You fool! What if he asks what kind of appointment?
He didn’t. Instead, he studied her quizzically and remarked, “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Yes.”
“It’s short.”
“Yes.” Aware that her replies were baldly lacking, she attempted a smile, a disastrous venture because her lips, instead of curving upward, quivered pitifully.
“I always think of you with long hair.”
You think of me? How often?
“I was ready for a change.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Change can be a good thing. So….” He rocked on his heels and raised his handsome eyebrows. “How’ve you been?”
“Just fine,” she said, clutching her handbag to her middle, even though the loose-fitting jacket of her suit camouflaged any hint of her pregnancy.
“And the mutt?”
“He’s fine, too. And you?”
“Okay.” His glance skimmed over her, touching fleetingly on her breasts, her waist, her legs. “You’re looking well.”
He was looking wonderful! Tanned and fit and delicious. “Thank you.”
He smiled, and she thought her insides would fall out with longing. “You’ve put a bit of meat on your bones since I last saw you.”
True enough. Despite the nausea which still attacked once in a while, pregnancy agreed with her. She had blossomed and he wasn’t the first to have noticed. “Yes,” she said, turning a half-lie into a half-truth. “I’ve been feeling much better lately.”
“Uh-huh.” He pulled back the sleeve of his lightweight bomber jacket and glanced at his watch. “You in a hurry to get somewhere?”
If she had a grain of sense, she’d plead another appointment and remove herself from his presence with all due speed, before she melted in a pool of yearning at his feet. But discretion had never been her strong point when it came to Liam. She was drawn to him as inevitably as the tide yielded to the pull of the moon and sun. “Not particularly.”
“Well, I’ve got half an hour before I head out to the airport. Care to join me for a bite to eat?”
“You’re leaving town?”
Why did it matter? He might as well be living in China for all the good it did her.
“Yeah.” Another smile, even more disarming than the last. “I’m back on the job, and as good as new. No cane, see? I could manage a cha-cha if I had to, no problem.”
That he could dredge up a reminder of that night they’d danced and made love—and speak of it so light-heartedly…! “You must be very happy.”
“About some things,” he said ambiguously, stepping back to allow a group of pedestrians to get past, then closing in on her again and taking her arm. “Look, this isn’t the best place to hold a conversation. Let me buy you a hamburger or something while I still have time.”
Decline! The longer you’re in his company, the greater the chance that you’ll say or do something to arouse his suspicions. What if you have to throw up? What if he notices your skirt is so tight around the waist that the zipper doesn’t quite close anymore?
Seeing her hesitation, he made the decision for her and steered her toward the revolving door of a hotel next to the medical building. “Come on, Janie. Just because you’ve put on a few pounds doesn’t mean you can afford to miss meals.”
But instead of leaving her to make her own way inside the hotel, he crowded into the same pie-shaped section of the door, and for a few, too brief seconds, they were alone in their own tiny glass-enclosed world.
She could feel his body heat, detect a faint whiff of his aftershave, something he’d never used on the island. His breath ruffled the back of her hair, lifting the short tendrils at the nape of her neck. If only she could stop time; if only the door mechanism would break down and trap them together for hours; if only she could have him to herself for just one night and know again the fluttering ecstasy that was worth dying for, if that was the price God asked…!
Stop it! There are no “if only’s” with him! He’s part of the past.
But while her brain was once again fully operational, her body lagged far behind, inclining itself toward him like a flower desperate to feel the warmth of the sun. It was all she could do not to fling her arms around his knees and implore him not to leave her again. You said, the night after we made love, that if I was pregnant, it would change everything. Well, I am, Liam. We’re going to have a baby.
Blackmail. Even the thought of it was dirty and disgusting.
“I’d take you upstairs to the restaurant,” he said apologetically, “but I’m flying out at two so I’m afraid it’ll have to be the coffee shop instead.”
“That’s fine. I’m really not hungry.”
In fact, she’d be lucky if she could choke down a single crumb, her stomach was in such an uproar.
He found them a booth at the back of the room and waited until the clubhouse sandwiches they’d ordered had arrived before he said, “You mentioned you’ve been feeling better lately. Does that mean you’ve been ill?”
“No,” she said, too quickly, too nervously.
He noticed. She could tell by the alert gaze he turned on her. “Is it…have you met someone?”
She looked down at her fingers, clenched in her lap, because to have continued meeting his candid gaze was more than she could endure. How could he ask such a question, when she’d poured out her heart to him, his last night on Bell Island? Did he think she was so flighty, so shallow, that she could simply switch off her feelings in the space of a few weeks? Or was he hoping to ease his own conscience for having thrown Brianna in her face the way he did?
“Jane?”
“Yes,” she said, flinging him a defiant glance. “As a matter of fact, I have.” And under cover of the table, she pressed a gentle hand to her womb.
“Is it serious?”
“Very.”
He went to take another bite of his sandwich, then changed his mind. “This is missing something. Or else I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
“Mine’s delicious,” she said. Another lie, but so minor compared to the whoppers she’d already told, and who was counting?
“This man you’ve met….” He paused, and fidgeted with his coffee cup. “You plan to marry him?”
“Let’s just say that it’s a permanent arrangement.”
“Well!” He ran a finger inside his collar and cleared his throat. “In that case, congratulations. I’m glad things have worked out so well for you.”
“And what about you, Liam?” she asked. “Is the lovely Brianna still a factor in your life?”
He looked a little taken aback by her acid tone. “Not significantly.”
“She’s one of many, you mean?”
“If you’re talking about acquaintances, yes. If you’re asking me if we’re involved in a meaningful relationship, the answer’s no. We never were, and we never will be. I don’t have the time, for a start, and even if I did, she’s not my type. But speaking of the time….” He checked his watch and signaled for the bill. “My flight’s overbooked. I should run if I don’t want to find they’ve given my seat to someone else.”
He stood up and she’d have done the same if she’d had any faith in her legs’s ability to support her. But the strain of keeping up appearances had taken its toll. She was trembling from head to foot and so close to losing her lunch that she wasn’t sure she could make it to the ladies’ room before she disgraced herself.
Through a haze of misery, she watched as he paid for their meal and exchanged pleasantries with their waitress. Then he turned to her again and for once seemed at a loss for words. Several times he started to say something, then changed his mind.
In the end, he settled for giving her a swift kiss on the cheek and said, “Goodbye, Jane. And good luck.”
She hadn’t watched him leave her the last time and she didn’t watch him leave now. Even if she’d wanted to, she wouldn’t have been able to see him. She was too blinded by tears.
CHAPTER TEN
IN THE old days, he’d have viewed three weeks off the Caribbean coast of Venezuela as a bonus, one he more than deserved for those times he’d found himself working at the bottom of a North Sea rig in the teeth of a winter gale. But this time, not even the foreign charm of Venezuela had been enough to fire him up with the old enthusiasm. Too often, his thoughts had turned to home, and that left him badly rattled. “Home” wasn’t a word he’d ever invested with much meaning, until recently.
The South American job itself had been a piece of cake. No serious structural failure to worry about, no deep-sea diving, just straightforward inspection from a Remote Operating Vehicle and a mountain of written reports and drawings to present at meetings. From a professional standpoint, he’d scored big and put to rest any doubts anyone might have harbored about Liam McGuire being finished as a result of that accident in the Middle East.
For him, though, the old thrill was gone. For the first time ever, he’d boarded his flight back to Canada feeling oddly dissatisfied. Fifty years from now, when he was either pushing up daisies or getting ready to celebrate his ninetieth birthday, who’d give a damn that once he’d been on the cutting edge of sub-sea oil rig platform design? What kind of legacy was that for a man to hang his life on, if no one he’d ever cared about was left to take pride in his accomplishments?
Which brought him to the real heart of the problem: Jane. Too often when he should have been concentrating on other things, she’d come sneaking into his thoughts, and try as he might, he hadn’t been able to shake her.
No use reminding himself she was doing exactly what he’d told her to do—namely, getting on with her life. No use, either, chalking up all the reasons she was better off without him. Whichever way he looked at it, he always came back to the same conclusion. He’d screwed up with her. Badly.
The question which hounded him all the time he was away was, had he left it too late to rectify matters?
By the time the edge of Stanley Park tilted into view as the jet banked prior to its final approach to Vancouver International, he knew he’d have no peace until he found out.
She wasn’t listed in the phone book, but locating her was simple enough. He started phoning around as soon as the banks opened for business the day after he got home, hit pay dirt with the third call, and made an appointment through her assistant for four that afternoon.
“Smith,” he said, when asked to give his name and the nature of his business. “John Smith. I want to discuss a short-term loan on a piece of property I’m thinking of buying.”
He found the small branch headquarters easily enough, tucked between a florist and a deli, in a pleasant strip mall lined with flowering cherry trees laid bare by the late autumn winds. The entire wall of her office facing the main area of the bank was glass, so even though her door was closed, he spotted her at once.
Under cover of the newspaper he’d bought, he observed her. She sat behind her desk, talking on the phone. He wished there was another explanation for the relief which washed over him when he saw she wore no ring on her left hand, but the plain fact was, his biggest fear had been that he’d find her already engaged, or worse, married, to the faceless competition she’d mentioned at lunch that day, three weeks before.
If she were his, he’d put a ring on her finger! Hang a Sold sign around her neck, if that’s what it took to keep other men away, because they were surely beating a path to her door. Unlike the person he’d met on Bell Island, content with simple pleasures, here on home ground she was cool, assured, professional; a well-dressed, beautiful woman very much in sync with the upscale community in which she worked.
It was too easy to picture her choosing wine at the specialty liquor store beside the jeweler’s, or stopping in at the French butcher shop across the street to pick up some gourmet item to serve to her new man for dinner when he stopped by her house that night.
She’d have candles on the table and flowers she’d bought from the shop next door. There’d be a fire in the living room, with the mutt stretched out on the hearth rug, snoring like a locomotive.
She’d change out of the smart cranberry-colored suit she was presently wearing into something long and slinky. And he, Mr. Perfect-Whoever-He-Was, would raise his glass in a toast and, after they’d eaten, take her to the bedroom and—
Slapping the newspaper closed, Liam swung on his heel and approached the reception desk where a nameplate identified the spit-and-polished youngster barely old enough to shave as Creed Anderson. “I have a four o’clock appointment with Ms. Ogilvie.”
Creed—what kind of name was that to lay on a kid?—consulted the day planner on his desk. “Mr. Smith? Please have a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here.”
A few minutes later, he came to where Liam had resumed hiding behind his newspaper. “Ms. Ogilvie will see you now, Mr. Smith.”
Bracing himself and still not sure exactly why he’d come, Liam got to his feet and approached the door. She looked up, a pleasant, business-like smile curving her mouth. Was almost on her feet before it registered that the man confronting her was no more John Smith than she was Pocahontas.
Recognizing him, she turned so pale he thought she was going pass out, and fell back into her chair, the hand she’d extended to greet him clapped to her chest.
“John Smith?” she said dazedly. “John Smith?”
Liam shrugged and aimed what he hoped was a winning smile her way. “It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”
“Why did you need to come up with anything? Why didn’t you just give your real name?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d see me, and from the way you’re reacting, I think I was right.”
In fact, she looked shattered, all the poise he’d been admiring but a moment before reduced to hollow-eyed shock. Still with her hand clutched to her heart, she said, “Why are you here?”
Uninvited, he sat in the chair across from her and planted both elbows on her desk. “Because I couldn’t stay away.”
“Why not?”
There was such an air of desperation in the question that if he hadn’t known there was no earthly reason for it, he’d have thought she was afraid of him. “Because,” he said carefully, “I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”
“Because you ran into me the other week, you mean?”
“Longer than that.” He drummed his fingers on the table and faced up to something he’d been denying for the better part of three months. “You’ve never been anything but completely honest with me, Jane. It’s one of the things I admire the most about you. I don’t believe you could lie to me if your life depended on it, and I think it’s about time I found the guts to deliver the truth to you. So no, not because I ran into you the other week. You’ve been on my mind since the day I left Bell Island.”
“But that isn’t necessary!” she protested weakly, looking positively devastated by remarks he’d intended as a compliment. “I’m fine, really. You have no reason to feel guilty.”
“It isn’t a question of necessity or guilt, Janie,” he said. “It’s a question of realizing I was a fool to walk out of your life the way I did, and of rectifying the situation.” He took a deep breath and steepled his fingers. Concentrating on their mirror image in the polished surface of the desk, he plunged to the heart of the matter. “And of wondering how big a part this new man plays in your life.”
“New man?”
“The one you mentioned, when we had lunch.”
“Oh, him…!”
The slightly hysterical edge in her voice clued him in to the fact that something wasn’t computing the way it should.
“Yeah, him,” he said, eyeing her narrowly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten? You said he was here for the duration. ‘Permanent’ was the word I believe you used.”
“Well, he was—is!”
She was lying! If the two spots of color on her cheeks hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the hunted look in her eyes was. And since it was so completely out of character f
or her, the big question begging to be answered was, why? “Where’d you meet him?” he said, affecting idle curiosity.
“Here,” she said, the word spilling out of her mouth so quickly, it might have been laced with strychnine.
“At the bank?”
“Yes, that’s right. At the bank.”
“I’d like to meet him,” he said. “Introduce us. After all, Janie, any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”
If possible, her expression grew even more hunted. “He’s not here today.”
“Why not?”
Practically hyperventilating, she said, “He’s on holiday this week.”
“Gee, that’s too bad.” He subjected her to another close scrutiny. Nervously enough to pull it apart at the seams, she clutched her jacket across her breasts—fuller now than they’d been the night she’d offered them to him with such sweet innocence. “But at least it frees you to have dinner with me.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” she exclaimed.
“Why not? You had lunch with me the other week without coming to any great harm. Why not dinner now?”
“Bounder,” she said. “I can’t leave Bounder. He…barks when I’m not home, and disturbs the neighbors.”
“So you never leave him alone at night?”
“Never.”
“What about all day when you’re at work?”
“It only happens at night.”
He’d hadn’t the first idea what was really going on, but one thing he knew for sure. His earlier suspicion was right on target. “You’re stonewalling me, Janie,” he said, leaning across the desk and pinning her in his gaze.
Her desperate bravado seeped away faster than air from a punctured balloon. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Why, darlin’?”
Her eyes, always beautiful, always mirrors of her soul, were bright with unshed tears. “I can’t tell you.”
“After everything we’ve gone through together, you can tell me anything. Don’t you know that?”
Passion's Baby Page 14
