Liam's Secret Son

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 Faulkner, 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.