Back In Her Husband's Bed (Bedded By Blackmail)

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  His hands shaped her breasts before he bent his mouth to taste her peaking flesh, his tongue rolling over each nipple until she couldn’t stop a whimper of pleasure escaping through her kiss-swollen lips. He moved down from her breasts, lingering over her belly button, dipping his warm tongue in and out until she was squirming restlessly beneath him.

  She sucked in a sharp little breath as he moved even lower, the caress of his breath between her legs sending her into a frenzy of anticipatory delight. She clutched at the bed covering beneath her hands, her fingers curling into the fabric to anchor her against the storm of feeling his slow-moving tongue was producing. Just when she thought she could stand it no more he moved over her to claim her mouth and his body slipped into place with one accurate thrust that sent another gasp from her mouth into the sexy saltiness of his.

  It had been so long!

  His body set a hard-paced rhythm which thrilled her, for it spoke of his urgent need. He was hot and hard and heavy within her but she relished in the hot lava flow of desire coursing through his body to scald hers. When he touched her intimately with his fingers to increase her pleasure she had to bite down on her lips to stop herself from crying out. He knew her body so well, what it wanted, what it needed and how it responded.

  She felt the rolling wave hit her in a smashing blow that sent a kaleidoscope of fragmented colour through her brain, each tiny sparkle settling around her in the afterglow of release.

  She felt him tense in preparation for his own supreme moment, his final surge splintering her with renewed feeling as he rocked against her, spilling himself into her warmth.

  His large body gradually relaxed and she felt his warm, still hectic breath feathering along the sensitive skin of her neck. Her arms were around him, her hands moving over the smooth skin of his back in rediscovering exploratory movements.

  ‘Was that too fast and furious for you?’ He eased himself up on one elbow to look down at her, his night-sky eyes holding hers.

  ‘We shouldn’t have done it,’ Carli said in instant self-reproach, hastily looking away.

  ‘Probably not,’ Xavier agreed with a wry smile, trailing a lazy, long, tanned finger down the length of her still quivering thigh. ‘But given the circumstances it was more or less inevitable.’

  ‘It is never a good idea for ex-partners to get involved again. It only causes confusion and further hurt.’ She spoke through tightened lips, her breathing still not quite under control.

  He rolled away and placed his arms behind his head, his gloriously naked body pulling her gaze back even though her common sense kept insisting she turn away.

  ‘You sound as if you’re reading that straight from a law textbook,’ he chided. ‘It was only sex, Carli—no big deal.’

  ‘It’s a big deal to me.’

  He turned his head to look at her, his eyes very dark and intense. ‘Are you saying you still feel something for me after all this time?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said with a touch of tartness. ‘You killed what I felt for you a long time ago.’

  If he was disappointed with her answer he certainly didn’t show it on his face. He simply laid back his head and crossed his legs at his ankles in a casual, unaffected pose, and her blood instantly began to boil.

  She couldn’t help feeling as if she’d been set up for a bit of ex-sex to pass the time. She should have known when she’d presented her paper on the obstacles young women in the legal field faced he’d be sitting in the third row from the back just waiting to pounce on her at question time. Their very public sparring match had no doubt all been part of the intellectual foreplay that had led to his little social-let’s-try-and-be-civil-even-though-we’re-now-divorced drink.

  ‘My God, you planned this, didn’t you?’ She leapt off the bed in one movement and snatched up her clothes to cover herself.

  He arched one dark brow at her. ‘Your imagination is as usual working overtime.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, you…you…bastard!’ She zipped up her skirt and flung her arms through her blouse without bothering to replace her bra, which in the heat of the moment she had failed to find.

  ‘You and your one drink and one kiss for old times’ sake!’ she railed at him as she stuffed her feet back into her high-heeled shoes. ‘Do you think I’m so stupid to fall for that old routine?’

  He gave her an ironic look. ‘Apparently you just did.’

  Her eyes scanned the room for something to throw at him. It wouldn’t be the first time she tossed something his way, but this time there were no priceless Knightly heir-loom vases at hand.

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ he warned. ‘You know the law well enough to know what happens to people who deface hotel rooms.’

  ‘You arrogant, stuffed-shirt, male chauvinistic, opportunistic, calculating, conniving, vindictive, ruthless, arrogant—’

  ‘You already said arrogant. Try to be original if you must flay me with such opprobrium.’

  Carli was almost speechless with rage.

  ‘I never want to see you again!’ she screeched at him.

  He held her fiery glare with consummate ease, his tone even and cool. ‘That was the deal, remember? You stated the terms yourself, Carli. One last drink and I promised never to see or speak to you ever again.’

  ‘And I meant it!’ She stamped her foot for emphasis. ‘I never, ever want to see you again. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Loud and clear.’ His tone held its usual trace of mockery, which sent her fury up another dangerous notch.

  ‘I hate you!’ Carli flung at him bitterly. ‘I hate, hate, hate you!’

  ‘Just as well since you divorced me five years ago; what a waste of very commendable legal work it would be if you didn’t.’

  She swung away in case he caught sight of the tears shining in her eyes and stalked towards the door.

  ‘Toss me the room-service menu on your way out, Carli,’ he called out to her. ‘After all that hot and sweaty exercise I’m feeling a little bit peckish.’

  She turned back to face him and used a very unladylike expression to describe just exactly what he could do with the room-service menu.

  His chuckle of laughter broke her fragile hold on her temper and she picked up the cardboard menu card and, tearing it into tiny shreds, stalked back across to where he was lying and threw them all over him like confetti.

  ‘Bon appétit.’ She dusted off her hands and stomped back to the door, slamming it so hard behind her the pictures hanging in the hall outside rattled in their gilt-edged frames.

  Xavier listened to the staccato beat of her heels as she made her way down the hall, each and every footstep striking a painful nerve somewhere deep in the middle of his chest.

  His fingers closed over the shredded menu card lying around him on the bed and he bit out one hard, sharp, unprintable word as he flung the pieces to the carpeted floor…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Three months later…

  CARLI stared at the thin blue line in horror. ‘Oh, my God!’

  She clutched at the bathroom basin in much the same way she’d been doing on and off for weeks as she came to grips with the final devastating confirmation of her pregnancy.

  The walls of the small room began to close in on her and she held on to consciousness with as much tenacity as she could.

  Pregnant!

  With Xavier’s child!

  She opened her eyes to inspect the testing kit once more but it was still the same colour.

  She stumbled through to the bedroom, her body shivering in reaction rather than to cold.

  It must be a mistake!

  It had to be a mistake.

  They’d only been together that one time and she had been sure she was in a safe period in her cycle, not that she’d really thought about it at the time.

  She slammed her fist into her pillow and bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood.

  She’d stormed from his hotel room vowing to never set eyes on him again, never imagin
ing such a subsequent scenario as this! That one momentary lapse into passionate madness had set her world upside down.

  She wouldn’t tell him.

  Oh, really, her conscience pricked her. What if he somehow found out? He’s Sydney’s best legal eagle. Don’t forget: get him and get even. That was his credo and she knew he would just as easily apply it against her if pressed to do so.

  OK, so she would tell him.

  Yeah, right, as if he’s going to accept the news with any sort of gladness.

  ‘Oh, God!’ She shut her eyes against the vision of his disdain. ‘I can’t do it! I just can’t do it!’

  Nausea rolled in her stomach and she made a desperate lunge for the bathroom, only just making it in time.

  She lifted her pale face to meet her reflection in the mirror above the basin, shocked at her pallor and even more alarmed by the haunted, hollow look in her caramel-brown gaze.

  It took Carli a further twenty-seven days before she garnered enough courage to do what had to be done. She gave her slightly protruding abdomen a nervous stroke as she approached the office tower where Xavier had his suite of offices. She hadn’t phoned to announce her intention of seeing him. She hadn’t trusted herself not to blurt her news over the line instead of face to face. Not that either way was going to make things any easier. He was going to be shocked and quite possibly furious as well. His shock she could deal with, but his anger?

  She took the stairs and lost count after floor number ten. She traipsed on doggedly, step by agonising step, feeling like someone on their way up to the gallows.

  ‘Mr Knightly is in court and won’t be back until four this afternoon,’ his middle-aged secretary announced in somewhat prim tones.

  Carli’s heart sank along with her courage. Could she wait three hours? And more to the point, could she go through the ordeal of the fire escape one more time?

  ‘Who will I say wants to see him?’ the secretary asked, picking up a pen and a message pad.

  ‘I…Car…Carli Gresham,’ she said, knowing she wouldn’t get an appointment without revealing her name.

  ‘Carli as in Carla?’ The secretary arched one pencilled brow at her.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Carli as in Carli—trust me, he’ll know exactly who it is.’

  Xavier was the only person in the legal profession to call her Carli instead of Carla, and by the simple exchange of that one letter managed to strip away the thin veneer of sophistication she had fought so hard to keep in place.

  The secretary took in her slightly flushed appearance and her austere manner visibly softened. ‘Would you like a drink? Mr Knightly is often early from court when things go his way. You mightn’t have such a long wait after all.’

  Carli felt like asking: when did things ever not go Xavier Knightly’s way? However, she refrained from doing so when she caught sight of a water-cooler machine in the waiting area.

  The secretary noticed the line of her gaze and ushered her towards it with all the efficiency of a mother hen. ‘Sit yourself down, Miss Gresham, and help yourself to a drink, or I could make you a coffee or tea instead?’

  ‘No, thank you, water’s fine, and it’s Ms not Miss.’

  ‘Yes, of course it is, how silly of me.’

  Before Carli could ask her what she meant she’d bustled back to her credenza, bent her head to her computer and begun tapping away like a barnyard hen did at spilled wheat.

  Carli couldn’t help wondering how many secretaries Xavier had worked his way through over the last five years. This one seemed a little more sensible than his usual type and she couldn’t help wondering what had brought about the change.

  She sighed and picked up a magazine, flicking through it without interest. From time to time she glanced at the clock on the wall but the minutes appeared to be crawling by at an evolving invertebrate’s pace.

  She felt her usual afternoon lethargy hit like a sledgehammer and tried to keep her eyelids open but they felt weighted by anvils and she finally had to give in to the urge to close them.

  The sofa she was sitting on was soft and comfortable and she settled into its leather cushions, promising herself she would shut her eyes for five minutes and five minutes only…

  ‘How long has she been here?’ Xavier asked his secretary in a deep undertone, a frown forming between his dark brows.

  Elaine Johnston inspected the clock on the wall before answering in a sibilant whisper, ‘Two and a half hours.’

  He muttered a swear word under his breath. ‘I could have been back an hour ago but I had a drink with one of the other lawyers.’

  ‘Quite frankly I think she needed the sleep,’ Elaine whispered back. ‘She was very pale when she came in. Do you know her?’

  ‘Know her?’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘I was once married to her.’

  Elaine’s eyes went out on stalks. ‘That’s your ex-wife?’

  ‘Certainly is.’

  His secretary’s mouth opened and closed. ‘What does she want to see you about?’

  ‘Can’t be about a divorce,’ he said with a wry twist to his mouth. ‘We’ve already had one of those.’

  ‘If you ask me she looks rather fragile…’ Elaine chewed the end of a pen thoughtfully.

  ‘I didn’t ask you, but believe me, she’s a whole lot tougher than she looks.’

  ‘Well, I think I’ll leave you to it,’ Elaine said, gathering up her things. ‘I don’t think I want to be witness to the sparks that might fly once you get her alone.’

  Xavier didn’t answer. He was still remembering the sparks that had flown the last time they were together, in fact had thought of little else in the four months since he’d last seen her. He’d thought of contacting her hundreds—no, thousands of times, but he’d promised her one drink and no further contact. And after she’d stormed out of his hotel room and left the conference before it was even over he’d had no choice but to assume she was perfectly content with the arrangement.

  As if Carli sensed his presence she opened her eyes on his approach. She brushed back the hair off her face and slid her curled-up legs to the floor with a selfconscious adjustment of her long skirt and overflowing blouse as she stood up.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled. ‘Look who’s here.’

  ‘I had to see you.’ She didn’t bother with a proper greeting, twisting her hands in front of her like a nervous school-girl.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to wait,’ he said, his tone belying the apology of his words. ‘But I’m free now. Come into my office and let’s get this over with.’

  It wasn’t a good start, she thought as she followed him down the capacious hall to his plush office. She could tell he wasn’t in a good mood and what she had to tell him was hardly going to lighten it.

  He held the door for her and she stepped through, trying not to notice how her skirt brushed along his thigh as she went past.

  She went to the chair opposite his desk and sat down on the edge of it, her eyes following him as he took his place behind the expansive rectangle of highly polished timber.

  He moved forward in his chair and, leaning his arms on his desk, made a steeple with his fingers. ‘So, this must be pretty important. I thought you never wanted to see me again.’ His eyes locked on to hers.

  ‘It is important.’ She ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Extremely important.’

  ‘Well?’

  All her earlier rehearsals went out the window as she blurted, ‘I’m pregnant.’

  He didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘I fail to see what this has to do with me,’ he said after a short pause. ‘Do you want me to represent you legally to extract funds from the father for your child’s upkeep?’

  She swallowed the constriction in her throat.

  ‘Who is the father by the way?’ he added before she could find her voice. ‘Anyone I might know?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’

  He leant back in his chair, his right thumb compressing the top of a pen, the
tiny clicks sounding loud in the pulsing silence.

  ‘He’s…’ She hesitated. How could she tell him without some sort of preamble?

  ‘You seem to be having some trouble recalling his name,’ he observed. ‘Is the field open to more than one perhaps?’

  ‘No…’ She gave him a hardened look. ‘I’ve so far been able to narrow it down to just the one.’

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it. Paternity cases these days are the pits. So who is it?’

  ‘You’re not going to believe it.’

  ‘Try me,’ he said, leaning even further back in his chair, one arm slung casually over the back.

  ‘You.’

  This time he did flinch.

  ‘Me?’ He got to his feet, his chair flying backwards to slam into the filing cabinet behind. He stared at her across his desk. ‘Me?’

  ‘You’re fertile, aren’t you?’ she asked.

  Xavier reached blindly for his abandoned chair and sat back down, the pen he’d been holding scuttling along the desk until it came to a halt beside his paperclip holder.

  ‘You’re joking of course.’ His chest felt tight, as if someone was squeezing him from the inside.

  ‘I wish.’

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sure as eggs, to use an apt choice of phrase.’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘I’ve already tried appealing to the higher powers but so far no good.’ She sent him a reproachful glance. ‘I’m still pregnant.’

  He sent his chair back as he got to his feet once more. ‘We’ll have to get married…’ He scraped a hand through his hair and turned to face her. ‘We’ll have to get married immediately.’ ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ He stared at her. ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘I don’t want to marry you.’

  ‘You have to marry me!’ He almost shouted the words at her. ‘I do not have to marry you to have your child.’

  ‘But…but…’ He sought desperately for a valid reason but could think of nothing on the hop.