Her Secret, His Love-Child

CHAPTER THREE

KATRINA was cleaning the kitchen sink—gleaming stainless-steel was almost as satisfying as glowing white ceramic—when someone pounded on the door as if they were trying to smash it down.

Worried the racket might wake Samantha, she removed her rubber gloves and hurried to the door.

‘Who is it?’ she called softly, trying to keep her voice down.

‘It’s Alex. Open up!’

‘Alex?’ she asked in surprise, blonde eyebrows shooting towards her hairline.

What was Alex doing here?

‘Yes. Alex. Open the door!’

Startled by his forceful order, Katrina slid the door chain along its protective channel and then turned her attention to the lock. In her nervous haste, and hindered by the oversized rubber gloves, her fingers fumbled with the latch and it took her two attempts to get the door open.

‘What do you want, Alex?’ she asked.

Although she hadn’t invited him in, Alex swept past her into the apartment.

As he did, she noticed what he was wearing.

Or, rather, what he wasn’t wearing.

All he had on was running gear. Skimpy runninggear that left very little to the imagination.

A white singlet top bared the steely strength of his broad, bronzed shoulders, and short shorts left the hairroughened length of his powerful legs free for her hungry gaze to feast upon.

In an instant, her mouth was parchment dry and her heart was beating ninety-to-the-dozen. ‘Alex?’ she prompted when he failed to answer her.

Suddenly she realised that while she’d been staring at Alex he’d been staring just as hard at her.

In her eagerness to open the door before Samantha was disturbed, Katrina had forgotten she was wearing her oldest tracksuit. It was tatty and worn, and the black was no longer sharp but faded. She’d taken the jacket off a while ago; scrubbing was hot work. Beneath it she was wearing a black stretchy top with spaghetti-thin straps.

If her outfit wasn’t bad enough, her hair had fallen out of the clip she’d used to fasten it to the top of her head. It was now half up and half down, with several strands sticking to her cheeks. To top everything else off, she wasn’t wearing a touch of make-up—not even mascara.

Katrina cringed inside at her dowdy appearance and then immediately reprimanded herself.

Who cared what Alex thought?

It wasn’t as though he meant anything to her any more.

‘What are you doing here, Alex?’

Alex stared at her with hooded eyes, then said abruptly, ‘I thought you lived alone.’

Katrina blinked at the comment, which had come out of left field. ‘I do. Apart from Sam, of course,’ she said, trying to ignore how primal and potently make Alex looked.

‘Really?’ He raised a brow. ‘What about Peter Strauss?’

Katrina blinked again. How did he know about Peter? And why was he asked about him?

‘Peter is my landlord,’ she said automatically.

‘You don’t have a lease.’

It was a statement not a question, and it was fired at her as fast as a bullet from a gun.

An uneasy feeling settled at the base of her spine. ‘How do you know that?’

He waved a hand. ‘Just answer the question.’

‘Have you had me investigated?’ she asked, still preoccupied with how he’d come across the information.

‘Of course.’

Shock ratcheted up her spine, vertebra by vertebra. ‘How dare you?’

‘Oh, I dare a lot of things. Why should you care, anyway?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Unless you’ve got something to hide?’

‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

‘Then why won’t you answer the question?’

Katrina folded her arms. ‘Because it’s none of your business, that’s why! As far as I’m concerned, you have no right to question me—unless it relates to Sam.’

His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t quite define. Suddenly, he was right there in front of her, hand cupping her throat. ‘Answer the question!’

The smell of heated male flesh mixed with sweat folded around her like an invisible cloak. As she inhaled, it was as if she were absorbing little particles of Alex that circulated in her bloodstream like a potent drug.

Swallowing against the warmth of his palm, she managed to say huskily, ‘What’s this all about, Alex?’

What’s this all about?

That was a good question, Alex decided.

It was just a shame he didn’t have an answer.

At least not one he wanted to share.

He didn’t want to admit—even to himself—that jealousy had sent him rushing over here like a man possessed. But there was no other explanation.

And the little green monster was having a field day, eating away at him like acid burning through metal.

Katrina looked unbelievably sexy in an entirely natural way. She might not be wearing any make-up, and her outfit was one that most of his previous lovers would have consigned to the rubbish bin, but all Alex could see was the shapely contours of her body, skin that was glowing with good health and hair that was shining with vitality.

Had Strauss seen Katrina dressed like this? Had he peeled the figure-hugging black top and faded tracksuitbottoms off the sleek lines of her body before making love to her?

‘Who is Peter Strauss to you?’ He knew he shouldn’t ask the question but was unable to hold it back.

She stiffened beneath the loose hold he had on her throat and her cat-like green eyes flashed quick-silver. ‘That is none of your business. Our relationship is over, remember?’ she said, tossing her head.

Her fragrance filtered into the air. Alex inhaled without meaning to, filling his lungs with the smell of her.

His head spun.

His heart pounded.

His body hardened.

Let her go, a little voice in his head instructed with warning. Let her go before you do something stupid.

Alex prided himself on his logic. The little voice in his head made a lot of sense.

Still, Alex couldn’t bring himself to release her.

Frustration imploded inside of him.

She was right.

He knew she was right.

‘I don’t care who you sleep with,’ Alex said harshly, wondering whether she knew he was lying through his teeth. ‘You can sleep with ten men for all I care.’ If she did, he would commit murder. ‘I’m thinking of the child. She needs to be brought up in a moral environment.’

‘The child has a name,’ Katrina said pointedly. ‘And I think that’s a little bit rich coming from you!’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you’ve had more women than you can probably count, so I don’t think you should be pointing fingers.’

His fingers curled more closely around her throat. ‘Don’t push me, Katrina.’

‘Or what? What will you do? Kiss me again like you did this morning?’ she goaded.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. She had the most beautiful mouth, just made for kissing.

‘Yes,’ he said huskily, and did what he’d wanted to do since he’d walked into the room.

Acting on gut instinct, he bent his head and claimed her mouth with his.

Unlike this morning, Katrina didn’t put up even a show of resistance.

This time, she kissed him right back with a depth of hunger that struck deep inside him.

Groaning in the back of his throat, Alex hooked an arm around the small of her back and pulled her closer until nothing, not even air, came between them.

He ignored the fact that their relationship was over and he shouldn’t be kissing her at all.

He ignored the fact that a young child, in all likelihood his daughter, lay sleeping innocently in the bedroom behind them.

He ignored everything except touching her and tasting her and relishing the familiar feel of her in his arms.

He deepened the kiss. Her arms made their way up and around his neck, where she dug her fingers into his hair.

The flash-fire of primitive desire laid claim to every ounce of tissue in his body. Muscles strained to get closer to her. His skin shrank around his bones. His heart and his pulse didn’t feel as if they belonged to him as they beat out a frantic tattoo.

He urged her backwards, instinctively seeking and finding the lounge. The backs of her knees hit the edge of a seat and he tumbled her on to the cushions.

He looked down. One spaghetti-thin strap had slipped off a creamy shoulder, baring the swell of her breast to his gaze.

His body throbbed—hard.

And, then again, even harder.

Then his eyes landed on a stuffed toy sitting in the corner of the lounge.

It was a brown gorilla. And it appeared to be staring at him.

Alex froze.

This was madness. Absolute and utter madness.

Until this situation was sorted, he shouldn’t be touching her.

He took a step backwards.

And then another.

Then he said, ‘We can’t do this.’

Katrina flopped back against the sofa.

She was weak, breathing heavily, body pulsing.

He was right; they shouldn’t be doing this.

She closed her eyes.

Why, oh why, had she let Alex kiss her? And why, oh why, had she kissed him back? He thought she was a liar and a cheat. He thought she was low enough to try and foist another man’s child on him. She needed her head read for letting him anywhere near her.

She breathed in deeply and willed her heart to stop its frantic beating.

‘I think you’d better leave,’ she murmured without looking at him.

Katrina could feel him looking at her bent head.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked finally.

Her eyes snapped open before flashing to his. ‘I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Why indeed?’

Alex walked to the door and pulled it open. ‘I’ll call you when I get the results.’

‘You do that,’ she said, just before the door closed with a quiet click.

Katrina was cleaning the fridge two days later, trying to take her mind off the fact that today was the day the DNA test results were due, when the doorbell rang.

Immediately, she tensed.

What if it was Alex?

She hadn’t received her set of results yet, but that didn’t mean Alex hadn’t received his.

How was he going to react to the news that Samantha was indeed his daughter?

Stripping off her green rubber-gloves, she tossed them on to the sideboard before hurrying to the door. She paused and took a deep breath before pulling it open.

It was Alex.

But it was an Alex she’d never seen before.

He looked ill. Grey. Strained. Older.

She gripped his arm, which was rock-hard with tension.

‘Alex, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?’

He shook his head but didn’t answer her.

She all but pulled him into the apartment.

It was then she noticed the piece of paper gripped in his clenched fist.

Her heart plummeted to her toes with sickening speed, then jolted into the back of her throat.

‘Is that…is that the test results?’ she choked out.

Alex looked at his hand as if surprised to see he was still clutching the document.

He nodded, his fist unclenching as if it was spring loaded.

The paper bearing the logo of the laboratory dropped to the carpet.

Katrina didn’t bother picking it up. Didn’t bother because she knew the results.

Alex lifted his head and stared at her. His face was empty of expression and Katrina registered that he was in some kind of shock.

‘Samantha is my daughter,’ he said simply, his voice so low she could barely hear him.

Katrina nodded.

‘I’m a father,’ he croaked.

Again, she nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, you are.’

He ran a hand through his hair and around the back of his neck. ‘I thought I was prepared for this. When you suggested the DNA test, I knew you had to be pretty sure I was the father. But seeing it in black and white…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s knocked me for six.’

Katrina could see that. She’d never seen Alex like this.

But she found it hard to be sympathetic. She’d told him the truth so many times, she’d practically turned blue in the face. But he hadn’t listened to her.

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