It Started With A Kiss: The Secret Love-Child / Facing Up to Fatherhood / Not a Marrying Man

‘You’ve no idea how sorry I am about all this, Isabel,’ Luke apologised again. ‘I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world. You’re a great girl. But the moment I saw Celia, I was a goner.’

Isabel’s mind flew straight to the moment she first saw Rafe Saint Vincent today. She hadn’t been a goner. But she might have been, if he’d come on to her. Thank heaven he hadn’t.

‘She must be something, this Celia.’

‘She’s very special.’

And very beautiful, no doubt, Isabel deduced, with a body made for sin and eyes which drew you and held you and corrupted you. Just as Rafe’s eyes had today.

He’d fancied her. Isabel hadn’t liked to admit it to herself before this, but she’d sensed his male interest at the time. She’d sensed it from the first second they’d looked at each other. She always sensed things like that.

You could go back for your phone after Luke leaves. You could tell Rafe the wedding’s off. You could…

No, no, she screamed at herself. Not again. Never again!

‘Okay, so tell me all,’ she demanded of Luke, desperately needing distraction from her escalatingly dangerous thoughts. ‘And don’t leave out anything…’

CHAPTER FOUR

RAFE noticed the phone she’d left behind almost immediately. He snatched it up from the coffee-table and was running out after her when he stopped and waited to see if she remembered and came back for it herself.

But she didn’t, and he just stood in the hallway and listened to her drive off.

It was crazy to want to see her again this side of the wedding. Crazy to force her to return.

She wasn’t the type to let him have his wicked way with her. She wasn’t the type to let any man have his wicked way with her without a band of gold on her finger.

Maybe not a virgin, but close. The way she’d frozen when he’d dared touch her hair. The way she’d bolted out of his place, probably in fear that he might do more.

And he’d wanted to. Oh, yes. Being that close to her—actually touching her—had turned him on something rotten. When her bag had hit him as she’d hurried out, he’d just managed not to visibly wince. Luckily, she hadn’t stopped and looked down at where her bag had hit him, or she’d have been in for one big fright!

That was another reason why he hadn’t run out into the street after her just now. Looking a fool was not his favourite occupation.

Hopefully, by the time Isabel realised she’d left her phone and turned round to come back, he’d have himself under control again.

And then what, Rafe? What is the point of this exercise? Is it some form of sexual masochism?

Even if you were the kind of man who seduced other men’s fiancées—which you’re not, usually—you haven’t one chance in Hades of defrosting this one.

So, if and when she does come back, have the damned phone handy near the front door, give it to the lady and send her on her merry way.

His decision made, Rafe dropped the metallic-blue cellphone on the hall table and headed upstairs for some breakfast. After that, he came back downstairs to his darkroom, where he set about developing the rolls of film he’d shot last night at Orsini’s summer fashion parade, and at the after-parade party, which had gone well into the wee small hours of the morning. The women’s magazines would be ringing first thing Monday morning, wanting to see the best of them.

Two hours later, Rafe was still in his darkroom, going through the motions, but his mind simply wasn’t on the job. The object of his distraction hadn’t come back, and he simply could not put her out of his head.

The truth was, she intrigued him. Not just sexually, but as a person. He wanted to know more about her.

In the end, Rafe stopped trying to put her out his mind. He abandoned his work, pulled the business card she’d left him out of his pocket, went back upstairs, picked up his phone and punched in the number she’d written down.

The line rang and rang at the other end, with Rafe about to hang up when someone finally picked up.

‘Hello there.’

Rafe frowned. It was a woman, but he wasn’t sure if it was Isabel. She sounded…odd. ‘Isabel?’

‘Yep? To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?’

Rafe couldn’t believe his ears. She was drunk!

‘It’s Rafe. Rafe Saint Vincent. The photographer.’

Dead silence. Though he could hear her breathing.

‘You left your mobile phone at my place.’

More silence.

‘I thought you might be worried about it.’

She actually laughed.

‘Isabel,’ he said with concern in his voice. ‘Have you been drinking?’

‘Mmm. You might say that.’

‘I am saying it.’

‘So what?’

Rafe was taken aback. This wasn’t the woman he’d met today. This was someone else. ‘You said you didn’t drink,’ he reminded her.

She laughed again. ‘I lied.’

His eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with worry. ‘Isabel, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’

‘I guess there’s no point in not telling you. You’ll have to know some time, anyway. The wedding’s off.’

He couldn’t have been more taken aback, both by the news and her manner. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Luke’s left me for someone else.’

Rafe experienced a small secret thrill at this news, but his overriding emotion was sympathy. He knew what it was like to be left for someone else, and he wouldn’t wish the experience on a dog.

‘I’m so sorry, Isabel,’ he said with genuine feeling. ‘You must be feeling rotten.’

‘I was, till I downed my third whisky. Now, I actually don’t feel too bad.’

He had to smile. That was exactly what he’d done the day Liz had left him. Hit the bottle. ‘You should never drink alone, you know,’ he warned softly.

‘Oh, I’m not drunk,’ she denied, even though her voice was slurring a little. ‘Just tipsy enough so that my pain is pleasantly anaesthetised. Why, you offering to drink with me, lover?’

Rafe’s smile widened. It seemed Isabel’s ice-princess act melted considerably under the influence of three glasses of Scotch.

‘I think you’ve had enough for one day.’

‘That’s not for you to say,’ she huffed.

‘Maybe not, but I’m still saying it.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you are the bossiest person alive?’

‘Yeah. My mother. She threw a party the day I left home.’

‘I can well imagine.’

‘But she loves me all the same.’

‘I doubt other people would be so generous.’

Her alcohol-induced sarcasm amused him. ‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re a snooty bitch?’ he countered.

He liked it when she laughed. Being drunk suited her. No more Miss Prissy. How he wished he was with her now.

There again, perhaps it was wise that he wasn’t. When and if he took her to bed, he didn’t want her drunk. Or on the rebound. He wanted her wanting him for himself, and no other reason.

‘I guess you won’t be needing my services now,’ he said.

‘As a photographer, you mean?’

Rafe sucked in sharply. What a provocative reply! Perhaps she didn’t disapprove of him as much as he’d thought she had.

Or perhaps it was just the drink talking.

‘Actually, I’d still like to photograph you,’ he said, truthfully enough.

‘Really? Why?’

‘Why? Well, firstly, you are one seriously beautiful woman, and I have a penchant for photographing beautiful women. Secondly, I just want to see you again. I want to take you out to dinner somewhere.’

‘You mean…like…on a date?’

‘Yes. Exactly like that.’

‘You don’t waste much time, do you? I’ve only been dumped for two hours. And you’ve only known about it for two minutes! What if I said I was too broken up over Luke to date anyone for a while?’

‘Then I’d respect that. But I’d ask you out again next week. And the week after that.’

‘I should have guessed you’d be the determined type,’ she muttered.

‘Being determined is not a vice, Isabel.’

‘That depends. So why is it you don’t already have a girlfriend? Or do you? Don’t lie to me, now. I hate men who lie to me,’ she added, slurring her words.

‘I’m between girlfriends at the moment.’

‘Oh? What happened to the last one?’

‘She went overseas to work. I wasn’t inclined to follow her.’

‘Why?’

‘My career is here, in Australia.’

‘Ahh. Priority number one.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means no, thank you very much, Rafe. I’ve been down that road far too many times to travel it again.’

‘Now I’m confused. What road are you referring to?’

‘Dating men who want only one thing from me. You do only want one thing from me, don’t you, Rafe?’

Rafe considered that a loaded question.

‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly.’ He liked talking to her, too. ‘But I have to confess that marriage and kiddies are not on my list of must-do things in my life.’

‘Well, they’re on mine, Rafe. And sooner, rather than later. But I appreciate your telling me the truth. That’s a big improvement on some of the other men I’ve become involved with in the past.’

His eyebrows shot up. It sounded as if there had been scads. Any idea that she might almost be a virgin went out of the window. It just showed you first impressions weren’t always right.

‘Did your fiancé lie to you?’

‘Luke? Oh, no…no, Luke was no liar.’

‘But he was obviously two-timing you,’ he pointed out.

‘No. He wasn’t. Look, it’s rather difficult to explain.’

‘Try.’

So she did, explaining the circumstances which had led up to Luke’s meeting Celia.

‘So he hasn’t been two-timing me,’ she finished up. ‘He only met Celia yesterday.’

‘Perhaps, but he didn’t tell you the truth about why he was going up to his dad’s fishing cabin on Lake Macquarie in the first place, did he?’

‘No, but I can understand why. He’d been thrown for a loop when the solicitor told him his Dad wanted to leave his weekender to some strange woman.’

‘You make a lot of excuses for him, don’t you? He was still unfaithful to you. And he hurt you, Isabel.’

‘He didn’t mean to. Look, I’m sorry I told you about it now. It’s really none of your business. Thank you for ringing and for making me feel a little better, but I think we should leave it right there, don’t you? As I said, we want different things in life. I wonder…could you possibly post my phone back to me?’

‘I’d rather drop it off to you.’

‘And I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘You’re afraid of me,’ he said, startled by this realisation.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

Oh-oh. She was definitely sobering up. And returning to her former stroppy self.

‘Just tell me one thing.’

‘What?’

‘Did you love him?’

‘I was marrying him,’ she snapped. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think that’s a very evasive answer. For a person who demands the truth from others, you’re not too good at delivering it yourself.’

She sighed. ‘Very well. I liked and respected Luke, but, no, I did not love him. Satisfied?’

‘Not even remotely,’ Rafe said ruefully. ‘Did you think he loved you?’

‘No.’

‘What on earth kind of marriage was that going to be?’

‘One that lasted.’

‘Oh, yeah, right. It didn’t even get through the engagement. For pity’s sake, Isabel, what did you expect? Men want passion from their wives. And sex. At least in the beginning.’

‘You think I didn’t give Luke sex?’

‘Not the kind which his new dolly-bird obviously does.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, I’m sorry I started this conversation. You simply don’t have the capacity to understand what Luke and I had together. How could you? You’re one of those men who lives for himself and himself alone. A woman is just a passing pleasure to you, a bit of R&R from your work. You don’t want a real relationship with one. As for children, you probably see them as inconveniences, little ankle-biters who’d get in the way of your lifestyle. Luke wasn’t like that. He wanted a family. Like me. He wanted for ever. Like me. We might not have been madly in love but we were good friends and extremely compatible, in bed as well as out. We could have had a happy marriage. I don’t believe he’s in love with this new dolly-bird, as you call her. He only met her yesterday. I think it’s just sex, the kind that obsesses you so much sometimes that you can’t think straight.’

Rafe’s eyes widened. It sounded as if she’d been there, done that. She was becoming more interesting by the minute.

‘That kind of physical affair never lasts,’ she finished bitterly.

Yep. She’d been there, done that, all right. Rafe didn’t know if he felt tantalised by this knowledge, or jealous. Either way, the thought of Isabel in the throes of an all-consuming sexual passion was an intriguing one.

‘Is that what you’re hoping?’ he suggested. ‘That maybe this thing your Luke is having with this girl won’t last? That maybe he’ll wake up on Monday morning, realise he’s made a big mistake and beg you to take him back?’

‘Well, actually, no. I hadn’t been hoping that. But now that you’ve mentioned the possibility…’

Luke could have kicked himself.

‘Don’t start grasping at straws, Isabel.’

‘I’m not. But I’m also not going to repeat the mistakes of my past. So, thank you for thinking of me, Rafe. But find someone else to photograph, and to take to dinner, because it isn’t going to be me.’

‘Isabel, please…’

‘No, Rafe,’ she said sternly. ‘I realise you have difficulty in accepting that word, but it’s definitely no. Now I must go. Goodbye.’

And she hung up on him.

Swearing, Rafe slammed down his end of the phone. He’d handled that all wrong. Totally abysmally wrong!

Still, perhaps it was for the best. Isabel wanted marriage. Whereas he most definitely didn’t.

But she was wrong about what he wanted from her. It wasn’t just sex.

Oh, come now, the voice of brutal honesty piped up. It’s always just sex you’re looking for these days. All that other stuff you offer a female is nothing but foreplay. The chit-chat. The photographing. The dinner dates. All with one end in view. Getting whatever pretty woman has taken your eye into bed and keeping her there on and off till you grow bored.

Which you always do in the end. Admit it, man, you’ve become shallow and selfish with women, exactly as Isabel said you were. You haven’t been worth two bob since Liz left you. She stuffed you, buddy. Took away your heart. Isabel was right not to get involved with you. You’re a dead loss to someone like her. Go back to work. That’s the only thing you’re good for. Creating images. Anything real is just too much for you.

He stomped downstairs, still muttering. Till he saw Isabel’s shiny blue cellphone on the hall table. How odd that just seeing something she owned gave him a thrill.

Did he dare still take it back to her?

No, he decided. She’d said no. He had to respect that. He’d post it to her on Monday, as she’d asked.

Feeling more empty and wretched than he had in years, Rafe returned to his darkroom and tried to bury himself in the one thing which had always sustained him, even in his darkest moments.

But, for the second time that day, his precious craft failed to deliver the distraction he craved.

CHAPTER FIVE

ISABEL groaned. She’d handled that all wrong; talked too much; revealed too much.

Alcohol always made her talkative.

She thanked her stars that she’d pulled herself together towards the end—and that she’d had enough courage to resist temptation.

But oh, she’d wanted to say yes. To everything he’d offered. The photography. The dinner date. Sex after wards, no doubt.

Isabel closed her eyes at the thought.

They sprang open again at another thought. Her mobile!

Would he still post it to her after all she’d said to him? Her assassination of his character had been a bit brutal, even if correct. He hadn’t denied a single word. Okay, so the man did have a sweet side. But how much of that was real? Maybe he’d just learnt that you caught more with honey than with salt.

If he was really sweet, then he’d post her phone back. If not?

Isabel shrugged. She couldn’t worry about a phone. If she never got it back, then she’d report it lost and get another one. After all, she didn’t have to watch her pennies any more. She was an independently wealthy woman now. Or she would be soon.

Luke would be as good as his word. That, she knew.

Isabel wandered down the hallway to her mother’s kitchen, thinking about Luke. Was it possible he might change his mind about this Celia? Or was she simply looking for an excuse not to tell her parents the wedding was off when they came home?

Just the thought of their reaction—especially her mother’s—made Isabel shudder. If she hadn’t been over the drink-driving limit, she’d pack up her car right now and make a bolt for the town house Luke had given her. She had her own set of keys.

Unfortunately, as it was, there was nothing but to stay here and face the music.

The music, as it turned out, was terrible. Her father recovered somewhat after Isabel explained Luke was going to recompense them for everything they’d spent. But her mother could not be so easily soothed, not even when Isabel told her what Luke was doing for her in a financial sense. When Isabel repeated Luke’s suggestion that her parents go on their pre-booked holiday to Dream Island, her mother’s face carried horror.

‘You think I could be happy going on what should have been your honeymoon?’ she exclaimed. ‘No wonder Luke left you for another woman. You have no sensitivity at all! I dare say he worked out that you were only marrying him for his money. So he gave you what you wanted, then looked elsewhere for some genuine love and warmth.’

Isabel was stunned by her mother’s harsh words. ‘You think I was only marrying Luke for his money?’

Her mother flushed, but still looked her straight in the eye. ‘You weren’t in love with the man. That, I know. I’ve seen you in love, girl, and what you felt for Luke wasn’t it. You cold-bloodedly set out to get that man. I didn’t say a word because I thought Luke would make a fine husband and father, and I hoped that you might eventually fall in love with him. You played false with him, Isabel. And you got what you deserved.’

‘Dot, stop it,’ Isabel’s father intervened sharply. ‘What’s done is done. And who knows? Maybe it’s all for the best. Maybe someone better will come along, someone our girl can like and love.’

Isabel gave her father a grateful look. But she was close to tears. And very hurt by her mother’s lack of sympathy and understanding. ‘I…I have to go and ring Rachel,’ she said, desperate to get away from her mother’s hostility. Rachel would at least be on her side.

‘What about everyone else?’ her mother threw after her. ‘Who’s going to make all the other phone calls necessary to cancel everything?’

‘I’ll do all that, Mum.’

‘On our phone?’

Isabel closed her eyes for a second. Phones. They were her nemesis today. ‘No,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ll be moving into the town house Luke gave me tomorrow. I’ll make all the calls from there.’

‘You’re moving out?’ Suddenly, her mother looked wretchedly unhappy.

Isabel sighed. ‘I think I should.’

‘You…you don’t have to, you know,’ her mother said, her voice and chin wobbling. ‘I don’t really care about the phone bill.’

Isabel understood then that her mother had been lashing out from her own hurt and disappointment. She’d always wanted to see her only daughter married. And now that event seemed highly unlikely.

Because her mother was right, Isabel conceded. She had set out to get Luke rather cold-bloodedly, and she simply couldn’t do that again. Which left what? Falling in love with another Mr Wrong?

No! Now that was on her list of never-do-again.

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ Isabel said, giving her mother a hug. ‘Everything will be all right. You’ll see.’

Her mother began to cry then, with Isabel struggling not to join in.

She looked beseechingly at her father over her Mum’s dropped head and he nodded. ‘Go ring Rachel,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll look after her.’

Rachel, who was Isabel’s only real female friend and now the owner of an unused wine-red bridesmaid dress, answered on the first ring.

‘Can you talk?’ was Isabel’s first question. ‘Have I rung at a bad time?’

Rachel’s life was devoted to minding her foster-mother who had Alzheimer’s. She’d been doing it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for over four years now. Despite being a labour of love, it was a grinding existence with little pleasure or leisure. Rachel’s decision to take on this onerous task after her foster-mum’s husband had deserted her, had cost her her job as a top secretary at the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, and her own partner at the time. Sacrifice, it seemed, was not a virtue men aspired to.

Nowadays, Rachel made ends meet by doing clothes alterations at home. Her only entertainment was reading and watching television, plus one night out a month which Isabel paid for and organised. Last night had actually been one of those times, Isabel taking her friend to Star City Casino for dinner then a show afterwards. It was a pleasing thought that she’d have the time and the money to take Rachel out more often now.

‘It’s okay,’ Rachel said. ‘Lettie’s asleep. Thank goodness. It’s been a really bad day. She didn’t even know me. Or she pretended not to. She’s always difficult the day after I’ve been out with you. I don’t think she likes anyone else but me minding her.’

‘Poor Rachel. I’m sorry to ring you with more bad news.’

‘Oh, no, what’s happened?’

‘The wedding’s off.’

‘The miserable bastard,’ was Rachel’s immediate response, which rather startled Isabel.

‘What makes you think it was Luke’s doing?’

‘I know you, Isabel. No way would you opt out of marrying Luke. So what was it? Another woman?’

‘How did you guess?’ Isabel said ruefully.

‘It wasn’t hard. Men are so typical.’

‘Mum blames me. She says Luke looked elsewhere because I didn’t love him.’

‘You confessed it wasn’t a romantic match?’

‘No, she guessed.’

‘Oh, well, you have to agree she had a few clues to go on. Luke wasn’t your usual type. Too traditionally good-looking and far too straight-down-the-line.’

‘Mmm. It turned out he wasn’t quite the Mr Goody-Two-Shoes I thought he was. Not once he met the sexy Celia.’

‘So who is sexy Celia? Where and when did he meet her?’

‘He only met her yesterday, and she’s his father’s mistress’s daughter.’

‘What?’ Rachel choked out. ‘Would you like to repeat that?’

She did, along with the rest of Luke’s story. Isabel had to admit it made fascinating listening. It wasn’t every day that a son found out his high-profile hero-status father had been cheating on his mother for twenty years. Or that the same engaged and rather strait-laced son would jump into bed with the mistress’s daughter within an hour or two of meeting her.

Isabel still did not believe that Luke was in love with this Celia, but he obviously thought he was after spending all night with her doing who knew what. Even now he was speeding back up to his dad’s secret love-nest on Lake Macquarie for more of the same!

It sounded like an episode from a soap opera.

No, a week of episodes!

Rachel’s ear was glued to the phone for a good fifteen minutes.

‘You didn’t tell your mother all that, did you?’ she asked at the end of it.

‘No. I just said he’d met someone else, fallen in love with her and decided he couldn’t go through with the wedding.’

‘At least he was decent enough to do that. A lot of guys these days would have tried to have their cake and eat it too, a bit like Luke’s father did with this Celia’s poor mother for twenty years.’