Liam's Secret Son

by Carole Mortimer

  He shrugged. ‘Put my ignorance down to my deprived childhood. My mother didn’t have the time to read me fairy-tales; she was too busy going out to work to keep my three sisters and myself after my father died.’

  He made the remark without any show of bitterness in his tone, and yet Laura knew that it couldn’t have been easy for the four children, nor their mother. Their father had been killed when Liam, the eldest child, was only seven. She couldn’t imagine how Mary O’Reilly had managed during those years at all. The fact that Liam had become a successful writer by the time he was in his mid-twenties had helped all his family financially. But it couldn’t take away the struggle of the children’s early years.

  But she didn’t want to think about the hardships of Liam’s fatherless childhood. The last thing she wanted was to see Liam in any sort of vulnerable light!

  ‘Are your mother and sisters all well?’ she felt compelled to enquire politely.

  He smiled at the thought of his family. ‘Very much so. Mama lives very comfortably in a lovely cottage on the west coast of Ireland, and all three of my sisters are happily married with children of their own. Fourteen between them, at the last count.’

  Laura smiled. ‘Your mother must love that.’

  He grimaced. ‘My mother won’t be completely happy until I’ve provided her with a male grandchild to carry on the family name.’

  Laura raised dark brows. ‘Surely there must be lots of O’Reillys in Ireland?’

  ‘To be sure there are,’ Liam answered with a deliberate Irish lilt to his voice. ‘But there aren’t any other male members of this particular O’Reilly branch,’ he explained ruefully.

  ‘So that puts the onus on you?’ she responded. ‘And is a little O’Reilly, male or female, a future possibility?’

  ‘Not this side of the next millennium!’ he bit out harshly.

  ‘Your poor mother!’ Laura rebuked, standing up in preparation for leaving. ‘Thank you for the champagne, Liam; I enjoyed it.’

  ‘If not the company, hmm?’ He stood up too, standing only inches away from her.

  Laura wished he weren’t standing quite so close. She could smell the faint elusiveness of his aftershave, feel the heat that emanated from his body. But she didn’t want to be aware of him in any way.

  ‘The company was fine too,’ she said firmly. ‘Enjoy the rest of your stay in London, Liam. Perhaps the two of us will meet up accidentally again one day—in another eight years or so!’ She turned to leave.

  ‘I’ll walk as far as the door with you.’ Liam had moved to lightly grasp her elbow as he walked confidently beside her. ‘It’s the least I can do as I can’t actually see you home,’ he elaborated at her startled glance.

  Laura didn’t even qualify the remark with a reply. She just wanted to get away from there, as far away from Liam as quickly as possible. If that meant suffering a few more minutes of his company, then so be it!

  ‘This is farther than the door,’ she observed, looking up pointedly at the awning over their heads as they stood outside the entrance to the hotel.

  ‘I didn’t think you would be too happy about my doing this actually inside the hotel,’ Liam murmured, before his head bent and his mouth claimed hers.

  The kiss was so unexpected that for a moment Laura was totally stunned. But as she felt the heated waves of compliance sweeping over her, felt her body remembering the physical joy of this man even if she chose not to, she knew she had to break away. Now!

  She wrenched her mouth away from Liam’s, pushing at his arms as they curved about her waist. ‘That was completely uncalled-for!’ she gasped as she at last managed to escape those steely bands, her breathing erratic in her agitation, a flush to her cheeks as she glared at him.

  ‘But necessary,’ Liam rasped. ‘For me.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I know you’re a married woman, and I apologise because of that. But—you can tell him from me he’s a lucky man.’

  Her blue and green eyes flashed. ‘I intend forgetting any of—this, the moment I enter the taxi,’ she told him forcefully. ‘You’re even more despicable than I remember!’

  He looked unconcerned. ‘Sticks and stones,’ he replied.

  She would have liked to do more than break a few bones—she felt like hitting him over the head with something heavy and painful!

  She hadn’t lost her temper like this in eight years. If ever! Only hours into meeting Liam again and she was a mass of seething emotions. All of which she could quite happily do without.

  ‘One day, Liam,’ she ground out between gritted teeth, ‘you’re going to come up against someone—a situation—you have no control over. Let me know when that day comes—I would like to sit and watch!’

  He quirked dark brows. ‘You never used to be vindictive, Laura.’

  There were so many things she had never used to be. She couldn’t even think back now, to the light-hearted, carefree young girl she had once been, without feeling a deep sorrow for the fact that she was no more. She had grown up eight years ago—overnight, it seemed—never to return.

  ‘I’m not vindictive now, either. Just a little jaded. Now I really must be going,’ she said briskly. ‘It’s late, and some of us have to go to work in the morning.’

  Liam accompanied her to the taxi, holding the back door open for her. ‘What work do you do?’ he asked interestedly.

  Laura looked up at him for several moments. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she owned and ran the Shipley Publishing house. But she knew she would be doing it for the wrong reasons, that a part of her—the part of her that was still angry at the way he had kissed her—just wanted to see the look of stunned disbelief on his face when she told him!

  ‘I’m a book editor,’ she told him economically, still clinging on to the truth as far as she dared without revealing everything. After all, it was true that she read all manuscripts due for publication by Shipley Publishing. She would be doing less than her job if she weren’t completely aware of what her own company was presenting to the public.

  ‘Really?’ Liam looked impressed. ‘What—?’

  ‘It’s been—interesting, Liam,’ she cut in dismissively. ‘But I really do have to—’

  ‘I want to see you again, Laura,’ he told her grimly.

  ‘Impossible,’ she told him firmly. ‘Goodnight,’ she added abruptly, before pulling the door shut in his face and leaning forward to give the driver her address as he accelerated the taxi away from the hotel.

  She didn’t look back. Even though a part of her knew that Liam still stood on the pavement watching the car, and her, until they turned out of sight down a side road.

  Which was when Laura finally felt able to sit back in her seat and let some of the tension flow out of her.

  She had known it wasn’t a good idea to meet up with Liam again—had only given in because at the time she had felt it was preferable to having him seek her out. But the fact of the matter was that at some time in the near future Liam would have to know exactly who and what she was. And after spending the last hour in his company she wished she had simply waited for that to happen.

  Anything would have been preferable to the last hour. To that kiss…!

  She tentatively ran the tip of her tongue over the sensitivity of her lips, still able to feel the pressure of Liam’s mouth there, a slight tingling sensation that seemed almost to numb her lips.

  How could he still affect her in that way? After all that had happened, all the pain, the disillusionment, how could she still feel this way?

  What way did she feel?

  Confused. Disorientated. Angry with herself. Angry with Liam. All of which was completely unproductive, when she needed to be focused, controlled, sure of herself.

  The next time she saw Liam, she promised herself as she saw her journey was almost at an end, she would be exactly that!

  The lights were on in the house when she let herself in a few minutes later and went straight to the kitchen, where she knew Amy Faulkn
er, her housekeeper, would be sitting drinking tea and watching television while she waited for Laura to return home.

  Short, plump and homely, aged in her mid-fifties, Amy had been Robert’s housekeeper for almost twenty years when he and Laura were married. The older woman had welcomed Laura into the house as if she were the daughter she’d never had, and the two of them had got on from the beginning. Laura had been more than grateful for the other woman’s presence this last couple of years.

  The housekeeper smiled at her warmly now as she stood up to turn down the sound on the predicted television programme. ‘Had a good evening, Mrs Shipley?’

  Good? That wasn’t quite the way Laura would have chosen to describe it!

  ‘It was just business, Amy,’ she responded. ‘How’s everything been here?’

  The older woman smiled. ‘Wonderful. He’s been fast asleep since before you went out. Not a sound out of him.’

  Laura nodded distractedly. ‘I think I’ll just pop upstairs and check on him before going to bed myself. Thanks for taking over at such short notice this evening, Amy.’ She smiled her gratitude.

  ‘Any time, Laura. You know that,’ the other woman told her gently. ‘I know it can’t be easy for you. And he’s absolutely fine with me, you know.’

  ‘I do know.’ She squeezed Amy’s arm gratefully. ‘But thank you anyway.’

  She made sure she was as quiet as possible going up the stairs, not wanting to wake him, moving with sure steps to the bedroom that adjoined her own.

  A nightlight gave a warm glow to the room, allowing Laura to find her way without bumping into or stepping on anything to the rocking-chair that stood beside the bed.

  She sat down in the rocking-chair, tears of love welling up in her eyes as she looked down at the sleeping figure in the bed.

  Only his head and shoulders were actually visible above the bedcovers, the shoulders narrow, the mouth slightly open in sleep. Dark lashes fanned out over cheeks that glowed pale in the half-light, the hair dark and softly curling against the pillow.

  Robert Shipley.

  Junior, she inwardly added warmly. He always insisted on the ‘Junior.’

  But to all who loved him he was Bobby.

  Seven years old. Black-haired. Blue-eyed. Mischievous. With a bright enquiring mind.

  He was the absolute love of Laura’s life…

  He was also the reason that her private life had to be kept strictly that, where Liam O’Reilly was concerned.

  Because Mary O’Reilly, Liam’s mother, although in complete ignorance of the fact, already had her much-wanted grandson.

  Except his name wasn’t O’Reilly. And it never would be.

  Even though Bobby was undoubtedly Liam O’Reilly’s son…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘—SAYS he wants to come in for a meeting.’

  Laura stared up at Perry with unseeing eyes. She hadn’t heard anything more he said since he’d come into her office a few minutes ago and actually told her that Liam had rung him this morning.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Sorry, Perry, what did you say?’ She frowned in an effort to concentrate.

  She hadn’t slept well at all last night, with thoughts going round and round in her head, but none of them really going anywhere.

  For over seven years, since she had decided to marry Robert, she had lived in dread of Liam somehow walking back into her life, of his taking one look at Bobby and trying to claim him for his own. Something she would never, ever allow. Liam had given up any rights to his son when he had callously walked out of her life eight years ago.

  Of course there was no way he could have known she was pregnant when he left; she hadn’t known it herself then. But if Liam had bothered, just once, to contact her, she could have told him the two of them were expecting a child.

  Instead, she had read in the newspapers of his marriage to another woman!

  Pregnant, alone, terrified, she had hated him with a vengeance, never wanted to set eyes on him ever again.

  Time had dulled those feelings, of course. Not least because Robert had been a wonderful husband and father. She owed him everything that she had become.

  As time had passed Liam O’Reilly had become a thing of the past, an interlude in her life she could look back at with a certain amount of embarrassment. In retrospect, she could see she had thrown herself at him, had refused to read the signs that would have told her the feelings she’d had for him weren’t reciprocated.

  Which didn’t mean she considered Liam completely blameless in what had ultimately happened; he had done nothing to stop their relationship becoming an intimate one. And being able to look at the situation with adult eyes didn’t mean she had forgiven him, or that she ever wanted to see him again either!

  But there had been no way she could just ignore that manuscript when Perry had first shown it to her three weeks ago. He was her senior editor and had been presented with a brilliant manuscript, even though he hadn’t known the real identity of the author then. He had brought that manuscript to Laura for her immediate attention. There had been no way, without arousing Perry’s extreme curiosity, that she could have just ignored it. Even though she had guessed from the first chapter just who the author was!

  ‘Liam O’Reilly has decided to go back to Ireland later this evening,’ Perry repeated patiently. ‘He wants to come in and talk about a contract before he leaves.’

  ‘Reilly O’Shea,’ she corrected lightly, giving herself necessary time to think.

  Liam wanted to come here. He might ask to meet the head of Shipley Publishing!

  Her.

  ‘What did you tell him?’ she asked Perry cautiously.

  ‘That I have a really busy schedule for today, but that I’ll call him back.’

  Liam had decided to go back to Ireland. Why? She didn’t believe for a moment that it had anything to do with their unsatisfactory meeting—from Liam’s point of view, that was!—the evening before.

  His reasons for leaving London earlier than expected were actually irrelevant; what was important was that his change of plans meant he wanted to come here. Today.

  She drew in a sharp breath, determinedly businesslike. ‘Are you and David—’ her rights manager ‘—ready to talk contracts with him?’

  Perry hesitated. ‘Depends who we’re talking to, doesn’t it?’ He frowned, shaking his head. ‘This is a really tricky situation, Laura. I’m not sure that you shouldn’t deal with it personally.’

  That was the very last thing she wanted!

  She leant back in her leather chair, every inch the businesswoman in her black trouser suit and white silk blouse. ‘Power dressing’ Robert had called it, but at twenty-nine, she knew she was considered very young to be the head of a publishing house, and she needed every edge she could get.

  ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of dealing with it yourself, Perry.’ She smiled at him confidently as he sat across the desk from her, playing to his ego.

  Perry was an ambitious man, who enjoyed his position as senior editor at this prestigious publisher; he would not like having his capabilities questioned.

  ‘Ordinarily, yes,’ he sighed. ‘But in this case I don’t have the first idea how to go about it. I want this manuscript very badly, want O’Reilly’s signature on a contract before he has the chance to change his mind or go to another publisher. But how am I supposed to go about that without telling the man I know exactly who he is? Worse, that I want the book published with Liam O’Reilly’s name on the cover? I don’t want to frighten him off.’

  Her smile lacked humour this time. ‘He doesn’t sound the type that scares easily!’

  ‘Nevertheless, I still think personal input from you at any meeting with him would—’

  ‘Would give him completely the wrong impression of his own importance,’ she cut in sharply. ‘Perhaps the best thing would be to tell him you’re too busy to see him today, after all, Perry. It is very short notice, and—’

  ‘Laura, he’s asked to t
ake the manuscript back to Ireland with him if we haven’t made him a definite offer by the end of today,’ Perry put in quietly, obviously reluctantly. And with very good reason.

  Even as Reilly O’Shea—especially as Reilly O’Shea!—this author was behaving with extreme arrogance. New authors could often wait months to hear back from a publisher after submitting a manuscript: the fact that they had contacted Liam—through an impersonal post office box number of course!—after only a matter of weeks should have pleased him, not given him an over-inflated opinion of his own importance! But then, no matter what the author might claim to the contrary, this was Liam O’Reilly they were dealing with…

  ‘I know, I know!’ Perry stood up impatiently. ‘Your first instinct, as mine was, is probably to tell him to go to hell.’ He paced the room. ‘But I can feel the success of this book, Laura. I don’t want to lose it,’ he added heavily.

  ‘You’re sure you aren’t biting off a little more than you can chew?’ Than Laura could swallow. Publishing Liam’s book was one thing—as long as she had as little to do with it, and him, as possible!—but having him dictate terms at this early stage of things was too much. ‘He sounds as if he’s going to be a difficult man to deal with.’

  As she knew only too well. Just that brief hour in his company yesterday evening had shown that, if anything, Liam’s arrogance had grown over the years, not diminished.

  Which was a little hard to take, in this particular instance, when the man hadn’t had a book published for eight years.

  Except that, like Perry, she knew Josie’s World, the whimsical story of a girl growing to maturity in a small Irish village, was so beautifully written that it was going to outsell anything they had every published before.

  The problem here was that Liam knew it too!

  ‘Difficult or not,’ Perry answered grimly, ‘I want that book.’

  Laura spoke quickly. ‘Then I suggest you discuss terms with him.’

  ‘And if I need to talk to you?’