d walked into his office. Had she really come for her daughter’s sake, or was she simply using Melanie as an excuse to get Craig back into her own life?

Melanie called her and held up the drawing she’d been working on. ‘I tried to stay inside the lines. Do you like it?’ she asked.

‘Yeah! I think it’s great!’ Taylor replied.

‘It’s for Daddy to put in his office. Think he’ll like it?’

‘I’m sure he will.’

Realizing she was still in her bathrobe, her hair wet, and wasting time, she hurried up the stairs. Would Craig see any merit in the less than artistic scribbling of a five-year-old?

‘He’d better!’ she said, sliding open her wardrobe. ‘Or he’ll wear the meal he all but invited himself to!’ And that was something she meant to have out with him. His manipulative use of Melanie was inexcusable!

After extracting a simple white flared ankle-length dress in embroidered cotton, she tossed it onto the bed, next to the sleepy-looking dog now sprawled across it.

‘There, Bernie,’ she said. ‘No one could accuse me of dressing to impress! In fact,’ she added smugly, ‘I’m not even going to bother putting on make-up.’

Sitting on the bed, she plugged in the blow-drier and began drying her hair, but even the appliance’s droning hum didn’t drown out her daughter’s excited yell. ‘He’s here!’

Pulse skittering, Taylor dropped the drier and jumped to her feet. Already? Dammit, she wasn’t ready!

Craig owned up to more than a touch of apprehension as he climbed out of his car. He’d been sweating on this night for five days and now it was here he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. He didn’t know what to expect, or more importantly, what was expected of him.

As he made his way up the path, the front door opened and Melanie stood waiting for him.

‘Hello,’ she said, offering a smile.

‘G’day, Melanie,’ he said, then wondered if it was acceptable to hand a bottle of wine to a five-year-old. He was still considering this when she tugged at his arm and led him from the tiled entrance foyer into a modern, comfortably furnished lounge.

‘What’s in the bag?’ she asked.

‘A bottle of wine.’

‘I’ll put it in the ’frigerator,’ she told him, extending two small hands towards it.

‘Well, it’s red wine. You don’t put it in the fridge.’

She frowned up at him. ‘Are you s’posed to drink it hot?’

‘Eh, not exactly. It’s supposed to be served at room temperature.’

‘So how do you know the temperature of the room?’

Craig blinked. ‘Um, where’s your mother?’

‘Upstairs. Uncle Bernie hasn’t come down yet so she’s probably still getting dressed.’

Knowing Taylor had no living relatives and he had none called Bernie, the child’s casual revelation that there was a man upstairs while Taylor was dressing did ugly things to Craig’s blood pressure.

‘Who,’ he asked through clenched teeth, ‘is Uncle Bernie?’

‘My dog. He’s really, really big, but don’t worry,’ she advised. ‘He’s friendly.’

The force of Craig’s relieved sigh was such that he marvelled that it hadn’t blown the tiny girl off her feet. Yet his original anxiety hadn’t been caused by a fear of canines; a killer Rottweiler upstairs wouldn’t have worried him as much as a flesh-and-blood man! He wasn’t shocked by the strength of his possessiveness towards Taylor; many a night he’d tortured himself by imagining her in the arms of another man and felt pain and anger claw at his gut. Yet only now did it occur to him that in five years there may well have been more than one. Looking at Melanie, he fleetingly speculated whether she could provide him with an answer to the question foremost in his mind. Was she his only rival for Taylor’s affections or was there another?

No! He would not stoop so low as to pump the kid about her mother’s love life. It was a sleazy, underhanded thing to do. He tuned out the inner voice suggesting his pseudo-nobility only disguised his real reason for not quizzing Melanie—fear she might tell him things he didn’t want to know!

‘Hi, Craig, sorry I wasn’t ready when you got here.’

He pivoted at the voice of the woman he’d been aching to see for five days. Now he was seeing her, the ache intensified rather than lessened. Her hair was seductively tousled as if someone in the throes of passion had run eager fingers through its soft, tawny length, but how those hands could have strayed from the tempting curves of her body, detailed by the short black stretch dress she wore was beyond Craig’s comprehension. He swallowed hard, his eyes following the shapely lines of her naked legs down to the spike-heeled shoes on her feet.

‘Dinner shouldn’t be too much longer,’ she informed him. ‘Unfortunately I’m a little behind schedule, but I’m sure Melanie will keep you occupied until I’m ready to serve.’

Her glossy smile was smooth, but the quick flick of her tongue at the corner of her mouth was enough to tell Craig she wasn’t as cool or collected as she pretended. Past experience also told him she was every bit as hot as she looked.

He grinned at her. ‘Well, I’m not averse to pitching in and helping with dinner,’ he offered. ‘You used to find me pretty...handy in the kitchen.’

Taylor blushed, her traitorous mind immediately flashing back—as he’d intended—to the times in their marriage when the kitchen counter had been utilized for purposes other than cooking. She tried to produce a patronizing look. ‘No thanks. These days I manage very well on my own.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Effective, but not nearly as much fun.’ Taylor gasped so hard she started to choke. ‘At least let me fix the drinks,’ he insisted.

Her eyes still watering, she spoke to her daughter. ‘Melanie, show your father where the bar is, please.’

‘Then can I take him upstairs and show him Uncle Bernie?’

Then you can take him to hell! she thought. ‘Sure, honey, whatever you want.’ Without so much as glancing at Craig, she turned and hurried to the kitchen.

Taylor crouched in front of the open refrigerator, a thousand different emotions exploding within her, but anger held centre stage. Anger at herself. Looking down at the dress she’d hastily changed into at Craig’s arrival, she wanted to scream. Dammit to hell, she was supposed to be trying to establish a relationship between her daughter and Craig! Not re-establish her own! And he’d been amused by her obvious attempt at self-promotion. Smugly amused! What was worse was that she still found his cocky, self-assured attitude as arousing as she had as a teenager! When he’d suggested giving her a hand in the kitchen, she’d damn near salivated.

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