Accidental Baby

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘It was a great incentive though, and it worked.’

  ‘You did mention it at the time,’ she recalled sourly.

  ‘I was young,’ he excused himself. ‘For boys of a certain age “pulling”, as you so delicately phrase it, is a fundamental urge.’

  ‘You mean it changes?’

  ‘So young and so cynical.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ve got reason to be.’ As a mood-breaker this was in a class of its own. As she watched, Liam assumed the appearance of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  It was heartbreaking. If he’d loved her, this baby and all it entailed wouldn’t have been a burden. It would have been an adventure, one to be shared and cherished.

  ‘I was talking to Dad.’

  ‘I thought you might have been,’ she said slowly. She knew Liam well enough to know this part had been coming. ‘I don’t suppose my name came up, did it?’ She eyed him warily. ‘I’m surprised you waited this long to share the pearls of your joint wisdom.’

  ‘I thought you might be more. . . amenable after I’d fed you.’

  ‘Don’t bank on it.’ A girl didn’t need to be psychic to anticipate an industrial-strength dose of moral blackmail heading in her direction.

  ‘Mum can’t be upset at the moment, the doctors made that quite clear. Stress could make all the difference between recovery and. . . ’

  ‘I understand that, of course I do.’ Did he think she was stupid?

  ‘You don’t want to marry me,’ he said flatly.

  I’d walk across hot coals to get to the altar if you loved me. ‘No,’ she agreed firmly, ‘I don’t.’ She frowned. She’d expected him to push this option even harder—he had a lot more at stake now.

  ‘Would an engagement be a compromise you could live with?’

  ‘Doesn’t the one usually lead to the other?’

  ‘Not in this case. Hear me out, Jo,’ he pleaded urgently, reading the rejection on her face. ‘It’ll be a cosmetic exercise. Mum will be happy.’

  ‘I can see that it would solve the short-term problem, but what about later on?’

  ‘She’ll be stronger then.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out.’ She glared at him resentfully. Of course she was going to agree; how could she not? Liam knew she’d do anything for Maggie.

  ‘Desperate circumstances call for desperate action.’ There was something scarily uncompromising about his expression.

  ‘Uncle Pat is in on this, then?’ She felt trapped. She knew lies had a way of spiralling out of control.

  Liam nodded slowly. ‘His main priority is getting Mum better. If you can think of another way around this, Jo, I’m all ears.’

  It wasn’t his ears she had a problem with, although they were rather nice; it was his legs, his washboard-flat stomach and wide, well-muscled chest. Just thinking about the curve of his strong back made her stomach go into spasm. She was even fond of that beaky nose. Once she reached his face she couldn’t actually decide which was more disturbing: his glorious eyes or that sinfully sexy mouth.

  ‘That’s generous of you. You know I’ve got to say yes, don’t you?’ The distress in her voice made his jaw set. ‘Do you expect me to lie to my dad too? Can you imagine how hurt he’ll be when he finds out?’

  ‘That’s up to you, but the fewer people who know the truth, the better. Uncle Bill isn’t the world’s best actor.’

  ‘Only you could make honesty sound like a defect! I don’t know how you can sound so casual about all this!’ she accused hotly. ‘Aunt Maggie is bound to start making wedding plans—you do realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘Can you think of any better therapy for her? Invitations, flowers . . . ’

  ‘That’s all well and good,’ she hissed in frustration, ‘but we’re not going to get married.’

  ‘Rome was probably built in a shorter time than it takes for most weddings to be arranged.’

  ‘I think you’re thinking of Rome burning.’

  ‘Weddings can be cancelled,’ he reminded her. ‘You never know, you might decide you want to go through with it after all.’

  This offhand remark made her stare at him. The innocent expression in his dark blue eyes only intensified her suspicion. ‘I thought you’d accepted that isn’t possible.’

  ‘Did I say that?’ The hard, determined gleam that entered his eyes made her shiver. ‘You’re carrying my child, Jo,’ he said quietly, his eyes reflexly dropping to her lap. ‘I should be the one bringing him up, that’s an inescapable fact. I’ve every intention of making you see that’s the right thing to do. I’m confident you’ll see sense in the end.’

  In the face of such unrelenting determination she felt helpless. ‘You’ve got tunnel vision, Liam Rafferty!’ she accused. ‘You’re even prepared to use Aunt Maggie’s. . . ’ She stopped, seeing the sudden searing outrage on his expressive face. ‘Hell, I don’t know why I said that.’ She inched her chair forward, scraping it on the tiled floor until she could grasp his arm. She could feel the tension in the corded strength of his forearms.

  ‘I know you wouldn’t do that, but you’ve got to admit you’ve never been averse to manipulating situations to your advantage,’ she excused her response gruffly. ‘I just feel. . . feel things are out of my control.’

  She loved him, she couldn’t control that, but she wasn’t going to enter into a marriage of convenience under any circumstances.

  ‘I don’t understand why you’re so anti the idea of marrying me.’

  ‘Shall I list the reasons in alphabetical order?’

  ‘I’m not exactly a stranger,’ he pointed out reasonably.

  ‘Neither is Jim the postman, but I’d say no to him too.’

  ‘I should hope so—he’s got a wife and four kids.’

  ‘This isn’t a laughing matter.’

  ‘I’m not laughing, Jo, I’m banging my head against a brick wall. We’ve got plenty in common, I make you laugh, we’re compatible in bed. . . ’

  ‘That. . . that’s .’ Her scornful laugh emerged as a croak.

  ‘True,’ he finished bluntly. ‘Why does it bother you so much?’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me.’ She affected a careless shrug. ‘That night was a mistake, a one-off. If I hadn’t been feeling so emotional and—there were. . . call it a freak set of circumstances.’

  ‘Then why do I keep catching you looking at me like I’m the dessert trolley? You’re famous for your sweet tooth, Jo’

  One elbow on the table, he rested his chin in his hand and waited for her response with a disturbing smile that was half taunt, half challenge. She was desperately aware that he was watching her from under the sweep of those ridiculously long eyelashes. Determined she wasn’t going to compound her transparent behaviour any farther, she consciously wiped her face clean of emotions.

  ‘And you’re famous for your over-inflated ego!’ If one could die of sheer humiliation she’d be stretched out on the floor right now. That must have been a stab in the dark, she decided hopefully. There’s no way I’ve been that obvious?

  ‘There’s one simple way of proving who’s right.’

  He didn’t mean. . . ! Yes, that was exactly what he meant. ‘You always did want the last word, but that’s ludicrous. You don’t really think I’m going to melt into some compliant, gibbering heap if you touch me, do you?’

  ‘You obviously think so,’ he said, watching the agitated movements of her breasts under the fluffy angora sweater she wore with deep interest. ‘Pregnancy has made some very flattering changes in your body over the past few weeks.’

  The tension in her rigid shoulders felt like red-hot needles as her muscles screeched in protest. Panic clawed in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t let him touch her; even if she didn’t blurt out the truth he’d be bound to guess.

  ‘If you lay one finger on me this deal is off, Liam, I’m not joking.’ She licked her dry lips.

  Liam took in her wide, dilated eyes and shallow, swift respirations. A f
ierce frown formed on his face. ‘What the hell are you scared of? Me?’ He sounded shocked and outraged at the notion. ‘Anyone would think I was about to rape you!’

  ‘I’m just laying down a few ground rules.’ She realised with dismay that she had failed miserably to take the dangerous intensity out of the situation.

  ‘Ground rules—hell!’ he swore savagely. ‘Do you think I’d force you to do anything?’ His nostrils flared with disgust. ‘If I was picking up the wrong signals all you had to do was tell me.’

  ‘Don’t overreact, Liam.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘This thing is complicated enough without adding a more. . . more. . . ’

  ‘Intimate element.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Then the idea of being intimate with me leaves you cold?’

  ‘Not cold, exactly,’ she confessed, her glance sliding away from his sharp eyes.

  ‘Then what exactly?’

  ‘I’m pregnant!’ Liam and his damned persistence. Why couldn’t he leave well alone?

  ‘That hadn’t slipped my mind.’

  Only in his dreams, she thought bitterly. Deep down he had to resent this situation which had been thrust upon him.

  ‘Are you planning nine months of celibacy?’ He seemed to find the notion amusing, she discovered resentfully as she watched him tilt his chair back to a dangerous angle.

  Probably a lot more. ‘Lively redhead, good sense of humour, looking for warm, sensitive man. Incidentally I’m pregnant.’ The sugary smile faded dramatically from her face and her voice hardened. ‘This is the real world, Liam. How many replies do you think I’ll get to that one?’

  ‘You’d probably be surprised. A lot of men are attracted by the whole fertility thing.’

  ‘You mean the personal columns are read by a lot of weirdos.’

  ‘A lot of lonely people, I should think. I’m certainly not repelled by the idea of pregnancy—where does that put me on your weirdo scale?’

  ‘That’s different.’ She eyed him doubtfully. Did he expect her to believe he’d find her attractive when her waist was a dim and distant memory? He sounded sincere, though. His words did provide her with a startling and unexpected insight which intrigued and, if she was totally honest, even excited her.

  ‘That’s true, I’m your baby’s father—a fact you find more convenient to forget.’

  ‘Don’t do me any favours, Liam. Your job finished three months ago.’

  ‘The way I recall it it was a pleasure.’ His heavy eyelids drooped over his half-closed eyes. ‘You’re thinking about it now.’ His voice had dropped to a low, suggestive drawl that brushed against her sensitised nerve-endings. ‘I can see it in your face. Don’t shake your head, Jo, it’s true. Tell me, does that blush go all over? I’d really like to find out.’

  ‘You can’t say things like that to me,’ she replied in a tone tinged with desperation. She silently cursed her fair redhead’s skin, which was always a clear barometer of her feelings.

  ‘I’m not following some script here, Jo, I’m just saying what comes naturally.’

  ‘It’s not. . . not appropriate.’ His hoot of laughter made her full lips compress into a straight line of disapproval. ‘As for you being spontaneous—don’t make me laugh! Everything you’re doing is designed specifically to push me into a corner—to make me do what you’ve decided is best for me.’

  ‘There is no me and you, just us,’ he said simply.

  ‘I can’t argue with you when you’re like this,’ she said, her eyes searching his determined face. ‘You’re impossible! ’

  ‘But kind of cute.’

  She closed her eyes. If cute was all he was she might have stood a chance, but Liam was that and a whole lot more, and she loved all of it, even the stubborn, impossible part. How had she ever missed the fact he was the most male man she’d ever encountered? He gave a whole new meaning to virility. He was, quite simply, irresistible.

  ‘Do you really find pregnant women attractive?’ Her curiosity couldn’t be silenced

  ‘You make it sound like some sort of perversion.’ He laughed at her self-conscious expression. ‘I don’t know why you’re so surprised—child-bearing is the one true female mystery, and men are naturally intrigued by something so essentially female. Forget girl power, it’s woman power, and a man will always prefer a woman to a girl. There’s something ..I don’t know, earthy, sensual, about motherhood.’

  Deep down her body shuddered in a helpless response to his provocative words The ripples tracked through her body like fingers of molten fire. ‘Are you saying a woman has to bear children to prove her femininity?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought any two are alike, but then I wouldn’t know, Jo, I’m not a woman.’

  ‘I’d noticed.’

  ‘I’ve noticed you noticing. Jo?’

  The question, invitation, in his voice made her want to throw caution and self-respect to the winds. Paralysis was beginning to take hold in the tingling extremities of her body. To be seduced by the gravelly suggestion in his deep voice or the still, explosive quality in his body was insanity. She had to do something drastic to snap this spell before things went mad again

  ‘Shall I help you pack some things for Maggie?’

  ‘Fine, if that’s the way you want it.’ His cheek-bones still seemed sharp and prominent in his angular face. The outline of his sensually sculpted lips seemed oddly exaggerated. She could identify readily with the seething frustration in his eyes.

  It isn’t me he wants, she reminded herself, it’s the mother of his child he wants to bind more firmly to his side.

  ‘What are we going to tell your mum when we eventually call things off?’ She followed his example and got to her feet. ‘Or haven’t you thought that far ahead?’

  ‘We could say that the idea of me touching you is distasteful. That we’re physically incompatible.’ He came behind her and pulled the chair away as she straightened up.

  She found his humour rather cruel—deliberately so, she suspected. ‘I don’t think that will be suitable.’ The fact he was standing so close had her quivering like one of the young horses in the exercise yard.

  ‘Or true.’ He bent forward and she felt his warm breath touch her cheek.

  She twirled around and found her face on a level with his chest. ‘You slept with me out of pity and now we’re having a child. I’m not about to make that mistake worse by marrying you, no matter how much I want. . . ’ She stopped, appalled at what she’d almost said. . . want to touch you, taste you, feel you as part of me!

  ‘We wouldn’t have to worry about you getting pregnant.’

  Her shocked eyes collided with his smouldering blue ones. ‘You misunderstood. . . ’ she began shakily. A girl tended to get a bit shaky when a man looked at her with such raw need.

  He shook his head. ‘Talking about misunderstandings,’ he said, pushing his fingers throughout the silky strands of her burnished hair. She let out a soft sound as his fingers moved around the back of her neck. ‘I didn’t sleep with you out of pity, Jo.’

  ‘Perhaps pity is the wrong word.’ Her head fell back against his kneading fingers.

  ‘It sure as hell is.’ His other hand came up until he cradled her skull, holding her face up towards him.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’ It was hard to form a thought, let alone force the words past the emotional constriction in her throat. ‘I’m not going to run back to Justin.’

  She felt him stiffen. ‘You think that’s why I’m doing this?’

  ‘Well, aren’t you?’ With all her heart she wished it weren’t so, but she couldn’t see any other explanation—unless. . . ? ‘I’ve been so stupid!’ She’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings she’d not paused to think about how he was feeling. He’d had a traumatic night; his mother had almost died! What could be more natural than to look for comfort from a friend? She wasn’t likely to forget he’d done as much for her.

  Liam’s fingers slid ou
t of her hair and, taking a step backwards, he looked at her almost warily. ‘I’m not about to offer any arguments.’

  ‘I remember how I felt when mum died—I wanted to block it out.’ Liam’s immobility was somehow worrying.

  ‘So you lost yourself by having mindless sex with the first available male,’ he stated matter-of-factly.

  ‘I was only a child. . . ’

  ‘But that’s what you think I am doing now?’ He completely ignored her faltering response as his chest swelled to impressive proportions with outrage.

  She was forced to face the distinct possibility that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. The barbed edge to his voice made her wince.

  ‘I’m your friend, I want to help. I’d do anything to help,’ she assured him sincerely.

  ‘Does that mean your body is on offer?’ He turned away but she could see the vein in his temple throbbing. ‘Don’t bother replying; for some reason self-sacrifice turns me right off. I’m peculiar that way.’

  ‘I wasn’t. . . ’ she protested.

  ‘No?’ he drawled. ‘It sure as hell sounded that way from where I’m standing. If you want to rationalise the fact you want me to make love to you—fine! But don’t expect me to co-operate.’

  Jo’s shoulders sagged; that was the last time she tried any amateur analysis. ‘I think we got our wires crossed,’ she said tentatively.

  ‘Crossed? I think you severed our lines of communication some time ago, Jo. Now do you mind helping me get Mum’s things together? I should be getting back to the hospital.’

  Miserably aware she’d made a bad situation worse, she followed him out of the room.

  ‘Pat will fly the Canadian family over, of course.’

  ‘All of them?’ Maggie Rafferty’s spouse, despite his stoical silence up to this point, felt impelled to query.

  ‘Who are you going to leave out, Pat?’ his wife enquired, looking up from her list.

  He held up his hands admitting defeat. ‘Whatever you say, my darling. Just my luck the damned Raffertys breed like rabbits,’ he said in laughing aside to his son.