Accidental Baby

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘A good fake.’

  ‘So now you’re an expert on antiques too. How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I didn’t. I knew you didn’t have a penny to your name. That limited the possibilities.’ He threw her wallet containing her credit cards on the sofa. It fell open and her spare change scattered messily. ‘Hotels were obviously out. I rang every number in your address book and no joy.’ He was breathing deeply as he raised his eyes directly to her face for the first tune.

  ‘How dare you go through my personal belongings?’

  ‘I dare because you walked out on me without a word of explanation on the eve of our wedding.’

  Liam was mad, my God he was really mad. The air in the room was dense with the sort of static that a thunder storm carried in its wake. He was carrying his own personal storm around with him. Jo had a fanciful image of him opening his clenched fist to reveal the flicker of blue lightning. He was nursing a deadly sort of anger It made his voice low and calm and all his actions slow and deliberate as though he had to force himself to concentrate hard on the little things.

  ‘Guess who popped up in your little black book? By some twist of fate your trusty old flame, Justin. What’s wrong—is his telephone number as forgettable as the rest of him?’ His nostrils flared as he smiled nastily. ‘When I saw him driving away my first thought was, No, she’s not here. What unimaginative idiot would leave the woman he loves in an emotionally vulnerable state? What sort of man would walk away from a situation fraught with possibilities?’

  ‘Not all men take advantage of vulnerabilities.’ Jo knew the insinuation wasn’t entirely fair, but she experienced a perverse pleasure when the lines of tension radiating from his mouth tightened.

  Liam’s white, even teeth came audibly together in a white, cruel smile as he replied. ‘More fool them.’

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘Easily, once I explained to the doorman that my wife and I—he might have seen her earlier: short redhead, pregnant—were staying at Justin’s. You shouldn’t think too badly of him.’

  ‘I don’t. I know what a good liar you are.’ Could he see she was shaking? She locked her fingers together and pressed them against her midriff to hide the fine tremors.

  ‘You’re too kind.’ The fake smile faded away. ‘I think we’ve about exhausted the story of how I got here. What shall we talk about now?’ He frowned exaggeratedly as if seeking inspiration.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you at all, Liam. Go away.’ Jo wasn’t entirely surprised when he didn’t. She didn’t dare speculate where this encounter was leading. Damage limitation was the best outcome she could hope for.

  ‘We could always discuss this.’ He produced a piece of paper which he flung in her general direction. ‘Nothing quite beats the personal touch. I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t just leave me standing at the altar.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that!’ she gasped. She bit her lip with anguish as he poured scorn on her assertion with a quirk of one eloquent eyebrow. ‘I understand you’re feeling a bit upset but—’

  ‘Upset!’ A dark rush of colour seeped slowly under his tan as he gazed at her with icy contempt. ‘That’s very understanding of you, Jo.’ He bit the words out from between clenched teeth.

  ‘I know a fax is a bit impersonal,’ she conceded shakily. ‘But I knew that you’d talk me out of it,’ she admitted, cornered—the truth was the only way out.

  ‘You being such a pliant, impressionable soul,’ Liam sneered, unimpressed by her honesty.

  Ironically he had no idea just how impressionable she was as far as he was concerned. ‘You being a totally unscrupulous bully,’ she retorted, forgetting in the frustration and heat of the moment that she was going to be sensitive and reasonable. ‘Besides, I want to marry you—that is,’ she pushed on hastily, ‘it would be much easier to marry you. Easy but not right.’ It sounded a bit priggish and limp even to her ears.

  ‘Last night it was right. This morning when I spoke to you on the phone it was right. What’s changed?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’ For some reason Jo couldn’t tear her eyes from the throbbing pulse in his temple.

  ‘Why change the habit of a lifetime?’

  ‘It couldn’t last, Liam.’

  The desolation in her tone seemed to penetrate his fury. Stern blue eyes searched her face and his anger didn’t dissipate, but it was now leavened with a seething frustration. He covered the intervening space between them and took her by the shoulders. She had the impression he wanted to shake her, but he didn’t.

  ‘There are never any guarantees, you know that, Jo.’ He wasn’t handing out concessions; the planes of his angular face held no softness, just fierce determination.

  ‘I don’t want guarantees,’ she retorted, ‘just a fighting chance.’

  He flinched as if her words had caught him on the raw. The truth always did hurt, she reflected woefully.

  ‘And you don’t think we have that?’

  She shook her head from side to side and then as a great wave of desolation swept over her leant her forehead on his arm. She felt his fingers tighten on her shoulders. He shifted his shoulder and his arm came around her bowed head, drawing her face against his chest.

  ‘You’ve never even considered marriage—at least not to me.’ Her voice was muffled against his jacket. He smelt so good—if only she could stay like this for ever, she thought wistfully. It felt so right.

  ‘Not to anyone.’

  ‘Not even Suzanna?’

  ‘Who?’

  Jo lifted her head, her eyes alight with indignation, and Liam’s arm fell away. ‘The Suzanna you wrote pages about in your letters.’ At least before Liam had always been straight with her.

  ‘Oh, that Suzanna,’ he said a shade defensively.

  ‘That Suzanna.’ Well might he look shifty. ‘I met her today.’

  ‘What? That’s not poss. . . ’

  ‘She came to the flat this morning looking for you.’

  ‘Typical,’ Liam mused, and Jo was disgusted to see a faint ironic smile curve his firm lips. Was breaking women’s hearts all in a day’s work for him?

  ‘I’m afraid I told her you were getting married,’ she choked. ‘She wasn’t very happy.’

  ‘I can imagine, but she’ll survive.’

  ‘Liam!’ she gasped, shocked at this heartless response. She looked at him searchingly. Was he trying to mask deeper feelings behind this callous exterior?

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You can’t just discard people,’ she told him severely. ‘It’s. . . it’s ruthless.’

  ‘Are you in any position to comment? Some people might categorise your actions as ruthless. Ruthless, uncompromising, selfish. . . ’ he added, just in case she’d missed his point.

  The irony was something she couldn’t, under the circumstances, share with him. Giving Liam his freedom was probably one of the most selfless acts she’d ever be called upon to perform; she certainly hoped so! An undisciplined part of her wanted to fling accusations at him. . . It’s me you’re supposed to love!

  ‘Are you in love with Suzanna?’ She wouldn’t allow him to deflect her from the subject. Perversely she sought out confirmation that would hurt.

  ‘No.’

  This categorical denial didn’t make her feel much better. ‘You used to be honest with me,’ she muttered, raising reproachful eyes to his face.

  Liam sucked in his breath sharply. ‘I don’t know why you bothered asking me if you’ve already made up your mind.’

  ‘In your letters you—’

  ‘Those letters were. . . ’ Jaw set, he turned his head away from her for a moment and muttered something inaudible under his breath. Jo caught the tail-end of ‘too clever for my bloody good.’

  ‘Were what?’ she prompted. ‘Other than gushingly sentimental, that is.’

  ‘I am never. . . ’ His eyes suddenly narrowed and a slow, disturbing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘My G
od! Is that what all this is about? You’re jealous.’

  Jo stiffened. ‘In your dreams, Rafferty,’ she croaked. ‘I just don’t like being treated as your social secretary by your latest girlfriend.’

  ‘You hated the idea of me with Suzanna so much you did a runner.’

  She longed to slap that satisfied smirk off his face. How dared he find her pain and humiliation amusing? ‘Under normal circumstances, Liam, I have nothing more than an academic interest in what female is deluded enough to share your bed. However, as I was wearing this damned thing. . . ’ she glared at the big emerald and tugged at it without any real belief her efforts would achieve anything; it seemed nothing short of surgery would dislodge the thing ’. . . it occurred to me that it might be uncomfortable to be married to someone who comes home at night smelling of someone else’s perfume.

  ‘In the past I’ve always been tolerant of your sexual exploits. However, in the past I wasn’t expected to share your bed. Possibly you get some sort of kick out of discussing your sordid affairs—I believe some people do. However, I’m not prepared. . . ’ It was a mistake to look directly into his eyes; she saw sizzling anger there and completely lost the thread. ‘No. . . no, I’m not,’ she faltered before losing steam completely.

  There was a moment’s shocked silence, though the echo of her shrill accusation still seemed very loud m the quiet room. ‘Just what sort of arrangement do you think I had in mind when I proposed to you, Jo?’ He didn’t give her space to reply but went on in a soft, deadly voice that throbbed with anger, an anger that was reflected in his harsh, taut expression. ‘We both lead our own lives? You thought you could go running back to your old lover when it suits you and I would turn a convenient blind eye. . . ?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that!’ she gasped. He couldn’t think she and Justin were taking up where they left off!

  ‘Like hell it wasn’t,’ he said with a tight-lipped smile. ‘I can see the tender scene now.’ It didn’t look as if he was enjoying what he saw. ‘And I’d like to make it quite clear right now that I take great exception to the idea.’

  He took. . . ! At what point had the tables been turned? she wondered numbly. She almost expected to hear herself humbly apologising—never! The nerve of the man! What right did he have to come over all morally superior? She quivered with moral indignation.

  ‘The thought of incurring your disapproval has me trembling,’ she assured him with heartfelt insincerity.

  ‘I’d noticed.’

  She glared up at him. Damn him, did he miss nothing? ‘That’s anger,’ she hissed.

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Don’t you dare humour me, Liam Rafferty!’

  ‘Considering the picture you’ve just so eloquently painted of an inadequate who fancies himself as a sexual athlete, I think you owe me some leeway, Jo. If we’re to trade insults on a one-for-one basis, that is.’

  Jo could feel the hot colour wash over her skin. ‘I didn’t say that exactly.’ Hearing it put like that made it hard to maintain her belligerent pose. ‘Besides, don’t all men do that with their mates in the pub—talk about their sexual conquests? It must have really cramped your style when you had me in tow.’ The idea of Liam thinking of her as one of the lads made her want to stamp her feet. It was very frustrating being too mature to indulge in this childish outlet.

  ‘Cramp my style? What the hell are you talking about, Jo?’ Liam asked, running his fingers through his thick mop of hair and watching her with an expression of exasperation.

  ‘She thought I was a man.’

  Liam’s mystified frown gave way to a grin which he swiftly stifled. ‘Suzanna?’ he enquired gravely as he pushed back a hank of dark hair that had flopped in his eyes.

  ‘Who else?’ She hadn’t missed, or forgiven him for, the grin.

  ‘I suppose I might have mentioned you a few tunes, and when she asked I think I probably said you were my best friend.’ Liam looked up as she sniffed rather loudly. He silently handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘She must have assumed ..’

  ‘People don’t marry their best friends,’ Jo said heavily.

  ‘They’re normally the wrong sex.’

  ‘This isn’t about gender.’ He could be flippant while her heart was breaking—there was just no justice in the world! ‘This is about love and sexual chemistry. It isn’t fair to ask either of us to sacrifice our—’

  ‘You expect to find love and sexual chemistry here?’ Liam interrupted scornfully.

  ‘I’m not about to marry Justin.’

  ‘Too right you’re not.’ His eyes narrowed to slits and he thrust his hands deep in the pockets of the khaki chinos he wore. The action drew her reluctant attention to the narrowness of his lean hips and the length of his thighs.

  This had to be some sort of punishment for all the times she’d always thrown scorn on women who were turned to marshmallow by a brooding look, she decided, desperately trying to quell the strong urge to throw herself into his arms and babble brainlessly about his beautiful blue eyes.

  ‘Because I don’t want to.’ Her chin took on an aggressive angle as she gave him back stare for stare even though she was handicapped by knees that had turned to jelly.

  ‘You said you wanted to marry me.’

  God, the man had the recall of a computer! ‘I said—’ she tried hard to sound calm and reasonable, but she felt neither ‘—that it would be easier to marry you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought it would be easy being married to a man who intends to sleep his way through the female population of the Western hemisphere.’

  ‘Why stop there?’ she snapped, sensing he was backing her steadily into a corner. She knew him too well to underestimate his tenacity.

  ‘I’m immensely flattered at your opinion of my sexual prowess, but I think perhaps you’re not quite as objective about the subject as you might be.’

  ‘And what,’ she enquired icily, ‘is that supposed to mean?’ Please don’t let him know, she prayed. Let me retain a little dignity. The fear of discovery was a bitter taste on her tongue.

  ‘I mean that, despite our lack of sexual chemistry,’ he drawled slowly, ‘the past couple of weeks we spent together were pretty hot.’

  ‘Hot,’ she echoed stupidly. She felt weak with relief; for once Liam hadn’t recognised the obvious. ‘There’s no need to be crude.’

  Liam laughed. ‘If you think hot is crude, sweetness. . . ’

  ‘I am not your sweetness.’

  ‘Granted, but I’ve always preferred something with a bit more bite.’

  ‘I don’t enjoy trading sexual innuendoes with you.’

  ‘Does this blanket disapproval cover sharing sex with me too? Are you going to tell me you didn’t enjoy the time we spent together?’

  ‘When you say the time we spent together I think you’re actually talking about the time we spent together in bed.’ She tried to inject scorn into her voice.

  ‘I’ve certainly enjoyed that part.’

  The husky sound of his voice aroused her body with shocking ease. She folded her arms protectively across her aching breasts.

  ‘In these enlightened times people don’t get married to have sex, no matter how—’ She broke off as she realised what she’d been about to say. From the expression on Liam’s face he realised it too.

  ‘You were saying?’ he taunted heartlessly.

  ‘I was saying that sex is no basis for marriage.’

  ‘Are you trying to say you want to carry on sleeping with me, but you don’t want to marry me?’

  ‘No!’ she cried in a shocked voice.

  ‘It sounded suspiciously like it to me.’ She watched with misgiving as his lazy mocking expression was replaced by something much more steely. ‘We’re good in bed—scrub that, we’re great in bed. My relationship with Suzanna Wilson is nothing that need concern you. I’ve no intention of sleeping with her or anyone else once we’re married—my God, if the time we spent together is anything to go by I’d have
no energy,’ he added half to himself.

  ‘Well, you didn’t seem to mind at the time!’

  ‘I didn’t mind at all.’

  This devastatingly simple reply made her whimper. Biting her own tongue was a crude method of breaking the spell of his eyes, but desperate circumstances didn’t allow time for finesse.

  ‘I obviously didn’t make myself clear earlier—I don’t want a cosmetic marriage,’ he told her huskily.

  She could taste the salty tang of her own blood on her tongue. ‘No?’ It was hard to maintain her scepticism in the face of such solid conviction.

  ‘Most definitely not.’

  ‘And does it matter what I want?’

  ‘We’ve already established that you would find it easy to marry me.’ He moved swiftly on as she opened her mouth to challenge this assertion. ‘The same goes for our sexual compatibility, or,’ he enquired with a quirk of one darkly defined eyebrow, ‘were you faking it?’

  ‘As I said, that’s hardly a basis—’ she began, this blush sort of merged with the earlier ones which hadn’t faded yet.

  ‘You’re carrying my child,’ he interrupted smoothly, ‘and that child needs both parents.’

  ‘Piling it on thick, aren’t you, Liam?’ she choked resentfully. ‘Aren’t you going to lay your mother’s failing health at my door too?’ Everything he was saying made perfect sense. Was she just greedy for wanting more than he was offering?

  ‘Mum’s strong enough, that needn’t come into the equation. I shouldn’t need moral blackmail to make you see we should get married. On your better days you’re a reasonably rational soul.’

  She gave a disparaging grunt. ‘You’ve changed your tune!’

  ‘However, you do realise that once your dad gets wind of this he’ll probably come after me with his shotgun.’

  ‘Don’t joke,’ she advised darkly. ‘You’re still only fractionally above Attila the Hun on his list of people he’d like to break bread with.’

  ‘Who’s joking? And I can understand how he feels—he thought you were safe with me.’

  She could see that the distaste in his eyes was aimed at himself and it hurt. ‘Aunt Maggie will probably already have told him.’ One of these days she’d actually think of the consequences before she acted impulsively. Liam had got it in one: she’d run away because she was eaten up with jealousy. The sort of knife-twisting, stomach-churning jealousy she hadn’t even dreamt existed.