The Father Of Her Child

By the time she had talked through arrangements with the television producer, Graham had driven past King’s Cross and was well on the way to Rose Bay. She tucked the mobile phone in her handbag and decided to postpone putting her hair up until they arrived at the restaurant. It would be easier to do it in the ladies’ powder room, and they would certainly be arriving ahead of the guests.

“When do you take off with Evan Daniel?” Graham asked.

“Next week. Wednesday.”

“You’ve drummed up a lot of interest in him.”

“Good subject.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“Very likeable,” Lauren agreed warmly. “I think he’ll come over well. I hope you’ve got good supplies of his books in the shops, Graham.”

“Best-seller status.”

“Great!”

He shot her a curious look. “Is Evan Daniel your kind of guy, Lauren?”

“Why do you ask?” she returned teasingly, aware there was considerable speculation about her love life amongst Global’s staff.

Graham shrugged. “I know you date occasionally but you don’t stick with anyone for long.”

“It’s difficult to maintain a relationship in my kind of job.”

“I notice you shy off really good-looking guys.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. And that’s odd for a good-looking girl like you.”

“Maybe I want more than what’s on the surface.”

“That’s why I asked about Evan.”

“He’s married, Graham.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop anyone these days,” he observed dryly.

“His wife is pregnant. Do you think I’d respect a man who played around when his wife is expecting his baby?”

“Ah, respect! Yes, there has to be respect.” He nodded sagely, then threw her a smile of approval. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Lauren. You’ve got your head on straight.”

She hoped so. She’d certainly lost her head completely over Wayne. He was so handsome he’d melt most women in their shoes. And he had a body to drool over. Pure pin-up material. Her chemistry had led her badly astray, and that was something to be wary of. Graham was very perceptive. She did shy off good-looking guys.

Maybe, Lauren reflected, that wasn’t being fair. One shouldn’t make generalisations from one bad experience. She resolved to give the next really attractive man who showed an interest in her at least half a chance to show he had some decent substance, too.

They drove past the marina at Rose Bay and through the gateway to the park where the Salamander Restaurant held a prime position on the shoreline. Global was holding its launching party in real style. Lauren felt a bright lilt of anticipation. Perhaps tonight she would meet someone interesting, a stranger across a crowded room.

She grinned.

Did hope never die?

CHAPTER THREE

LAUREN saw him arrive-the stranger.

She didn’t know why her gaze was drawn to the restaurant foyer at that particular moment. She was out on the deck overlooking the bay, chatting with a small circle of associates. People were milling around in the dining room, which had been cleared of its normal furniture for freedom of movement. For some reason the groups of guests had shifted, leaving an unobscured channel of vision. And there he was.

It gave Lauren a weird feeling, as though she had conjured him up herself, somehow waving a mental magic wand, making the people part, and there in the spotlight-one tall, dark, handsome stranger. But the illusion was incomplete. His eyes didn’t meet hers. He didn’t even glance her way. His attention was directed to his companions. He was smiling, a warm, kindly, reassuring kind of smile.

“Lauren, what did you think of.?”

It took an act of will to draw her gaze to her companions and focus her mind on what was being said. She gave her opinion on the question directed at her and tossed the conversational ball into the general ring, disinterested in pursuing a discussion.

People had moved when she looked again. She surreptitiously changed her position, scanning the crowd in an idle manner, half wondering at herself that she felt so drawn to find him, place him. Hadn’t she told herself a thousand times it was the person inside who really counted, not superficial attraction?

It was the smile, she decided. She’d liked his smile. A smile could say a lot about the inner person. She was curious about him. That was perfectly natural.

She spotted him in a group she quickly identified. Evan Daniel was talking to his editor, Beth Hayward. The pretty blonde between Evan and the stranger was probably Evan’s wife, Tasha. She had a proprietal air as she watched him speak. My husband, it said, with pride and pleasure.

The stranger bent and whispered something in the blonde’s ear. She nodded and threw him a grateful look. He moved away. Lauren followed his progress across the room to a set of glass doors that opened to the other end of the deck from where she stood. He didn’t look around him as most people did, seeking familiar faces, ready to greet or respond. From the moment he set off alone, his face wore a closed, forbidding look.

Lauren was intrigued. It was a total shutdown of charm. He exuded an air of single-minded purpose. Not a party animal, she concluded, more a man with a mission. She wondered why he was here this evening and what he intended to achieve.

His classy, dark grey suit had the stamp of a conservative professional, as did his shirt and neatly styled black hair. In contrast to that image, a blue shirt and a brightly patterned silk tie made a vivid splash of individualism that denied any easy pigeonholing of this man.

His face was pleasingly proportioned, cleanly chiseled, unmistakably male, although a full-lipped mouth softened and sensualised it. Another interesting and endearing feature was surprisingly small and neat ears. His eyebrows were straight, with a slightly downward slant. It was impossible to discern eye colour at this distance, but Lauren decided it would probably be brown. Dark chocolate. She loved dark chocolate.

He stepped onto the deck. He didn’t glance in her direction or pause to admire the spectacular view of the harbourside around the bay. He headed straight to where tables and chairs were stacked in the far corner. With brisk economy of movement he separated a small table and two chairs, then took them inside, choosing to set them against the glass wall in a protected alcove beside a serving bench.

It was interesting to watch the animation of his face as he returned to Evan and Tasha Daniel, breaking into their chat with Beth Hayward to usher them all over to the place he had prepared for them. As they moved, Lauren saw how heavily pregnant Evan’s wife was and realised it was her comfort that was the stranger’s prime consideration.

A thoughtful, caring man. Also a man of action. As soon as Tasha Daniel was settled on a chair, he signalled one of the waiters over to offer his tray of drinks. He selected champagne for Tasha but took orange juice for himself. A non-drinker, Lauren speculated, or a man bent on keeping all his wits about him? It would be interesting to know his connection to Evan and Tasha Daniel.

Lauren waited until Beth Hayward took her leave of them, then went straight into action, intent on having her curiosity satisfied. With the ready excuse of having to see an author, she moved inside and collected two of the gift presentation packs from the display table. Armed with these to sweeten the introduction to Evan’s wife and their friend, she headed across the room to them.

Evan saw her coming. His genial face broke into a welcoming smile. He spoke to his wife, clearly identifying Lauren for her, and Tasha Daniel’s gaze zeroed in on the woman who would be taking her husband on a promotional tour. Shock was the first reaction. Lauren could almost see, Her? flashing into Tasha’s mind, surrounded by neon-red lights zigzagging danger signals.

She’d met the reaction before and hoped to defuse it quickly. Few women liked the idea of having Lauren look after their men. She was too vividly female, almost spectacularly so with the contrast of pearly pale skin, copper-red hair and cornflower-blue eyes. But she was not a predatory rival for their affections. Usually she managed to project that, given a few minutes in their company.

After leaving Wayne, she had gone through a period of downplaying her physical attributes, covering up her figure, wearing no make-up, even having her red curls cropped to within an inch of her scalp and dying her hair brown, hating the idea of any man seeing her only as an ornamental possession.

Eventually she had realised she was damaging herself, feeding fears and repressing her natural exuberance for life and all its joys. It was much better to simply maintain a balanced sense of selfworth and let the rest of the world sort itself out.

Lauren felt the stranger watch her approach, too. Maybe it was only the effect of her heightened awareness of him, but she was conscious of all her sensory levels rising, sharpening, as though she was moving into a highly dangerous zone. Suddenly she felt wary of him, reluctant to pursue the interest he had sparked in her.

A spurious, fantasy interest, she told herself, bound to bring disappointment. Now that she was so close, it was silly not to look and assess the man more directly, yet some deeply protective instinct tugged on her mind, wanting to shun the influence he had already unwittingly exerted on her. She switched on a bright smile for Evan Daniel and his wife, but didn’t include the stranger in its warm sweep. He was, after all, a stranger.

“Hi, there!” she greeted them with casual friendliness. “I collected these souvenirs for you before they’re all taken.”

“I didn’t realise they were being given away,” Evan remarked in surprise. “Thanks, Lauren. Good of you to think of it.” He turned quickly to his wife, who began to struggle up from her chair. “This is Tasha. Lauren Magee, Tasha.”

“Please don’t move,” Lauren protested. “It’s good you’ve found a place to sit. It’s a long night on one’s feet.”

“Yes,” Tasha agreed, subsiding again. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lauren,” she added somewhat stiffly.

“Likewise. I’ve heard so much about you from Evan. And the coming baby. I’m very happy for you both.”

Tasha flushed. “Thank you.”

“And please remember, if you’re worried about anything while Evan is away on tour, just ring me on my mobile telephone number, and I’ll cancel interviews at a moment’s notice. You come first, Tasha.”

The wariness left her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure everything will be all right.”

“That’s great! Your husband has written a topline book, so we hope to let every reader in Australia hear about it.”

“I’m amazed at the number of interviews you’ve lined up for him.”

Lauren laughed, placing the catalogue and T-shirt packages on the table for Tasha to take as she shared her amusement in a woman-to-woman confidence. “He’ll be complaining to you about being run off his feet and how exhausted he is, but it will be worth the effort if the sales zoom. That’s the whole point of the exercise.”

“How soon will you know if it’s worked?” she asked curiously.

Having successfully refocused Tasha’s mind, taking it off her and moving it squarely onto the job in hand, Lauren relaxed. “Give it a month.” She moved her gaze to Evan. “If you contact Graham Parker, of marketing, he should have figures for you by then.”

“Oh, good! Uh, Lauren.” Relief and pleasure beamed from Evan’s face. With the eagerness of an overgrown puppy wanting everyone lapped with goodwill, he pressed on. “Someone I want you to meet.”

She braced herself. Against what, she wasn’t sure. Even as she’d been addressing Tasha, working at winning her over, she had been acutely conscious of the man standing to the right of her, waiting, listening, watching.

Evan gestured for her to turn and meet the stranger head on. “My friend and literary agent, Michael Timberlane.”

Lauren’s mind buzzed with that information as she slowly swung towards him. Michael Timberlane was, by renown, the most trusted literary agent in the business, his judgment of books being proved commercially sound so many times it overrode doubt. She knew he handled Evan’s work and that of many other successful authors, but their paths had never crossed.

His work was done before she was called in to help the books sell. She hadn’t been curious about him, since his field of expertise didn’t touch on hers. But she was curious now. The combination of a highly perceptive mind in a highly attractive body was an irresistible draw.

Still an instinctive caution held her back from showing eagerness. She fixed a polite smile on her face, one she would turn on for an introduction to anyone. Her gaze, she was sure, reflected only a friendly interest as she lifted it to acknowledge him.

Choong! Two laser beams piercing her eyes and attacking her soul with lightning-bolt force!

Lauren felt like a stunned butterfly, pinned to a board for minute examination under a powerful microscope and utterly helpless to do anything about it. She had not braced herself enough. She vaguely sensed a declaration of war-you cannot hide from me-and the assault from his eyessilver-grey eyes, like luminous stainless steel slicing through all her defensive levels-left her mind quivering and her body a mass of jangling nerve ends.

She must have offered her hand because she felt it being taken, hard warmth enclosing hers, male touching female, igniting an electric sense of sexuality, linking, testing, while his eyes still staked their claim on her, riveting in their concentrated quest for knowledge. And she couldn’t tear her own away.

Lauren had never experienced anything like it in her whole life. Some tiny logical strain in her brain recited that this cataclysmic moment would pass. It had to. Time did move on. Soon she would make sense of this.

Soon…

CHAPTER FOUR

MICHAEL fought grimly against being completely thrown by the woman who stood before him. His first sight of her had been like a punch in the gut. Lauren Magee was everything Evan had said she was, and more-gorgeous, sexy, vibrant, vital, and that was before she had even opened her mouth and displayed the adept mind that could assess a situation, seize it and act positively to gain the result she wanted.

Tasha was now putty in her hands. Evan’s fears were demolished. It was perfectly plain he was tickled pink by the attention Lauren Magee was giving to both of them. And it was such clever attention, striking the right note of caring and liking for Tasha and a delightfully open camaraderie with Evan.

Michael had clutched at cynicism to reduce her effect on him. Lauren Magee was exerting control over her impact, exercising manipulative skills, showing she was a superior being who could handle anything and anyone. Not him, he had fiercely vowed as she had turned to encompass him in her powerful radiance. He knew her for what she was!

With every atom of his brain and will he had penetrated the deceptive mask of polite interest, denying the distraction of her stunning blue eyes, seeking for the truth, scouring her soul for it. There had to be some trace of antagonism towards him, some sense of malicious triumph. She knew who he was now. She had to know what part she had played in ending his marriage.

Nothing! Nothing except a mesmerised wonder that tugged at his heart, making him feel like a marauding savage for not treating her tenderly. That had to be wrong. She was tricking him somehow.

He took hold of her hand, grasping it firmly, expecting at least a twinge of recoil. If she was true to her inner beliefs and judgments she had to react negatively to his touch. Yet her hand lay submissively in his, soft, delicately boned, seductively feminine, stirring sensations he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Still that clear luminosity in her eyes. Nothing to hide. But there had to be. Unless.

She didn’t know he was Roxanne’s ex-husband.

It seemed incredible to Michael that Lauren Magee was ignorant of the connection, yet it was the only answer that made sense of her total lack of any discernible rejection of him. Had Roxanne been so disaffected that she hadn’t bothered to identify him as the husband she sought advice about?

Keeping her precious maiden name of Kinsey might have muddied the tracks, or Roxanne could have assumed it was common knowledge she was married to Michael Timberlane. She had been proud to own him for the first year or two, though by the time Lauren Magee arrived in Sydney from Melbourne, the shine had worn off that pride under the burden of trying to make their relationship gel in a workable fashion.

Easier for Roxanne to slide out of putting the effort in, Michael reflected cynically, and Lauren Magee had given her all the excuses to justify doing so. Yet she looked at him so innocently, so openly and honestly, waiting for him to write on the blank sheet that the meeting of strangers always offered, to give her a cue for what might develop between them from this moment, a moment cut free of any past and offering all the choices of possible futures.

He was tempted.

In any rational, objective sense, Lauren Magee was an anathema to him.

Yet he wanted her.

He wanted to empty her mind of all its clever reasoning and drive her insane with desire for him. He wanted to unpin the fiery mass of curls she had swirled into a topknot and see them spilling over a pillow in riotous abandonment. He wanted to tear off her sweater and fill his hands with the lush softness of those delectably rounded breasts that were thrusting so provocatively against the stretchy knit fabric.

And that sexy belt accentuating the feminine smallness of her waist and the sensual curve of her hips. He imagined stretching her white-skinned arms above her head, winding the wide black elastic around her wrists with the gold bow on top, holding her hands together so she couldn’t weave her female magic on him while he took his fill of her.

Lauren Magee, submitting to the man she had reviled, giving herself to him, her long, elegant legs wrapped around him in supplication, in need, wanting him. Oh, yes, that would be sweet vengeance. And ravishing her luscious mouth, purging it of all the unjust words she’d said against him, replacing them with the intensely satisfying sounds of cries and gasps of pleasure.

His loins tightened. His heart thudded with the violent force of the warring feelings she stirred. His body zinged with shots of adrenaline as his mind played through one scenario after another, all of them erotic, all of them feeding the highly aroused savage inside him.

It took all of Michael’s formidable willpower to clamp down on that rampant beast. Basic common sense insisted he play the civilised man. Fantasies were fantasies. Realities wiped out any chance of them happening anyway.

He might be a blank page to Lauren Magee right now, but the moment Roxanne turned up, he’d be history in her book. Roxanne would make certain of it. He only had a very limited time to play the game he had set out to play, getting in a few pointed shots that might just puncture Lauren Magee’s confidence in dabbling with other people’s lives.

It should be amusing to draw her out, to watch her natural response to him before Roxanne’s axe fell. And afterwards she would remember. Oh, yes, that keen, clever mind of Lauren Magee’s would remember everything said between them, spoken and unspoken.

Michael told himself he would be satisfied with that. The trick was to keep his mind focused on the desired result, the only result that was really open to him.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’M IMPRESSED.”

Michael Timberlane’s voice seemed to harmonise with the feelings he stirred, sliding to Lauren on a low, penetrating, intimate level.

“What by?” The words tripped from her tongue, breathless, husky, unconsidered, revealing how deeply she was caught in the thrall of possibilities pulsing between them.

“Your professionalism,” he answered.

Did he know intuitively what was important to her? Excitement tingled through a welling of intense pleasure. Lauren wished she knew more of him. Was he married?

“Thank you,” she returned warmly. “I do my best. As you do, by reputation.”

“There are some who would say my best falls short of their expectations. Haven’t you heard that, Ms. Magee?”

His hand slid away from hers. The withdrawal highlighted the unexpected formality of his address to her. Lauren felt confused. Why was he suddenly being off-putting?

“I’m sorry if you’ve been a target of ill will, Mr. Timberlane,” she said with a touch of sympathy. “People’s expectations are sometimes unrealistic.”

“And unreasonable,” he shot back.

She hesitated, uncertain of where he was coming from or leading to. Wayne and his unreasonable expectations flitted through her mind. Maybe Michael Timberlane was still smarting from some personal or professional contretemps. With someone at Global? Was that what had made him look so forbidding earlier?

Lauren fell back on one of Graham Parker’s pithy sayings, offering it with an ironic little smile. “Well, Mr. Timberlane, I guess into each life some rain must fall.”

“You being the rainmaker?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I like to think I spread sunshine.”

“The giver of light.” He nodded, his silvery eyes gleaming satisfaction. “Yes, that would be how you think of yourself.”

“And how do you think of yourself, Mr. Timberlane?”

He smiled, but it was a secretive, private smile, not an open, sharing one. “Oh, I’m the sword of justice, Ms. Magee.”

Definitely on some personal high horse, Lauren thought, wanting to pull him down from it. “Then I hope your balancing scales are in good order. Justice is so often blind,” she said, tilting at him.

“How true!” he agreed. “It’s unfortunate that so many people’s eyes aren’t open to both sides of a situation before making judgments.”

“Are yours?”

“I always look at the big picture, Ms. Magee.”

“Never missing a piece of the jigsaw, Mr. Timberlane?” she queried, niggled by his assumption of having all-seeing eyes. Nobody saweverything.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Evan broke in jocularly. “What’s all this Mr. and Ms.? We’re at a party, not a stuffy reception.”

“One must be careful not to assume too much these days, Evan,” Michael Timberlane answered his friend good-humouredly. “How do I know I’m not meeting a raging feminist who’ll take offence at inappropriate familiarity?”

Evan laughed. “I’d think it’s obvious Lauren isn’t a raging feminist.”

“Appearances can be deceptive.” Michael raised his eyebrows quizzically at Lauren. “Would you be so kind as to shed some light on the matter?”

Why did she have the sense he was playing out some secret agenda, toying with her, waiting to pounce if she didn’t keep on her toes?

“You have my permission to call me Lauren,” she said with a disarming smile, neatly sidestepping any argument about feminism.

“Then I shall not stand upon dignity,” he replied with mock gravity. “Please feel free to call me Michael.”

Lauren laughed at him. There was a certain spice to the game, a challenge. She couldn’t recall any man ever having put her quite so much on her mettle before, certainly not at first meeting.

“I’ve never liked Ms.,” Tasha remarked artlessly. “It sounds like a mosquito.”

“I think that’s spoken from the complacency of being a Mrs., Tasha,” Michael reproved lightly. “Lauren may feel differently.”

Another test, another nudge.

Tasha flushed, her brown eyes shining an apologetic appeal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I guess it has its place.”

There was a fragile vulnerability, a simple innocence about Tasha Daniel that automatically touched Lauen’s protective instinct. She was not street-wise, and with Evan as her husband had probably never had the need to become so. In a way, Lauren envied that, never having to confront the darker games men and women played.