by Miranda Lee
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a scam, and maybe Tina wasn’t a con-artist, but she was seriously deluded.
She had to be if she believed he was that baby’s father.
Because it was impossible!
Well…not a hundred per cent impossible, he conceded reluctantly. Tina was right. Condoms had been known to fail. But the likelihood was extremely low. Besides, if Sarah had believed even for a moment he could be Bonnie’s father, she would have come to see him.
But she hadn’t!
No, Bonnie wasn’t his child. Sarah had known that.
Yet Tina believed he was.
Which meant Sarah had lied to her best friend.
Why did people lie? he speculated. Because of shame? To protect someone?
Perhaps the baby’s father was a married man, someone who worked at Hunter & Associates…
Dominic frowned as he tipped his head back into the shower to let the soap wash free. He needed to find out the real father’s identity—and quickly—before his own mother had time to get too attached to the child. And before he went stark raving mad!
My God, the thought of having that female under his roof for the next two weeks or more was too awful to contemplate. Those fantastic eyes of hers. That sulky, pouting mouth. Those small, high, firm breasts.
Dominic groaned. It seemed he only had to think about her now and he was in trouble. Reaching up, he snapped off the hot water tap and braced himself for more torture.
This time, the cold water didn’t work nearly as quickly.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in too tight jeans and a navy golf shirt, a still agitated Dominic clomped downstairs. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and a five o’clock shadow was beginning to sprout. His hair was still wet from his elongated shower and his tan loafers covered feet which looked like prunes, they’d been wet for so long.
At least dinner shouldn’t be too bad, he conceded grudgingly as he strode along the hallway. He’d be sitting down, hidden from view. But he didn’t fancy driving Tina anywhere afterwards. He didn’t fancy being anywhere within touching distance of that woman!
He also didn’t fancy having to keep defending himself to her when he was innocent. Damn it all, what had he done to deserve any of this? He’d been a good guy all his life, hadn’t he? He’d been a good son. A good brother. A good friend. He didn’t take drugs; didn’t drink to excess; didn’t cheat on his clients.
He worked hard and he gave money to charity.
Most important of all, he didn’t indulge in heartless seductions and he hadn’t impregnated any of his secretaries!
Hearing female voices coming from the kitchen on the right, Dominic turned left into the dining room, where he marched over to the sideboard and proceeded to pour himself a stiff shot of Scotch. There were times when only a drink would do!
‘Don’t drink that, Dominic.’
The glass froze just short of his mouth. He glared over at his mother as she walked in carrying a steaming soup tureen. ‘Why?’ he demanded to know.
‘You have to drive after dinner, remember? And there’s a bottle of your favourite red to have with the meal. You can’t have both and be under the limit.’
‘Then I’ll only have one glass of wine,’ he grated out, and took a deep swallow.
The alcohol hadn’t had time to hit when Tina entered the room.
She’d put her hair up while he’d been upstairs, he noted. And glossed her mouth a tantalising pink. She looked as deliciously inviting to him as fairy-floss to a sugar-addicted child.
Her dark eyes glittered in his direction as she made her way to her seat at the table, their expression just short of scathing. Perversely, that seemed to be just what his body was waiting for.
Despairingly, Dominic jerked his eyes away from her and downed the rest of the whisky.
Tina watched him quaff back the drink as if he really needed it, but felt not the slightest twinge of sympathy for him. If ever there was a man who was acting guilty, it was Dominic Hunter.
His eyes were getting a hunted look to them, his body language betraying extreme annoyance which was way beyond the justified anger of the innocent. He was acting like some wild beast backed into a corner, practically quivering with the effort of controlling his frustration and suppressing his simmering fury.
Whenever he looked at her, Tina had the feeling he’d like nothing better than to grab hold of her and shake her till her teeth rattled. His appearance tonight didn’t lessen his threatening air, either.
Out of his business suit he looked more like a construction foreman than ever. When he’d lifted that glass to his lips just now, his muscular bicep had bulged underneath the short sleeve. In fact, in that chest-hugging navy top and in those tight blue jeans, his whole body seemed to be bulging with menacing muscle.
The thought of being alone with him later was not a pleasant one.
Not that Tina seriously thought he would lay a finger on her. It was her own disquieting reaction to his macho size which was bothering her. Again.
Why couldn’t he have been more like Sarah’s usual boyfriends? came the irritable thought.
Perhaps because he hadn’t been her boyfriend, shot back the highly disturbing answer.
Tina’s eyes snapped up from the table to stare at Dominic as he settled himself opposite her. An unhappy frown creased her forehead as her mind grappled with this unexpected and unwanted thought.
What if he was telling the truth? What if he had only slept with Sarah the once? What if he had practised safe sex and Bonnie’s father was really the mystery boyfriend Dominic claimed had dumped Sarah that week?
It was possible, Tina supposed. But, if so, then she was sitting at the wrong table, in the wrong home, with the wrong family.
No, I’m not, she refuted sternly in her mind, pushing away the split second of nausea. Sarah had told her personally that her boss, Dominic Hunter, was the man she was in love with, and sleeping with. There was also what Sarah had told her neighbour, as well as those cards from florists amongst Sarah’s things, with all those intimate little messages, all signed ‘D’. What were the odds on Sarah having two lovers working at Hunter & Associates with the initial D?
No, it had to be Dominic. Just because he wasn’t Sarah’s usual physical type that didn’t let him off the hook. He was Bonnie’s father all right.
Tina sighed her relief, dropped her eyes and started on with her soup.
Grumpy-bumps did the same, the meal progressing mostly in silence. Ida tried to make conversation, but Dominic refused to be drawn in. Tina didn’t help much, she supposed, but, frankly, it was less stressful saying nothing and just eating.
Soup gave way to a veal dish done in a creamy sauce, followed by a thankfully fat-free fruit salad.
Tina had to watch what she ate. She was naturally slim, but television put ten pounds on you, and television was where the parts were at at the moment. She wasn’t so foolish as to count her chickens before they hatched. As much as she might like to devote herself full-time to raising Bonnie, life just might not work out that way.
Tina was just finishing her fruit salad when a high-pitched cry infiltrated the dining room.
Tina immediately jumped up from the table. ‘The baby!’ she exclaimed, and dashed from the room.
Dominic rolled his eyes, which brought a sharp glance from his mother as she too rose from her seat.
‘I’d get used to that sound, if I were you.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you, Mum?’ he said with a weary sigh. ‘That baby is not mine.’
She laughed. She actually laughed. She was still laughing when she left the room.
Dominic shook his head after her. Women, he thought once again, with a wealth of frustration. They never gave up. There he’d been, actually worrying about his mother getting upset when she found out the baby wasn’t her grandchild.
But she simply refused to be warned, refused to listen to reason—and her own son. She’d rather listen to the tissue of lies bei
ng fed to her by that perhaps well-meaning but seriously deluded creature.
The seriously deluded creature came back into the room, carrying a now silent pink bundle over her shoulder, patting what he supposed was the baby’s back and making motherly noises.
‘There, there, darling, yes, I know you’re hungry and you’re wet. I just need to…oh,’ she cried on glancing around and seeing he was alone in the room. ‘Where’s Ida?’
‘I have no idea,’ he told her drily. ‘I thought she’d gone to be with you and the baby.’
‘I need to know where she put the disposable nappies she bought. Here! Why don’t you hold your daughter while I go find her?’
Dominic’s immediately horrified look brought an answering look of disgust. ‘She won’t bite, you know,’ Tina snapped as she walked over and shoved the bundle into Dominic’s startled arms. ‘If she cries, just walk around the room and rock her backwards and forwards. She’s a sucker for that.’
‘But…but…’
But Tina was gone.
Dominic pressed his lips together and glared down at the baby lying in his stiffly outstretched arms. Two big blue eyes looked back up at him, two undeniably lovely and very engaging blue eyes. They showed no signs of any recent crying, which suggested a case of crocodile tears, undoubtedly the come-and-get-me-I’m-bored kind of crying.
‘A little con-artist already, eh, kid?’ he muttered. ‘Just like your adopted mother. If she thinks this is going to work, then she can darned well think again!’
Startled by his deep male voice, that cute little baby face screwed up into a less cute expression and let rip.
Dominic’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. How could so much noise come from such a sweet little bow-shaped mouth?
He was on his feet in a flash, pacing around the room and rocking away like mad. He even resorted to some hopefully soothing small talk of his own.
‘There, there, don’t cry now. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m not angry at you. It’s this crazy situation I’m angry at. I guess you’re not used to loud voices. Or men. I’ll talk softly in future. I promise…’
All the pacing, rocking and promises didn’t work. The cries got louder, if that were possible. Bunched little fists escaped the bunny rug she was wrapped in and starting flailing around like mad, hitting him once on the chin.
‘I see you’re not a natural-born father,’ his mother said drily as she came in and took the baby from him. ‘Let me show you.’
Lying the messy bundle down on the empty end of the dining table, she swiftly hooked those lethal weapons underneath the turned-in edges of the bunny rug, then wound the rug around very tight.
‘Babies liked to be wrapped up tightly,’ his mother lectured as she hoisted the papoose-like bundle up and over her shoulder. ‘That way they feel safe and secure.’
All crying immediately ceased, two instantly dry blue eyes eyeing Dominic sanguinely from the safety of distance.
‘See?’ Ida said smugly.
‘Yeah, I see,’ came his dry reply. ‘All females use tears to get what they want, right from the cradle. I’m going upstairs to make a phone call. Tell our guest to be ready to go in five minutes. I don’t want to be all night doing this. It’s already nine and I’m going out later.’
‘Where to?’
He gave his mother a baleful look. ‘Mum, I’m thirty-three years old. I won’t be grilled like some schoolboy. But, if you must know, I’m going to see my girlfriend.’
‘Your girlfriend!’
‘That’s right.’
‘But you’ve never mentioned having a girlfriend. At least…not lately.’
‘I wonder why?’ he said testily.
‘I hate to think,’ she retorted.
Dominic decided it was time to lay down the law. Unequivocally this time. He’d been a bit weak, letting his mother try to matchmake him with women like Joanna Parsons. He supposed he’d gone along with it in a fashion because he hadn’t wanted to crush all her hopes at once. Mark decamping to a monastery had upset her a lot.
But enough was enough!
‘Mum,’ he stated firmly. ‘You know my feelings about marriage and children. They’re not for me. Look, I know you think I’m going to change my mind about that one day, but I won’t. I know you think I’m going to fall in love one day, but I won’t.’
‘Does this girlfriend of yours know that?’ she asked archly.
‘She certainly does.’
‘Strange girlfriend.’
‘Shani understands me. We have an…arrangement.’
‘Meaning you just use each other for sex.’
Dominic winced. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite that crudely.’
‘Then how would you put it?’
‘We’re…lovers.’
‘No, you’re not. Love has nothing whatsoever to do with what you do with each other.’
His mother’s scorn stung. Dominic also resented being made to feel ashamed of what was really a very practical and sensible relationship. He wasn’t hurting anyone, least of all Shani.
‘That’s a very old-fashioned viewpoint,’ he snapped, and swung round to leave the room, only to find Tina standing in the doorway, a bottle in one hand and a nappy in the other.
How much had she overheard? he wondered.
If the shock in her eyes was any judge, then everything about his relationship with Shani.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he ground out as he approached the doorway.
She stepped aside with a speed and a flash of panic in her eyes which was downright insulting. What did she think? That physical contact with him would contaminate her?
Dominic almost laughed. She’d have a right to be scared if she knew what he’d been thinking and feeling about her all through dinner.
Fortunately, those feelings seemed to have taken a temporary back seat. Perhaps because he’d decided to take positive action to rid himself of them, once and for all!
He strode on down the hallway, then mounted the stairs two at a time.
Five minutes later he walked more sedately back downstairs, his equilibrium restored, his temper well under control. Shani would be waiting for him, regardless of when he arrived.
Sensible, sexy Shani.
If only there were more women like her!
CHAPTER SEVEN
TINA sat stiffly and silently in the passenger seat of Dominic Hunter’s plush and new-smelling car, trying desperately to ignore the undermining and somewhat confusing feelings flooding through her.
She’d known it would not be a pleasant experience being alone with this man in the confines of a car.
But it wasn’t his broad shoulders bothering her at that moment. It was something which had happened when she’d overheard his tiff with Ida in the dining room.
As she’d listened to Dominic Hunter admitting to a strictly sexual relationship with some secret girlfriend, she’d experienced the strangest reaction.
Not contempt, as one might have imagined.
But a weird kind of excitement.
Excitement, for pity’s sake!
Tina had been so shocked that she’d stood rooted to the spot, her mouth half open, her heart racing with a dark rush of adrenaline. Her mind had instantly flooded with the most appalling erotic pictures, involving not him and this Shani woman, but herself!
When he’d started striding towards where she was standing in the doorway, she hadn’t been able to get out of his way quickly enough.
Fifteen minutes later, she was still in shock, even more so because those disturbing feelings hadn’t abated. If anything, they’d grown worse. She was pricklingly aware of her own body as she sat in the car so close to him. And awesomely aware of his!
Tina could not understand what was happening to her. She didn’t like big men, for starters. And she didn’t like sex at all!
‘Tell me about your friendship with Sarah,’ he said abruptly into the tortured silence.
‘Why?’ she burst out, angry with him for doing this
to her. ‘What’s the point?’
‘No point,’ he grumped. ‘Just something to talk about. It’ll take us at least half an hour to get over the bridge and out to Sarah’s place. You did say Lewisham, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she muttered.
Lewisham was an inner western suburb which straddled the railway line and was full of old blocks of flats, plus old houses cut up into small apartments and bedsits. Sarah had rented one of the latter. It was cramped, but clean, and possibly all she’d been able to afford on her single mother’s allowance.
‘Well?’ he prompted impatiently.
Tina shrugged. Why not tell him? He would have to know in the end. Sarah was the mother of his child, after all. And it was better than sitting there thinking thoughts she’d much rather not think.
So she told him. And she didn’t bother to water anything down. She told him the whole unvarnished, unsavoury truth.
It was blessedly distracting, watching his initial shock to her sordid tale, then trying to guess his thoughts and reactions.
There was no doubting he could hold a superb poker face when he wanted to. She had no idea what he was really thinking.
To give him credit, he didn’t pass any superficial judgements, or express any false sympathies. When she’d finished the first part of her story, his questions weren’t cruel, just inquisitive.
‘So when the terrace house burnt down that night, killing both your mothers and several…er…guests, where were you and Sarah?’
‘Out.’
‘Out? In the middle of the night up at the Cross?’
Tina shrugged. ‘Better than staying at home. A ship was in port and our mums had brought home quite a party. They’d all had a lot to drink, and when that happened I knew to keep Sarah out of harm’s way. Even at nine, Sarah was attracting male attention.’
‘Good God. At nine?’
He fell silent, as though having difficulty absorbing such an unimaginable lifestyle. Tina had no such difficulty. She’d lived it. And she’d lived the difficult years after their mothers had died, when she’d still had to protect Sarah from the opposite sex.
It had been hard when Sarah herself had been such a willing victim, right from her early teenage years. As much as she regretted it now, Tina understood why she’d walked out of Sarah’s life. She simply hadn’t been able to stand by and watch Sarah being used any more. She’d had enough!
