by Kim Lawrence
‘That’s not what I was saying,’ he interrupted impatiently.
Stay calm, Jo, she told herself as she unbuckled her seat belt. ‘Pardon me, Liam, but that’s exactly what you were saying, in your own uniquely patronising way. I’m sorry Dad won’t speak to you. I’ve tried to reason with him.’
She’d repeatedly told him it wasn’t Liam’s fault, but her words had made no impact on him at all. When she’d initially refused to discuss the issue of the baby’s father he’d brought no pressure to bear. In fact, he’d been incredibly supportive, but now he knew it was Liam his entire attitude had, somewhat unreasonably, changed.
‘It’s unfair, I know, but I think marriage is a bit of a drastic solution to help you out of an uncomfortable situation.’
‘I don’t care if Uncle Bill won’t speak to me. I don’t give a damn if my own father is acting as though he’s reared a monster.’
‘I didn’t know it was that bad.’ She grimaced sympathetically. It was obvious he did care, he cared a lot, but that was no excuse for his clinical and impractical solution.
‘Dad made his feelings quite plain after you left the other night,’ Liam said drily. ‘That’s beside the point’ He shrugged off the rift between him and his father. ‘Between us we’ve created a life, Jo, that’s something special. A child needs two parents. You need someone to look after you.’
‘Granted, but they don’t have to be married to one another.’ His words brought an emotional lump to her throat.
‘I’m damned if I’ll see my child brought up by the likes of Justin Wood!’ His expression echoed the repugnance in his words
‘I might have known it! What a hypocrite you are, Liam Rafferty.’ She cast him a look of disgust and scrambled out of the vehicle. To think she’d been in danger of getting all misty-eyed and choked. To play on her guilt was a low trick. He had picked his points so cleverly with the sole intention of driving his message home; and to think she’d always admired his straightforward honesty!
‘Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,’ he yelled, following her.
‘All that rubbish about creating a life together and facing up to our responsibilities! Supporting me, my foot!’ She gave a snort of disgust as she stamped along. ‘You’re not concerned about me, you just don’t want Justin or any other man being involved in the upbringing of your child. The only person you’re considering is yourself,’ she flung over her shoulder.
‘That’s a lie!’ His face was dark with anger.
‘Don’t insult my intelligence. You’ve never liked any of my boyfriends,’ she recalled, ‘and as for Justin you’ve always had your knife into him. All those snide remarks and sly digs. Justin would make a marvellous father.’ Her smile glittered with angry malice. ‘Yes,’ she mused, ‘the more I think about it, the more it seems the best solution all round.’
Liam seized her by the shoulders. There was something primeval about the fury that drew his features into a taut mask. ‘I accept you want to punish me for wrecking your life, but don’t even think about taking that route,’ he said thickly.
She swayed slightly under the impact of his white-hot warning. She’d always known there was a ruthless element in Liam’s character, but she’d never experienced it firsthand before—she’d never expected to.
‘You don’t get it, do you, Liam? My life isn’t ruined; I want this child.’ Something in her expression and the clear, sure sound of her voice penetrated the fog of his anger.
He let her go and took a step backwards. He didn’t try to stop her as she walked away.
Jo had never felt so wretched in her life. They’d never had a row before, not a real one—squabbles, yes, but they’d been mended swiftly and left no scars. She’d never tried to hurt him before—wanted to hurt him. She rested her head on her knees and pushed her back into the cold surface of the wall.
‘Hello.’
Jo surreptitiously wiped her nose with the back of her hand before lifting her head. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
Looking at the tear-stained face, Liam swallowed hard. ‘So how were you planning to get in?’
She shrugged. ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’
‘Come on, you can’t sit there.’ He caught her elbow and urged her to her feet. He didn’t look angry now, he looked wary and almost as weary as she felt—all this emotional stuff was certainly tiring! She remained silent as he turned the key in the lock. ‘I suppose you want this back?’ He held out the palm of his hand.
Jo looked at the key. No, it was too symbolic, too final, she wasn’t ready to give up on their friendship yet.
‘You’d better keep it for emergencies,’ she said without looking up at him. Silently he followed her into the small flat.
Normally he’d have breezed into the sitting room after he’d been away, flop down onto her chintzy sofa and demand she put on the kettle. Today he stood there stiff and awkward, like a stranger; it broke her heart to see it.
‘Will you tell me the truth if I ask you something, Jo?’
‘It depends on the question,’ she replied, her thoughts racing. What answer could be that important? What question could make him look so grave?
‘Are you glad you’re pregnant? I don’t mean in a philosophical sense, I mean genuinely happy.’
She shot him a startled look. ‘Yes.’
Deeper than confusion, worry, fear and the inevitable guilt, what she actually felt was a deep contentment. Until he’d actually suggested it she hadn’t even considered this facet of the situation.
‘I expect that seems strange to you? Maybe it’s something to do with my biological clock?’ she suggested.
Her biological clock hadn’t appeared to be ticking loudly when Justin had very recently suggested it was time they started a family.
‘So you wanted to get pregnant.’
‘Are you,’ she asked incredulously, ‘suggesting I planned this?’
‘Not consciously. . . ’ Despite his words Jo could see he was giving the idea serious consideration.
‘And naturally I’d choose you as the father.’ This was unbelievable!
‘Post-mortems aren’t going to do us much good.’
Jo had never gone out of her way to disprove the theory that redheads and a placid temperament did not go together, but, even by her tempestuous standards, he could see that she was working herself up into a right royal fury!
The sparks from her narrowed green eyes were a danger to flammable materials. The fiery quality of her red curls served to emphasise her sudden drastic pallor. The idea of such a passionate, elemental creature becoming an accountant of all things had always seemed ironic. He recalled that his laughter when she’d confided her ambitions had made her furious. He’d coaxed away her anger that time—this time he didn’t think it would be so easy.
‘You’re the one trawling my subconscious’ You really do think a lot of yourself, don’t you, Liam? If I was choosing a father for my child you’d be the last person I’d choose. When have you ever stayed in a relationship more than a couple of months?’ Hands on hips, she swept her eyes disparagingly over him.
‘Your attitude to women hardly screams emotionally mature!’ she observed scornfully. ‘Your lifestyle makes a gypsy’s seem stable. Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always thought that in an ideal world it’s kind of nice for a child to be able to recognise his father without the use of snapshots. Don’t you ever dare imply that I tried to trap you! Trap you, indeed,’ she sniffed. ‘I’d throw you back!’
‘You’ve developed the art of misinterpreting everything I say into a science.’ Liam’s expression had become more deeply encased in ice with each fresh, brutally frank observation she made. ‘I had no idea I was such a failure as a friend. I’m surprised you welcomed me into your home considering my immaturity and promiscuity,’ he observed pithily.
‘What’s perfectly acceptable in a friend can be a bit of an embarrassment in a partner, or father.’ If you dish it up, Liam, she decided grimly, be ve
ry sure you can take it.
‘Damn you, Jo, are you trying to tell me you hate me that much?’ The stark expression of pain in his blue eyes made her own fill with totally unexpected tears.
‘But don’t you see, Liam?’ she whispered. ‘If you marry me that’s exactly how you’ll feel about me. You’ll grow to resent me—hate me.’ If you don’t already, she thought miserably. ‘I know this thing has blown what we had apart, but if we don’t do anything hasty we might just save something. I’d like to do that,’ she admitted huskily. ‘You must see how unsuitable it would be—look at us now.’ She stretched her arms out wide and held her hands palm up. ‘Just look at us!’ Her arms fell to her sides in a helpless gesture of defeat.
Liam stood in shaken silence for several long moments. ‘You’re being totally irrational, Jo.’
‘I’m pregnant, what’s your excuse?’ she shot back with a glimmer of humour. ‘You’re so pigheaded and stubborn I could shake you.’ She gave an exasperated sigh.
‘You could try,’ he agreed equably.
‘You don’t have to do the right thing. There’s no social stigma attached to being a single mother these days.’
‘Tell that to your ex-bosses at MacGrew and Bartnett, did you?’
‘It’s their loss.’ I really walked right into that one!
‘Fighting words, but where do you go from here?’
‘I might go freelance, start up on my own.’
‘And how much research have you invested in that idea?’
‘Lots!’ she lied glibly.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting the need to wipe that cynical knowing look off his face had been the inspiration for the idea. It wasn’t as if it was a bad idea; in fact, the more she thought about it. . .
‘You pulled that one out of thin air.’
Jo glared at him and wished she’d had the good sense to shut the door in his face. ‘I’m feeling inspired.’ She was also feeling acutely nauseous which did sort of dull her needle-sharp responses. Why, she wondered, do they call it morning sickness? It was the evenings for her—it played havoc with a girl’s social life.
‘You know you can’t have a baby in this flat, don’t you?’
Finger on chin, she pretended to cast her mind back. ‘No, it was definitely pets, not children in the lease.’
‘Be sensible, Jo.’
Fat chance I’ve got to be anything else, she wanted to shout at him. She knew from experience that thinking about throwing up would undoubtedly anticipate the event.
‘This flat is on the third floor, there’s no lift, no garden, no space. Have you any idea how much space a baby needs?
‘Don’t let me interrupt you, you’re obviously the expert. Only you’ll have to carry on without me.’ Hand over her mouth, she fled to the bathroom.
‘Running away isn’t going to solve anything,’ Liam yelled impatiently as he followed her. He was about to push open the door which had swung in his face when the sound coming from inside the room stopped him.
The significance of the noises emanating from within hit him and he rubbed his hand stiffly across his forehead, almost expecting to find the words insensitive and unreeling tattooed there.
Fifteen minutes later Jo was sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor feeling she had more in common with a wet dishcloth than a human being. A pair of gleaming black boots came into view, but she didn’t look up.
‘Can I do anything?’
‘Besides lecture me on child-rearing?’
‘I was out of order.’
‘I thought you’d be out of here by now.’ Under the circumstances she felt she was quite restrained in giving him his marching orders so politely.
‘I didn’t want to barge in earlier,’ he said gruffly ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘Privacy,’ she said bluntly. You had to be blunt with some people.
‘Just yell if you want anything. I’m not going anywhere. Sure I can’t do anything?’ Helplessness was not an emotion Liam was used to and his frustration was clearly visible as he hovered indecisively over her.
‘My brow’s not fevered and it doesn’t need mopping,’ she snapped crankily. Even being blunt didn’t work with him! Poor Liam. She felt a sudden inconvenient surge of remorse. ‘I’m sorry, Liam, but I’m not the grin-and-bear-it type; if you stay around I’m more likely to bite your head off.’ She finally looked up, and underneath the exhaustion a faint smile of apology lingered.
She looked worryingly white, her freckles standing out starkly and her copper hair darkened with sweat.
‘I’ll take the chance.’ When the words came they were hoarse. The peculiar strained quality in his tone made Jo look sharply at him.
No wonder he’s staring, she thought. I must really look a fright. She wasn’t sure her present condition, unpleasant as it was, warranted that sort of expression on his face. He looked—well, shell-shocked was the closest she could come up with. I suppose the realities of pregnancy aren’t always that pretty, she reflected. Not when you get up close.
‘If past experience is anything to go by I’ll be here quite a while yet and all I’ll want to do is crawl into bed. If you want to lecture me it’ll have to wait until the morning,’ she warned him, just m case he was hanging on in the hope of making her see the light.
When she made her way some time later to the bedroom Liam was slumped on her sofa. ‘I’m off to bed, you can let yourself out.’
’How are you feeling?’
‘Fine, really.’ She was tired and a bit shivery. She’d shed her clothes in the bathroom and pulled on a fluffy towelling robe which she hugged around herself now.
‘I thought you didn’t go in for brave smiles?’
She shot him a wry smile. ‘You caught me, it’s a female thing you wouldn’t understand. Every man I know makes a major production out of a cold.’ That was one generalisation she was prepared to defend.
The pristine white sheets on her bed had been neatly turned down and a jug of iced water stood on the bedside table. Liam appeared in the doorway. ‘Thanks.’ The sheets had been white when she’d shared—stupid! All her sheets were white. Don’t start thinking about that now!
‘Can I get you tea or anything?’
He was far too big to hover, and her bedroom wasn’t that big to begin with. ‘Tea’s a major no-no at the moment,’ she told him with a shudder. ‘Water’s fine.’
She opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh nightdress. It was a nostalgic white lawn affair, ankle-length. She shook it out. ‘Do you mind?’ She paused, hand on the tie of her robe, and gave him a pointed look.
‘You obviously do.’ He made a meal of turning his back on her. ‘I’ll close my eyes if that will help?’
His sarcasm really riled her. So, he’s seen it all before, she thought angrily. It doesn’t mean he’s got a lifetime’s viewing rights. ‘It would help if you just went away.’ She let the robe fall to the floor and wriggled swiftly into the nightdress.
‘I’ve no intention of leaving until you’re safely in bed.’ There was a grim note of finality in his voice.
Safe! Last time he’d been here bed hadn’t been at all safe. This private reflection brought a little colour back into her pale cheeks.
‘You done?’
She nodded and then remembered he couldn’t see her. ‘Uh-huh.’ She picked up her robe and hung it on the hook on the wardrobe door. Like most of the items in her flat it was an old, second-hand piece which she’d bought and imaginatively renovated. She’d rubbed the layers of heavy dark varnish off it and the wood grain now gleamed through the misty-blue colour wash. The tedious hours spent on it had been worth it.
When she turned around he was watching her. Despite the pin-tucks and modest neckline, in certain lights the nightgown was transparent. The lighting in the room provided perfect conditions for this to happen at that moment.
His lips were parted slightly and his eyes half closed as she frowned inquiringly at him. The brooding express
ion on his dark face grew more intense and she saw the muscles in his throat silently work.
‘I used to wonder what you looked like, you know, without anything on.’ His husky words flowed over her like the finest silk, insidiously clinging, creating soft flurries of sensation as it brushed against her skin. ‘Did you wonder what I . . . ?’
Tearing herself from the mesmeric quality of his eyes, Jo looked down and gave a startled gasp. Even from her disadvantaged viewpoint she could see the provocative thrust of her nipples poking through the fabric and the shadow at the apex of her slim legs against which the soft, floating fabric clung. Did he think she’d done this on purpose?
‘Never!’ she squeaked, diving under the covers. ‘I’ve never. . . Well, only in passing, like you do.’ Honesty had a place, she thought with exasperation, but this wasn’t it! No matter how platonic a friendship was, curiosity was natural, wasn’t it? His body wasn’t a subject she thought it wise to linger over too long at the moment.
Liam nodded as though he understood what she was saying completely. Maybe a bit too completely, she thought suspiciously, observing the worrying gleam in his Irish eyes.
‘Comfy?’ he asked solicitously.
When had he wondered what her body was like? Surely she would have detected any thoughts like that? Now there was no longer a mystery she couldn’t help wondering what he thought. Was the reality disappointing?
She couldn’t help herself mentally comparing her figure to the numerous girlfriends he’d had over the years. He wasn’t fixated on a particular type, you had to give Liam that—he didn’t discriminate between blondes, brunettes, tall, petite, voluptuous and athletic. She couldn’t remember him ever going out with a redhead, though.
‘Fine, thanks.’ She really had to stop thinking about him like this!
‘I don’t know how in that bed,’ Liam observed, placing his hand on the foot of the bed and lightly rattling the wooden frame. ‘It’s not big enough for a pygmy.’
An image of their hot, sweat-drenched bodies entwined on the narrow mattress irresistibly popped into her head. ‘It suits me.’ Had he wanted to provoke that very image? Or had it been her mind reading too much into a casual observation? Why was she even wondering?