Liam's Secret Son

As was her custom for the last two years, she had retired to her bedroom once dinner was over, taking a pile of work with her. She was sitting up in bed now, her narrow silk-clad shoulders surrounded by sumptuous satin cream-coloured pillows, glasses perched on the end of her nose, as she read through the latest manuscript of Shipley’s most successful author.

So far, came that disquieting little voice in her head. Because she had no doubt, if they really could secure Liam’s novel, that he would instantly eclipse Elizabeth Starling as Shipley’s top author!

Elizabeth’s latest manuscript was good, in fact it was more than good, but it didn’t stand a chance of holding Laura’s attention tonight.

She lay back with a sigh, removing her gold-framed glasses. She really didn’t wear contact lenses, coloured or otherwise, but she did wear glasses for reading nowadays. Possibly because she did so much of it.

Not that she was complaining about her lot in life. Her marriage to Robert had been as fulfilling as it had been successful. It was because of him that she was now head of Shipley Publishing. If that position of power could also make things a little lonely at times, then it was by far outweighed by its compensations: financial security, this beautiful house in London, her villa in Majorca, the servants that ran both those homes so efficiently.

No, the reason for her restlessness tonight had nothing to do with any lack of material comfort in her own life.

Liam was expecting her to call him at his hotel. Part of her said, Forget what he expected; after the way he had treated her eight years ago he had no right to expect anything from her! But another part of her remembered his threat that if she didn’t call him then he would do everything in his power to find her. And that she most certainly did not want.

Besides, she had information that Liam certainly didn’t have—knew exactly the reason he was in London at the moment. Whereas he knew absolutely nothing about her life now. She wished it to remain that way.

‘Mr O’Reilly’s room, please,’ she requested briskly, once her call was answered at the hotel.

‘The line in Mr O’Reilly’s suite is ringing for you now,’ came back the competent reply.

A suite… Expensive in a prestigious hotel like that one. So Liam did still possess some of the wealth that had come to him years ago. She had wondered. It had never been easy to tell what his financial position might be from Liam’s outward appearance; he very rarely wore anything other than denims, casual shirt and a jacket. Exactly as he had today. He—

‘Yes?’ came the terse reply as the receiver was picked up the other end.

‘Liam,’ Laura returned, forcing her tone to sound casually light. ‘You asked me to call you,’ she reminded him. Unnecessarily, she was sure. There had been a determination about Liam earlier today that had brooked no argument against his request.

‘So I did, Laura,’ he returned in that lilting voice, his initial terseness having disappeared on recognition of her voice. ‘I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me.’

‘I’ve already eaten,’ she answered with inward satisfaction.

‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ Liam protested.

‘When I’m at home I always dine at seven-thirty,’ she said firmly.

‘And where’s home, Laura?’ he enquired huskily.

‘Nice try, Liam.’ She gave a softly confident laugh. Although her hand tightly gripping the receiver was slightly damp with tension…

‘I thought so,’ he came back mockingly. ‘You were a little less than enthusiastic about my calling you when I mentioned it at the hotel earlier today, too,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘Why the secrecy, Laura? Could it be that you don’t live alone?’ There was a sharp edge to his voice now.

‘How clever of you to guess, Liam,’ she teased. ‘Although it couldn’t have been that difficult. After all, it’s been eight years.’ And this man had been married and divorced in that time—wasn’t it logical that she might have done at least one of those things too?

‘You aren’t wearing a wedding ring,’ he bit out.

She hadn’t been mistaken earlier about the reason for that glance at her left hand! ‘Not all women do nowadays,’ Laura rejoined.

‘You would if you were my wife,’ Liam rasped.

‘If I were your wife I would also carry a certificate of insanity!’ she snapped.

Then wished she hadn’t. The silence that followed her outburst was icy cold, the only sound their joint breathing down the respective receivers.

Why had she said that? It was no good telling herself she had been goaded into it by Liam’s arrogance. Her intention had been to keep this call as short and impersonal as possible; two minutes into the conversation she had let Liam break through her reserve.

But once again it was that cool control that came to rescue the situation, allowing her to remain silent after her outburst.

‘You know, Laura—’ Liam was finally the one to break that silence, speaking slowly ‘—you and I should have met years ago.’

‘Strange, but I thought we did,’ she said acidly. ‘There must be something wrong with your memory, Liam,’ she added with barely contained sarcasm.

‘Nothing at all,’ Liam drawled. ‘But if you had been this Laura Carter eight years ago, perhaps things would have worked out differently between us.’

‘Oh, please, Liam.’ She sighed her disgust. ‘It has been eight years—and in that time I’ve probably heard every chat-up line there is. That one ranks right down there at the bottom!’ she assured him.

‘It isn’t a chat-up line! I’m not sure I even know any of them any more,’ he said self-disgustedly. ‘Unlike you, it seems, I’ve lived a very quiet life the last five years. Come and have a drink with me, Laura,’ he pressed.

‘I thought you said you didn’t drink any more,’ she reminded him dryly.

‘I occasionally indulge in a social glass of white wine,’ he corrected.

‘I’m afraid I’m booked up for the next two evenings,’ she refused.

It was just like Liam to assume that she could drop whatever arrangements she might have made in her social life just so that she could go and have a drink with him!

Probably because eight years ago she would have done exactly that. She had been head over heels in love with Liam then, had taken any opportunity she could to spend time with him, even to the point of letting down other friends if he’d asked to see her.

But that had been then. This was now. The two situations were completely different.

‘I meant now, Laura,’ Liam cut softly into her indignant thoughts.

‘Now?’ she repeated incredulously.

‘Why not?’ he pressed huskily.

‘Because I’m already in bed!’ she protested astoundedly.

And then wished that she hadn’t. It was, after all, only ten minutes past nine!

‘Alone?’ Liam prompted harshly.

What on earth—! ‘I would hardly be calling you if I weren’t!’ she answered with cold disdain.

‘You might be surprised at what some women are capable of,’ he rasped scathingly.

‘Not this woman,’ she assured him indignantly.

‘So you’re in bed. But alone. What’s to stop you joining me for that drink?’

Having to get up. To dress. To put on make-up she had already removed. Drive over to the hotel. All just to spend time with someone she didn’t want to be with!