‘Yes, I understand. I’ll be there.’
‘What’s wrong, Liam?’ she asked, anxiety shining in the smoky green depths of her eyes.
The disturbing blankness drained from his eyes as he looked at her. ‘It’s Mum, they think she’s had a heart attack.’
Jo caught her breath sharply. ‘She’s not. . . ?’ She wasn’t even aware of raising herself on her knees and grabbing the fabric of his loosened shirt.
‘No, she’s alive,’ he replied immediately. ‘They’ve taken her to The Royal. I’ll ring you when I know what’s happening.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said, scrambling out of bed. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘You can’t—’
‘I can and I am.’ She grabbed underwear from a drawer and tugged the nightdress over her head. The situation put false modesty firmly in its place. It put a lot of things in perspective. Aunt Maggie was one of the dearest people
in the world and since her own mother’s death she had occupied a very special place in Jo’s heart.
Her hurried movements had an innate grace and her total lack of self-consciousness contrasted starkly with her previous awkward posture in his presence. Liam stood for a moment looking at the vulnerable, desirable image of her naked back. The feminine dip of her narrow waist and the gentle flair of hips that bordered on the boyish.
He nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘I won’t be a minute,’ she yelled after him. ‘Don’t go without me.’
‘How is she?’
Patrick Rafferty seemed shrunk somehow to Jo’s eyes; his big body lacked the vitality she’d always associated with him. He was sitting hunched up in the corner of the small, antiseptic white ante-room into which they’d been directed. He looked up as Liam spoke and Jo was shocked by the anger in his face.
‘And you care, I suppose?’
‘You know I do.’ Liam spoke quietly.
‘She’s not stopped fretting about you since she learnt about the baby. If you hadn’t acted like an irresponsible, selfish adolescent this wouldn’t have happened. A bullet would have been kinder,’ he accused wildly. ‘It was the first thing on her mind every morning she woke up and every night it was the last thing she talked about. It’s your fault. The very sight of you makes me sick.’ His accent had regressed to the brogue of his youth and his deep voice shook with passion. He got to his feet stiffly; his full height was almost that of his son’s. His big hands curled ominously into fists at his side.
Liam didn’t offer any excuses or a defence of any kind.
The detached calm she’d watched grow during the journey here seemed to deepen.
‘Well!’ Liam flinched as his father’s deep voice cracked. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’
’Have you seen her, Dad?’
Pat Rafferty dropped back down into his seat and buried his face in his hands ‘The doctors are with her,’ he said in a muffled voice.
Jo walked over and took Liam’s stiff, cold fingers in her small hand. ‘He needs to blame someone,’ she said softly.
Liam looked down at their joined hands and then at Jo’s face. ‘I know.’
‘He doesn’t mean it.’ Her thumb moved in circular motions over his palm. She didn’t think she could bear the bleakness in his eyes.
‘Of course he means it and why shouldn’t he? It’s true.’ The self-contempt in his voice was like a lash as it struck out. The impotence of her situation made Jo want to cry out. Far better to feel the pain herself than watch someone she loved suffering. And she loved Liam—always had. She couldn’t change that any more than she could alter the colour of her eyes.
‘Self-pity isn’t going to help Aunt Maggie.’ She dampened her first instinct which ran vaguely along the lines of throwing herself into his arms. The last thing he needs is me going all cloying and tearful, she decided.
‘Go and help Dad, Jo.’
I want to help you, she wanted to cry. The rejection nearly cracked her fragile composure. Just as well she didn’t take the emotional option. ‘He needs you, Liam.’
Whatever divisions the revelations of his prospective fatherhood had brought about, this tragedy threatened to widen the gulf between father and son. She couldn’t take
responsibility for that and she couldn’t watch that gulf become unbridgeable.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well, I know so,
please
, Liam.’ He met her pleading glance with all the appearance of disinterest. Jo wasn’t fooled—she knew how much he was hurting; she knew the coldness was a façade. She knew how much his father’s rejection had hurt him. ‘Are you so afraid of the possibility he’ll turn his back on you?’ She had to taunt just to get through to him.
‘I’m not. . . !’ he began, turning on her furiously.
‘Swallow your stiff-necked pride, Liam. Don’t let your guilt come between you and your father.’
A slow, reluctant smile entered his eyes. ‘You always were an interfering little minx.’
’Go on,’ she said, giving him a little push, ‘what’s the odd bloody nose between family?’
It didn’t come to that. She watched Liam sit beside his father and begin to speak, his voice low. He hadn’t spoken for long when she saw the older man’s shoulders begin to heave.
Arms around his weeping father, Liam cast a look of deep gratitude in Jo’s direction.
It hit her then. It didn’t really shock her as much as it might have—perhaps she’d secretly known all along. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t been in any hurry to find a man of her own. Perhaps that was why she had instinctively recoiled at the idea of formalising her tepid romance with Justin. There was no perhaps about the emotion that engulfed her now. She didn’t just love Liam, she was
in
love with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I
T COULD have been worse.’ Jo winced as the platitude slipped so readily from her lips.
This need to fill the silence was a new thing. In the past they hadn’t needed words to fill comfortable silences—but then this silence wasn’t comfortable. It was tense and awkward. Every time Jo looked at Liam she was afraid he would read her thoughts. I don’t want his pity, she thought defiantly—he shan’t know.
Liam just nodded. ‘Are they the day shift?’ he wondered out loud as they drove m the opposite direction to the steady stream of traffic entering the hospital. He glanced at his wrist-watch. ‘I’d lost track of time,’ he observed. ‘I suppose I should feed you.’
‘I’m easy.’
His lips twitched and the faint flicker of movement became a proper grin. ‘No, you’re hard work most of the time, but usually worth it.’
She didn’t read too much into this comment. It was relief, a manifestation of the euphoria that had been obvious in him since he’d spoken to the doctors.
‘You can just drop me off at Dad’s.’ She hoped he was still in bed. He’d probably go ballistic if he saw her getting out of Liam’s car. She wanted the chance to explain about Aunt Maggie before he waded in demanding blood.
‘Dare I take the risk? He might have his shotgun handy.’ Liam’s thoughts were obviously running along similar lines to her own. ‘Come to our place, Jo, and I’ll cook you
something. I need to drop in there. I promised Dad I’d take him in a change of clothes and shaving gear.’
‘He needs a rest; you both do.’ She shot a swift, covetous look at his profile. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
‘He won’t leave her.’
‘No,’ she agreed quietly. ‘I am quite hungry,’ she admitted lightly.
‘I’m not surprised after last night,’ he observed, referring with a grimace to her sickness.
‘It shouldn’t last much longer—so they tell me.’ She certainly hoped the professionals knew what they were talking about. ‘I eat in the morning to compensate for later on. It won’t harm the baby,’ she reassured him. ‘I asked.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about the baby.’
’Oh! I’m tough,’ she assured him earnestly.
‘As old boots.’
The affection in the swift sideways glance had the power to suspend her heartbeat. Don’t do anything stupid like reading anything but friendship into that, she instructed herself sternly.
The four-wheel drive crunched over the gravelled surface of the long, crescent-shaped driveway. Jo looked out at the horses grazing in the lush paddock the driveway bisected. The horses had originally been a hobby which over the years had grown. Pat Rafferty had retired early from his law practice and was a well-respected and successful breeder these days.
The stables were busy, but the house was empty. She knew the absence of his mother hit Liam as he walked into the kitchen; she felt it herself and her heart ached for him. It was the one room that most echoed the warmth and humour of Maggie’s personality.
‘I suppose your stomach is a bit delicate?’ Liam filled the kettle and placed it on the hotplate of the Aga.
‘Not in the mornings’ She pulled out a chair beside the large scrubbed table.
‘Bacon, egg. . . sausage?’ He reached for two earthenware mugs.
‘Everything, I’m greedy.’ The memory came flooding back so abruptly she couldn’t breathe. She’d asked for everything before and had she received and given just that!
The sound of the mug smashing into a thousand pieces on the floor broke the sudden electric silence.
‘Hell!’ he swore softly. ‘Where does Mum keep the dustpan?’ His blue eyes had darkened several shades and his olive skin seemed to be drawn tighter over the sharp contours of his face.
She immediately recognised that her light-hearted reply had triggered the same response in him. Knowing her sensual fantasy was being shared only increased the heavy, hot languor that had invaded her entire body. Throat dry, heart thudding, she cleared her throat.
‘In the cupboard, over there.’ Despite her best efforts it was barely more than a husky whisper.
She ached for his touch; for a moment the yearning blanked out every other thought in her head. How had she been so blind to something that had been staring her in the face? Of course she wanted his child, she wanted every part of him. Greedy didn’t begin to cover the ferocity of her desire.
‘Thanks. Lucky it wasn’t the best china.’
‘Yes.’ The words didn’t mean anything, they just covered the gap in normality. Part of her still longed for that normality, but part of her was no longer satisfied with the comfortable security of their deep friendship. She needed
more—much more. What an awful, hopeless situation to find herself in.
‘That should do it.’ He straightened up suddenly and she flushed, as would anybody caught ogling someone’s tight, masculine rear.
‘Women look too,’ she said belligerently, instinctively defending herself from the glitter of his blue eyes. Why, she wondered despairingly, didn’t I just keep my mouth shut like a normal person?
‘Was I objecting?’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘Who needs subtlety? I’m an enthusiastic advocate of girl power.’
I just bet you are. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ It wasn’t surprising—he had all the smug confidence of someone who knew he had a beautiful body and sex appeal that went off the scale.
‘The fact I’m laughing at all is a miracle. A miracle only you could have brought about, Jo. You really are unique. Thank you.’
The unexpected and genuine warmth was lovely, but she’d have much preferred he thought of her as sexy and seductive rather than some sort of clown—unique or not.
‘I’d prefer feeding than thanking,’ she pointed out practically.
‘Of course you do, sorry.’
Liam’s plate was only half empty when he put his own knife and fork aside and, with his chin resting on steepled fingers, watched her demolish her food.
She was aware of his eyes but she willed herself not to react to his amusement. ‘You’re a good cook,’ she admitted with a sigh as she pushed her empty plate to one side.
‘I had a good teacher.’
‘Thank you,’ she accepted the compliment. ‘Actually I think I’d have done my own sex a greater service if I’d
refused to give you lessons,’ she observed tartly. ‘
Pulling
females isn’t the purest motive for learning the culinary art.’
‘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.