Bride On Demand

‘Instead of which, you got yourself thoroughly kissed.’

Her smile vanished. ‘And the rest! As I said before, I was naive as they come.’

‘Irresistible,’ Liam said softly. ‘I’m not going to try apologising for the way I treated you. It’s too late for that. It isn’t too late to try making amends, though. I could help you get a job with better prospects for a start.’

Regan drew in a harsh breath. ‘I’m perfectly happy with the one I have, thanks! Are you going to go, or do I have to call for help to throw you out?’

For all the impression the threat made on him, she might as well have saved her breath. ‘I’ll go when I’m good and ready,’ he said. ‘Right now I’d welcome a cup of coffee. Decaf, if you have it.’

Regan gazed at him in frustration, aware that she wasn’t going to be calling on anyone to do anything at this hour of the morning. She knew a sudden sense of déjà vu as he shed his jacket and tossed it carelessly over a chair arm, muscle and sinew contracting as memory flooded in once more.

He’d always worn silk next to the skin. Her fingers itched to slide the length of his arms, feeling the muscular structure beneath the smoothness; to drift across the breadth of his shoulders and loosen his tie before beginning work on the buttons prohibiting contact with the warm male body beneath. She’d delighted in giving him pleasure—delighted in every aspect of their lovemaking.

She’d even believed him when he’d murmured words of love, she recalled cynically, bringing herself down to earth again with a thud. The shock when he’d told her he was getting married had been bad enough, the realisation that she was pregnant almost too much to bear. There had been a moment or two in the beginning, she had to admit, when she had contemplated abortion, but she could never have brought herself to go through with it.

‘Coffee?’ Liam repeated when she made no move. ‘We still have a lot to talk about.’

Regan couldn’t imagine what else there was to say, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be shifted. Her biggest fear was that Jamie would waken at the sound of voices and get out of bed to investigate. At six, he was already protective of her, regarding any man who came to the flat with suspicion. Not that there had been any for some time now. Word got around.

She closed the door quietly, belting the cotton wrap more firmly about her waist as she made for the kitchen. The room was warm enough without turning on the gas fire because it gathered rising heat from the lower regions. Not that she gave a damn whether Liam found it comfortable or not.

He followed her, standing in the doorway while she put the kettle on the boil and set a tray. The very feel of his eyes on her back made her all fingers and thumbs.

‘Why don’t you go and sit down?’ she exclaimed at length. ‘I’ll bring it through when it’s ready.’

‘It’s boiling now,’ he pointed out. ‘I’ll carry it through for you. Black for me, please.’

I know, she almost said, but that would have been too much of a give-away. ‘Sugar?’ she asked with deliberation.

‘None, thanks.’

He came all the way in to get the tray, his arm brushing hers in the confined space. She caught a faint whiff of aftershave—different from the one he had used when they’d been together, but emotive all the same. The tremor that ran the length of her spine left her weak at more than the knees. It took everything she had to keep her face from reflecting the turmoil going on inside her as she met his gaze.

‘Always the gentleman,’ she mocked.

‘If only on the surface,’ he responded without rancour. He ran his eyes over the tumbled auburn hair, softly lit by the low-wattage overhead bulb, the captivating lines of her face. ‘You’re still the only female I’ve ever known who looks as good minus the make-up as with it.’

‘Including your wife?’ she asked silkily, then shook her head in self-disgust. ‘Forget I said that.’

‘It’s forgotten.’ He indicated the door. ‘Lead on.’

She did so, sinking into one of the two small armchairs as he put the tray down on the low table set between them. Without buttons to hold it closed, her wrap parted over her knees. She drew the material across again swiftly, conscious of the brevity of the nightdress beneath and wishing she was wearing the satin pyjamas she had treated herself to as a Christmas present from Jamie.

‘You said we had a lot still to talk about,’ she reminded him when he made no attempt to open conversation but simply sat there studying her. ‘Such as what?’

‘Such as where you disappeared to after you walked out of your job for a start. It was as if you’d vanished off the face of the earth!’

‘I went home for a while,’ she said flatly.

Dark brows drew together. ‘You told me your parents were divorced, your father somewhere unknown, and your mother remarried to a man you had no time for and vice versa. That hardly sounds like home.’

‘Nevertheless, it’s where I went.’ Regan ironed out any emotion from her voice. ‘Why the follow-up, anyway?’

‘Guilty conscience,’ he admitted. ‘I’d played you a lousy hand. I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘Thoughtful of you.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ The irony was self-directed. ‘I know you’ve been with Longmans four years, but—’

‘How do you know?’ she demanded.

‘I had a chat with your boss.’

Green eyes darkened. ‘You’d no right to drag him into this!’

‘I was under the impression he was already in it, if you remember.’ He made a wry gesture. ‘It’s all right. I took full blame for the mistake.’

Whatever Hugh had told him about her, it obviously hadn’t included the fact that she had a child, Regan reflected gratefully. All the same, she had to get Liam out of here.

‘I really am tired,’ she said, pretending to stifle a yawn against the back of her hand. ‘I appreciate the offer to help me out, but it’s totally unnecessary.’ She added levelly, ‘I hope I haven’t caused you too much of a problem.’

His shrug was light. ‘Nothing I can’t handle. And the offer still stands. You know where to contact me if you change your mind.’

He got to his feet, the coffee barely touched. Regan rose with him, picking up his jacket from the chair and holding it out for him to slide his arms into the sleeves. She was taken totally by surprise when he stepped closer to enclose her face between his cupped fingers, unable to form a protest as his lips found hers in a kiss that transported her right back to that first, never-to-be-forgotten time.

Senses swimming, she could summon neither the immediate will nor the strength to break free. The jacket dropped from hands turned nerveless, kicked aside by Liam as he drew her closer to bring her tingling breasts into contact with the hard breadth of his chest. His mouth was a source of infinite pleasure, soft and firm at one and the same time, persuading her lips to part, to allow him access to the tender flesh within, the silky caress of his tongue arousing an unbridled response.

‘I want you,’ he breathed. ‘I always wanted you!’

So much so that he married someone else, came the thought, dragging her back from the brink.

‘Just go, will you?’ she said huskily. ‘I’m not playing that game again!’

Anticipating dissension, and ready for it, she was taken aback when he released her with a wry little shrug.

‘If that’s what you really want.’

‘It is.’ She made every effort to infuse certainty into her voice. ‘And I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused between you and Paula.’

His smile was fleeting. ‘No, you’re not. As a matter of fact, you’ve done me a favour.’

‘Oh, sure! You were racking your brains for an excuse to dump her!’ Limbs shaky, Regan bent to pick up his jacket from the floor, holding it out to him, eyes dark green pools. ‘Since when did you need help in that direction?’

He took the jacket from her and put it on without responding to the accusation, expression unrevealing. ‘It was good seeing you again, regardless,’ he said. ‘Take care.’

He was gone before she could draw breath to answer, leaving her standing there like a dummy. She had to force herself into movement, going over to lock the door in his wake. She still had her secret; that was all that mattered. It had to be all that mattered!

CHAPTER TWO

HUGH proved more intrigued than angry about the mix-up.

‘I gather Bentley has something of a proprietary interest in you himself,’ he said on Monday morning when Regan apologised to him. ‘A pretty long-standing one in fact. Paula was spitting cobs when he walked out on her. Not that I can blame him. She didn’t exactly keep the discussion under wraps.’ He paused, eyeing her shrewdly. ‘He is the father, isn’t he?’

There was little point in attempting to deny it, Regan acknowledged. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And thanks for not telling him about Jamie.’

‘I was in a bit of a dilemma, considering you’d already apparently let the cat out of the bag, but I reckoned you’d sort it out for yourself. What I can’t understand,’ he added curiously, ‘is why you kept it from him to start with. You were entitled to maintenance at the very least.’

‘I didn’t want anything from him!’ she said with force. ‘I still don’t. Jamie’s mine!’

‘Does he feel the same way now he knows about him?’ Hugh raised his eyebrows when she failed to respond. ‘You still haven’t told him?’

‘No.’ Regan looked down pointedly at the notebook ready-opened on her knee, wishing, not for the first time, that he would use a dictating machine like most people did these days. ‘You were giving me a letter.’

The hint was ignored, curiosity still unsatisfied. ‘Assuming he followed you home, as he said he was going to do, how the devil did you manage to keep him from finding out?’

‘Jamie was in bed. I convinced him I’d simply been indulging in a little payback.’ She put pencil to paper. ‘All’s well that ends well.’

Payback for what, exactly? was the question obviously hovering on Hugh’s lips, but he refrained from voicing it, for which she was thankful. Suggesting he mind his own business was hardly on the cards when she’d involved him in the situation herself. Hopefully, he would let the subject drop.

He did. For the time being, at any rate. Whether he would be content to let it go completely was something else. The problem with becoming personal friends with one’s boss, Regan reflected a trifle wryly. He’d have already put Rosalyn in the picture for sure.

Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to put Liam out of mind herself over the weekend. Seeing him again, having him near her again, had eroded every bit of armour she had built up over the years. She’d wanted him the same way he’d wanted her Friday night—hadn’t been able to sleep for the hunger he had aroused in her. It had been so long since she’d felt that need; so long since her whole body had come alive that way.

And it had to stop right here! she told herself forcibly, concentrating on the VDU in front of her. Cliché or no cliché, the past was a closed book from now on.

Except that it wasn’t, because Liam wouldn’t allow it to be. He was waiting when she left the office at five, standing by a gunmetal-grey Jaguar parked on double yellow lines.

‘I’m due a ticket,’ he said, nodding in the direction of a purposefully approaching traffic warden. ‘If you get in without argument we can be away before she gets here. We need to talk.’

Regan vacillated momentarily before giving in to the undeniably stronger urge and sliding into the front passenger seat. Liam closed the door and went round to get behind the wheel, firing the ignition with a flick of a lean brown wrist and heading out into the traffic stream with scant regard for the outraged hoots of those forced to give way.

‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ he remarked, looking anything but penitent. ‘That’s a very disappointed lady we’ve left back there.’

‘It’s a very reluctant lady you have in here,’ Regan returned coolly, mustering her reserves. ‘If it hadn’t been for the warden—’

‘I know. You’d have given me my marching orders. Not that I’d have accepted them. You were coming with me whether you liked it or not.’

She gave him a swift glance, taking in the set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes—feeling her stomach muscles start to curl again. ‘Is that a fact?’ was all she could come up with.

‘Sure is.’ His lips stretched in a brief smile. ‘Like I said, we need to talk.’

‘We said all there was to say the other night,’ she retorted.

‘Not nearly! We’ve seven years to fill in for starters.’

Regan kept her tone level with an effort. ‘I’ve no intention of rehashing the past. I’d be grateful if you’d drop me off along here. I’ve a train to catch.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked. ‘You’ve no one waiting for you to get home.’

Her heart jerked. ‘That’s hardly the point.’

‘I think it is. I don’t have anyone waiting for me either, so why don’t we go and find somewhere quiet and peaceful where we can relax over a drink? Soft only, in my case,’ he added as she made to speak. ‘I never touch alcohol when I’m driving.’

‘Very responsible of you,’ she commented with a caustic edge she couldn’t quite eradicate. ‘A model citizen at last!’

It was Liam’s turn to slant a glance, eyes narrowed a little. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that, but we all learn as we go along. You’ve changed a great deal yourself. In some ways, at any rate.’

‘I’ve changed, period,’ she said flatly. ‘I’ll be thirty in a couple of months. That makes me a mature woman.’

‘Age has damn all to do with it!’ he scoffed. ‘It’s in the mind not the body. If you consider yourself mature, you’ll stop playing the reluctant maiden and join me in that drink.’

Short of leaping from the car, did she have a choice? Regan asked herself. Sarah was used to her being late home after battling through the rush hour, and would have given Jamie his tea as usual. Providing she got there in time to have half an hour or so with him before he went to bed, he would be fine.

Only this had to be it so far as Liam was concerned. One drink, then goodbye.

He took her to a backstreet inn she wouldn’t have known existed, driving into the rear yard with the authority of entitlement.

‘My watering hole for many a long year,’ he said in reply to her unspoken question. ‘The landlord granted me parking rights on the strength of it. They serve pretty good bar meals if you’re feeling hungry.’

‘Just a drink,’ Regan reiterated, already beginning to regret having agreed to even that much. He would have accepted the refusal if she’d made it firm enough: he would have had to accept it.

Broad shoulders lifted in tolerant acknowledgment. ‘Whatever you say.’

There were only three other people in the small, un-spoiled Victorian-period bar at present. Liam seated her in one of the cushioned, high-backed alcoves before going to rap on the polished mahogany counter in order to attract attention from whoever was supposed to be serving.

The big bluff man who appeared offered a casual greeting. Regan could hear the sound of voices, underlaid by music, coming from some unseen source.

‘The taproom’s through the other side,’ Liam explained when he brought their drinks over. ‘It gets pretty busy in there. Hardly hear yourselves think, much less talk.’

He seated himself opposite, still too close for comfort with only the wrought-iron table between them, his foot touching one of hers. Regan controlled the impulse to draw sharply away, settling for a slower movement instead. Even so, she could tell from the glimmer of amusement in the grey eyes that he was only too well aware of her response to the contact.

‘Nice place,’ she said in an effort to sound natural. ‘There can’t be all that many left unmodernised.’

‘One of the blights of today’s cultural trends,’ Liam agreed. ‘Which dispenses with the small talk. We have more vital subjects to discuss.’

Green eyes held grey for several, heart-thudding moments. ‘Such as what?’ Regan managed with creditable calm.

‘Such as where we go from here, having found one another again.’

The thudding increased to a sudden crescendo, diminishing again as she reviewed the situation. ‘You mean now?’ she asked with deliberation. ‘A quick visit to your flat, perhaps, for old times’ sake?’

‘Stop playing the cynic,’ he retorted. ‘That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. Not,’ he tagged on with a glint, ‘that it would have been such a quick visit.’

Regan could imagine. His lovemaking had never been a hurried affair. Her inner thighs went into sudden spasm at the very thought. It was all she could do to conceal the emotions coursing through her.

‘Self-confidence you never lacked,’ she said acidly. ‘There was a time when it might have impressed me, but not any more.’

‘You prefer wimps these days?’ he queried. ‘Men you can manipulate?’

‘There’s such a thing as moderation,’ she flashed. ‘Not that you’re likely to understand what I’m talking about. It was always your needs that came first with you!’ She flushed as one dark brow rose in ironical comment. ‘Out of bed, at any rate.’

‘Thanks for the qualification,’ he said. ‘I’d hate to be labelled a selfish lover.’

‘Oh, I doubt if you ever give less than full satisfaction in that department!’ This time she was unable to keep the bitterness entirely at bay. She took a swallow of the gin and tonic he had ordered for her, coughing as the spirit caught the back of her throat, her eyes watering.

‘Try taking it a little more slowly,’ advised Liam with dry inflection. ‘Or not at all, if you’re only using it as a prop. I didn’t bring you here to trade insults,’ he went on when she made no answer. ‘I’ve a genuine interest.’ He studied her across the table, taking in the fine boning of her face, the heavily fringed green eyes and full, mobile mouth, his expression causing her heart to start hammering again. ‘Who wouldn’t have?’ he added softly.

Get out now! urged a small voice in her inner ear, but her limbs refused to obey instructions to move. She gazed back at him wordlessly, devouring the lean masculine features, the thick dark hair her fingers itched, as of old, to tangle with. He was, and always had been, a man most women would find enthralling by very virtue of the fact that he was so utterly male in a world where the demarcation lines were no longer as manifest as once they’d been. Such a thing as moderation, she had said a moment or two ago, but it didn’t mean a great deal at this precise moment.

‘Are you still in the same flat?’ she heard herself asking.

He shook his head. ‘I’ve moved on a piece since then.’

‘But you’re still with Chantry’s?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Well up the tree by now, I imagine.’

‘Some way to go yet.’ His lips slanted. ‘We’re back to the small talk.’

‘No, we’re not,’ she countered. ‘As you said, we’ve seven years to fill in.’

‘Not all from my side, though. Apart from you working for Longmans, and living in conditions that could be bettered, I know nothing about your life.’

He wasn’t going to know either, she thought, stirring herself to action with an ostentatious glance at her watch. ‘There’s nothing really worth telling. In any case, it’s time I got on my way.’

‘You’ll be right in the thick of it if you leave now,’ Liam pointed out. ‘Let things quieten down a bit, then I’ll drive you home.’

‘No!’ The refusal came out too tersely, drawing a sudden line between the dark brows; Regan made haste to amend the impression. ‘It’s too far out of your way.’

‘How would you know that when you don’t know where I live these days?’ he asked reasonably. ‘Anyway, I don’t have anything else on the agenda.’

‘Not for want of opportunity, I’m sure.’

The sarcasm drew a shrug. ‘Depends on the kind of opportunity we’re talking about. I take life rather more gently these days. Which brings us back to where we left off,’ he added before she could make any further comment. ‘You don’t mean to tell me nothing of any note at all occurred in seven years!’

Regan kept her tone carefully bland. ‘I’ve had my moments.’

‘And that’s as far as you’re prepared to go.’ The dark head inclined. ‘Far be it from me to pressure you. Why don’t we eat while we’re waiting? Save bothering later on.’

The temptation to extend the occasion was there, she had to admit. She rallied her forces to resist it. ‘I already told you I’m not hungry, but don’t let me stop you. I can still take the train.’

‘And I already told you I’d drive you home.’ Liam sounded just a mite intolerant. ‘Relax, will you? There’s no ulterior motive.’

‘It didn’t occur to me that there was,’ she denied.

‘Yes, it did. You think I might try something on. Well, rest easy on that score. I haven’t reached the desperation stage as yet.’ He searched her face again, eyes penetrating her defences. ‘About you, I’m not so sure. You look decidedly unfulfilled.’

‘As a psychologist, you make a good milkman,’ she responded cuttingly. ‘I don’t need a man to fulfil me!’

‘So you admit there isn’t one in your life at present?’

‘I admit nothing.’ Regan was fast becoming unravelled. ‘You can probe till you’re blue in the face for all the good it will do you! My private life is…private!’

‘Temper,’ he chided, the glint in his eyes not wholly of amusement. ‘You’re losing your grip.’

She quelled the retort rising to her lips, aware of other eyes on the pair of them. ‘A momentary lapse. The traffic isn’t going to ease up for another couple of hours so I’ll pass on the lift. There are times when it’s quicker by train.’

‘Except that there’s no terminal within easy walking distance of this place.’ Liam wasn’t giving an inch. ‘If you really must leave now, I’ll take you regardless of the traffic. At least you’ll be sitting down in comfort, not strap-hanging.’

She had to grant him that much. Getting a seat on a train at this time of day was a rare thing indeed. Only last week she’d found herself crushed next to a man who had taken advantage of their closeness to start running a hand along her leg—until she had changed his mind with a well-aimed heel in the unprotected top of his foot. He’d limped off the train at the next station with, hopefully, a lesson learned. But he hadn’t been the first, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last to indulge his base impulses.

‘Regan?’ Liam was eying her quizzically.

‘All right,’ she said, resigning herself to the inevitable. ‘Just don’t expect to be invited in on the strength of it.’

‘No strings attached,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t bother finishing the drink. You didn’t really want it in the first place.’

Regan didn’t attempt to deny it. She was here because there was a part of her that still found it impossible to regard him with the contempt he merited for past maltreatment—a part of her that yearned to give way to the emotions he still aroused in her. If it hadn’t been for Jamie, she might even have been tempted to go along with what he was suggesting and renew the affair.

Laying herself open to further hurt when he’d exhausted what new potential he fancied she might offer, came the cynical thought. It was academic anyway.

Liam revealed a remarkable knowledge of the inner-city road system and managed to avoid the worst of the congestion. All the same, it was almost a quarter to seven by the time they reached their destination.

‘So this is it?’ he said when Regan made to get out of the car with a murmured word of thanks. ‘I don’t get to see you again?’

‘There isn’t any point,’ she responded levelly.

His shrug was more sensed than seen. ‘A matter of opinion, but have it your own way.’

He drew away the moment she was out of the car, leaving her standing on the pavement feeling dull and depressed at the thought of never seeing him again. Yet what alternative was there? If she’d told him about Jamie he’d ten to one have felt bound to make some kind of financial reparation, but that would have been as far as it went. She was better off putting the whole affair to the back of her mind again.