by Miranda Lee
‘Yes...yes,’ she moaned when his fingers found and started stroking the satiny flesh between her thighs.
Her utter abandon must have startled him, for his head jerked up and he looked stunned as he stared down at her glazed eyes.
But she was beyond shame. ‘I want you,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Don’t you know that? Ever since last Friday night I’ve been wanting you...’
Her words had the opposite effect of what she wanted. He stopped. ‘You deliberately teased me in that dress yesterday, didn’t you?’ he asked, eyes flaring angrily as his hands curled over her shoulder, fingers biting deep into her flesh. ‘Didn’t you?’ he repeated, shaking her.
‘Yes.’
‘You bitch,’ he groaned, and swept her up into his arms, carrying her over to the chesterfield. There he laid her down and slowly undressed her, till she was all burning nakedness against the chill of the leather. His eyes remained angry as he bent his mouth to her, deliberately driving her to the jagged, panting edge of release before leaving her to begin taking off his own clothes. He took his time, watching her all the while with hooded, smouldering eyes, enjoying her frustration.
‘You will never do such a thing to me again, Samantha Peters,’ he grated out as he returned to take a rough possession of her still pulsating flesh. ‘Never,’ he repeated, and began to surge into her, deeply, passionately.
Samantha’s body immediately splintered into sharp, convulsive spasms, but Guy seemed oblivious of her climax, his mad mating continuing, each thrust punctuated with wild words. ‘Because I mean to have you...every time I want you...wherever I want you...however I want you...I will have you...and have you...till I drive these demons away...till I—’
His voice was choked off by a guttural cry, his whole body trembling uncontrollably as he began to shudder into her. Finally he slumped forward across her, his chest still heaving, raw gasps bursting from his lungs. Samantha gathered him in, stroking his sweat-covered back, gentling him with tender, loving words of bitter-sweet submission. ‘Yes, yes,’ she murmured, and kissed his shoulder, his chest, his neck. ‘I’m yours...for as long as you want me...’
Dismay claimed her heart as the import of her own words sank in. For they encapsulated the only sort of relationship Guy could make with a woman, that of temporary lover. Sooner or later, when his passion had finally been sated, when sexual boredom set in, she would be discarded as every other woman in his life had been discarded. It might be three months from now, maybe four, definitely by six. Six months had always been his limit.
And it was while she was accepting these bleak thoughts that she remembered about the baby.
‘Oh, my God!’ She jerked up under him, pushing him away from her so that she could sit up.
‘What the...?’ He stared at her through glazed, smoky eyes.
‘It’s Tuesday!’ she groaned.
The appalled horror that catapulted into his eyes was unmistakable. Quite clearly he too had forgotten. And, even more clearly, he no longer wanted her to fall pregnant, to have his baby. He now wanted something entirely different from her.
Samantha’s emotions were torn in two. How ironic, she thought, that she had achieved one part of what she wanted—Guy’s sexual desire—only to lose something else: his previously fervent wish for her to be the mother of his child.
‘So it is,’ he said, with bitter regret in his voice. ‘So it is...’ And he swung his feet over the side of the chesterfield, scooping his hair back from his forehead in a frustrated gesture.
Her eyes darted over at him, and for a second she felt a different pain, a panic. Surely he wouldn’t ask her to have an abortion if she had conceived? Surely not? ‘Guy,’ she said, her heart fluttering wildly. ‘There’s no need to be upset. It’s...it’s what we originally planned, isn’t it?’
He gave a dry laugh as he slanted her a hard look. ‘Our original plan had certain prerequisites. Things have undergone some changes around here.’
‘In...what way do you mean?’ she asked. Was he talking about her character? Or the changing face of their relationship? His sudden and unexpected passion for her?
He stood up and started to drag on his clothes. Samantha watched him for a moment, then, feeling suddenly embarrassed, she got to her feet and began to do likewise.
‘I didn’t expect us to be so...physically in tune,’ he said curtly. ‘It presents...a problem.’
‘Why?’
He threw her an exasperated look. ‘For pity’s sake, Sam, you must realise that once a man and woman become sexually besotted with each other there’s a danger of further emotional involvement creeping in. One of them might think they’ve fallen in love and then there’s hell to pay. Hell,’ he repeated darkly, and expelled a shuddering sigh. ‘Still...’ he flashed her a worried look ‘...I guess, since you’re in love with some other man, then things mightn’t get out of hand. And, dammit, I do want our child, regardless...’
He was frowning grimly but Samantha hadn’t heard a thing past his first sentence. ‘Are you really sexually besotted with me, Guy?’ she asked breathlessly.
His mouth curved into an ironic smile, his hand stilling on the belt of his trousers. ‘Do you want further proof?’
Her own hands froze on the buttons of her blouse, her first instinct to drop her eyes modestly and say no. But something had been swept aside in Samantha that afternoon, Guy had swept it aside with his blistering passion, his no-holds-barred lovemaking. Any natural coyness and shyness seemed no longer relevant. She faced him with total sexual honesty. ‘Yes,’ she said.
It took his breath away. Literally.
But then he smiled again, and she knew he was still way ahead of her in that department. His hand reached out to trace her stiff puffy lips, to brush over her nipples through her clothes. She quivered under his touch.
‘How have you hidden this side of yourself from me for so long?’ he said thickly, his eyes narrowed with desire.
She shook her head, her tongue thick in her mouth, her throat dry.
His laugh was soft as he moved to draw her into his arms. ‘I presume you didn’t bring your overnight bag with you to the office today?’ he murmured.
Again she shook her head.
He sighed in mock disappointment. ‘You’ll have to sleep in my bed tonight in the altogether, then, won’t you?’
Another little shiver ran through her.
‘But first things first.’ His lips curved back into a wry smile as he started undressing her again. ‘The things we men have to suffer to have a child...’
CHAPTER TEN
BY THE following morning there was no going back for Samantha, in any sense of the word. Guy wanted her as much as she wanted him. And, while common sense told her that one day her happiness would end, that infernal optimist named hope kept telling her Guy might change this time. This time, if she had his baby, his emotions could become engaged too and he might fall in love with her.
It was possible. Anything was possible, she decided. Look what had happened already. A few days ago she would never have believed she would become Guy’s mistress, that he would look at her with such passion, such desire. Even after he had finished making love to her last night for the umpteenth time, he had seemed to still want her, touching her all the time, giving her the most seductive compliments. What woman wouldn’t melt when told repeatedly she was the sexiest, most desirable woman in the world? What woman wouldn’t respond by trying to make the words come true, by giving herself totally to such a lover, without inhibition, without shame?
The next two weeks passed for Samantha on a high plateau of sexual awareness and arousal, which perhaps transmitted itself to the man she loved, for Guy could not seem to get enough of her. Morning, noon and night he wanted to make love. No place was sacrosanct, no time.
Once, when Mrs Walton had been in the office longer than usual, Guy sent the poor woman out on an errand clear across the city. Even so, they were scarcely dressed when she returned, and later that night, when
they were locked in each other’s arms in Guy’s bed, he suggested naughtily she wear wider skirts and less underwear to the office in future.
The Samantha of a couple of weeks ago would never have dreamt of being so daring. But there was no embarrassment or resistance in her relationship with Guy, only eager willingness to please, so intense were her feelings for him.
Besides, after that first time in the office he was never cruel to her, never at all crude. He suggested, never demanded. Persuaded, never took. Seduced, never forced.
He was also incredibly loving, always making her feel cherished afterwards, never used. Oh, yes, he could be wildly passionate, once he had secured her co-operation. Then he would lose control entirely, but he always held her tenderly during the aftermath of their torrid lovemaking, talking softly to her, as if she was a fragile, precious thing that he valued above all else.
No wonder all those other women were crazy about him, she thought occasionally with bitter jealousy. But then she would put those thoughts out of her head and try to enjoy each wonderful moment they shared.
She was pleased too that Guy didn’t attempt to hide her overnight stays at his home, proudly taking her down to breakfast the next morning. Despite an initial surprise, Barbara and Leon soon got used to her new role in Guy’s life, Barbara even going so far as to make some not so subtle remarks about ‘some men taking years to grow up in their choice of women, but when they did they surpassed themselves’.
Mrs Walton, however, was kept blissfully in the dark. A dear woman, she was inclined to be a fraction strait-laced.
Lisa, of course, was very pleased for her friend, though not so pleased about not seeing Samantha so often for a cuppa and a chat.
‘I’m lucky to catch you in these days,’ Lisa complained at the communal laundry one Sunday. By this time Samantha’s period was three weeks late and she was pretty sure she was pregnant. But Guy had insisted over the weekend that she go to the doctor for confirmation, so she’d made an appointment for first thing on the Monday morning at her local medical centre.
‘Had to come home to do some washing,’ she laughed.
‘The boss still keeping you happy, I see,’ Lisa winked. ‘Any talk of marriage?’
Samantha’s heart squeezed a little. ‘No. He’s not the marrying kind. I told you.’
Lisa shrugged. ‘Men are always not the marrying kind. Till they meet the right girl.’
‘Not Guy,’ Samantha said. ‘He’s a confirmed bachelor.’
‘Then what on earth are you bothering with him for?’ Lisa asked bluntly. ‘You don’t seem the type of girl who would settle for an affair.’
The remark brought Samantha up with a jolt. How was she ever going to explain to people like Lisa about the baby, except by making it look like a mistake? Suddenly she realised she didn’t want that. Not at all.
‘The truth is, Lisa,’ she said carefully, ‘I have a secondary reason for having an affair with Guy. He...he told me one day that, even though he’s not into marriage, he wanted a child to love, and so—’
‘And so you offered your services,’ Lisa cut in drily.
‘Well, yes...’
Lisa was shaking her head. ‘Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. Noble sacrifice is always a big mistake, love. Still...I can appreciate your dilemma. Hard to pass up all that sex with the man you love. Not to mention the little bit of him you get to keep forever. OK,’ she sighed resignedly, ‘when’s the babe due? Do you want me to knit blue or pink or a neutral colour?’
Samantha gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘How do you know I’m even pregnant yet?’
‘Oh, honey... One look at that virile boss of yours and I’m nearly pregnant. After all these weeks of your tippy-toeing home at all hours, if at all, you’re sure to be in the club.’
Samantha started to laugh outright. Lisa was always so good for her morale.
But she went to bed that night, quite keyed up over her doctor’s appointment the following morning. What if she wasn’t pregnant? What if she was just late?
Ten a.m. the next day found her hurrying along the corridor towards the office, the doctor’s words still ringing in her ears. ‘Yes, Miss Peters, the test’s positive. From your dates, the baby’s due mid-February...’
She felt hopelessly excited. She was definitely going to have a baby. A real baby. Right at this very moment a tiny little human being was actually growing inside her.
Goodness, Samantha realised, her face aglow with happiness. I’m going to be a mother!
She stopped before she reached the office door and ran a trembling hand over her stomach.
‘Can you hear me, my child?’ she whispered. ‘I’m your mother. I wonder...will you call me Mum, or Mummy? Will you be blue-eyed, like your daddy, or hazel, like me? And will you love me as much as I know I’m going to love you, sweet precious darling?’
Samantha sighed happily, then hurried on, opening the office door and walking in with a silly grin on her face, only to find the office had a visitor. Guy’s father was sitting in her chair and Guy was perched on the edge of the desk, both looking decidedly grim.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, taken aback. She’d been mentally planning to have Guy to herself as she told him about the baby. She couldn’t wait to see the happiness in his eyes. Instead, those eyes snapped to hers with a brusquely questioning glance, and she had no option but to confirm the news impersonally, with a slight nod. The joy she’d been expecting to leap into his face didn’t eventuate either. He looked quite...perturbed. Worried even.
Shock and dismay coursed through her. Admittedly, his initial reaction about her getting pregnant had been perturbing, but he seemed to have come round to the idea since then. He’d been extremely happy talking about the baby on Saturday night. What on earth had father and son been talking about to put Guy in such a grimly negative mood?
She battled to hide her distress as her gaze swept almost angrily over Martin Haywood. Why had he picked today to visit his son’s office? Why did he have to come in here and spoil everything?
But then she noticed that the man looked far from well. Besides having lost weight, he had aged dramatically since his operation. He now looked every day of his fifty-seven years, whereas before he could have passed for mid to late-forties.
Sympathy warred with her anger as he stood up, his eyes tired as they ran over her flushed face. ‘You’re looking well, Samantha,’ he said wearily. ‘Guy tells me you’ve been to the doctor. Surely there’s nothing wrong, is there?’
Her eyes flicked from father to son, and Guy gave a hurried shake of his head. Clearly the news was to be secret for a while, which also filled her with dismay. Till she remembered her own parents’ possible reaction. It was one thing to tell a modern girl like Lisa about an illegitimate, though planned pregnancy. Quite another to present one’s close relatives with such bold news.
‘Just had to get a prescription refilled,’ she returned, and walked briskly into the kitchenette.
‘Very efficient girl, that,’ she heard Martin mutter behind her.
It was only when she removed her overcoat that Samantha remembered her clothes, the dress Guy had bought for her last Saturday morning, saying it filled his ‘access’ requirements. ‘To be worn on Monday,’ he had whispered as the saleslady had wrapped it up.
A very feminine Paisley printed dress, predominantly wine in colour, it had a scooped neck, dropped waistline, gathered skirt and tiny buttons down the front, the sort of dress designed to remind men that a woman was a woman. Not the sort of thing Martin Haywood had ever seen her wear before. Thank goodness she had a bra on and her hair up. She certainly didn’t want Guy’s father looking at her with suddenly knowing eyes.
‘Well, Dad,’ Guy was saying brusquely as she came back into the room to reclaim her chair. ‘What are you going to do now? You need a housekeeper. You can’t very well do everything yourself, not after such a serious operation. Why on earth did you fire her?’
Martin shrugged his own frustration. �
��The damned woman was too bossy, telling me what I should be eating and drinking et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. If a man can’t enjoy a cigar and a glass of port occasionally, what can he enjoy? Lord knows, I’m not doing much of anything else these days.’
‘Good housekeepers don’t grow on trees, Dad,’ Guy said drily.
‘Then get me a bad housekeeper,’ Martin retorted with a bitter laugh.
Samantha had an inspiration, which was prompted by selfishness more than sympathy. She wanted Guy’s father away from him. Well away from him.
‘May I make a radical suggestion?’ Samantha spoke up. ‘My widowed Aunt Vonnie has a large home and enjoys the occasional house-guest. She’s an ex-army nurse too. Knows all there is to know about recuperating patients. Of course, she does live in Newcastle. But that’s no more than a two-hour drive from here on the new expressway. And she’d suit you admirably, Mr Haywood,’ she added, thinking wryly of her handsome, strong-minded, eccentric aunt with her unswayable ideas on what one should and shouldn’t eat. She wasn’t too keen on smoking, either.
‘Like me to ring her?’ Samantha asked. ‘See if she’d like a boarder for a while? She doesn’t live far from the beach. She’s a good cook, an excellent conversationalist and she simply adores port.’
And whisky. And gin. And vodka. Aunt Vonnie was a vegetarian, not a teetotallar.
‘I don’t know,’ he said warily, as though sensing some sort of trap.
‘Oh, go on, Dad,’ his son said impatiently. ‘What have you got to lose?’
Martin Haywood sighed. ‘Nothing, I guess. Well, young woman, give me your aunt’s phone number. I make my own plans in life. I don’t let ladies do it for me.’
Aunt Vonnie will sort you out, Samantha thought when she handed the phone number over, but making a mental note to ring her aunt and warn her before Martin Haywood could. If she made him sound like a challenging and incorrigible case her aunt would not be able to resist. She was always bringing stray dogs or people home to patch up and send on their way. Besides, Aunt Vonnie had sounded lonely in her last letter. Her one and only son was off working at a copper mine in Borneo or somewhere equally remote. She could do with something to occupy her mind and time.