Daring Proposition

by Miranda Lee

  Samantha had kept a straight face with difficulty. She could well appreciate the woman’s stunned reaction. Though devastatingly handsome, Guy was the image of autocratic authority around the office. Hard-working and just plain hard. There was never a hint of anything but work, work, work between boss and secretary. And, of course, during their brief affair they had hidden their relationship, the smouldering sexual tension between them producing what an outsider might have interpreted as an atmosphere of charged efficiency.

  ‘We’re just good friends, Carol. Neither of us wanted to get married, but we wanted a baby.’

  This added news had knocked her for six.

  ‘But...but...’

  ‘I know it’s an unusual arrangement,’ Samantha had reassured the stunned woman. ‘But we’re happy with it. If you feel uncomfortable about the situation I suppose we could always get someone else to help in the office...’

  This had brought her to life. ‘No, no! I like working here. It’s just that, among other things, I thought you were leaving and I’d have extra work. Oh...oh, I see, you will still be leaving, won’t you?’

  ‘Actually no, I won’t be leaving work permanently at all. Guy is going to buy me a small house near by and has promised to employ someone to help with the baby so that I can come in a few hours each day. But certainly your hours will increase and there will be days when you’re needed full-time. Is that all right with you?’

  The woman had beamed and was soon chatting happily to Samantha about pregnancy and babies, the name of a reliable gynaecologist quickly supplied. She had had three children, all boys. Twenty-three, twenty-one and eighteen now. The gynaecologist was her younger sister’s, hers having since retired.

  Once again Samantha had been amazed at this feeling of sisterhood between women once they opened up to each other. Before, Carol Walton had just been a woman with whom she’d worked one day a week, a shadowy figure. She soon became as good a friend as Lisa, though this time Samantha steadfastly refused to be drawn into any conversation about her briefly personal relationship with Guy.

  That was taboo. She even put Lisa off asking her questions about Guy, saying it was over between them, and they were back to being nothing more than friends. She wasn’t even in love with him any more.

  ‘Oh, sure, sure,’ Lisa had said in her usual cynical fashion, but had thankfully stopped pursuing the subject of any possible romantic future for Samantha and her boss.

  The weeks of her pregnancy alternately dragged and flew for Samantha, depending on how she felt. To begin with she was very well, but around two months the dreaded morning sickness struck. Most mornings for the next month she arrived at the office looking decidedly pasty. Guy was most solicitous, but his attempts to get her to stay at home and rest were futile. Samantha had tried it one day and she’d been climbing the walls by noon. Besides, she discovered that she felt better once she was up and busy.

  By four months she was feeling great again, if a woman could feel really great when her already decent-sized bust was bursting her bras at the seams and nothing fitted any more. Not that she was all that large as yet. She’d merely lost her waistline.

  Guy took her shopping and bought her a whole new wardrobe of cleverly designed clothes that weren’t maternity gear but could pass—outfits with dropped waistline and clever jackets, all made in wonderfully soft stretchy materials. Spring had arrived, and with it pretty pastels and gay florals.

  Samantha felt valued and spoilt after their shopping spree.

  But not loved.

  Definitely not loved when the following Monday morning Guy came in without a cigarette in his hands, then didn’t light one up all day.

  It was the blackest day Samantha could ever remember spending. In the end she left work early, under the pretext of feeling sick, and went home and cried for hours. She didn’t know who the new woman was—obviously Guy was going to be discreet. But Samantha knew Guy’s habits too well to have any doubts.

  In the coming weeks she watched and waited for him to start smoking again, but he didn’t. Eventually the hurt became less sharp, since she never had to witness a svelte blonde sashaying into the office—and into his arms—but she spent many a sleepless night, thinking about what he was doing, and with whom.

  By October she had hardened her heart against him, her thoughts turning towards the coming problem of breaking the news of her pregnancy to her family. She’d felt increasingly guilty for weeks about her failure to tell them, though she saw no point in upsetting them before she needed to. But the moment of confession was drawing inexorably closer.

  Every Christmas she went home to Paddy’s Plains for a few days, then spent the New Year with Aunt Vonnie. But not even the cleverest clothes were going to disguise the seven months she would be by then. They would have to be told before she showed up, looking like an expanding balloon.

  Guy hadn’t informed his father yet, either. Martin had been safely ensconced with Aunt Vonnie for just over four months now and, if her aunt’s letters and phone calls were anything to go by, they got on like a house on fire. Samantha even began to suspect that there was more to their relationship than merely friendship, but who was she to point any fingers?

  Besides, she couldn’t really complain. Their obvious interest in each other had kept them away from Sydney for months. She had the most awful feeling that neither of them was exactly going to dance the Highland Fling when they found out what was up.

  ‘That’s quite a frown you’re sporting, Sam,’ Guy said as he strode into the office one October Friday morning.

  She cast a steely eye over his favourite charcoal-grey suit and crisp white shirt. ‘I was thinking of your father and Aunt Vonnie,’ she said curtly, ‘and what they were going to say when we told them.’

  He stopped in front of her desk and gave her one of his unreadable looks. He was always doing that these days. She would catch him staring at her, but there was never any readable expression on his face. Frankly it was getting quite annoying. Let him stare at his latest lady-love, whoever the little blonde bitch was!

  ‘Do you want me to ring them up and tell them?’ he offered.

  ‘No. Not yet. Let sleeping dogs lie for a while longer, I think.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s your decision. I wanted to tell them ages ago, if you recall.’

  ‘Soon,’ she prevaricated, and dropped her eyes to her work. Truly, the man had no right to be so damned attractive.

  When he didn’t move away from the front of her desk she glanced up again, and this time she knew what he was looking at. Her burgeoning breasts, straining against her dress. But he wasn’t looking at them with any visible lust, she thought tartly as she saw the muscles tighten in his jaw. He was probably thinking she was getting revoltingly large and ungainly, and wondering how he could have ever stood to touch her.

  Misery flared her temper. ‘Pregnant women are terribly attractive, aren’t they?’ she said sarcastically.

  His eyes lifted, a strange light dawning in them. He smiled. He actually smiled. What an insensitive sod! Samantha thought furiously.

  ‘If you’re fishing for compliments, Sam,’ he drawled, ‘then I suggest you try some other tack.’ Still smiling, he strode off into his office.

  Samantha slammed down her Biro and jumped to her feet. No...she didn’t jump. She semi-lumbered to her feet. ‘Fishing for compliments, am I?’ she screeched after him. ‘You’re the last person I want compliments from, you...you...’

  He appeared back in his doorway, the smile having become a wide grin. ‘Want a cup of coffee, my lovely little mother? Or would you prefer I call you fatso?’

  She slumped back on the chair, totally defused. ‘Yes,’ she pouted. ‘At least it would be true.’

  He walked over, stared down at her grumpy face, then shook his head. ‘Incredible,’ he murmured.

  ‘Incredible what?’ she sulked.

  ‘Come on, Sam...’ He held out his hand. ‘We’re going downstairs and having a cup of coffee in t
hat coffee lounge you’ve grown partial to. The one with the big slabs of cheese-cake.’

  She groaned. ‘Temptation, get thee behind me.’

  ‘That’s my line, darling. But you can use it.’

  ‘Darling?’ She gave him a dry look. ‘What’s got into you this morning?’

  ‘Lots of things. Shall we go?’

  She rose slowly with a sigh. ‘Are you sure you want to be seen with me?’ In truth, at just over five months, she was hardly showing in the pretty pink floral dress with its dropped waistline and softly gathered skirt. With her hair down she actually looked very lovely indeed. But all Samantha could see was how her body had looked, naked, that morning.

  Giving her a reproachful look, Guy walked into the kitchenette and brought back the loose white jacket that completely covered her gently rounded stomach. ‘Here. Put this on and stop whingeing. Bring your handbag too. We’re going for a drive afterwards.’

  ‘A drive? Where?’

  ‘A surprise.’

  ‘I don’t like surprises.’

  ‘From the sound of things, you don’t like anything much this morning. Just my luck. Still, I must have faith in my powers of observation and my many years of woman-watching.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Guy?’

  ‘Sam, I suggest you put the answering machine on and move it or I won’t be responsible for what I do next!’

  ‘All right, all right, I’m coming!’ She threw him a puzzled glance, but he clearly wasn’t going to clarify his crazy talk. ‘Cheese-cake,’ she muttered as he took her hand and pulled her along the corridor and into an empty lift. ‘Just what I don’t need...’

  Guy threw her an exasperated look. ‘Will you shut up?’

  ‘No.’ She disengaged her hand from his and folded her arms with a testy look his way. ‘I feel out of sorts and I see no reason why I should suffer alone. You’re responsible for this...this stomach. You should suffer too.’

  That very stomach clenched tightly at the look of raw frustration that flashed across Guy’s face. ‘You think I’m not suffering?’ he growled.

  Samantha blinked, totally thrown by his reaction. ‘No... Yes... Well, I...’

  His face changed from black annoyance to one of steely resolve. ‘But no longer, by God,’ he muttered. ‘Enough is enough!’ The door of the lift whooshed back and several people started to crowd in before they had a chance to alight.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Guy thundered. ‘My lady and I would like to get out. And, since my lady is in a delicate condition, I expect some room for our exit.’

  Guy took Samantha’s hand as gallantly as a knight with his adored queen and escorted her regally through the quickly parting throng.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘DID you have to tell them I’m pregnant?’ Samantha grumbled as she was propelled across the foyer of the building and into the coffee lounge.

  ‘Why not?’ Guy urged her towards an empty corner-table and settled her in a chair. ‘I’m not ashamed of it. Are you?’

  She flushed. ‘Of course not. It’s just that...’

  ‘I think this can wait till I’ve put our order in. The waitresses here are so slow that it’s a wonder they’re not working for the public service.’

  Samantha watched Guy stride over to the counter and speak to the woman behind it before returning to sit opposite her, an oddly pensive look on his face. That, coupled with all his cryptic comments earlier, sent an ominous prickle running up and down her spine.

  ‘Is there something wrong, Guy?’

  His eyes snapped to hers, then turned wry. ‘I hope not.’ But he searched her face for several seconds without saying anything. ‘I’m going to ask you a couple of questions,’ he said at last, ‘and I’d very much like you to give me honest answers.’

  Samantha stiffened. ‘I don’t make a habit of lying.’

  ‘I know you don’t. That’s what’s a little confusing.’

  Her apprehension increased. What on earth was he getting at?

  ‘Are you still in love with that other man, the one who wouldn’t marry you?’

  Samantha almost died. Perhaps she should have anticipated that this question would crop up one day, but she hadn’t. What to say? How to answer? Yes, I am, or no, I’m not? Why exactly was Guy asking anyway?

  ‘Does it matter?’ she prevaricated.

  ‘Only to a degree. It won’t change my course of action.’

  She shook her head. ‘You’re talking nonsense today.’

  ‘Not from my point of view.’

  Their eyes clashed and she trembled beneath the determination in his.

  ‘You said you’d never slept with this man you obviously imagine you still love,’ he went on. ‘And that your one time with Norman was instantly forgettable. Is that correct?’

  ‘Y-es,’ she admitted slowly, alarmed at where this conversation was heading.

  ‘Would you mind, then, if I asked if any of your other lovers are still lurking about in the wings?’

  ‘Other lovers?’ she repeated, confused.

  He frowned at her. ‘There have been no other lovers?’

  Her fierce blush was a full admission.

  ‘I see...’ For a moment he looked inordinately pleased. Then his frown returned with a rush. ‘No, I don’t. I don’t see at all! You claimed you liked sex, Sam. Yet you’re saying that before me there’d only been that one time with Norman? How could you possibly know you liked sex if that was the case?’

  Samantha groaned silently. ‘O what a tangled web we weave When first we practise to deceive!’ ‘I... You don’t have to go all the way to know if you like sex or not,’ she improvised wildly. ‘I’ve had plenty of boyfriends over the years. And we did more than just hold hands. Truly, Guy, I don’t know why you’re questioning me about my sex life, past or present. You yourself said it wasn’t any of your business!’

  ‘Well, I’m making it my business.’ He suddenly scowled, clearly not pleased now with the way things were going. ‘No matter what happens, I have a vested interest in the character of the mother of my child.’

  Several curious faces turned their way, ears flapping.

  ‘And what about the character of the father?’ she retorted hotly. ‘Like to tell me what cheap little blonde’s been creeping between your sheets lately? Don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve given up smoking again. I know exactly what that means. I’ve been watching you do it for years!’

  For a split-second he was as round-eyed as their breathless audience. Then a quiet satisfaction slid into his face. ‘Jealous, Sam?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Of course not,’ she huffed.

  ‘Yes, you are,’ he smiled. ‘You definitely are... Come on, we’re getting out of here.’ He was up and dragging her on to her feet just as the waitress appeared with their coffees and cheese-cake. Guy stuffed a ten-dollar note in her uniform pocket, told her to have the coffee herself and ushered Samantha out of there, spluttering in protest.

  Their exit was met with sighs of disappointment in the coffee lounge. It had been more interesting than a serial on television.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Samantha asked when Guy bundled her into another empty lift and pressed the button to the basement car park.

  ‘For a drive. I told you earlier. I brought my car in today.’

  ‘You could have let me have my morning coffee first,’ she complained.

  ‘And totally scandalise Sydney in the process? Didn’t you see all the avid eavesdroppers in that place a moment ago? I thought we’d better be alone before more was said. Don’t worry. I’ll buy you some food on the way.’

  ‘On the way to where?’

  ‘Warragamba Dam.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Truly, Sam. Your general knowledge is pathetic sometimes. Warragamba Reservoir supplies the whole of Sydney with water. It’s south-west of here, just short of the Blue Mountains. About an hour and a half’s drive. I’m considering it as the site for the music video the Dambusters band wants
to make here. Didn’t I tell you?’

  ‘No, you didn’t tell me,’ she said irritably.

  ‘Well, now I did. I’ve seen it before but I want your opinion. On the drive out we’ll also continue our most interesting discussion on your lurid past. I’d like to hear all about this man you supposedly love, the only man, it seems, not to succumb to your charms.’

  ‘Why do you keep saying supposedly love? I do love him, the rat!’ By this time they were making their way across the cold dark concrete floor of level three of the car park. Guy immediately ground to a halt, swinging round to face her. ‘You do?’ he exclaimed, undeniably shocked.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Just who is this bastard?’ he demanded to know, blue eyes flashing. ‘Tell me!’

  She lifted a proudly stubborn face. ‘I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it might incriminate me.’

  For a long moment he just glared at her, eyes narrow, mouth thinned with displeasure. ‘Have you been seeing him lately, Sam?’ he asked in a low, threatening voice.

  ‘I refuse to—’

  His hands shot out and grabbed her, fingers biting deep into her upper arms. ‘I want the truth, Sam,’ he bit out. ‘Have you been seeing this man, sleeping with him? Did you lie to me just now about that?’

  She was startled by his vehemence. But not intimidated. ‘You have no right to question me. You...’ Her courage drifted away when she saw a frightening level of fury leap into his eyes.

  ‘Goddamit, don’t bandy words with me. Just tell me the truth! This is important!’

  ‘I...I haven’t been seeing or sleeping with any other man since my first night with you, Guy. No one...’

  He let out a shuddering sigh and drew her into his arms. Stunned, she went. ‘Thank God,’ he rasped, and began stroking her hair. ‘I thought as much, but just for a moment... I should have trusted my instincts...because even if you do still love that other man, Sam—and I don’t believe you do—you don’t love him as much as you love me.’

  Her head jerked backwards, a cry of protest on her lips. But he quickly covered her mouth with his own, and soon she was giving credibility to his statement, a low moan echoing deep in her throat.