Bride On Demand

“You can’t force me to go through with this, Liam. You can’t force me into anything!”

“Physically, no,” he agreed. “I’m counting on your sense of duty toward our son. He needs a stable environment. The kind money alone can’t provide. For a start, think of what it would mean to him just to have you there when he gets home from school.”

“You’re still talking as if it’s a foregone conclusion,” Regan said jerkily.

“I’m still counting on that sense of duty,” he returned. “Along with one or two other incentives.”

She kept her voice steady by sheer effort of will. “Such as sex, for instance?”

Liam gave a faint smile. “It’s a factor. A very vital factor.”

KAY THORPE was born in Sheffield, England, in 1935. She tried out a variety of jobs after leaving school. Writing began as a hobby, becoming a way of life only after she had her first completed novel accepted for publication in 1968. Since then, she’s written seventy books and lives now with her husband, son, German shepherd and lucky black cat on the outskirts of Chesterfield in Derbyshire. Her interests include reading, hiking and travel.

Bride on Demand

Kay Thorpe

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

GLIMPSED across a crowded room, the man was too far away for Regan to be wholly certain, but every instinct told her she was right. Liam Bentley! Of all the people in the world, he was the last she would have expected to see here—the last she would have wanted to see anywhere!

‘Your glass is empty,’ observed one of the men in the group she was with, in body if not in spirit, at the moment. ‘Let me get you a refill.’

Regan released the glass with a smile and a word of thanks, finding it easier to accept the offer than decline on the grounds that she had had enough to drink. Alcohol was the lifeblood of these affairs, stimulating even the blasé to enjoyment of a kind. Not her kind, she had to admit. Any more than the majority of these people were her kind. It had been a mistake to come at all.

Where Hugh was at present she had no idea. He had asked her to accompany him because his wife was out of town; though for all she had seen of him since they had arrived, a partner hardly seemed necessary.

She caught another, clearer glimpse of the dark-haired man between shifting heads, and knew she hadn’t been mistaken; those hard-hewn, handsome features were only too distinctive. Seven years hadn’t dulled the memory, hard as she had tried to school herself to forget. More than ever she wished she hadn’t come tonight.

‘Gin and lime, wasn’t it?’ asked the man who had taken the glass from her, handing it over brimming once more. ‘Cheers!’ he added, lifting his own glass.

Regan repeated the toast but took only the barest sip, aware of the frank appraisal he was giving her. Dennis something or other, she believed his name was.

‘Long hair is supposed to be passé this year, by all accounts,’ he commented lightly, ‘but it still appeals to most men.’ He grinned. ‘So does red hair and green eyes, if it comes to that.’

‘Auburn, if you please,’ Regan corrected with mock severity, making every effort to keep her party face going. ‘And I never follow trends.’

‘An individualist, eh? You’ve a lot in common with our hostess. She doesn’t exactly run with the crowd either.’

‘I haven’t met her yet,’ Regan admitted. ‘Which is she?’

He turned to view the throng. ‘Way over there, with that tall dark chap. Her latest. A banker, I believe. Loaded, naturally. Our Paula would hardly settle for anything less.’

The somewhat caustic note wasn’t lost on Regan. A thwarted suitor himself, maybe? she wondered. The tall dark chap was Liam Bentley. Paula herself was a blonde; whether natural or assumed it was impossible to tell from this distance. Whichever, she was certainly good-looking. Not that Liam would be likely to settle for anything less either. Running her own highly successful PR company, the woman obviously had a good business head on her shoulders too. They should make the perfect pair—other partners disregarding.

Dennis had angled himself so that the two of them were cut off from the rest of the group. ‘What say we go and find ourselves somewhere quieter to get to know one another?’ he suggested now. ‘There’s still time to have dinner.’

‘I’m not really hungry,’ Regan prevaricated. ‘The canapés they keep passing round are too tempting.’

‘Just a drink, then?’

Obviously not one to take a hint, decided Regan resignedly. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, thanks. I’m quite happy here.’

‘You don’t look it,’ he insisted. ‘In fact you—’

‘I’m with someone,’ she broke in. ‘I don’t think he’d be any too thrilled if I walked off with another man. Anyway, it’s time I started mingling a little more.’

‘Whoever he is, he’s not exactly attentive,’ came the parting shot as she moved away.

Almost as if he had overheard the remark, Hugh appeared at her elbow, the unfairly rakish features wearing an apologetic expression.

‘Sorry to leave you like that,’ he said. ‘I got tied up. Did you get to meet our hostess yet?’

‘No,’ Regan was bound to admit, adding hastily, ‘It isn’t really necessary.’

Hugh either didn’t hear the protest or took no heed of it. Sliding an arm about her slender waist, he steered her round the intervening groups to where the woman was holding court.

‘I thought it time we paid our respects, Paula,’ he announced. ‘This is Regan Holmes.’

The other woman’s regard held a certain speculation though little warmth. ‘Hallo.’

Regan returned the greeting, vibrantly aware of the man on Paula’s far side. She forced herself to meet the steel-grey eyes square on as Paula performed introductions all round, uncertain whether relief or chagrin held the upper hand when he showed no sign of recognition, even of the name. He looked, she had to admit, very little different from when she had last seen him. Obviously more than could be said for her. But then, she’d only known him a few weeks. Hardly surprising if he failed to remember just one of his many past conquests. Best in the circumstances anyway.

Duty done, Paula turned an intimate little smile on him. ‘Liam, darling, would you be an angel and freshen my glass for me?’

‘Surely,’ he agreed in those deep-timbred tones Regan recalled so well. ‘You’re in no urgent need at the moment?’ he added, with obvious reference to her own barely touched glass.

She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

Paula turned her attention back to the group at large as he moved off. Engrossed in animated discussion, neither Hugh nor anyone else appeared to notice when Regan slipped quietly away. What she needed was a breather—somewhere to be on her own for a few minutes. If it weren’t for Hugh, she would cut out and head for home right now, but he wouldn’t let her go alone and she hated to drag him away before he was ready.

She found her privacy in the bedroom where they had all deposited their outdoor wear. The early May evening was cool, and the bed was piled high. There would be a regular scrimmage if everyone decided to leave at the same time, she reflected. Like the rest of the house, the room itself was beautifully furnished and decorated. Money was no object to people in Paula Lambert’s position.

Sitting down before the gracious Queen Anne dressing table, Regan took a cosmetic purse from her handbag and renewed her lipstick. There was no discernible shine on her small straight nose, but she dabbed at it anyway. Thick and glossy, her hair curved inwards below chin level to frame a face too full of character for conventional beauty, cheekbones prominent beneath wide-set eyes the colour of spring grass, mouth a trifle over-generous. Apart from the hairstyle, surely not so far from the way she had looked at twenty-two? she mused.

Liam would be thirty-seven now. An age when a man might be expected to start showing a little silver at the temples, a little thickening about the waistline. There might be a slight deepening of lines about eyes and mouth, perhaps, but the jawline was just as firm, the body just as fit beneath the well-cut lounge suit he was wearing. She could see in her mind’s eye the bronzed breadth of his shoulders, the wiry curl of dark hair on his chest, the hard, ridged stomach muscle—and felt a warm trickle run down her spine at the memory.

Cut it out! she told herself harshly.

The opening of the door behind her jerked her abruptly out of her thoughts. Reflected in the mirror, Liam looked too overpoweringly familiar.

‘So this is where you got to,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think you must have left.’ He paused, as if in anticipation of some comment from her, adding, when she stayed silent, ‘It’s been a long time.’

Regan gathered herself together to get to her feet, emotions concealed behind the social façade she had learned to don at will. ‘I suppose it is.’

‘There’s no suppose about it.’ He winged an ironic glance over the curves outlined by the sleekly fitting bodice of her dark green dress. ‘Why make out not to know me just now?’

‘I was following your lead,’ she claimed with a dismissive little shrug.

The strong mouth slanted. ‘I was under the impression I was following yours.’

‘Seems we both misread the vibes, then.’

‘Apparently.’ He paused, the cynicism increasing as he studied her. ‘The man you’re with is married, I believe.’

The intimation was obvious, her response purely reflexive. ‘So?’

‘So can’t you find a man of your own?’

She could scotch the impression right now by telling the simple truth, came the fleeting thought, but she didn’t see why she should. ‘I might ask our hostess the same question,’ she said coolly. ‘Always providing she knows your true status to start with, of course. How is your wife?’

‘We were divorced several years ago.’

Thrown for a moment, Regan made an effort to control her inner emotions. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Condolences unnecessary. We’d been living separate lives for some considerable time before it.’

‘Oh, that does make a difference, of course. But then, your emotions never did run all that deep!’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘It’s time we were both getting back to the party. Paula doesn’t look the type to take too kindly to being abandoned for long.’

Liam swung the door fully closed again, standing there like a rock himself, face set in suddenly harsher lines. ‘You know, I thought when I first laid eyes on you tonight how little you’d changed, but I was wrong. The girl I knew was nothing like you.’

The tone cut deep, drawing unstudied words to her lips. ‘The girl you knew was a gullible fool just waiting to be taken advantage of! I learned to do the taking, that’s all.’

The curl of his lip gave added weight to the wave of self-disgust, but it was too late for retraction. What the hell was it to do with him anyway? She drew herself up to her full five feet seven, still, even in heels, several vital inches short of matching his height. ‘Are you going to let me pass? I don’t think we have anything else to talk about.’

Something sparked momentarily in the grey eyes, then he shrugged and moved a step aside. ‘After you.’

Regan hesitated, aware that to reach the door she would have to come within touching distance of him. Not that he was likely to touch her, she assured herself. He had already shown his contempt for what he believed she’d become. He could go on believing it too, for all she cared. His opinion was of no importance to her.

He made no move as she stalked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when his arm snaked about her waist from behind, jerking her round to bring her up against him, his free hand coming up behind her head to hold her still as he brought his mouth down on hers.

Unable to free herself, Regan did her best to stay immobile in his grasp, but there was no denying the swift surging heat as her body awoke to sensations so long dormant. No other man had ever stirred her the way Liam had stirred her—the way he could stir her still. She moved against him instinctively, involuntarily, feeling his hardness, remembering the driving power in his loins.

She was shaky when he finally lifted his head, both mind and body in turmoil. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

‘One department you haven’t changed in,’ he said sardonically. ‘Save it for the boyfriend—if a man twenty years older than you are can be called that.’

Hurting inside, she thrust herself away from him and turned blindly to grope for the door handle. Paula was just emerging from the room opposite when she yanked the door open. The other woman looked from Regan to the man at her back with suddenly narrowed eyes.

‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.

‘A private matter,’ said Liam flatly. ‘Nothing for you to concern yourself over. I’m going to get a drink.’

He moved off down the corridor, tall, dark and unyielding, leaving the two of them standing there like dummies. Paula was first to recover. The icy probe she turned on Regan cut to the quick.

‘I had an odd feeling that the two of you had met before,’ she clipped. ‘Just what game are you on?’

If the tone of the question hadn’t alienated her, the instinctive dislike she had felt on first meeting the woman was strong enough to swamp any desire on Regan’s part to offer explanation. For a brief disastrous moment the need to hit out at both her and Liam overruled all other concerns.

‘Bringing up a child single-handed is no game!’ she snapped back.

The other’s face went rigid, eyes darkening. ‘You’re claiming to have had Liam’s child!’

Realisation of what she had done hit Regan like a thunderbolt. What on earth had possessed her? she asked herself in consternation. More to the point, how did she retract?

‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this!’ Paula declared tautly before she could find the words. ‘You wait right here!’

Regan forced frozen limbs into action as the other woman moved off in Liam’s wake, mind devoid of everything but the need to get out of here. Turning back into the room she had so recently vacated, she tore her jacket from among the pile on the bed and slid it about her shoulders, then made for the door again. There were people in the hall when she got downstairs but no sign of either Paula or Liam, to her relief.

‘Leaving already?’ someone asked as she made her way through.

‘Going on somewhere,’ she answered quickly, and exited the house before any further questions could be put.

Only when she was outside in the cool night air did it occur to her that Hugh would wonder what on earth had happened to her, but it was too late now to start worrying about that. She set off alone along the echoing pavement, heading for the nearest tube station at Sloane Square. A bit risky for a woman on her own travelling on the underground at this hour, but she didn’t have enough money on her for a taxi even if she could have found one.

No doubt Liam would have little difficulty in persuading Paula of the lack of truth in the allegation, but he was hardly going to be content to leave it at that, she thought hollowly. Hugh could provide him with her address. What she’d done to his reputation by not putting the record straight was no joke either. She was ninety-nine per cent sure that he was faithful to his wife. Hopefully, Liam was on his own in taking their relationship for anything but what it was.

She reached her small but cosy flat around eleven-thirty after an uneventful journey out to Kilburn, surprising Sarah, who hadn’t been expecting her for at least another hour or so.

‘Any time,’ she said when Regan thanked her. ‘With Don so tied up with this new job, I’m more often than not free of an evening, and it’s hardly as though I’ve far to go home. Pop down for coffee in the morning if you feel like it,’ she added at the door.

Coffee was the last thing on Regan’s mind right now. Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant she would have to contact Hugh at his home in order to apologise for her unannounced departure—although what excuse she was going to come up with she couldn’t think. For a wild moment she contemplated phoning him now on the mobile he carried everywhere and asking him not to tell anyone where she was to be found. A waste of time in any case, she realised, when all Liam had to do was look up her name in the phone book.

There was no movement from the bed when she opened the door. Regan went over and straightened out the tangle of small, pyjama-clad limbs and duvet without raising a murmur, bending to press a tender kiss to the tousled head. She loved the weekends when the two of them could spend quality time together—lived the whole week in anticipation of it. Nothing had changed in that respect. Nothing would. Liam was hardly likely to stake a claim.

Back in the living room, she opened up the sofa bed in preparation before beginning to undress. With only the one small bedroom, and allowing for the disparity in retirement times, it made sense for Jamie to have sole possession. She was lucky, she supposed, to have her own kitchen and bathroom for the rent she was paying—although that was likely to take a considerable hike when her lease came up for renewal next month. A bridge that would have to be crossed.

She was between sheets by midnight, though not to sleep. Lying on her back staring sightlessly at the ceiling, she went back over the events of the evening with almost masochistic intent. She could still feel the pressure of Liam’s lips on hers, the hard muscularity of his body, dredging up memories she had fought so long to subdue. She hadn’t been totally devoid of masculine company these past years, but there had been no one she had come close to forming any kind of relationship with. Her own feelings, or lack of them, aside, it took a special kind of man to retain an interest in a single mother.

Her heart gave a gigantic jerk as the intercom connected to the outer door of the building buzzed, settling to a painful throb. There was only one person who would be making a call at this hour: one person angry enough to disregard everything but the need for settlement.

The buzz came again, held for longer this time. If she didn’t let him in there was a good chance that he’d rouse one of the other tenants. With Jamie fast asleep there was a possibility that she might still manage to keep his existence a secret, came the thought, as she rose reluctantly from the bed to switch on a lamp and go across to press the intercom button.

‘Who is it?’ she said warily, hoping against hope that it was a mistake after all.

‘Who the hell do you think it is?’ was the harsh retort. ‘Open this door. Now!’

Short of risking others becoming involved, there was little choice. Regan clicked the control then returned to the bed, sliding her feet into a pair of slippers and pulling on a wrap. Catching a glimpse of her face in the nearby wall mirror, she lifted her chin, willing herself to stay calm and in control. That it was going to be an uncomfortable few minutes there was no doubt, but if she kept her head she could get through it without giving anything away.

She needed no second bidding to go and open the flat door in answer to the peremptory knock. Liam seemed to fill the doorway, the expression on his face a forecast of what was to come. He advanced without waiting for an invitation, forcing Regan to step aside in order to avoid being mown down.

‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ he clipped.

She steeled herself afresh as she closed the door and turned to view him. ‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘It was a stupid thing to do.’

There was a certain sharpening in the penetrative quality of the grey eyes. ‘Stupid isn’t the word I’d use. Why? is the question I’d like answering.’

Her shrug was as indifferent as she could make it. ‘Retaliation, of course.’

‘A pretty unusual method of payback.’

She shrugged again. ‘Pure spur of the moment. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll have little difficulty convincing your…partner that there’s no truth in it.’

‘There’s no partnership,’ he said. ‘Business or otherwise.’

Some nameless emotion flickered at the back of Regan’s mind. ‘Girlfriend, then. I’ll write her a note admitting I lied, if you like.’

Liam regarded her narrowly for several seconds before shaking his head. ‘Not necessary.’ He cast a comprehensive glance about the room, opinion clearly expressed. ‘Is this all there is?’

‘I have a kitchen and bathroom.’ She did her best not to sound defensive. ‘What else is needed?’

‘There’s hardly room to swing a cat!’

‘I don’t have a cat.’ Regan stirred restlessly, aware that every passing minute increased the danger. ‘If you’ve said all you came to say, I’d like to get some sleep.’

The grey eyes returned to her, too perceptive by half. ‘I haven’t finished. Not by a long chalk. The man you were with tonight is a company director at Longmans.’

She lifted her chin, guessing what was coming. ‘Right.’

‘And you’re his secretary—standing in for his wife who couldn’t make it.’

‘Right again.’

‘So why the devil didn’t you tell me that in the first place!’

‘What difference would it have made?’ she asked. ‘Office affairs aren’t exactly unheard of!’

He regarded her long and hard, ignoring the innuendo. ‘Are you having an affair with him?’

That’s my affair, she hovered on the verge of retorting, biting it back on the reminder that it was Hugh’s life she was messing with not just her own. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I work for him, and occasionally socialise with him when Rosalyn is out of town—with her approval—but that’s as far as it goes. He’s a good friend, and I did him a thorough disservice.’

‘No more than I did to the two of you.’ Liam paused, expression difficult to decipher. ‘I’d have expected you to be married with a family by now. That seemed to be your main ambition at twenty-two.’

Regan kept a steady tone with difficulty. ‘I realised there was more to life.’

‘And this is it?’ he said with another disparaging glance around the room. ‘You had it in you to do a whole lot better.’

‘Compared with your lifestyle, I dare say this stinks,’ she shot back, unable to maintain the composure, ‘but it suits me!’ Limbs shaky, she indicated the door. ‘Just go, will you?’

‘Longmans pay good rates,’ he said as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You must be earning enough to afford something a bit more up-market than a second-floor bedsitter—especially when you’ve only yourself to think about. I could put you on to a reliable agency if it’s just a case of finding the right place.’

‘I don’t need any help! Not from you, or anyone!’ Regan was past caring about staying cool. Face flushed, eyes stormy, she yanked open the door. ‘Get lost, Liam!’

‘Now, that,’ he remarked almost conversationally, ‘is definitely more like the girl I once knew.’

‘The naive little thing you pulled out of the ranks to entertain you for a few weeks?’ Regan gave a brittle laugh. ‘She wouldn’t have said boo to a goose!’

‘Not the way I remember it.’ Liam’s voice had softened, a smile touching his lips. ‘The night I came back to the office to find you trying out my desk for size, you were far from being cowed.’

‘On the premise that I might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,’ she said, unable to stifle a reminiscent little smile of her own at the memory. ‘I expected to be fired on the spot for daring to infiltrate the hallowed upper-floor premises!’