Public Affair, Secretly Expecting

by Heidi Rice

  Juno’s body began to shake. ‘I don’t know.’

  But she did know, which only made the whole situation a thousand times worse.

  Could she really risk putting everything she was—everything she hoped to be—on the line again? And could she survive what she’d been through six years ago, if it all went horribly, hideously wrong a second time?

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘JU, THIS is madness. You’ve got to tell Mac. Not doing so is not an option.’

  Juno stared at Daisy across the breakfast bar, her mouth firming into a stubborn line. She’d been preparing herself for this argument for the last forty-eight hours, but she still didn’t feel ready to deal with it.

  As expected, Daisy had been the Rock of Gibraltar ever since she’d arrived at Maya’s surgery two days ago armed with a comforting hug and a sturdy shoulder to cry on.

  She’d whisked Juno back to her house, insisting she stay in the guest bedroom for the rest of the week. She’d pampered her and cajoled her and calmed the worst of her fears. Then, after she’d coaxed out most of the story of Juno’s disastrous adventure in La-La Land, she’d helped her to begin rebuilding her confidence and her courage.

  Daisy had convinced her that having the baby was a no-brainer if that was what she wanted to do in her heart. She’d held her hand through the exam Maya had given her. She’d fed her, bought her enough pregnancy vitamins to stock a supermarket and embarked on a series of pep talks about not retreating back into her shell and not blaming everything that went wrong in her life on herself.

  When Juno had woken up this morning with the dappled shade casting sunny shapes onto the luxury furnishings of Daisy and Connor’s spare room, for the first time in a month she’d felt able to cope with everything that had happened to her and much better able to face what the future might hold.

  But the one thing Juno had refused point-blank to talk about was Mac. And Daisy had respected her wishes, until she’d broached the question that Juno had been dreading a minute ago.

  She didn’t know what to say to convince Daisy to drop it.

  Daisy as usual took her silence as a challenge. ‘I hate to do this, but I’m forced to point out at this juncture that you said the exact same thing to me when I fell pregnant with Ronan. I didn’t want to tell Connor and you said I had to. And while I hate to say this even more,’ she added with a soft smile, ‘you were right.’

  ‘This is different,’ Juno murmured, staring at her half-eaten bowl of muesli. Trust Daisy to hoist her with her own petard.

  ‘How is it different? Doesn’t Mac have a right to know he’s going to become a father too?’

  Juno shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to tell Daisy this.

  It had hurt terribly to hear what Mac had said on their last night together—because it had reminded her so forcefully of what Tony had said all those years ago when she’d told him she was pregnant—but at least Mac had been honest and made it absolutely clear he had no desire to father a child with her. The reasons why hardly mattered now.

  ‘If I told him, he would expect me to have an abortion. And as I’ve decided not to, I don’t see much point in telling him.’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’ Daisy demanded.

  Juno looked up to see her friend’s horrified expression. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. She had no desire to make Mac look bad in front of his family. Maybe, one day, he’d want to contact Daisy and Connor again, and she didn’t want to sour the relationship.

  ‘Because he told me so.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Daisy didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Or sure enough. He hadn’t loved her the way Connor loved Daisy. So why should he want her to have his baby?

  Daisy blew out a breath. ‘I find that incredibly hard to believe. But even so, how on earth do you propose to keep it a secret?’

  ‘He won’t contact me again.’ Of that one thing she was absolutely sure; that vain, foolish hope had died a death days ago when she’d received no word from him. ‘And I don’t think he’s going to contact you again either. If he does I’ll handle it.’

  Would he want to have a relationship with the baby once it was born? The question had plagued her ever since she’d made the decision to try and carry the baby to term. She’d eventually come to the conclusion that the answer was certainly no. He didn’t believe in love. And he’d told her he wasn’t interested in playing happy families. How much more conclusive proof did she need?

  ‘What about the press?’ Daisy said. ‘What if they find out?’

  ‘They’ve moved on. No one’s contacted me in over a week. As long as there’s no sign of Mac I have no celebrity value.’ Which was one major plus.

  She settled her hand on her stomach. Make that two major pluses.

  ‘I have to move on, Daze. I have to handle what I can control and forget about the rest. Having a healthy baby is all I care about at the moment.’ It was all she could allow herself to care about.

  Mac was her past. The baby was her future. And right now she had to concentrate on not panicking herself to death. On getting through the first three months of this pregnancy safely, so she could start to get excited about the prospect of becoming a mother.

  Daisy gripped her hand, squeezed hard. ‘I understand that. But we do have one other major problem on our hands.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘What Connor’s going to make of all this when he gets back from Berlin this afternoon. He and Mac were hardly on speaking terms when Mac took you off to LA. I’ll be honest and tell you we had a bit of a row after you’d gone to the airport. You know how overprotective he can be.’

  Juno huffed out a breath. Connor was another thing she didn’t want to think about. The business trip that had kept him out of the way for the last two days had been one small blessing in the massive mess she’d made of her life.

  ‘Do you want me to talk to him?’ she asked. Would nothing in her life ever be simple or straightforward again?

  Daisy patted her hand. ‘It’s okay, you’ve got more than enough on your plate. Leave Connor to me. But I’m just warning you, I can’t make any promises.’

  Juno sighed. She didn’t expect promises any more.

  A full twenty-four hours without having to deal with any major emotional upheavals would be more than enough.

  Mac trudged up the steps from the beach and glanced at the pedometer on his wrist.

  Ten miles. He’d run ten miles, pushing himself to the limits of his endurance after another sleepless night. And he still felt like crap. Usually the endorphins kicked in and gave him at least a small lift as he showered and changed and got ready to drive to the studio for rehearsals. Rehearsals that so far had been a total disaster. He hadn’t been able to find the character, not even a glimpse of it, for the first time ever.

  Over the last week he’d been running further and further every morning but the exercise wasn’t doing the trick any more.

  Stepping onto the terrace, he lifted his sodden T-shirt to wipe his dripping face. And paused to stare at the sun-lounger where Juno had often lain in the shade to welcome him back from his jog. He cursed quietly and let the T-shirt drop.

  Who the hell was he kidding? The aching pain, the loneliness hadn’t got any better in the month since she’d left him. If anything it had got a great deal worse. The house that had once been a sanctuary had become a prison. Everywhere he looked he saw her. In the pool in that damn yellow swimsuit. At the breakfast table eating her morning muesli. In his bed and in the shower, her lithe body responding to his touch. She was like a ghost, taunting him to try and forget her.

  It had got so bad he’d even toyed with putting the house on the market this past week. But what would be the point of that? The memories would still be there, dogging him wherever he went. He didn’t need a new home. What he needed was her.

  But each time he’d picked up the phone, intending to call her and demand to know why she’d left, he’d kept c
oming back to their final parting—and he hadn’t been able to do it. Maybe it was pride, more likely just the survival instinct that had been bred into him as a lad, but he’d needed her to come to him. For the first few weeks he’d even fostered this stupid daydream that he might have got her pregnant and she’d be forced to contact him. But it hadn’t happened.

  He slammed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Grabbing a bottle of mineral water, he rolled the chilled plastic against his forehead. As he leaned back against the countertop his eyes fixed on the chair in which she’d been sitting the last time she’d had breakfast with him.

  The hum of the air-conditioner was the only sound to break the silence. The empty silence that had started to suffocate him.

  ‘Stop being such a damn coward, Brody,’ he snarled into the deathly quiet.

  Unscrewing the cap, he gulped down the water and then lobbed the empty bottle into the trash. She wasn’t coming to him, so he’d have to go to her.

  He strode through into the living room and went to pick up the phone, then jerked his hand back when the ring tone blared out. The silly little spurt of hope that it might be Juno was ruthlessly quashed. Hadn’t he just got over wishing for the impossible?

  He grabbed the handset and shouted into the receiver. ‘Brody here, who is this?’

  ‘It’s Connor.’

  The shock of hearing his brother’s voice was so great he was momentarily struck dumb. ‘Connor?’

  ‘Yeah, your big brother, remember me?’

  He heard it then, the brittle sarcasm, but the hope overcame his usual caution.

  ‘How’s Juno?’ he asked, not even attempting to disguise his eagerness for news.

  He didn’t care why his brother was calling or even if the guy hated his guts. Connor lived right next door to the woman who he had just this second admitted to himself meant more to him than breathing. This had to be fate finally doing him a favour, surely.

  Connor laughed, the sound harsh. ‘That’s rich. How is she? How the hell do you think she is?’

  ‘I don’t know how she is,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘That’s why I’m asking.’

  So Connor had good reason to despise him. So what? He didn’t have time to go into that now.

  ‘What was it all for, Mac? Just tell me that much.’ The edge had gone from Connor’s voice to be replaced by sadness. ‘Was this some kind of payback? Did you want to punish her because you couldn’t punish me? Because if that’s the case, she never deserved to become—’

  ‘I’ve not a single clue what you’re talking about,’ he interrupted with a panicked shout. ‘Has something happened to Juno? Just tell me how she is, damn it.’

  He was sweating like a pig, the phone slipping in his grasp. Visions of all kinds of imagined carnage running through his mind.

  ‘Yeah, something’s happened to her,’ Connor said, the hint of bitterness now layered with resignation.

  ‘What? What’s happened? Is she sick? Has she been hurt?’ If he had to ask again he was going to climb down the phone line and throttle Connor himself, brother or not.

  ‘I’d say she’s both,’ Connor replied. ‘She’s pregnant, with your child. Which she’s decided to have even though she’s scared to death. And she—’

  Mac slapped the phone onto its cradle, cutting Connor off. He’d not heard much after the second sentence anyway.

  Juno was pregnant, with their child, and she hadn’t told him? She’d be at least a month gone by now—and yet she hadn’t once thought to pick up the phone? Did she think so little of him, then? He forced the anger forward to dull the pain. He didn’t care what her reasons were any more.

  She was his. She always had been. He should never have let her cut him out of her life in the first place. And he’d be damned if he’d let her cut him out a moment longer.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘WHERE’S Juno?’ Mac hurled the question at Connor as soon as his brother opened his front door. ‘The old girl next door said she’s staying with you.’

  He pushed past his startled brother but was stopped in his tracks by the irate shout that followed him down the corridor. ‘Get the hell back here. You’ll not come barging into my home without an invitation.’

  He turned to see Connor stalking towards him in his stockinged feet, his face furious.

  Great! Fantastic! He’d spent a good part of the last eleven hours on the red eye from LA nursing a blistering headache and letting his anger stew. If his brother was spoiling for a fight he was more than happy to oblige.

  ‘I don’t need your invitation to speak to the woman who’s carrying my child.’ He ground the words out. Whatever issues his brother had could damn well wait.

  ‘Think again,’ Connor shot back, the steely determination in his face brooking no argument. ‘She’s not here.’ He shoved a door open and pointed inside a darkened room. ‘Now stop shouting, get in there and calm the hell down or you won’t get to speak to her at all.’

  Sure he could feel the steam pumping out of his ears, he stalked into the room Connor had indicated. What right did his brother have to treat him like a sulky child? As soon as he got Juno’s whereabouts out of the sanctimonious bastard he was going to give him both barrels.

  ‘Sit down,’ Connor ordered, pointing to the leather couch.

  Mac folded his arms and stood his ground. ‘Say what you’ve got to say and then tell me where she is.’

  ‘Sit the hell down, before I throw you down,’ Connor shouted back.

  His hands bunched into fists until his knuckles whitened. But after a second’s debate, he cursed loudly and sat on the sofa. Beating the crap out of Connor wasn’t going to help him find Juno. More’s the pity.

  ‘So what is it you want?’ he snarled, then realised he sounded like a sulky child.

  Damn it.

  ‘I want to know what kind of man you are. That’s what.’ Connor sneered, his eyes narrowing. ‘I want to know what kind of man has unprotected sex with a woman, then doesn’t even have the decency to find out if he’s got her pregnant or not.’

  It wasn’t like that.

  He wanted to yell back, the injustice of Connor’s accusations making his head throb and his stomach revolt. But the guilt that had followed him around for most of his life choked the words off in his throat.

  ‘You know what kind of man I am,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘Do you think I don’t know what you think of me? What you’ve always thought of me, ever since we were lads together in that stinking hole. You think I’m a selfish, irresponsible bastard. I get it.’ He sunk his head into his hands, to release the screaming tension in his shoulders.

  Anyone who said confession was good for the soul didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.

  ‘I’ll grant you, that was true then,’ he continued, forcing the words past lips dry as a desert. ‘But it’s not true any more.’ He raised his head to meet Connor’s eyes. ‘I want Juno back. I think I’m in love with her.’ He blew out a breath, the words taking him by surprise. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  It took him a moment to realise the contempt in Connor’s face had turned to astonishment.

  ‘You think I blame you for what happened? When we were kids?’

  ‘I know you do,’ he replied. ‘That’s why it was your wife invited me to the wedding and not you.’ Why was Connor prolonging the agony?

  ‘Mac, that’s ridiculous.’ He sat down, settled his hand on Mac’s shoulder. ‘I never thought any such thing. I always thought it was me to blame. If I hadn’t gone out that night. If I hadn’t been so determined to keep it all a secret. We could have got help. I could have stopped him.’

  ‘But you told the social worker you never wanted to see me again after we were split.’ Could it really be true? That his brother didn’t hate him after all?

  ‘Because I felt so ashamed,’ Connor replied. ‘I saw you that night on the stretcher, unconscious, your face all bruised and bloody, your arm cut up and bent out of shape. I co
uldn’t get it out of my head. You were my little brother, barely ten years old. I should have been there to protect you and I wasn’t. It crucified me for years.’ Connor shook his head, the bitter regret in his voice releasing something black and ugly inside Mac and setting it free at last. ‘Until I met Daisy and she made me see, it wasn’t our fault, it was his and the things the drink did to him.’

  He pulled Mac into a brief one-armed hug.

  ‘I should have told you years ago. And you’re right, it should have been me invited you to the wedding,’ he murmured against Mac’s ear before letting him go. ‘But I was too much of a damn coward. I’m sorry, Mac.’

  Mac saw the genuine love in Connor’s eyes and realised he’d found his brother again. In fact he’d never even lost him. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Perilously close to making an idiot of himself.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ he murmured. ‘But we best stop this now, or we’re going to start weeping all over each other like a couple of girls. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve an image to protect.’

  Connor chuckled. ‘Don’t give me that—you’re an actor. Don’t you cry all the time?’

  Mac raised an eyebrow. ‘Keep it up, pal, and I’ll have to hurt you.’

  Connor just laughed, the low amused sound reminding Mac of their relationship as boys. Connor always determined to look for the best in everything and him always brooding about what would go wrong. He’d missed having him in his life.

  Connor stood up and walked to his desk. ‘Now we’ve had our Kodak moment—and established the fact that you know how to cry like a girl,’ he said lightly, ‘we need to talk about Juno.’ He propped his butt on the desk and crossed his legs at the ankles. ‘So you love her, do you? Are you sure about that?’