“Of course.” She grinned, then flicked Sean a quick look. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. Lead on.” He gave a mysterious nod.
Was it his imagination, or did they both look nervous?
She went into the house and Dion followed, puzzling over their secret communication. But he forgot it instantly as he found himself in a huge, open plan kitchen and living area with high ceilings and shiny, kauri wood floors, the far wall completely made of large windows that looked out over the small bay. “Wow!”
“I know.” Gaby laughed. “It took my breath away when I first walked in. Sean wouldn’t let me see it until he’d finished it.”
“It’s fantastic.” He opened his mouth to ask her to show him around, but the words failed to come as his attention focused on the person standing on the deck outside, overlooking the bay.
She hadn’t noticed him come in. He could hear her singing, and it made him smile. She’d always been the same, her brain like an iPod on shuffle. Now she was singing an old Dylan song, I’ll be your baby tonight. Her husky voice sent a shiver down his spine. He remembered that voice in his ear whispering erotic things he’d never have dreamed she’d be brave enough to say to him.
He walked across the floor to the open sliding doors. As he approached, she turned around, obviously hearing his shoes on the wood.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in an almost comical expression of shock and surprise. Obviously, she hadn’t expected him. Sean hadn’t told her he was coming.
Fuck. Why?
He stopped walking and stared at her, his heart hammering. She hadn’t changed much over the past year. Her hair shone the light chestnut colour it had always been, and she’d pinned it up in an elegant clip, leaving curly strands to frame her face.
She’d lost a little weight. She wore denim cut-offs and a pink vest that clung to her breasts, and sparkly flip-flops, or jandals as the Kiwis called them. She looked pretty and sexy, and an image shot through his head of her that moment he’d spotted her Prague, stunning in the scarlet coat, with the saddest look on her face he’d ever seen on anyone.
No, she didn’t look any different.
What was different was the baby she held in her arms.
Chapter Two
Harry squirmed in Megan’s too-tight grip. She forced herself to loosen her arms and concentrate on her breathing, recognising the familiar feel of a hand around her throat, the pounding of her heart that marked the onset of a panic attack. She closed her eyes for a moment. Concentrate. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She would not faint, not while she held the baby.
She forced the wave of panic down as if it were a large dog trying to jump up at her. You can cope, you’re strong enough to deal with anything now. Her inner voice sounded weak and feeble in her head, but she made herself repeat the words until the panic receded. It seemed like minutes, but must only have been ten seconds or so.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Dion hadn’t moved. He stood three feet in front of her, looking calm and cool in his chinos and crisp white shirt. Was it really him, here in New Zealand? Surely he hadn’t come straight from the airport? He could have arrived off a Milan catwalk, with his Ray-Ban sunglasses resting on the top of his brushed back dark hair, and his flashy watch.
Jeez, the guy was gorgeous, mouth wateringly so. She’d dreamed about him so often, but her imagination hadn’t matched up to the real thing. Thoughts spun in her brain like a child’s windmill in the wind. Last time she’d seen him, they’d had the hottest sex of her life. She’d always suspected he’d be great in bed, and he certainly hadn’t disappointed. She’d fantasised about sleeping with him since the age of fifteen. It had been a dream come true that moment when he’d seen her as a woman, not as Sean’s sister. The memory of the desire that had bloomed in his eyes brought goose bumps out all over her skin.
But he wasn’t looking at her like that now. Though he seemed calm, his shock was evident. He was staring at her as if she held a baby Martian.
Sean and Gaby moved to either side of them so they stood in a square. “All right, love?” Sean asked warily.
She ignored him. He’d engineered this. She wanted to punch his lights out.
Dion ran his gaze down her, then back to the baby in her arms before returning to her face. He looked at her, but when he spoke, he directed the words to Sean and his wife. “You two didn’t tell me you’d recently had another baby.”
His deep, rich voice sent a shiver down her spine as she remembered him murmuring sexy demands to her in that hotel room, things she’d never thought she’d do with a man, let alone him. But his heated stare challenged them all to accept or deny his statement, and she forced the memory away.
Gaby looked worried, Sean wary. Dion’s glare showed her that, clearly, he’d done the math.
Her mouth went dry. She’d thought this moment might come, but she’d also thought she would be able to prepare herself. Still, she couldn’t do anything about it now. She had to face the loud and potentially overwhelming music.
Thanks, big brother.
“Harry isn’t Sean’s,” she said, surprised to find her voice stronger than she’d thought it would be. “He’s my son.”
She met Dion’s hazel eyes. Pity swept through her. This was a shock for her, but it must be an even bigger shock for him. “And yours,” she said. She paused before adding in a quieter voice, “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
Everyone fell silent.
They stayed silent for a full twenty seconds, during which time Dion’s eyes turned from icy to hurt, and eventually to flat, emotionless mirrors, causing her heart to crumple in on itself like a dying star.
Then he turned and walked out.
Sean stared at her for a moment before going after him.
Megan went over to the carry seat, placed Harry in it and clipped him in. Her hands shook when she tried to push the clips together—partly from shock, partly from anger—but she managed it after a couple of goes. She raised the handle, and Harry focussed on the mobile above his head, reaching up to touch it, oblivious and content.
She was conscious of Gaby watching her, obviously clueless as to what to say. Her sister-in-law was also her best friend, but at that moment Megan couldn’t look at her.
Sean came back in. “He’s gone for a walk down to the marina.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “He said he’ll be back later.”
Megan straightened, glared at her brother and clenched her fists. It took all her self-control not to swing at him. “What the fuck did you think you were doing bringing him here like that?”
Sean glared back. “You have to talk to him.”
“Sorry, who died and made you king of the world?”
“Megan…” Sean looked pained. “He rang me to say he was coming to New Zealand for a holiday. I had to ask him to stay—it would have looked odd if I hadn’t. We were best mates.”
“You should have told me he’d be here.” She gritted her teeth. “You’re lucky I didn’t pass out on the spot.”
“If I had told you, would you have met with him?”
Frustrated, furious tears filled her eyes. She clenched her hands so tightly her nails bit into her palms. “That’s not the point. It wasn’t your decision to make.”
Gaby walked forward, clearly distraught. “Honey, you’ve had such a difficult time. We know you didn’t want to contact Dion because you didn’t think he’d want to know about Harry, but we thought it would be good for you to have help from the father.”
“And what help, exactly, do you think he’ll be? Did you think he’d declare his love for me, tell me he was glad I got pregnant? Propose and swear he’ll never leave my side?”
“No,” Sean said. But she knew her brother well enough to guess he’d hoped that would happen.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” she snapped. “Grow up.” Anger mixed with shame and disappointment. They were only trying to help, but what a stupid way to go about
it. How on earth had they thought springing such a surprise on both her and Dion would ever end well?
Her throat began to tighten again. She had to get out. It was pointless staying anyway—Dion would need time to process the shocking news she’d just delivered, and to think what to say to her. The poor guy. He didn’t deserve this. He hadn’t expected such a big Christmas present on arriving in New Zealand.
She walked over and picked up her son in his carry seat.
“Where are you going?” Sean moved to stand in front of her.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” She tried to keep her voice calm. “I assume he’s come straight from the airport, in which case he’s been travelling for a whole day, and I’m sure he’s tired and jet-lagged. I’ll call in tomorrow, if he wants to talk. Now, I’m going home.”
She walked around him and out of the door to her car, clipped Harry’s seat in with the seatbelt and got in, ignoring Sean and Gaby. Then she drove away.
Only as she crested the rise to the main road did she let the tears fall.
Chapter Three
At low tide the marina was quiet, only a few people pottering around in the distance on the piers that jutted into the deep blue water of the harbour.
Dion sat on the wooden bench overlooking the bay, glad of the peace. His heart thundered and his head ached, plus he had a weird, spacey feeling that might have been part jet lag, part complete and utter shock.
He had a son.
Fucking hell, I’m a father.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, struggling to control his panic. Thoughts whirled around his head, and a hundred different emotions knotted his stomach.
What had Sean been thinking, letting him find out like that? Why hadn’t he warned him?
And more importantly, why had Megan never told him she’d fallen pregnant?
Perhaps it wasn’t his. She could just be saying that. They’d used condoms for Christ’s sake. He knew they weren’t a hundred percent reliable, but even so… And she’d dated Cody for years—couldn’t it be his child? Perhaps she and Sean had planned this together because she needed money or something, and Cody had refused to cough up.
Even as the thought filtered through his brain, he knew he was fooling himself. He almost winced with shame that he’d thought either of them would do such a thing to him. The look on Megan’s face when he’d walked into the room told him she’d had no idea he was going to be there. And she’d broken up with Cody several months before she’d met Dion in Prague. In spite of the fact that they’d had a one-night stand, she didn’t sleep around. She’d told him Cody had been her first and only boyfriend, and Dion believed her. In fact she’d only slept with him, Dion, because their attraction had been the culmination of a long relationship that had smouldered for years before finally erupting with volcanic heat they’d been powerless to avoid.
And yes, they’d used condoms, but he remembered vividly that the time they’d spent together had been incredibly passionate and…energetic. It wouldn’t totally shock him to find out one of the condoms had split during their enthusiastic lovemaking.
No, she’d told him the baby was his, and he had to trust her and deal with it.
He sank his hands into his hair. What the hell did he know about fatherhood? It was something as alien to him as this sub-tropical country. He didn’t want the responsibility. Certainly not at the moment, with all the other problems he had to contend with.
True, it didn’t appear as if Megan needed anything from him. Maybe she didn’t want him to play a part in the baby’s life at all.
Hurt filtered through him at that thought. She’d deliberately kept the baby a secret from him. She didn’t want him in the boy’s life.
He gritted his teeth, angry at the unfairness of the situation and his conflicting emotions. In spite of the fact that he didn’t want this, he felt resentful that he hadn’t been involved. She’d made the decisions alone—to have the child, as well as not to tell him about it. None of this had been his doing, and the injustice of that made his chest tighten. Yet again, his fate had been forced on him.
His fingers tightened into fists in his hair. At that moment he hated her with a passion, and he gasped at the fierceness of the emotion.
Then, like a soap bubble, the intense feeling rose and dissipated, leaving him tired and depressed. He’d been looking forward to catching up with her, and—although he hadn’t admitted it to himself—maybe even revisiting the affair they’d had in Prague. A brief holiday fling would have suited him just right—all the fun without any of the commitment. Thinking about it, he’d been arrogant and stupid to think he could just waltz back into her life and expect things to be unchanged. What a fool he’d been.
He’d thought often about the time they’d had in Europe together—those precious hours that had somehow been a time out of time, as if the two of them had been captured in a snow globe, shielded temporarily from the problems of the real world.
But the magic had all been created by the city and the snowy, Christmassy atmosphere. It couldn’t have been Megan who made it so special.
He closed his eyes. Please, he prayed. Don’t let it have been Megan. Because if it had been her, it was possible he’d screwed up the best chance of happiness he was likely to get.
Chapter Four
Christmas Past
This is a huge mistake.
Megan stood on the fourteenth-century Charles Bridge that arched over the River Vltava in Prague and stared at the fairy tale skyline in despair. Snow fell on her hair and face, but something other than the bitterly cold weather had frozen her feet to the floor. Panic had clamped a tight hold around her throat and every muscle in her body had knotted until she couldn’t move.
Stupid, she thought miserably, her heart racing. I’ve been so stupid. How had she thought she’d be able to cope on her own in a strange city, eleven thousand miles away from the safety and security of home?
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. A chance to get away, to clear her mind. What was the phrase? A change is as good as a rest. Plus, of course, it had been a knee-jerk reaction to breaking up with Cody. They’d booked the holiday in celebration of their engagement back in September. It hadn’t bothered her at the time that the large deposit she’d paid out of her own bank account was non-refundable—they’d been dating for three years, so why would it have entered her head that they might break up before Christmas?
In the weeks following their separation, she’d accepted that the holiday was a write-off. After all, she’d booked the romantic long weekend for two—which included tours around the beautiful city, a candlelit dinner every evening and a four poster bed to sleep in—before her new status as a single woman had come to light.
But as the weeks passed and her misery and pain turned to anger and defiance, she started to think why not? Why shouldn’t she have a holiday? She hardly ever treated herself. She’d paid the deposit, she had plenty of savings and Lord knew she deserved the break. So what if it was supposed to be for two people? She’d spend her time getting to know the city, eat all the lovely food and sleep in the huge bed, and Cody and his bimbo could go screw themselves.
In theory it had seemed like a great idea. Now, in a strange city with nothing but a map and a camera to keep her company, she felt alone, pathetic, miserable, and furious at herself for being all those things. And it wasn’t even as if she were any normal person who could trail around behind the other tourists and make do—because when she got nervous, she got panicky, and when she got panicky her body let her down. The stupid thing was that the fear of having an attack in public tended to bring on a frickin’ attack, and worrying how she’d cope only made it worse.
She should have been on the coach to Karlstejn Castle, but although she’d met the tour guide and walked along to the others in the waiting area, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to join the queue for the coach. Why did she find queues so difficult? She’d never been a
ble to work it out, but it was apparently a common problem for agoraphobes. Something to do with being in crowds and feeling unable to escape the situation, although deep down she knew she could walk away at any moment.
The phobia had never made sense to her—it was nothing to do with a fear of open spaces like most people thought, and she couldn’t relate it to an incident that had happened to her in childhood or anything. It felt more like being haunted by a malevolent spirit bent on taking her over, which delighted in possessing her at the most inconvenient times.
But she’d learned to accept it long ago. It couldn’t be cured by antibiotics or amputation, or even time. She either had to learn to come to terms with it or be destroyed by it. She’d decided she was many things—a woman, a brunette, an artist, a singer, as well as an agoraphobe. It didn’t define her.
Still, at that moment, standing on the bridge with sweating palms and a pounding heart, she closed her eyes and wished fervently that she was someone else. It had been worse the past year, as if the malevolent spirit had sensed the decay of her relationship in spite of her ignorance, and it had tortured her gleefully the first few weeks after she broke up with Cody to the point that she’d barely been able to leave the house. Her feelings of abandonment and of failure had somehow magnified her inadequacies a hundredfold at first, until her therapist had helped her to start to see that the end of the relationship wasn’t solely her fault—that Cody had certainly played his part in it, and she shouldn’t continue to blame herself.
She was determined to conquer it. But to exorcise the spirit she needed to have faith, and that was in short supply at the moment.
“Megan?”
She opened her eyes at the sound of her name, so panicky and confused that she couldn’t get her brain to function properly. The man before her was talking, his face alight with what seemed to be pleasure, but his words didn’t make sense to her befuddled brain. He looked vaguely familiar… Where had she’d seen him before? Her palms grew moist, even though her fingers were numb with cold.
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