Kiss and Tell

by Sharon Kendrick

  At the sound of the door being opened the man turned to face them, and Simon immediately let out a huge gurgle of joy when he saw Triss.

  ‘Oh, Geraint!’ laughed Lola, her voice sounding slightly dreamy. ‘He’s been sick all over your shoulder!’

  Stormy grey eyes glanced dismissively at some regurgitated milk which had splodged over the shoulder of a black cashmere sweater, then the man shrugged. ‘It’ll wash,’ he drawled, in a distinctively Welsh accent.

  Without another word he walked across the room, carrying a wriggling Simon who was holding his arms out and trying to launch himself out of Geraint’s grip. ‘Hi, Triss,’ he said gently. ‘Have your boy back.’ And he handed Simon over to Triss.

  The baby locked his chubby arms around Triss’s neck and immediately began to squirm happily against her.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ Triss. whispered softly, closing her eyes briefly as she rubbed her chin against the delicate silk of his black hair, unaware that Cormack was standing across the room from her, watching her and watching Simon, his blue eyes narrowed and assessing.

  An awkward silence fell, and Triss was wondering just what to do next when Geraint came to her aid by moving across the room to stand rather proprietorially beside her.

  He held his hand out towards Cormack. ‘Geraint Howell-Williams,’ he said.

  The two men eyed each other warily, like two prime predators sizing each other up, then shook hands—though Cormack continued to subject Geraint to a steady, curious stare. ‘Cormack Casey.’

  ‘I know who you are.’

  ‘Then you have the advantage over me,’ said Cormack, his normally lilting Irish accent sounding harsh and abrasive. ‘Because I don’t know you from Adam!’

  ‘I’m going to marry Lola,’ said Geraint, by way of an explanation, looking directly into Cormack’s eyes.

  ‘I don’t remember agreeing to announce it!’ protested Lola, though her smile was so wide it threatened to split her face in two.

  ‘Don’t you?’ queried Geraint in a teasing drawl. ‘Well, I do—but you clearly had other things on your mind, darling!’

  ‘Geraint!’. Lola blushed a deep scarlet, but the look which passed between the two of them was electric with warmth and love and an uninhibited sexual tension.

  And we used to be like that, thought Triss, an unbearable sadness sweeping over her as she remembered a time when she and Cormack had both been incandescent with love. When just a shared look across a crowded room had been enough to make every other person fade into insignificance.

  She had to get out of here before she did something unforgivable—like breaking down in tears in front of everyone. She hugged Simon even closer to her chest, and he gave a mildly protesting wriggle.

  ‘We’d better be going,’ she said quickly. ‘Thank you so much...’

  But Lola was already gently pushing her in the direction of the door. ‘You don’t have to thank us,’ she said softly. ‘It was our pleasure. Just go,’ she whispered, so that only Lola could hear. ‘And sort some things out between you.’

  Cormack did not say a word as the three of them walked back towards Triss’s house.

  Triss sneaked a look at him. She had never seen him look quite so dazed. He was staring at the baby clasped closely against her chest with the same kind of rapt scrutiny he would have given a statue which had just been brought to life in front of him.

  He looked, she thought, like a man taking part in a dream sequence—as though none of what was happening made very much sense to him.

  Come to think of it, events had a pretty bizarre quality for her too.

  Once inside the house, she went straight into the kitchen. ‘Here,’ she said, and handed the baby to him. ‘You hold him for a bit. Don’t worry, he’s very good; he often goes happily to—’ She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening with horror as she realised what she had been about to say.

  ‘Strangers?’ he supplied, with acid emphasis.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Please don’t apologise,’ said Cormack, in a crisp kind of authoritative voice he had never used with her before. ‘It’s nothing more than the truth.’ And then he bent his dark head to concentrate all his attention on the warm, curious bundle in his arms.

  He held Simon gingerly at first, as if he had been given an incredibly precious burden to carry. Then, after a little while, he sat down on one of the high stools at the breakfast bar, still clutching the child to him, and Simon just stared up at his father with interested, identical deep blue eyes.

  Triss turned away and busied herself in an effort to stern the tears she found inexplicably pricking at her eyes. Of course they look the same, she told herself fiercely, swallowing down the infuriating salt taste at the back of her throat. But just because the two of them look as though they should be auditioning for a happy-families soap-powder commercial it does not mean that everything is now hunky-dory.

  She boiled the kettle and made a pot of tea, then took some mashed potato and broccoli from the fridge and began to warm it through.

  When the dish was prepared she looked round to find that Simon had lifted a podgy hand and was tugging at a strand of thick black hair which had flopped onto Cormack’s forehead. But it was the expression on Cormack’s face which turned her heart to stone.

  For he had removed his tender gaze from Simon to stare across the kitchen at her, and the withering look of contempt on his face was like a knife-wound to the heart.

  ‘What right did you have,’ he asked slowly, each word seeming to be torn from somewhere deep inside him, ‘to deny me this?’

  Her mouth wobbled, but she would not cry—she would not. ‘I don’t want a scene now,’ she told him, with a quiet dignity that cost her an effort. ‘Not now and not here. Not in front of Simon. It will only confuse him.’

  His answering words were soft; only their meaning was as bitter and as abrasive as a physical blow. ‘And you don’t think you’ve confused him enough already?’ he accused her. ‘Leaving him with someone you barely know? You think it’s acceptable for Geraint Howell-Williams to hold him and to know him, do you, Triss? Some guy who has the most tenuous connection with his life? While I’m just left like the spectre at the feast-grabbing what small crumbs of him you see fit to throw my way?’

  She felt unspeakably weary, as if her head had suddenly become too much for her slender neck to be able to hold. ‘I said not now, Cormack,’ she repeated, in a low voice which trembled unsteadily with strain as she watched Simon’s head turn from one to the other of them in bewilderment. Their voices had not been raised, but the bitterness behind their words was unmistakable. ‘Rowing in front of Simon is the last thing either of us wants or needs right now.’

  He made a small sound of disgust. ‘Don’t you dare have the temerity to talk about my needs,’ he bit out, his finger instinctively touching the velvety smoothness of Simon’s cheek, ‘when they quite clearly come bottom on your list of priorities!’ Simon began to whinge, and wordlessly Cormack handed his son back to Triss, who managed to soothe him.

  She tried to act normally. She settled Simon in his high chair, put his bib on and spooned his meal into him, all the while making the funny little noises which always made him giggle so much.

  But all the time she was horribly aware of the accusing blue stare which her ex-lover directed at her. She had seen passion on Cormack’s face before, yes—many times—but never of this magnitude or this intensity. And this was not passion which was inspired by love or lust either, but a strong, barely contained emotion which had more to do with hate.

  The tension and the bitterness emanating from him were almost palpable, and perhaps that disturbed even Cormack, for he stood up suddenly, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. He strode over to the French doors which looked out over the gardens and stood there, silent and unmoving and very slightly menacing as he gazed sightlessly at the blaze of yellow daffodils which swayed in the breeze.

  Triss finished Sim
on’s meal with some yoghurt and fruit and he lapped it up greedily as she spooned it into his mouth.

  ‘You like that, don’t you, darling?’ she cooed approvingly, then looked up to find that Cormack had silently turned and was watching them intently, as a cat might watch a defenceless little mouse just before it pounced on it.

  ‘Raspberries?’ he queried in surprise. ‘You’re giving him raspberries?’

  He made it sound like arsenic! Triss thought. ‘Yes, I am!’ she said defensively. ‘What’s so odd about that?’

  ‘Out of season and very expensive,’ he observed.

  Triss glared at him, resenting his judgmental tone and that critical look which was making his blue eyes glitter like sapphires. ‘Right on both counts.’

  ‘So do you spoil him, Triss?’ he asked. ‘By giving him everything he wants? Perhaps to make up for him not having a father?’

  Triss glared at him again. ‘What if I do?’

  He shrugged. ‘At five months it scarcely matters. But I would have thought that as a basic rule for bringing up a child then giving him everything he wants might make him spoilt and ungrateful as he gets older—’

  Triss rounded on him. ‘You’ve only observed me with Simon for all of ten minutes!’ she spluttered. ‘So how dare you cast doubts on my ability to be a good mother?’

  ‘I was just pointing out—’

  ‘And what would you know about bringing up a child anyway?’ she demanded, her words tumbling out furiously—like water spilling from a washing machine.

  ‘Nothing at all!’ he returned calmly, the muscle working frantically in his cheek the only indicator of his anger. ‘Since you refused me the right to have any kind of say in Simon’s upbringing! But no more, Triss,’ he continued, with a fierce kind of determination. ‘No more will you succeed in keeping me out of his life!’

  She lifted her chin up and her eyes looked very bright and very green at that moment. But her proud look masked a feeling of fear. ‘Are you trying to intimidate me, Cormack?’

  Did he sense that she was close to breakdown? Was that why his voice softened as he shook his head? ‘No, I’m not. What good could come of that? I intend to be totally up front with you, Triss. No games. No secrets. I shall tell you exactly what I want when it comes to Simon.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘It’ll make things far more difficult for everyone concerned if you do—yourself included.’

  She shook her head helplessly. ‘I just don’t know how we’re going to resolve this.’

  He shrugged, and his voice became tinged with bitterness as he said, ‘Then perhaps, for the first time in our relationship, we might try a little compromise. Just because our love affair is finished it doesn’t mean we have to ruin Simon’s life into the bargain, does it?’

  His words made her feel like crying. Or rather, one word in particular did. ‘Finished’. Their love affair was ‘finished’.

  This was all most peculiar. She was the one who was supposed to be feeling a sense of triumph right now—with Cormack the distressed and injured party. So why the role-reversal? And why did she feel so empty all of a sudden?

  Had she been holding onto some vague little hope in her heart that the sight of Simon might make Cormack want to try and rekindle their romance?

  Well, she could kiss that hope goodbye.

  For, no matter how well he adapted to being a father, she must never lose sight of the fact that she no longer had any place in Cormack’s life except as the mother of his child.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CORMACK shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his trousers as he subjected Triss to a moody blue stare.

  ‘I’m going now,’ he told her.

  Hope and disappointment warred inside her as she wiped a trace of raspberry juice from one corner of Simon’s delectable rosebud mouth. ‘Going?’ she squeaked loudly.

  His mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. ‘Don’t get carried away with excitement, sweetheart,’ he drawled. He reached out his hand to touch the top of Simon’s dark head lingeringly, and there was something almost wistful about the gesture which tugged relentlessly at Triss’s heartstrings.

  For the first time she got an inkling of just how much she had wounded him by denying him his child. Uncomfortably, she opened her mouth to tell him so. ‘Cormack—’

  ‘I’m going into London to sort out a few things,’ he interrupted brutally. ‘Like bringing my clothes down here, and rescheduling a couple of meetings I had lined up during the week.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t let me stand in the way of your meetings,’ said Triss sarcastically as the horrible way he had spoken to her dissolved some of her feelings of guilt.

  ‘I won’t,’ he returned with cutting emphasis. ‘It’s nothing to do with you.’ He gave her a cold smile. ‘I’m doing it for Simon. And I’ll be back—have no doubt about that, Triss.’

  ‘When?’ she enquired baldly. She plonked Simon’s favourite rattle onto his high-chair tray and followed Cormack out of the kitchen.

  ‘Tonight.’ His answer was just as blunt.

  ‘Tonight?’ Triss wrinkled up her nose, then gave him a pleading look, unable to stop her gaze from slowly roving over the length of that delicious body. How she wished that he would move those gorgeous legs out of her line of vision! They reminded her of things she would much rather forget—like her stupid and impetuous behaviour back at the cottage.

  Had she really just fallen into bed with him again? How could she have done—especially after what had happened last time? She was seriously beginning to wonder if there was any hope for her where Cormack Casey was concerned.

  ‘But why tonight?’ she appealed. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to leave it until tomorrow, when we’ve all had a decent night’s sleep?’

  ‘Better for who?’ he demanded, in a voice which had all the gritty texture and coldness of iron shavings. ‘Certainly not for me, nor for Simon. It might be better for you, sure. Does it interfere with prior commitments, Triss? Maybe you’ve got a heavy date you can’t break?’

  ‘If you’re going to continue insulting me by making completely spurious claims about my sex life, then—’

  ‘Then what?’ he interrupted unsmilingly. ‘Then you’ll attempt to behave even more ruthlessly towards me? What’s next on your agenda, Triss? To grant me a fleeting glimpse of my son and then to take him right out of my life again?’

  She shook her head, shocked—naively, perhaps—by the undisguised bitterness in his voice. ‘Of course not.’

  His mouth tightened into a forbidding line. ‘But there’s no “of course” about it, is there? You spent nine months carrying my child without even bothering to tell me, and when he was born you chose not to inform me of that either. Clearly you must hate me with a passion, Triss.’

  His gaze was very steady, but unmistakable pain glinted in the azure eyes as he asked, ‘Did I really treat you so badly that my behaviour warranted such callous treatment?’

  He could be very persuasive—she had forgotten just how much. But she had not made those heartbreaking decisions about Simon for the good of her health. And while Cormack might now be playing the innocent, injured party with the kind of skill which could have guaranteed him a promising career as an actor it was vital that Triss did not forget what had started her out on this course of vengeance.

  ‘Did I, Triss?’ he asked softly, in a honeyed voice she could happily have drowned in. ‘Treat you so badly?’

  Her huge hazel eyes sparked green and gold, like fireworks at the end of a summer party. ‘That’s a question you have to ask yourself, Cormack,’ she told him quietly. ‘Not me.’

  Their eyes met for a long moment before he gave her the benefit of one of his most winning smiles, and Triss. almost reeled under its impact.

  ‘Can I borrow your car?’ he asked, with an unconsciously guileless look which could bring out the maternal instinct in the most hard-bitten and cynical career-woman. Triss knew this for a fact—she had witnessed
it on countless occasions.

  ‘What would you do if I said no?’

  He moved closer. Close enough for Triss to be able to detect that enticingly masculine scent of lemon and spice which was all Cormack’s own.

  ‘I’d change your mind for you,’ he informed her softly.

  ‘I’d like to see you try!’

  He smiled. ‘That sounds awfully like an invitation to me, sweetheart. Want to put it to the test?’

  That was just the trouble. She did. And yet she didn’t. She knew damned well from that wickedly hungry look glinting in his blue eyes just what method he would employ to persuade her to lend him her car.

  And if he kissed her now it might prove her complete undoing. She was only just recovering from the episode in bed at the cottage—and, frankly, she was surprised that Cormack had not mentioned it since they had been back. Not once.

  Was that out of consideration for her feelings? Or because he was saving up the memory of her uninhibited sexual response to throw back in her face later?

  His features were just a few tempting inches away.

  ‘Well?’ he murmured, on a throaty caress. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ she gulped, and stepped back quickly, as if he had just produced a sword and had begun to brandish it.

  She was treated to a mocking smile.

  ‘Pity,’ was all he murmured as he opened the door and stepped over the threshold, pausing just for a moment. ‘Goodbye, sweetheart,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll be back later.’

  ‘G-goodbye.’

  Triss stumbled back into the kitchen to find that Simon was in the act of smearing yoghurt and raspberries all over the tray of his high chair, and that a good deal of it had made its way into his hair, his ears and all over his blue and white striped dungarees!

  She automatically picked up a roll of kitchen paper, tore off a generous handful and began to wipe the yoghurt off, but her mind was miles away. She scarcely even noticed when Simon leaned forward to lay a trusting but sticky cheek on her breast, depositing a pink, raspberry-scented blob in the process.