Accidental Baby

by Kim Lawrence

  Jo’s sweat-dampened palms slid down the curve of his back before coming to rest on the taut curves of his tight buttocks. ‘I do. . . I do. . . I need you, always! I can’t bear it without you, Liam!’ The words came pouring out; she couldn’t seem to stem the wild flow of confessions.

  Later, whilst her body was still throbbing with delicious aftershocks of pleasure, she heard his voice close to her ear.

  “The vows will come later in front of an audience,’ she heard him say. ‘But as far as I’m concerned what we just did was equally binding.’

  She rolled over onto her back, her hair spread out around her face like a burning halo. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, Jo, you’re committed to me now.’

  ‘I thought you were serious for a minute.’ The carefree laugh was stillborn in her throat as she met his eyes.

  ‘I am serious.’

  ‘I know I said some things, and did some things, but that’s just. . . ’ Her voice faded away under the harsh displeasure of his expression.

  ‘Did you mean what you said?’

  ‘I can’t remember what I said,’ she mumbled in horror.

  ‘I can—every syllable. Shall I refresh your memory?’

  ‘You dare!’ Realisation swept over her and anger exploded in the confines of her skull. ‘You manipulative bastard,’ she breathed suddenly. He’d forced her to say all those things deliberately. Held back until she’d bared her soul. She drummed her fists against his shoulders, fighting back the tears of humiliation. How could he be so cold and calculating?

  ‘Could it be you’ve had total recall?’ He caught her fists in his. ‘To be on the safe side perhaps I should refresh your memory?’ His mouth collided hotly, angrily almost with hers.

  What right did he have to be angry? Did he think he could simply kiss her into submission? She tried to ignore the small voice in the back of her skull that told her that was precisely what he could do.

  ‘I don’t know what you think this proves. You’re a good lover—you’re a great lover!’ she conceded huskily with a sniff.

  ‘We’re great together,’ he contradicted pointedly.

  It seemed that Liam had more on his mind than just kissing! Jo let out a startled cry as he lifted her bodily astride him.

  ‘You can’t!’ The fight drained out of her leaving a warm compliance in its place.

  ‘No. . . ?’ His hands ran slowly down her flanks, drawing her closer to the evidence that firmly disputed her assertion.

  ‘It’s too soon.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘For you.’ He no longer looked exactly angry now, but he did look dangerous.

  ‘Me being a weak, frail male.’

  ‘Past the first flush of youth,’ she agreed solemnly.

  ‘Mistake, Jo,’ he said, slowly shaking his head from side to side.

  ‘Why. . . ?’ she began before he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her down on top of him.

  ‘Because I never could resist a challenge.’

  Liam proceeded to prove he was up to that particular challenge.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JO DROVE back into town straight from the final fitting. The local dressmaker had risen magnificently to the challenge of her expanding waistline and the final last-minute adjustments had now been made.

  Jo wished she were at the stage when she could have flaunted her ‘bump’—she was rather proud of it—but she felt, despite assurances to the contrary, that she looked overweight rather than pregnant. In the cleverly cut gown, people weren’t going to assume she was pregnant, but they would nudge one another wondering, Is she? It would give them something to talk about, she thought tolerantly.

  The cream silk creation hung in her bedroom waiting for tomorrow morning. Every time Jo thought of the next day she came close to having a panic attack. Though her symptoms were common enough on the eve of a marriage, she was all too aware that the cause of them wasn’t!

  It was probably a good thing she hadn’t had too much leisure to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She’d been drawn into the crazy whirl of preparations in her desire to stop Aunt Maggie over-exerting herself.

  She let herself into Liam’s flat. They’d decided to spend the last couple of days before the wedding in their respective parents’ homes. The Raffertys’ place was already heaving at the seams with Raffertys from what seemed like every corner of the globe and her father’s cottage wasn’t much better. The quiet was welcoming after two days of frenetic activity.

  She went straight to the bureau where she’d left her locket. It had been her mother’s and she intended wearing it the next day—something old and very precious. She was looking around the room to check she hadn’t forgotten anything else when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Hello.’ The tall blonde looked surprised to see Jo. It didn’t escape Jo’s notice that the sharp pale blue eyes didn’t appear to miss a detail of her casual appearance. ‘Is Liam in? I’ve been ringing since yesterday. I do believe the bad man has his mobile off.’ Her voice had an attractive transatlantic twang and her manner was overpoweringly confident

  It was move aside or be trampled over, so Jo moved aside. ‘I’m sorry, he’s not here.’

  ‘And you are?’ The delicately arched eyebrows rose in the direction of her gleaming hairline.

  To felt exasperated rather than offended by the older woman’s persistence and she couldn’t throw off the feeling she’d seen this woman somewhere before. This wasn’t likely—Liam’s visitor wasn’t the sort of person you would forget in a hurry! She was a lady with a lot of presence.

  ‘Jo Smith, I’m—’

  ‘Jo—you! Good God, I know who you are, but when Liam spoke about you I assumed you were a guy!’ Her startled and not unattractive laughter rang out.

  ‘Easy mistake to make.’

  ‘You must think I’m being very rude.’ This realisation didn’t stop her examining Jo afresh with overt curiosity.

  Jo suspected this woman got away with being a lot ruder than this. She had a way of accompanying her abrasive comments with a disarming smile that probably reduced most men under ninety to compliant jelly. From Jo’s perspective a smile didn’t compensate for the fact she was being patronised—by an expert, but definitely patronised.

  ‘I thought you were friends.’

  ‘We are friends.’

  ‘Men and women are never just friends.’

  ‘No?’ Aware that she would be in danger of revealing herself as a hypocrite, Jo kept her mouth firmly shut on the subject. There had been a time when she would have hotly disputed this claim.

  The blonde shrugged. ‘No offence intended. It’s just from the way Liam talked about you I kind of imagined you propping up the bar with him on a Saturday night talking about soccer.’

  ‘I’m more a rugby girl myself, but that’s definitely me—one of the boys. I even buy my round.’ It wasn’t pleasant to be reminded that until recently Liam had treated her so platonically she might as well have been a bloke.

  She had had to get pregnant before he’d recognised her femininity. When you thought about it, which she tried not to, it didn’t sound a very stable basis for a marriage.

  ‘I need to find him, it’s urgent.’

  The statement earned the weight of a royal command. This was a lady who was obviously used to seeing people jump through hoops of her own making. Jo didn’t feel much like exerting herself. Realising her antagonistic response was possibly visible on her face, she made an effort to smile sympathetically.

  ‘I can give him a message.’

  ‘That’s very kind.’ The brief smile dismissed Jo’s offer. ‘But I’d prefer to deal with him directly.’

  The implication that she wasn’t to be trusted with a simple message tested Jo’s forced smile. Perhaps, she pondered, if I’d been wearing one of my smart office suits she wouldn’t have dismissed me so readily. The bossy stranger obviously didn’t find her denim jacket and baggy sweatshirt confidence inspiring. Perhap
s she wanted to pass on more than a message; this probable explanation didn’t improve Jo’s mood.

  ‘That might be difficult.’ Count to ten, don’t get bolshy, Jo, she advised herself. It’s a bad move to alienate your future husband’s friends and colleagues.

  She wasn’t about to start acting like a paranoid jealous wife just because a good-looking woman was looking for Liam. There were a lot of good-looking women about and statistically it made sense that Liam would know one or two—possibly more.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He’s getting married tomorrow.’ As one-liners went this was a winner.

  The blonde gasped, her heavily mascaraed eyes widening. ‘You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re not serious.’ Under the seamless make-up it was hard to tell but Jo had the impression the older woman had gone pale.

  ‘It’s not a joke.’ She frowned as a small voice in her head suggested that that was exactly what it was—the whole idea of her marrying Liam was a joke in the worst possible taste! ‘Liam is getting married.’ Liam should be the one saying this, she thought angrily. The woman’s reaction had ruled out the possibility they were casual acquaintances. ‘I’m sure he will be in touch, Miss. . . ?’

  ‘Suzanna Wilson,’ the blonde supplied. ‘How could he not mention a word?’ She pressed her hand to her mouth as her face tightened. ‘When he knows we’re near—’ She stopped abruptly as a hoarse sound escaped Jo’s pale lips. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Jo shook her head. Not an old flame at all. Suzanna. So this was the perfect woman Liam had waxed lyrical about in his letters. Strang—she’d had quite a different mental picture.

  The name had never been mentioned between them, but Jo hadn’t been able to forget those letters. Suddenly the problem she’d tried to ignore was there in front of her eyes. You could burn letters, as she had, but what did you do when the material proof was in front of your eyes? she wondered despairingly. He’d been seeing her all this time; he must have been. Was that all he’d been doing?

  She felt suddenly empty inside. What a fool I’ve been. If I hadn’t got pregnant maybe it would have been this woman he’d be marrying. Her fevered imagination was firing on all cylinders as the full horror of the situation made itself felt.

  ‘I said are you all right?’

  ‘Indigestion,’ said Jo weakly. ‘You were working with Liam in Moscow?’ He always did have a thing for older women, she thought bitterly as she stretched her stiff lips into a smile. I suppose she is beautiful, she conceded, if you go for pouting lips, a California tan and long blonde hair. ‘I’m sure Liam would have contacted you; his mother’s been ill.’

  ‘I wasn’t working with him, I followed him,’ came back the shocking and unselfconscious reply. ‘When I want something I go after it.’

  ’Obviously.’ Did he have this woman’s image in his head when he made love to me? When he closed his eyes who was he seeing? Their lovemaking, which had seemed so perfect, suddenly felt contaminated.

  ‘I know his mother’s been ill.’

  Proof, if she’d needed it, that they’d been in regular contact.

  ‘But that doesn’t explain why he’s switched his cell phone off. No, Liam just didn’t want to tell me he was getting married. He knows—’

  ‘Actually his phone got dropped in a pond.’ Jo couldn’t understand what bizarre impulse impelled her to defend him.

  ‘Pardon?’ The older woman looked as though it had occurred to her she was speaking with someone who wasn’t entirely sane.

  ‘It’s a long story. His parents have a lot of children staying.’ It suddenly seemed a long time ago that she’d laughed as she’d watched Liam wade into the middle of the duck pond to retrieve his phone; it had only been yesterday

  ‘Children!’ She gave a theatrical little shudder. ‘Poor Liam, that must be very boring for him.’ She sounded as if she thought he deserved it.

  ‘They’re anything but boring. Quite enterprising, actually.’

  ‘But Liam’s not really a children sort of man, is he?’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Jo replied heavily. And maybe I don’t know him very well at all, she thought despondently. Perhaps she’d been fooling herself into believing he could be content with her and the baby.

  ‘Liam won’t be back here tonight, but if I see him. . . ’ Even as she spoke she knew she wouldn’t be seeing him. This meeting had been fortuitous—it had brought her belatedly back to her senses. Thank God it had happened before she’d done anything irrevocable. ‘I’ll tell him you’re looking for him. It’s probably better if I just give you the Raffertys’ home number.’

  ‘I didn’t know where else to go. Liam will go straight to my flat.’ She shuddered as she sipped at the hot drink Justin had pushed into her hands. ‘What is this?’

  ‘I put some sugar in. . . ’

  ‘You know I don’t take—’

  ‘Hot, sweet tea is the only treatment for shock I know.’

  Jo put the cup on the gleaming surface of the walnut bureau. ‘I’m not in shock.’

  Justin’s gaze flickered anxiously to the hot cup, imagining the damage it was doing to the lovingly polished wood. ‘I think you are.’ He resisted the temptation to move the offending article. ‘And I think you’re well rid of Rafferty.’

  Jo bit her tongue. ‘I imagine, given time, he’ll think he’s well nd of me.’ She could understand Justin’s antagonism towards Liam; what was less understandable was her own instinctive need to defend him. ‘Aunty Maggie sounded so confused on the phone. If anything happens to her he’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive me.’ Her fingers tugged fretfully with the hem of her baggy top and her eyes were dark with misery. ‘I just can’t go through with it,’ she whispered huskily.

  Justin patted her awkwardly on the back. ‘The man has coerced you shamelessly into a marriage repugnant to you. If anyone should be ashamed it’s him! It was moral blackmail.’

  Jo was already regretting giving Justin even a strictly expurgated version of events. ‘Coercion is a strong word, and I’m not actually married.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’ Justin glanced down at the Rolex on his wrist. ‘I really hate to leave you like this, but my flight’s booked for ten.’ He looked torn.

  ‘Don’t be silly, I’m fine. I just need somewhere to hole up until the heat dies down. I would have gone to a hotel, but I didn’t have my wallet with me and I couldn’t risk going back home for it.’ If she’d seen firsthand the results of her last-minute change of heart she might not have had the strength to go through with it. ‘I’m such a coward.’

  ‘I’m glad you came to me. Don’t worry,’ he added drily, seeing her uneasy expression. ‘I know it was desperation that brought you to my door, not a change of heart. I’ve accepted you don’t feel that way about me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Justin. I wish. . . ’ Her voice trailed away. I seem to be an expert at hurting people these days, she reflected gloomily. Guilt ate away at her as her face creased with concern. ‘I shouldn’t have come here; it was selfish.’

  ‘Nonsense, I’m glad you came.’ He slid the hot teacup onto a coaster and was relieved to see no damage on the antique wood. ‘I just wish I could have seen Rafferty’s face when you told him. Did you phone him or. . . ?’

  An unusually spiteful expression flickered over Justin’s handsome features and Jo realised that Justin’s warm hospitality was inspired as much by dislike of Liam as love of her. The realisation eased her remorse.

  ‘Not phone, exactly.’

  Justin picked up his bag and looked towards her questioningly.

  ‘I faxed him.’

  Justin turned away to hide the grin of uncharitable delight that spread over his face. ‘Faxed. How. . . enterprising. I’ll have to go now, Jo. Stay as long as you need. I’m back on Monday.’

  Alone once more, Jo couldn’t concentrate. She flicked blindly through the TV channels. With the soothing voiceover of a wildlife documentary playing in the background, she began t
o pace the room. Jilting someone was a terrible thing to do and the closeness she felt to the Raffertys made matters even worse.

  They’ll probably hate me, she concluded morosely. Her elbow caught one of Justin’s prized antique figurines and with a gasp of dismay she straightened it. Justin’s flat was dauntingly neat—even his glossy magazines were stacked with military precision. She found herself automatically comparing it to the simplicity of Liam’s decor. For a brief, wildly blissful moment it had been her decor, her home. She’d started thinking in terms of us, not him and me. They’d discussed the house they would buy together.

  ‘Stop it!’ she reprimanded sharply. Seeing Suzanna had put paid to that fantasy. She wanted to spend her life with Liam, she wanted it so much that she’d managed to turn a deaf ear to the unpalatable fact she had virtually trapped him into marriage.

  For his own reasons he was a willing victim, but that didn’t make him any less the victim. Maybe the awful Suzanna wasn’t his soul mate—she hoped not—but one day there would be one and Jo knew that she couldn’t bear to witness the inevitable disintegration of their makeshift relationship.

  Better by far to accept now that Liam was no longer part of her life. How hard could that be?

  When she first heard the key in the lock Jo assumed Justin had forgotten something, which was not like Justin at all. The poor thing would have missed his flight. She was about to call out when she heard a voice most unlike Justin’s. It was much deeper and had an intriguing gravelly twang.

  ‘Thanks a lot. I didn’t want to wake her.’

  Jo’s feet seemed frozen to the spot. Her hands went to her mouth as she stared at the open doorway.

  ‘You!’ she gasped as the tall figure materialised on cue. ‘How. . . ?’

  Liam didn’t speak immediately. He took his time looking around the room, allowing Jo ample time to appreciate the full awfulness of the situation. ‘Very tasteful,’ he said nastily.

  ‘Go away! Be careful with that!’ she yelped as he picked up a small bronze and turned it over.