by Miranda Lee
Once Martin Haywood left the office, Samantha glanced up at Guy from her chair, determined to put her growing doubts to rest. ‘Don’t you really want this baby, Guy?’ she asked straight out.
‘Of course I do,’ he insisted, but with a frown. ‘It’s just that...’
‘Just what?’ she demanded to know.
His agitation was evident when both his hands lifted to rake through his hair. ‘Let’s just say I’ve been forgetting things lately,’ he ground out harshly. ‘Important things. You might think you’re still in love with someone else, Sam, but that could easily change. Broken hearts do mend.’
His mouth curved into a wry grimace, his blue eyes sardonic as they flicked over her dress. ‘Women have been known to fall in love with me, you know,’ he drawled. ‘And, from where I’m standing, you’re every inch a woman. As for myself...’ his lip curled scornfully in a type of self-disgust ‘...I’m the man I’ve always been. I won’t change at this late stage. One way or another, if I don’t stop this affair now you’re going to get hurt, Sam. And I value you too much to hurt you.’
‘You mean you value your secretary too much to lose her—isn’t that more to the point?’
Her sharp tone brought an equally sharp look. But then his face softened to an expression of rueful resignation. ‘There’s that too, of course. I’m a selfish man. I always have been. I like my cake and I like to eat it too. But I’ve never deliberately hurt a woman and I don’t intend starting now. I’ve always set clear and honest ground rules, just as I initially tried to do with you with this baby business. Unfortunately, we got off course somewhere...’
He squared his shoulders, tension in every line of his body. ‘I think it best if we go back to our original plan, where once you conceived—as you have—our intimate relationship ends.’
For a long moment she just stared at him, her heart stopped. ‘You...you don’t mean that,’ she choked out.
‘I certainly do.’
‘But...but you like making love to me,’ she argued desperately.
His face hardened. ‘I’ve liked making love to a lot of women.’
She supposed her face must have told its story, for his frustration was instant. ‘For pity’s sake, Sam, don’t look at me like that! I’m merely bringing forward the inevitable. Don’t tell me you started thinking like a typical woman, that I might ask you to marry me, that I’d settle down and give you a contented life, that I’d actually keep wanting you forever?’ His laughter was harsh and ugly. ‘Dear God, woman, that’s a pipe-dream, and down deep you know it. I thought you had more common sense than to start caring about a bastard like me. Not to mention pride!’
She jumped up, her hand swinging to crack around his face with a vicious twang, bringing a bright red imprint on to his cheek. It shocked both of them. Samantha slumped back into her chair, stricken and ashamed.
Guy rubbed his cheek, his voice weary when he said, ‘Yes, well, I dare say I deserved that. But you’ve merely proved my point. You’re already emotionally involved to some degree. Much better all round if we go back to square one, try to recapture what we both had once: mutual respect and friendship. It’s the only way, Sam. I’m sure you’ll see that in the end.’
She lifted bleak eyes. Would she? At the moment she couldn’t see into the future at all. Dear God, how had she ever thought she could cope with this, that to have Guy even for a little while would be worth it? It hadn’t been worth it if this was how she was going to feel. So cold. So wretched. So hopeless.
Guy let out a ragged sigh, and, turning, walked slowly into his office, shutting the door behind him.
Samantha just sat there. She was still sitting there half an hour later when a delivery man came into the office, carrying the hugest basket of assorted roses she had ever seen.
‘Miss Peters?’ he said. ‘Miss Samantha Peters?’
‘Y...yes?’
‘Flowers for you.’ He placed them on her desk with a grin and left.
For a second Samantha stared at them, her heart turning over. Surely they weren’t from Guy? He had never sent a woman flowers in his life!
It suddenly occurred to her who had sent them. Norman! Dear, sweet, sensitive Norman. She opened the accompanying card with a soft smile on her face, only to have her hand tremble. The note said,
I forgot to say all the right things about the baby. I hope this makes up for some of them. The thrilled but selfish father.
The door to Guy’s office opened and he came out, a pleased look appearing on his serious face when he saw the flowers. ‘I thought I heard someone and hoped it was the flowers. I threatened the florist with extinction if they didn’t deliver within the half-hour.’
He walked over and touched a big pink rose with gentle fingers. Samantha stared at him, an enormous lump forming in her throat, her mind whirling. She wanted to say thank you, anything, but she sat there totally tongue-tied, her only thought as she watched him lightly finger the velvet petals that those hands would never stroke her again, never hold her, never make her feel if not loved, then at least wanted.
‘They’re rather nice, aren’t they?’ he said, his gaze shifting from the flowers to Samantha.
She dropped her eyes. But too late. He had to have seen the tears. Even now they were spilling over and running down her cheeks, a sob catching her breath.
‘Please don’t, Sam,’ he said, quite brokenly.
His distress jolted her and, oddly enough, it gave her a glimpse of things from his eyes. He had only wanted a child, had made what he had thought was a logical decision in her as the mother, only to be caught up in a torrid affair, half of which he couldn’t possibly understand. Perhaps he was only trying to be a good friend to her, protecting her from future hurt, pulling back before she got in too deep.
Too deep...
A mocking smile pulled at her face as she dragged several tissues from the box on her desk. Little did he know, but she’d already drowned.
Wiping her sniffles away, she looked up apologetically. ‘It’s all right. I’m all right. Hormones, probably. It’s also the first time a man has ever sent me flowers.’
‘It’s the first time I’ve sent flowers.’
‘I know,’ she said, then laughed at his surprise.
‘Is there anything you don’t know about me, Sam?’
‘Lots, I would think. But my knowledge has expanded lately.’
‘Sam! I think I’ve corrupted you.’
‘Not you,’ she said, thinking of Lisa.
His frown was swift.
‘Forget it,’ she muttered, then sat up straight, a bitter resolve slipping into her heart. Time to be strong, Sam. ‘Well, Guy, have you got any name ideas for our baby? I didn’t want to decide on anything till I’d talked it over with you.’
It took a few moments for his frown to clear to a slow smile. ‘I don’t have any preference except that the names be indicative of their sex. I like boys to sound like boys and girls like girls, with no confusion.’
Samantha’s heart perked up slightly with concentrating on their baby. ‘I’ll bring in a list tomorrow for you to choose from.’
‘You do that.’
‘I’ll have to find a proper gynaecologist too. Do you know any?’
He grinned at her. ‘Not offhand.’
She grinned back.
‘You’re excited, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘About the baby. I saw it when you walked in this morning.’
‘Hopelessly,’ she admitted.
His eyes were incredibly warm as they washed over her. Yet, at the same time, incredibly sad. She flinched when he bent forward and brushed her lips with his. ‘Sweet Sam,’ he whispered. But then he was gone, whirling away from her and hurrying back into his office, closing the door firmly behind him.
She stared after him, wide-eyed and, suddenly, wondering.
She was still wondering when the day ended, when she let herself into her cold, empty flat.
The phone started ringing, the jangling interrupt
ing her revolving thoughts. She hurried across her small living-room and snatched up the receiver.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m certainly glad you’re home, my girl. I want to have a few words with you.’
Samantha sank down on the chair she kept next to the phone. Oh, dear God... She’d forgotten to ring Aunt Vonnie about Mr Haywood and she sounded very cross, very cross indeed!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘HELLO, Aunt Vonnie,’ Samantha said with false brightness. ‘I presume Mr Haywood rang you.’
‘How clever of you to guess,’ her aunt returned tartly. ‘I dare say it’s too much to ask that I might have been given some warning about your boss’s father ringing me up out of the blue and expecting to come and live with me.’
‘Yes, well, I meant to call you, but something came up and it clear went out of my mind. I am sorry.’
‘Hmph.’
Direct apologies always disarmed Samantha’s basically soft-hearted aunt. ‘Besides, you sounded as if you could do with company in your last letter,’ Samantha went on blithely.
‘What is this? I thought I was the one doing the charity work. You make it sound as though I’m the patient!’
Samantha laughed. ‘Maybe your having Mr Haywood as a house-guest for a while will kill two birds with one stone.’
‘Well...I must admit Martin does sound interesting.’
‘Martin?’ Samantha was taken aback at such speedy informality. ‘You call him Martin already?’
‘What on earth would you expect me to call him?’ came the huffy retort. ‘Mr Haywood? We’re both in our fifties, for heaven’s sake. Truly, Samantha!’
‘And what does he call you?’
‘Veronica. He said it suits me better than Vonnie.’
Samantha was alarmed at the coy tone in her aunt’s voice. ‘Good grief, that old devil’s charmed you already, hasn’t he?’
‘Not as much as his son has you, I’ll warrant, Miss Prim. Do you think I haven’t been able to read between the lines all these years, with a girl as attractive as you never producing a boyfriend of her own? Come on, spill the beans. You’re in love with that rake of a boss of yours, aren’t you?’
Samantha bit her lip. She loved her aunt but she had no intention of being bulldozed into a confession she wasn’t ready for just yet. Tell her about Guy or her pregnancy and the woman would be on her doorstep in ten seconds flat.
There were many more months before people had to be told, and in less than six she would know for sure exactly what the situation with Guy was. No way could he go that long without sex. He would either come back to her, or start another affair. If the former happened the heart-stopping idea that had come to her today just might be true. If the latter...
Samantha hated to think of his taking up with another of his blondes, but there was no use putting her head in the sand and pretending it wasn’t so if it was. Even if he was very discreet about it, his smoking habits would give him away.
But none of this thinking and plotting was helping matters with her intuitive aunt.
‘Whatever gave you such a silly idea, Aunt Vonnie? If I were in love with Guy I’d tell you, wouldn’t I? Don’t I always tell you everything?’
‘No.’
Samantha laughed. ‘Guy and I are just good friends.’ Perfectly true at that point in time.
‘Piffle!’
‘Piffle?’
‘Yes, piffle! But I suppose, if you’re not going to tell me, I can’t browbeat it out of you. I just hope you haven’t forgotten all that good advice I gave you years ago.’
‘Good advice?’ Suddenly Samantha remembered the packet of condoms her aunt had slipped into her bag when she’d first been headed for Sydney, not to mention all her harping on about protecting oneself against disease and other unwanted happenings.
She’s going to hit the roof when I eventually tell her about the baby, Samantha groaned silently.
But, like Scarlett O’Hara, she quickly deposited that problem into the ‘to be tackled some other day’ area of her mind.
‘Everything’s fine, Auntie,’ she reassured down the line.
‘I hope so...’
‘Did Mr Haywood mention he likes a drop of port after dinner?’ Best to create a detour, Samantha thought.
‘No, I don’t think he did.’
‘He also fancies a cigar occasionally.’
‘Does he now?’
‘He’s been very ill, Auntie. He needs...coddling.’
‘And you think I’m a good coddler?’
‘The best.’
She could almost see the other woman smile. ‘You always were a soft touch, Samantha.’
‘I take after my favourite aunt.’
‘Not to mention a flatterer.’
‘Auntie!’
‘And a little liar...’
Samantha laughed. ‘Never!’
‘Oh, go on with you. But mark my words, my girl. Your sins will catch up with you one day.’
They have already, believe me...
‘Bye, love,’ Aunt Vonnie said softly. ‘Take care.’
Samantha’s heart turned over as she said goodbye and hung up the phone. It was always nice to feel loved.
Loved...
Her memory shot back to that moment earlier in the day when Guy had bent and kissed her ever so softly, and that startling idea had tumbled into her mind. Could she be right? came the heart-quickening thought. Had he fallen in love with her?
It wasn’t typical of him. But then, it wasn’t typical of him to desire tall, well-endowed brunettes. It certainly wasn’t typical of him to send flowers.
She couldn’t stop her hopes soaring. Couldn’t.
Perhaps he had fallen in love with her, but didn’t trust his feelings lasting. Obviously he thought he would get bored with her, as he had with all his other women. He didn’t understand as yet that this time there was more involved than just sex. Already they had shared the most intimate experience a man and woman could, that of making a baby together. Maybe, in time, he would come to recognise the strength of his attachment to her. All she could do was wait and hope.
* * *
Samantha followed Guy into the office the following morning—he was back to being late—a baby-name book in her hands. She had bought it from the newsagency on the way to work and had been studying it ever since.
‘What about Mark for a boy?’ she asked eagerly as he settled himself behind his desk and lit a cigarette. ‘Or Scott? Or James?’
‘Fine,’ he said after his first deep drag.
Samantha looked indulgently at his obvious need of the cigarette. It was a very good sign. ‘What do you mean fine?’ she said. ‘Which one?’
‘How about all three? Mark Scott James.’
‘Oh, all right.’
‘And for a girl?’ he prodded.
‘You won’t mind if it’s a girl?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Why should I mind? I could teach a girl to fish just as well as a boy.’
‘Certainly you could. My brother and I used to sit on the bank of the river at home for hours. But all we ever caught were toads,’ she sighed, then smiled in fond memory. ‘It was great fun, though.’
‘You like fishing, Sam?’ He seemed astonished.
‘Love it.’
He shook his head. ‘You constantly astound me.’
Her heart swelled with pleasure. ‘OK, girls’ names. I’ve picked out Natalie. Or maybe Violet?’
‘Natalie,’ he decided. ‘Natalie Leanne Violet.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s lovely,’ she beamed.
He looked up at her with a frowning glance. ‘You’re very chipper this morning.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Norman back on the scene?’
Surely that was jealousy in his voice. Surely.
‘Of course not,’ she said, before the full implication of his remark sank in and she felt quite annoyed. What did he think she was? Sex mad? ‘Do you ho
nestly think that I would take some other man to bed with your child growing inside me?’ she flung at him crossly.
His hand stilled mid-air, his eyes dropping to the desk as he put the cigarette back down. They were quite unreadable when they lifted to her again. ‘You have every right to do so,’ was his very deliberate answer. ‘And I have no right to object.’
It shook her. Would a man in love be so reasonable about the mother of his child bedding another man? Her heart sank to rock bottom as the truth hit. Never...
‘It wouldn’t feel right,’ was all she could manage to say. ‘I...I’d better get back to work.’
Samantha was pale by the time she sank back down behind her desk. Pale and shaking. He didn’t love her. He would never love her. How could she have forgotten that he wasn’t capable of such an emotion? He liked her and cared for her and didn’t want to see her hurt. That was the only reason he had stopped their affair.
From that day Samantha’s futile hopes were locked firmly away. And she stopped reading things into Guy’s continuing smoking. It was too emotionally dangerous for her to cling to such a slender lifeline. He had probably decided not to complicate his life with an affair just now, to concentrate on their coming baby. Samantha decided she had to do the same. Having a baby was going to require a lot of strength, both mental and physical. She had never done anything in half-measures in her whole life, and she certainly wasn’t going to start with motherhood.
A good gynaecologist was her first requisite. The name came from an unlikely source. Mrs Walton.
Samantha had decided it was going to be too hard to keep the news of her pregnancy from the woman indefinitely. Neither was she going to start hiding the child’s paternity, a decision Guy wholeheartedly agreed with.
The moment of revelation would live in her memory forever.
‘P...pregnant to Mr Haywood?’ the woman had repeated, mouth agape, eyes totally disbelieving. ‘That Mr Haywood?’ She had pointed to the inner sanctum with a quavering finger.
