The Fatherhood Affair

by Emma Darcy

  In front of the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the sea views was an informal eating area: a round cane and glass table with four tub chairs softly cushioned in the same fabric as the sofas. The adjacent kitchen featured oak cupboards, polished granite bench-tops, and a luxuriant potted fern spilling its long fronds over the divider from the dining setting.

  Natalie was intrigued by what was revealed of Damien. He enjoyed comfort, liked a touch of the exotic, and was used to pleasing himself. He was methodical, tidy, had a place for everything, and everything in its place, yet that did not detract from the welcoming atmosphere. This was very much a home, a highly individual one, and Natalie felt a sense of privilege at being invited into it.

  ‘Have I been here before?’ she asked.

  ‘No. This is the first time,’ he said softly, as though it was a momentous occasion for him, the end to years of waiting and wanting.

  Natalie’s heart contracted at all she had put him through, however unwittingly. She swung around to face him. He had set her bags down near a hallway and was observing her reaction. She smiled her pleasure at being in such a user-friendly place.

  ‘Was it because I always refused any invitation? Was I being remiss?’

  He shook his head. ‘You were never invited.’

  So bringing her into his home was a decisive step for him, laying himself open to her as he had never done before. He didn’t look vulnerable in her opinion. There was an air of lonely pride about him as he waited to see how receptive she was to the situation. It was as though he was saying to her, This is the man I am. I want you to stay but the choice is yours.

  ‘I’m happy to be here,’ she assured him, ‘and your sofas look very inviting.’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘I’m afraid I’m about ready to wilt.’

  He visibly relaxed and gestured her forward. ‘Make yourself at home. Have you had anything to eat?’

  ‘No. I didn’t think of it.’

  ‘I’ll get you something in a moment.’

  While he took her bags to another room, Natalie slipped off her shoes and gratefully sank into the deeply cushioned corner of one of the sofas. She lifted her legs up and settled herself comfortably. Her body ached. She was exhausted. Too much in one day, she thought, although she did not regret any of the steps she had taken.

  Damien returned, divested of most of his business suit. His shirt collar was opened, his sleeves rolled up. Clearly he intended relaxing with her. He gave her a smile of approval as he passed by, leaving her to rest quietly while he went to the kitchen and set about making coffee and sandwiches.

  Natalie watched him, marvelling that she had some special appeal to him. Many women must have crossed his path over the years, and he was far too attractive not to have been pursued by some. It seemed unreasonable to her that he should have reached his mid-thirties without forming a serious attachment to anyone else. Yet she looked around her and saw entrenched self-sufficiency. There was not one sign of female companionship present.

  He brought her a plate of ham and cheese and lettuce sandwiches. Natalie found she was hungry and ate with appetite. Damien settled into the sofa opposite her, content to sip his coffee and wait until she was ready for conversation.

  ‘All the time I was married...you couldn’t have remained celibate, Damien.’ She was curious to know more about him.

  ‘I tried to get you out of my mind,’ he said drily. ‘I wasn’t notably successful at it.’ There was a hungry look in his eyes, softened by the prospect of the intimate togetherness her presence in his apartment promised.

  ‘What about before that?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘I was married.’

  It surprised her. She felt uncomfortable with the idea of Damien’s having a wife, a woman he must have loved and lost. She sternly reminded herself that she had lost a husband. Had Damien’s wife died, too?

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. His expression changed to a world-weary cynicism. ‘I suppose you could say everything or nothing. We ended up wanting different things. As it turned out, divorce was the only thing we shared. Or had in common.’

  He must have been hurt by it, Natalie reasoned. No one could fail to be hurt by the crumbling of a commitment that was entered into with deep emotional involvement. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with sincerity and sympathy.

  He shrugged, as though that segment of his life no longer had any relevance to him.

  ‘How long were you married?’ Natalie asked, slightly disturbed by his apparent nonchalance to the severing of vows that, to her mind, should never be taken lightly.

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘Any children?’

  The hungry look swept back into his eyes, sharper, more intense than before. ‘None.’

  Was that an intrinsic part of her attraction for Damien—her love for Ryan and her desire for another child? He had made no secret of his desire to be a father. It was a natural biological urge. Natalie certainly had no quarrel with it. She knew intuitively she would have little in common with a man who didn’t want a family. Damien wanted what she wanted. She breathed a sweet sigh of contentment. It was a relief to know there were no children hurt by his divorce.

  ‘Where is your ex-wife now?’ she asked, wondering if the past was completely cleared away for him.

  ‘She’s the feature editor for a national women’s magazine.’

  He made it a simple factual statement, without any trace of judgemental opinion in his voice. Not that Natalie expected any from Damien over a woman’s career.

  ‘Are you on friendly terms?’

  He toyed with his coffee-cup, then looked at Natalie in the most direct fashion. ‘Lyn was a lovely person. Later, she changed. I deeply regret what happened between us. It was unnecessary, ineffectual, and in a word...stupid. But it did happen.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on something so private and personal...’

  ‘I rarely see Lyn any more,’ he continued, determined on answering the questions she had raised. ‘The difference between us was one of priorities. She now has a live-in relationship with a made-to-order television journalist. It seems to suit her. They’ve been together for a few years. On the surface they appear to be happy. If that’s what she wants...I’m content to let the matter rest.’

  Two journalists involved in demanding careers, no time for children, Natalie thought. Everyone was entitled to their choice of lifestyle, and if being free and unencumbered suited them best, that was fair enough. Damien was right. He accepted the separation between himself and his wife and whatever pain he had suffered at the time of their divorce was long since gone.

  Natalie wondered how she’d feel when she remembered her own marriage, then quickly shuffled the thought aside. She had no right to judge Damien on whatever hurt she had suffered through another man. She felt a strong surge of conviction that Damien was the right man for her, right in every way. She didn’t want her present opinions clouded by what was best forgotten.

  She frowned over this last thought.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Damien asked.

  ‘It occurred to me that I might have a subconscious wish to block out my memory of Brett.’

  He said nothing. His face tightened fractionally. His wife might be in the distant past but clearly the spectre of her husband stirred raw feelings.

  ‘Can you respond to me as I feel now?’ she appealed, wishing she had not reminded him of Brett.

  ‘What do you want?’

  She laughed at herself. ‘I’m too tired to move, yet there’s a restless urge inside my mind. I feel I want to go somewhere but I’m not sure where it is or why I want to go there.’

  ‘Well, we could try looking for it tomorrow,’ he said obligingly, but she sensed his disappointment that she was not content to simply remain here with him.

  She leaned forward impulsively, wanting him to know she cared, wanting him to understand, searching her mind to explain more clearly what she felt. ‘Let us go somewhere to
gether. Somewhere...to start afresh.’

  The desire that flashed out at her was hot and urgent and barely controlled. She was suddenly, painfully aware of how sorely she had tried his patience, how frustrated he must be in still finding her elusive. A flush of guilt and shame pulsed into her cheeks and she looked away, struggling to justify her decision to follow her own instincts instead of considering his needs.

  ‘Whatever you want, Natalie,’ he conceded gruffly. ‘You are like a will-o-the-wisp...’

  His voice trailed away. She understood perfectly what he meant. She could not afford to keep him waiting too long without running the risk of forfeiting everything. Her gaze flew back to his in apology.

  ‘It sounds so selfish after all you’ve done for me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I did what I wanted to do. You owe me nothing.’

  The self-mocking look in his eyes hurt. How many rejections had he suffered from her?

  ‘You look worn out,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ll show you the bedroom. Let you get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day.’

  He pushed himself up from the sofa, rounded the coffee-table, took her hands and helped her onto her feet.

  Tomorrow, she thought. Will I be different tomorrow? Will I remember things that appear to be best forgotten?

  He led her into what was obviously the master bedroom. Her bags were already there.

  ‘You’ll find the en-suite bathroom through that door,’ he said matter-of-factly, pointing it out to her.

  ‘Where are you going to sleep?’ she asked, turning to him with anxious eyes, not wanting to disappoint, ready to agree to whatever he wanted even if she wasn’t fit to do much more than lie in his arms.

  ‘There’s a divan in my study.’

  Her hand fluttered to his chest in both appeal and protest. ‘I don’t want to turn you out of your bed, Damien.’

  He touched her cheek tenderly. ‘You need a long rest, Natalie. You wouldn’t get it if I were in bed with you.’

  His hand dropped to her shoulder and trailed slowly, caressingly down her arm, transmitting a need to touch that quivered through her skin. She saw the conflict rage in his eyes, felt the tension of fiercely imposed control.

  ‘This may not be very appropriate action right at this moment,’ he said huskily, ‘but I’ve been waiting a long time.’

  His hands enclosed her waist with a steady, sure, purpose. His eyes were locked on to hers, compelling her acceptance. The powerful force of his desire stirred a turbulent restlessness inside her. She didn’t know if she moved towards him or he towards her. Her hands slid over his shoulders, around his neck. Her head tilted back. She felt her body poised for what was coming, every nerve alive with anticipation. Her lips parted.

  His mouth seemed to explode into hers with a hungry passion, wild for the taste of her, demanding a response that matched his need. From deep inside Natalie came an overwhelming surge to satisfy him, to please herself, to lose herself totally in the excitement of knowing all they were capable of feeling together.

  Fatigue was forgotten. If there was pain from her bruises when Damien pressed her closer to him, she didn’t feel it. She was completely possessed by the yearning to feel his body against hers. She revelled in the hard strength of him, the power that embraced her, enveloped her, kept her captivated in absolute thrall to the sensations he aroused.

  Her head swam with the intoxication of a kiss that was no mere mingling of mouths. It was a fierce claim on all that she was, a driving, heart-pounding, unbridled search for what was, and what could be between them, a giving and taking that sent streams of exultation bursting through her. Yes, she wanted this. Yes, she wanted him. All of him. Yes, it felt wonderfully, beautifully, gloriously right. He was the man for her, the man who could share this with her and so much more. She wanted everything.

  Natalie was still awhirl in her vibrant inner world when Damien started to draw away from her. Not abruptly. His lips lingered over hers. His arms relaxed to a gentle hold. His hands caressed, no longer pressing her to him. He lifted his head and she heard his fierce intake of breath, felt the swell of his chest.

  It took her several moments to realise he didn’t intend to go on. Dazedly she opened her eyes. She had no idea what he saw in them, but in his was a look that seared her soul, compelling recognition and acknowledgement of what had just happened between them, and for which he had been waiting all these years. She belonged with him. To him. He would not accept anything less, and from the response he had drawn from her, the response she had ultimately and uninhibitedly given him, he had every right to expect it to be the same in the future.

  He knew. The knowledge blazed in his eyes.

  He said nothing.

  Natalie could not find her voice to speak.

  There was no need for words anyway.

  He knew and she knew. The knowledge throbbed between them, irrefutable. They were in intimate accord in wanting each other. There could be no going back to whatever their relationship had been before the revelations of those last few moments.

  He stepped away from her, his arms dropping to his sides. She stared at him, realising he meant to leave her alone in his bedroom to rest, to wait for tomorrow. She almost cried out for him to stay, yet in some strange sense the knowledge was enough for now.

  She watched him go, watched the door close behind him. The last door, she thought. Tomorrow they would go away somewhere together and there would be no doors between them.

  Except the door to her memory.

  But it wouldn’t matter if that opened or remained shut, Natalie decided confidently.

  Damien Chandler was the man for her, and nothing could shake or change that decision.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘NORTH or south?’

  Damien’s question was accompanied by a smile. It was evident he didn’t care where they went. His eyes glowed with anticipation for what would come at the end of their journey. In the meantime, they were together, sitting side by side in his car, ready to leave for whatever destination Natalie chose.

  She wasn’t quite sure what prompted her reply. It did not come from any urge to be contrary. ‘West,’ she said decisively, answering some strong intuition that no other direction would serve the need she felt to find a special place.

  ‘You want to go to the Blue Mountains?’

  Was it surprise that wiped out Damien’s smile, or did he dislike her choice?

  ‘Do you mind?’

  His eyes quickly scanned hers. ‘Of course not.’ He dismissed the question.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why, but it feels right.’

  ‘Whatever you want,’ he said, nodding agreement as he started the car.

  Natalie relaxed contentedly as the powerful engine thrummed into action. The lambswool seat-cover was heaven to sink into. The Jaguar SL suited Damien, she decided. Sensual comfort and high-level performance. A ripple of excitement spread through her at the thought of how he would translate both those aspects of his character into lovemaking. Or would the wild passion he had briefly unleashed yesterday slip out of his control?

  She looked at the hands guiding the steering-wheel, strong, capable, yet so knowingly sensitive in their touch. Her gaze drifted to his muscular forearms, left bare by the navy and cream T-shirt he wore, then dropped to his powerful thighs where the denim of his blue jeans was tightly stretched. Was it the casual clothes that made her more physically aware of him, or was it the memory of how his body had felt pressed to hers?

  She studied his profile. What woman wouldn’t find him attractive? How was it possible she could have been unmoved by his pursuit of her before the accident? Natalie shook her head in helpless bemusement. She must have been a blind fool.

  It was a beautiful day, brilliant sunshine from a cloudless blue sky, a day befitting the start of something new. Natalie sighed her satisfaction. She might not know precisely where she was going, but she was certainly in the right company.

  ‘Is being with me causing
any problem with your business, Damien?’ she asked, struck by the realisation he would normally be at work since this was a weekday.

  He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t care if it did.’

  ‘That’s rather a cavalier attitude for the boss of a company, isn’t it?’

  ‘You are more important to me.’ He slanted her a sizzling look that made Natalie’s skin tingle with heat.

  There were years of frustration behind that look. With fulfilment of his long repressed desires in the offing, Damien was not about to let anything get in his way. Natalie couldn’t blame him for the attitude. Patience did have its limits, and Damien felt pressured by the threat of her hating him when she remembered all there was to remember.

  Was she being reckless in taking this plunge with him now?

  Natalie squashed the thought, angry with the doubt, determined to trust her feeling for him no matter what eventuated. Damien had sworn he had done nothing to deserve her animosity and she believed him. She must have been dreadfully twisted up inside to have misjudged him so badly. She would get the misunderstanding sorted out when her full memory returned.

  The choice to head towards the mountains should indicate something about herself. She searched for a memory that made sense of it. She suddenly recollected being a tourist guide at Noosa, taking people on bush-walks through the national forest and...yes...to the Glasshouse Mountains, so named by Captain Cook because of their conical shape. She had always enjoyed those day-trips.

  The Blue Mountains to the west of Sydney were a long way from south-east Queensland, but Natalie was sure the peaks and cliffs and valleys would have a similar appeal to her. It definitely felt right to go there.

  Satisfied she had made a relevant connection, Natalie was smiling happily to herself when other images of the past flashed into her mind: painting in her spare time, mostly landscapes that were readily saleable at a price most people could afford. She had been quite good at capturing a scene, although far from being an outstanding talent. Of course, it was much easier to experiment with colours and different palettes on the computer. It was marvellous how the whole aspect of a picture could be changed and polished in a manner no traditional artist would attempt.