For The Sake Of His Child

“Joey needs his father. You’re his father. Not me. Not someone you hire from an agency, but you.”

Gina continued, “My terms are simple. Joey has six weeks of the summer holiday ahead of him. You’ve got to make use of that time. You learn sign language. Talk to him. And listen to him. Plus you leave work early—no more getting home at ten. You take at least a week off to give him a holiday somewhere. I want your solemn word. If I don’t get it, I leave this minute.”

“You warned me you were tough,” he said.

“I had to be. You’ll discover that Joey’s tough, too.”

“If I give you these promises, I want one in return.”

“What?”

“That you’ll stay with us the whole six weeks. I can do it, Gina, but not without you.”

Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books.

She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days, and have now been married for twenty-five years. They live in the Midlands, U.K. with their two dogs.

Two of her books, His Brother’s Child and Song of the Lorelei, won the Romance Writers of America RITA award, in the Best Traditional Romance category.

For the Sake of His Child

Lucy Gordon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

YOU’RE PERFECT, my darling, do you know that? A bit small, perhaps, but size isn’t everything, is it? To me, you’re perfect. And you’re the love of my life!

Gina came out of her happy dream, and looked around hastily in case she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. But nobody in the car park had noticed her. Relieved, she patted the little car lovingly, and it seemed to shine more brightly, basking in her adoration.

It was, as she’d admitted, tiny. It was also twelve years old and had come at a knock-down price. People had been known to chuckle at the sight of it. But it was hers. It served her faithfully in a chug-chug fashion. And she loved it.

Her smile faded as she tried to open the door to get in. On one side of her was a brick wall. On the other side was a large Rolls-Royce, whose owner plainly felt entitled to take up more than his own parking space. She was tightly hemmed in.

‘Now, that’s not on,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t even open the door far enough to get in.’

Luckily the car had no barrier between the boot and the seats. By climbing through the back, Gina was able to reach the driver’s seat. It was squashed, undignified, and did nothing to improve her temper.

‘Who does he think he is?’ she muttered.

She began to back out slowly, holding her breath. At first all went well, but suddenly the little car threw a temper tantrum, slewed to the side and slammed into the shiny Rolls with an ugly grating sound.

Horrified, she squeezed out of the back again and went down on one knee to inspect the damage. Both vehicles were badly scratched and dented but on the Rolls it looked worse.

‘That was clever,’ said an ironic male voice above her head. ‘I’d just had it resprayed, too. Ten out of ten for timing!’

From this angle he looked enormous. His head of thick, dark hair towered over her from a great height and his shoulders seemed broad enough to blot out the sun. Hastily Gina got to her feet, but he still had eight inches over her, and it was exasperating to have to express her righteous indignation looking up.

‘Clever isn’t the word I’d choose,’ she said. ‘Selfish and arrogant, maybe.’

‘Who?’

‘Whoever parked this Rolls using two parking spaces, and leaving me no room to get out.’

‘Just how much room does this peanut on wheels need?’

‘We can’t all drive a Rolls,’ she said, incensed at this slur on her beloved.

‘Just as well. If you drove a Rolls the way you drive this—this—’

‘You’re encroaching on my space. You didn’t even leave me enough room to open the door. You had no right to park like that.’

‘Actually, it wasn’t me. My chauffeur parked it.’

‘I might have known.’

‘I see! If owning a Rolls is a crime, having a chauffeur is a hanging offence, right?’

‘It’s all of a piece, isn’t it? Anyone who can afford a chauffeur doesn’t need to think of other people. Why didn’t you stop him doing this?’

‘Because I wasn’t in the car at the time. This is the first I’ve seen of it, and I’ll agree he didn’t do a brilliant job. But let’s face it. He still left you room to back out, if you’d gone in a straight line. You’re not supposed to do a sharp turn, or did nobody tell you?’

‘If you’d left me my rightful space,’ Gina said crossly, ‘I’d still have missed you, no matter how many sharp turns I did.’

‘Your steering is defective,’ the man said, with exasperated patience. ‘And you’re damned lucky it came to light now and not when you were trying to avoid a truck.’

He was right, of course. That just made it worse. Now she was faced with a huge repair bill.

‘So what shall we do?’ the man asked. ‘Exchange insurance details, or would you prefer pistols at dawn?’

‘This isn’t funny—’

‘If we make a fight of it, I could say a few things about your wonky steering—’

‘Will you stop casting aspersions at my car?’

‘Considering what your car has done to mine, aspersions are the least I’d like to cast at it. The insurers will probably declare that little rabbit hutch a write-off.’

‘Now, look—’

‘So why don’t I just accept all the blame and pay for your repairs and mine?’

His sudden capitulation cut the ground out from under her. Her indignation died.

‘You’d—do that?’

‘Yes, despite my disgraceful chauffeur and my reprehensible Rolls, I have some human qualities after all.’

‘Thank you,’ she said meekly.

A middle-aged man had approached and was watching the scene. The other man turned to him.

‘You’ve landed me in it, Harry. What were you thinking of to park like this?’

‘Sorry, guv, but the bloke on the other side—he’s gone now—was taking up half our space, so I thought it wouldn’t matter if— Oh, my Gawd!’ He’d seen the damage.

‘Never mind. Just drive this lady’s—er—car to my usual garage and tell them to do what’s needed. Then come back here, take the Rolls—dents and all—and drive it to the garage.’

‘How do I get in?’ Harry demanded.

‘Through the back,’ Gina said through gritted teeth.

He squeezed into the little car and eased it gingerly out, only just managing not to graze the Rolls again. The man cast Gina a speaking look but maintained a tactful silence.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly.

‘It’s not your day, is it? Where can we sit down and swap details in comfort?’

‘There’s a little place over there.’

He looked wildly out of place in Bob’s Café, a cramped greasy spoon that catered for people with little money and less time. He must have been a good six foot two, with long legs, broad shoulders and a set to his head that suggested authority. His suit was pure Savile Row, as befitted a man with a Rolls, but his air of confidence was his own.

She cast a disparaging glance down at her own clothes. Her grey business suit was neat and appropriate to her job, but it had been the least expensive in the store. She kept it varied with the clever use of scarves and jewellery, but this man looked as though his normal companions wore haute couture.

She tried to remind herself that he was the villain of the piece, but that was hard when he’d offered to pay all the bills.

It was lunchtime and the place was just filling up, but he found them a window table. He was the sort of man, Gina realised, who would always be able to find a window table in a crowded place.

‘Let me buy you a coffee,’ she suggested. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

‘Forget it. I’d rather heap coals of fire on your head.’ He studied the menu. ‘I’m hungry and I don’t like to eat alone. Choose something.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He grimaced. ‘Sorry. It’s my way. I’m used to giving orders, and it’s a hard habit to break.’

His voice was deep and resonant, making her realise that most voices were flat.

She made her choice and he hailed a waitress without trouble. When he’d given the order he said, ‘My name’s Carson Page.’

‘And mine is Gina Tennison. I’m really grateful to you, Mr Page. You were right about my steering. And it shouldn’t have been like that because I’ve just had the car repaired—’

‘You should sue the garage. Get yourself a good lawyer.’

‘Actually, I am a lawyer.’

‘Good grief!’

‘Well, it’s hard to be a convincing lawyer in a garage full of male mechanics,’ she said defensively. ‘It doesn’t matter how many legal qualifications you have, they still do what they like because they think you’re just a silly woman who knows nothing about cars.’

He didn’t answer, but his lips twitched.

‘Go on, say it,’ she challenged.

‘Do I need to?’

She broke into laughter, and he joined her. Laughing transformed him, softening the harsh lines of his face. But it vanished quickly. It was almost as though cheerfulness made him uneasy, and he needed to protect himself against it.

In repose, his face was full of tension. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and there were lines of strain around his mouth. This was a man who lived on his nerves, she realised, and she had a sudden feeling those nerves were at breaking point.

It was hard to guess his age. Somewhere in the thirties was as close as she could get. He had a lean body that moved easily, suggesting youth. But he carried an air of gravity as though life had piled cares on to him. It made his brief smile an unexpected pleasure.

‘So you’re a lawyer?’ he said. ‘Where do you work? Around here?’

‘Yes, I’m with Renshaw Baines.’

‘Renshaw Baines? I’m one of their clients. At least, I shall be after a meeting this afternoon.’

‘Oh, heavens, I’ve offended a client!’

‘That’s a little unfair when I’ve been at pains not to be offended.’

‘But I scratched your Rolls,’ she said, aghast.

‘Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Anyway, you can make up for it by putting me in the picture about Philip Hale, who’s going to handle my affairs. I’ve never met him before. Describe him.’

‘Philip Hale,’ she echoed carefully. ‘Well, he’s the most recent partner—everyone says he’s brilliant—you couldn’t have a better man—’

‘You really do dislike him, don’t you?’ he asked, easily reading between the lines.

She gave up. ‘Yes—no—it’s more that he dislikes me—disapproves of me. He thinks I’m a lightweight, and he didn’t want to employ me. Mr Page, I’m really not the person you should ask.’

He smiled again, becoming delightful for a moment. ‘I wish you could see your face this minute. All right. I’ll spare you. Why does he think you’re a lightweight?’

‘By his standards, I suppose I am. But he can’t fault my paperwork. I’ve done jobs for him that even he had to admit were up to scratch.’

‘Paperwork? No dramatic courtroom appearances?’

‘No, thank you,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m quite happy beavering away in the background.’

‘Isn’t that a bit dull for a young woman?’

‘Not for me,’ she said earnestly. ‘You see, for years I—’

‘Go on.’

‘No, I’m just burbling away about myself, and I don’t know why. I don’t normally go on like that.’

‘But I’m interested. What happened, “for years”?’

‘I was—ill, that’s all. And it didn’t seem as though I could live a normal life. But now I do. I’ve got a good job, and my own modest little bit of success, and it’s all like a dream to me. You said it must be dull, but I don’t find anything in my life dull, because it’s more than I ever hoped for.’

He looked at her, intrigued by the light that had come into her face, wondering if he’d really found that rarest of creatures, someone who was contented with her lot.

‘What kind of illness?’ he asked gently.

But she shook her head. ‘That’s enough about me. Please, I don’t want to say any more.’

To her relief he didn’t press the matter. It made her nervous to be talking to Philip Hale’s client, even if he had promised to keep her secret.

Gina had fought to study for her legal exams and passed them well. Renshaw Baines wasn’t the biggest legal firm in London, but it had a first-class name and could take its pick of applicants. She was proud of her value to her employers.

At twenty-six she was modestly pretty, with reddish hair, a pale skin and a slim, elegant figure. Her one real beauty was a pair of thrilling eyes, with the colour and depth of emeralds.

But few people had seen how lovely she could be. The circumstances of her life had taught her the value of caution and keeping a low profile. At work she dressed quietly, and even at play she didn’t splash out. She had a job which gave her a sense of self-worth, plus a boyfriend who was like an old slipper. And she was content.

His mobile rang and he answered it. It was Harry, at the garage.

‘They say it’s going to take a whole new engine to make that heap of junk roadworthy. And that’ll cost.’

‘Tell them to do whatever’s necessary,’ Carson said, without hesitation.

‘Look, guv, you don’t need to buy that woman a new engine—’

‘Just do it,’ Carson Page said brusquely, and hung up. ‘They’re working on your car now,’ he told Gina.

‘Is it bad?’

‘Nothing that can’t be fixed.’

‘Is it going to cost you a lot?’

He dismissed the subject with a shrug. ‘It’s history. Leave it.’

‘But—’

‘I said leave it.’ He sounded impatient. ‘You’ll have your car back in working order, but I should think you could afford a better one if you’re a lawyer.’

‘I haven’t been qualified long, but I suppose I might think of it now.’

‘You certainly should, for everyone’s sake,’ he said gravely, but his eyes were kind.

Impulsively she said, ‘You’ll probably think I’m crazy but I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to my “peanut”. It’s been a good friend and it’s sad to think that I’ll go onward and upward while my friend will languish in a scrapyard, waiting to be broken up.’

‘Not for a while yet. When the garage has finished with it you’ll be able to sell it to someone equally crazy.’

‘That’s true,’ she said, brightening. ‘And they might love it as I do.’ She tucked into her salad, which had arrived while they were talking, plainly feeling happier now.

Carson watched her in fascination as he munched on his sandwich. Then he turned his inward eye on himself and was incredulous. He prided himself on not being sentimental, but he’d accepted the blame, and the expense, for something that had been only partly his fault.

And why? Because he’d wanted to see her smile. That was the only explanation he could think of. And it wasn’t good enough.

Then he’d compounded his own idiocy by spending time in this dump, with a girl who was plainly cuckoo. He had a thousand better things to do than sit here listening to her talk nonsense.

Or did he?

Suddenly his brows contracted and he rubbed his eyes like a man in pain.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Do you have a headache?’

‘No,’ he said quickly.

It was true that his head ached, but it did that so often these days that he disregarded it.

‘I think you do,’ she said.

For a moment he was annoyed at her persistence. He’d said no and that should be the end of it. But her eyes were gentle and concerned and his flare of anger died.

‘Perhaps just a little,’ he conceded. ‘I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment.’

She had a kind face, and for a moment he was tempted to tell her about the disasters that threatened to crush him. It might be easy to confide in this charming stranger about the loneliness of his life after the woman he’d once loved had turned out to be a selfish, calculating shrew.

He might even find a way to tell her about the deeper pain of his son, the little boy of whom he’d once been so proud, but who’d become a pitiful, disadvantaged creature. He could feel compassion for the child, and helpless, agonised love, but no pride.

Then he pulled himself together, wondering what he’d been thinking of. It wasn’t his way to show weakness in front of anyone, never mind strangers.

Besides, he didn’t want to spoil this moment. She was cheeky, and sweet, and fun.

Fun.

He’d almost forgotten what the word meant. But it meant this delightful young woman with her sunny face, laughing ruefully over her idiotic little car, counting her modest blessings. He was glad he’d yielded to the impulse to spend a little time with her. It was good to be reminded that there were people who could face the world with a smile.

He looked at his watch and was amazed to find that an hour had slipped away in her company. ‘Time for my appointment with Philip Hale. Have you finished?’

‘Goodness.’ She gulped her coffee in a hurry. ‘Can I have a head start? If we arrive together, people will wonder why, and one question will lead to another—’

‘And your dark secret will be exposed. All right. I’ll give you five minutes. Here’s my card, and I’ve written the garage number on the back. Call them tomorrow.’

‘Thank you. And thank you for the lunch.’

‘No problem. Good day to you.’

His hand took hers in a brief grip that almost made her gasp. She had a glimpse of long fingers, and a sharp sensation of power flowing between them. Then he released her and nodded a farewell that was almost a dismissal.

She hurried back to her office, feeling bemused. She’d never met a man who sent out so many confusing signals. He was handsome, with dark, speaking eyes, and might have been charming if he’d let himself relax. But that was obviously what he couldn’t do. One side of him—the businessman, presumably—had been reminding him of the time he was wasting. He was probably glad to be rid of her.

Carson Page watched Gina until she was out of sight. He had an odd, deflated feeling, as though the sun had just gone in. He rubbed his eyes again, wondering what had come over him to waste an hour over something that could have been sorted out in five minutes.

He pulled himself together. It had been a delightful interlude, like taking a much needed holiday. But now he must return to the real world, and it would be better not to see her again.

Gina found her secretary deep in paperwork. Dulcie was middle-aged, had worked for the firm for over twenty years and took a robustly cynical view of her employers. But she had a soft spot for Gina.

With her first words, she revealed the flaw in Gina’s secrecy arrangements.

‘Did I see you having lunch with Carson Page in Bob’s Café?’ she asked.

‘Oh, heavens! You didn’t tell anyone, did you?’

‘Not a soul. If Philip Hale thinks you’re trying to pinch his newest acquisition, there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘I know. Look, Dulcie, this is for your ears alone—’

‘Silent as the grave.’

Gina briefly described what had happened, and Dulcie gave a snort of laughter that she hastily smothered.

‘You bashed Carson Page’s car and lived to tell the tale?’ she asked. ‘And he’s paying for all the repairs? What’s your secret?’

‘Nothing. He’s just a very nice, reasonable man.’

‘He isn’t,’ Dulcie said at once. ‘I’ve got a friend who works for the last firm of lawyers he employed and he’s the client from hell. He owns Page Engineering, and I suppose if he wasn’t aggressive he couldn’t have made it what it is today.’

‘Goodness!’ Gina exclaimed. ‘That Carson Page? I never dreamed—I mean, I’ve heard of him.’

He’d created Page Engineering from nothing, fighting off competition ruthlessly, buying up smaller firms, and carving a large share of the market for himself. He was unstoppable. Whatever he touched turned to gold, or so the financial pages insisted.

He was also a bad enemy, driving opponents into the ground. And she’d dented his Rolls.

‘You’ve got to hand it to him as a businessman,’ Dulcie conceded. ‘But talk about difficult and demanding!’ She eyed her young boss significantly. ‘But not with you, eh?’

‘Oh, stop it!’ Gina said, reddening slightly. ‘He was just—I don’t know—he was a grouch, but a nice grouch. At least, he was trying to be nice, but he was awkward about it, as though he was using muscles that were a bit stiff.’

‘That sounds about right. He’s not known for overwhelming people with charm. Obviously you made an impression. Play your cards right and you’ll be travelling in that Rolls yourself.’

‘Nonsense. I’ll never see him again. Anyway, I’ve got my lovely Dan.’

‘I could think of many descriptions for your Dan, but lovely isn’t one of them,’ Dulcie said tartly. ‘He’s dull, he’s limited, you’re only dating him because you’ve known him since the year dot, and he takes you for granted.’

‘Well, I take him for granted, too. It’s cosy.’

Dulcie muttered, ‘Give me patience,’ and returned to her work, but only after Gina had made her promise yet again that not a word would pass her lips.

It was true that she’d known Dan since childhood, and was comfortable with him, but what was wrong with that? she thought, a tad defensively. The long years of suffering a crippling disability had left her willing to count her blessings.

She was meeting him that night in a tiny restaurant a couple of miles away. She booked a taxi, then, on impulse, called the garage and asked about her car.

‘You’re lucky,’ the head mechanic told her. ‘It’s not easy to find a new engine for that make, but for Mr Page we pulled out the stops.’

‘Excuse me—did you say a new engine?’ she asked faintly.

‘Only thing that will do it. New steering, too.’

‘But it’ll cost a fortune.’

‘Well, it’s going on his bill, so why worry?’

‘Oh, no, I don’t want this—’

‘Too late. It’s in pieces now.’

Dazed, she put the phone down. She needed that new engine, but to owe a stranger so much!

But, of course, Carson Page was a rich man who’d simply bought off trouble because it was quicker that way. She needn’t give him a second thought, any more than he would give her a second thought.

CHAPTER TWO

GINA went to change for the evening ahead, slipping off her smart business suit and donning a simple green dress. It was sleeveless but had a high neck against which rested a dainty pendant.

She brushed out her hair and added a little more make-up. Then she was ready.

She was a few minutes late at the restaurant, but there was no sign of Dan. She ordered herself a sherry, and sat waiting, hoping he wouldn’t be too long.

‘Do you mind if I join you?’

She looked up to see Carson Page standing, regarding her gravely.

‘Are you waiting for someone?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Dan—my boyfriend. He’s a little late.’

‘Then I’ll only stay a moment.’ He sat down. ‘I just wanted to let you know that your car will be finished the day after next.’

‘I know. I called the garage. Mr Page—’