by Kim Lawrence
‘Good luck.’ She was glad he hadn’t sealed their tentative bargaining with a kiss. Relief made her feel quite nauseous for a moment and she didn’t dare risk getting to her feet until her knees had stopped shaking.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU’LL get those lovely shiny shoes dirty if you come in here,’ Jo warned. The sight of the long legs attached to those shoes instantly put an end to a peaceful half-hour during which she’d managed not to think about anything taxing. She took her time straightening up to give her racing heart time to slow. ‘I’m feeding Napoleon.’
For a man who often bemoaned the fact that his clients could be sentimental about their animals, Bill Smith often brought home a selection of waifs and strays—occasionally one was just too unappealing or antisocial to be found a permanent home. Napoleon, a particularly vile-tempered billy-goat was one of this number, a permanent fixture for many years now.
‘A man could be excused for thinking you didn’t want me near you.’ He kept a wary eye on the goat. ‘That animal has never liked me.’
She couldn’t have asked for a more innocuous conversation; there was certainly nothing in his manner to explain her tumultuous pulse-rate and shaky knees.
‘Normally I’d say you shouldn’t endow animals with human characteristics, but in this case. . . I’ll tie him up—the bill might be hefty if he decides to eat that rather smart suit.’ Loose Italian styling in dark grey made him appear almost a stranger. ‘We don’t usually dress for Sunday lunch,’ she joked, to cover her growing confusion.
‘I don’t think I’m invited,’ Liam responded drily. ‘Your dad told me you were here.’ One dark brow quirked meaningfully. ‘I’ve a meeting, in Manchester,’ he added, casually smoothing down his silk tie.
Jo put down the plastic bucket and, hands thrust in the pockets of her jeans, she stepped out into the weak morning sunlight. ‘You’ve seen Dad, then. Was it very awful?’
‘You could say we had a frank exchange of views. His view being that I’m a selfish, untrustworthy bastard who has taken advantage of his hospitality by seducing his daughter.’
She winced whilst acknowledging privately it could have been worse. Dad’s language the previous night had been a lot less restrained. ‘I’m sorry, Liam, but he’s a bit upset right now.’
‘I didn’t say I disagreed with him.’
‘Don’t you start,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve had enough of that nonsense from him! I told Dad if anyone did the seducing it was me!’ Unpalatable though it might be, this was a fact and she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. Chin tilted, she dared him to contradict her.
Something flickered at the back of his eyes. ‘That must have gone down well. I’m surprised he didn’t turn the dogs on me.’
Jo smiled a little wanly as she thought of her father’s motley collection of other people’s rejects—one thing they all had in common was extreme docility. ‘If he had they might have drooled you to death. Do you remember when—?’
‘We need to do some serious talking, Jo.’ His expression made it clear he didn’t share her desire to reminisce. ‘You can’t act as though nothing has changed.’
He’s telling me that! ‘You prefer Greek tragedy? I’ll polish up my heart-rending sobs, shall I? You don’t have to tell me nothing is ever going to be the same—I’ve worked that out even hampered by my limited intelligence.’
He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Point taken, Jo. You just seem so. . . so calm about all this.’
She had to smile at that. He had no notion of the blind panic that had seized her when she’d first realised she was pregnant. ‘Your life doesn’t have to change fundamentally because of this.’ It was only natural he’d be concerned—having fatherhood thrust upon him was bound to be an unsettling experience.
His fingers tightened over the curve of her collar-bone and she winced. ‘Sorry,’ he grated, dropping his arm. ‘You’re assuming I couldn’t cope with the demands of fatherhood.’
The anger emanating from his tense body confused her. ‘I’m sure you could cope, I’m just saying you don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own. . . ’ The blast of fury from his blue eyes made her voice trail away.
‘Only you won’t be on your own, you’ll have my child.’
She suddenly realised she’d been naive not to expect this possessiveness, but it genuinely hadn’t occurred to her.
‘And the child will have you too, but not on a full-time basis. That’s all I was trying to say.’ Considering the obvious depth of his feeling she was prepared to overlook his hostility.
‘But you’ll grant me visitation rights.’
‘We won’t need anything like that,’ she said, shocked by his suggestion and the bitterness in his tone.
‘You say that now, but what about later when a new Justin is back on the scene? Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want to be a part-time father?’
What was he saying? They both knew nothing else was possible. She couldn’t believe this was Liam talking; he was like a stranger—a stranger, furthermore, she didn’t much like. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’
‘I’m making a valid point. I’m not prepared to leave the future to take care of itself, not when it’s my child we’re talking about.’
‘Our child,’ she said quietly.
‘Pardon?’
‘Our child,’ she said, her voice moving swiftly up the scales. ‘You keep saying my child this, my child that. I am involved in this,’ she reminded him sarcastically. ‘What a fool I was to assume that this would be easier because we’re friends! If I had to have a one-night stand I wish I’d had it with a stranger! It would have made things a lot easier.’
Under his tan Liam went white and the vivid colour of his eyes seemed more pronounced by contrast. ‘We’re all wise in retrospect. It would seem you’re stuck with me as the father of your child, Jo. You’d better come to terms with the fact I’m not about to disappear.’
‘Not even to Manchester,’ she reminded him. ‘If we’re talking priorities. . . ’ She could see from his expression that her jibe had hit home.
‘I have to go,’ he bit back. ‘If I could avoid it I would. I know the tuning stinks, but I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll talk.’
‘I’ll be at work tomorrow.’
‘Stay here and wait for me.’
He had a very elegant way of moving, but Jo was in no mood to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of his retreating back. Maybe Liam was accustomed to people jumping when he started flinging his orders about, but he’d discover she wasn’t one of them. Wait here for me indeed!
‘Thanks, Justin, you don’t have to do this, you know.’
‘Despite the way things turned out, Jo, I hope we can still be civilised,’ he replied rather stiffly. But then Justin, she reflected, never had been a casual person.
‘I’m really grateful,’ she said warmly as he stacked the books she passed him into a packing case. She looked around the half-empty office with sad eyes. To her mind her personal imprint was already vanishing from the small room along with the pot plants and books.
‘I wish you’d let me speak to my colleague about unfair dismissal proceedings,’ he said with a disapproving frown. ‘It’s all most irregular—you deserve compensation.’ His legal bram disliked seeing her waste an opportunity for recompense. ‘I’d represent you myself, but it’s not my field.’
Jo was touched by his offer. ‘No, I’ve thought about it and I don’t want to,’ she said firmly. ‘Besides, they were very careful not to say, We’re sacking you because single parents aren’t good for the image of MacGrew and Bartnett,’ she recalled bitterly. No, it had been all exquisitely polite. ‘There was only ever a verbal agreement that I’d be offered the partnership this year—you know that, Justin. They didn’t actually sack me—I could have accepted a demotion.’
‘But they knew you wouldn’t.’
The shake of her head conceded this. It hadn’t mattered to her four years ago that she’d been ta
ken on as a token female in the well-known, but deeply conservative, firm of accountants. She had been given an opportunity to show how good she was at competing with the very best. She’d thrived on the competition.
Up until now it had seemed her tactics had paid off, she’d made her mark. She’d been so good for business that she had been unofficially told she was about to be offered a partnership. At twenty-seven, she would be the youngest partner they’d ever had. That was until she’d been summoned into the boardroom that morning. A ‘reduction in her workload’ was the way they’d put it.
‘Well, I think their whole attitude belongs in the Dark Ages,’ Justin said sternly.
Despite her simmering anger and sense of injustice, Jo almost smiled. She’d never imagined she’d see the day when the ultra-conventional Justin would side with contemporary morality. Despite his looks, which made him appear rather dangerous and dashing, he really was an old-fashioned traditionalist at heart. In reality he was only dangerous in a court of law, where, by all accounts he was a ruthless litigator. Justin was a classic example of the welltried maxim ‘Don’t judge a book by the cover’, she reflected.
She cursed as the pile of papers she was carrying slipped to the floor. She dropped to her knees and began gathering them up. Justin joined her; she was rather surprised he was risking getting dust on his immaculate pinstriped trousers. Justin took a great deal of pride in his appearance and she doubted he ever wore anything that hadn’t been exclusively tailormade for him.
‘I can’t understand how you’re being so calm. When I suggested we get married, your work was the reason you gave for turning me down. Now just a few months later here you are jobless . . pregnant.’
Barefoot and starving, she silently added. ‘Thanks, Justin, it had slipped my mind,’ she responded drily.
‘I thought giving you an ultimatum, walking out, would bring you to your senses. I never thought. . . ’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘It didn’t even occur to me this would happen. I wanted a child, it was you who said you weren’t ready,’ he accused, his voice thickening.
‘I’m so sorry, Justin.’ Recognising the depth of his feeling, she touched his shoulder. She’d never actually thought he’d take his moral blackmail to its logical conclusion, and when he had she’d been devastated.
Justin looked at her hand. ‘Things could have been so different,’ he said, covering her hand with his.
‘Oh, Justin!’ What could she say? She hadn’t been able to commit herself to a more formal alliance even to save their relationship. The sense of loss was still there, but time had given her a fresh perspective on the situation and she found she could hardly recall the raw emotions of their traumatic parting now.
I must be shallow and fickle, she concluded miserably. What she’d felt for Justin had just never been going to lead anywhere; her feelings had been too superficial. She could hardly believe now she’d been so traumatised.
‘I wish it was my baby you were carrying, darling.’
I don’t, Jo realised guiltily. The strength of her certainty came as something of a shock.
‘Well, it isn’t, mate, it’s mine.’ Liam was watching the tender scene with a distinctly jaundiced eye.
‘Liam, what are you doing here?’ This guilt thing was getting rather tiresome.
‘The question is what are you doing here? I thought we arranged to meet back home this morning!’
‘You arranged,’ she told him pointedly. ‘I can’t put my life on hold while I wait for you to put in an appearance.’
‘From what I hear, your life, at least professionally, has been put on hold. Couldn’t you just do nothing until I got back? Have you really handed in your notice?’
‘Call me peculiar, but I don’t feel I’m cut out to be the office junior,’ she snapped back, placing her sheaf of papers back on the desktop
‘They made it that obvious?’
‘It’s constructive dismissal.’ Jo was grateful for Justin’s intervention; the last thing she felt like doing was explaining the whole saga yet again.
‘I didn’t ask you! What’s he doing here anyway?’ Liam asked Jo belligerently after dismissing Justin with a sneer. ‘And what sort of idiot lets a pregnant woman go heaving around packing cases?’
‘How dare you talk to Justin like that?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘I know you’re not exactly happy about the situation, but it doesn’t give you the right to abuse my friends. For your information I asked Justin to help me.’ This wasn’t strictly true but Liam needed putting in his place with a firm hand.
Justin stood up, flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his dark trousers and straightened the rose in his lapel. ‘I expect Jo was looking to her more reliable friends.’
This blatant provocation took Jo’s breath away and she suspected Justin might be regretting it too. Liam was looking quite simply murderous. Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, his long-legged frame was physically intimidating, she had to admit. The black leather jacket, white tee shirt and jeans he wore served to emphasise the stark contrast between the two men. Whilst it might have been Justin’s looks which had initially attracted her, it had been the undemanding nature of their relationship which had kept them together. By comparison Liam was a very demanding and unreasonable sort of man.
Liam topped Justin’s six feet by several inches. They were both dark-haired but there the similarity ended. Liam’s hair wasn’t nicely trimmed, it was thick and silky, inclined to wave and at the moment touched his collar. She knew the length and lack of style weren’t a fashion statement, he just habitually forgot to keep hair appointments. Liam had the same olive colouring as his father and, with his rather prominent nose and thick, slanted eyebrows, he had none of Justin’s smooth good looks. What he did have in abundance was sex appeal—buckets of the stuff.
‘You sound like you have something to say, Wood. Don’t stop,’ Liam drawled, ‘I’m fascinated.’
Jo pulled at the collar of her silk shirt with a hint of desperation. The air-conditioned room was suddenly stifling. Why had she never noticed how, well, noticeable Liam was before?
‘Jo, what’s wrong?’ Liam’s sharp, anxious enquiry seemed to come from a long way off. ‘Get out the way, you idiot, she’s going to faint.’
‘Don’t fuss,’ she complained weakly as she was firmly laid down on the carpet.
‘Stay where you are,’ Liam barked. ‘You want to let the blood get to your brain—let’s face it, it’s not that easy to find.’ His fingers touched the inner aspect of her clammy wrist where her pulse was lively enough. ‘Have you done this before?’
‘Done what?’ Even when she closed her eyes the black dots still danced across her vision.
‘Fainted,’ came the impatient reply.
‘I’ve never fainted in my life.’
Liam bent his head to catch her words. ‘Give me strength!’ Strength didn’t seem to be something he lacked as he lifted her up into his arms. ‘Get out of the way!’ he snapped as he collided with Justin in the doorway.
‘You’ve spilt the water,’ Justin complained, empty glass in hand. ‘You can’t do that!’ he objected sharply as Liam shouldered his way past.
‘What is it I can’t do?’
‘Abduct her.’
‘Grow up, man!’ Liam recommended tersely. ‘I’m quite happy to exchange pleasantries with you at a time of your choosing.’
Pistols at dawn, my seconds will call on yours, Jo thought, swallowing an inappropriate giggle.
‘Only right now Jo needs to get out of this place.’ She saw him dismiss the small space she’d worked so hard for with a fastidious sneer before he strode off leaving Justin staring after him, a frustrated expression on his red face.
Justin wouldn’t do anything as undignified as chase after them, she knew that. He certainly wouldn’t have made a spectacle of himself by carrying her through the heart of the plush building.
‘Poor Justin.’ It obviously hadn’t occurred to Liam to do anything as obvious as ask
her whether she required being rescued—dragged off like a sack of flour. Finesse never had been one of his more striking traits.
Liam snorted. ‘Poor Justin, my foot! He couldn’t wait to get out of the room when things went pear-shaped back there.’
There was a spot just between his shoulder and the angle of his square jaw that could have been created for the specific use of supporting her aching head. ‘He’s not very good with illness—not that I’m ill.’
‘If you’d told me that earlier I wouldn’t have caused untold injury to my back.’
Even though she was still angry with him, she laughed weakly. ‘I could probably walk now.’
‘Don’t spoil it, Jo, I’m quite enjoying myself,’ he confided against her ear. ‘All these years wasted perfecting my modern man technique,’ he complained. ‘Modern man, my foot! These women go a bundle on the caveman style. I’ve never been on the receiving end of so many come-hither looks in my life! Women never fail to amaze me!’
‘Glad to be of service. Who are you planning to drag off to your cave?’ Who was he kidding? He was always on the receiving end of come-hither looks. The resignation with which she generally viewed the peculiar tastes of her fellow females seemed to have deserted her for the moment.
‘Your cave seems the best destination.’
‘My keys are m my bag, which is in the office—we’ll have to go back.’ The thought of backtracking and being the focus of all those curious eyes again made her cringe.
‘I’ve got a key, remember. If I go back in there I’ll probably throttle that overdressed, self-opinionated bore.’
‘What a trusting soul I was to give you a key,’ she said wearily.
‘Meaning what, exactly? It works both ways, remember: you’ve got my key. Do you want to sit in the front or lie in the back?’ he asked as they reached the underground car park. He placed her carefully on the floor and unlocked the four-wheel drive he drove.