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Authors: Kim Lawrence

BOOK: Accidental Baby
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‘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 fierce 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 out 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.
He was a happy man. In his eyes the enthusiasm with which his wife had seized on the news of his son’s prospective wedding had fully justified any slight manipulation of the truth.
‘Patrick!’
‘What have I done now?’ He followed the direction of his wife’s gaze to Jo’s flushed cheeks. ‘What?’ he said blankly, then his social gaffe suddenly dawned on him and he shuffled his feet like an oversized schoolboy and looked sheepish.
‘It’s time for my walk,’ she said to her husband. ‘Doctor’s orders,’ she explained to Jo. ‘Come along before you put your other foot in it,’ she added, taking the big man’s arm. ‘Seize the moment, Liam,’ she advised somewhat obscurely as she left the room.
‘She’s enjoying herself.’
Jo nodded dubiously. The whole thing had escalated to ludicrous, horrible proportions. Always scrupulously, and often painfully, honest, she was finding the whole charade a terrible strain. Extricating herself from a maze of lies, which grew more convoluted by the hour, was going to be a nightmare.
‘This is all costing so much money. I hate cheating. I feel constantly guilty.’
‘It’s kinder to lie sometimes.’ Liam airily brushed aside her doubts.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he very obviously peered behind the heavy folds of the damask curtain which framed the elegant floor-length windows.
‘I’m just checking for surveillance equipment.’
‘Have you finally flipped?’
‘Mum has been so anxious to guide my faltering steps in the right direction that I wouldn’t put anything past her.’
‘What direction?’
‘This direction.’

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