The Secret Father

‘Pardon…?’ she said, giving a reasonable impression of incomprehension. Was this the actor’s ego, she wondered scornfully, that needed to be universally worshipped? Was she supposed to stare at him with slavish devotion?

‘I’m just wondering whether to take this personally. Or do you freeze everyone at ten paces?’

Personally, she thought, maintaining a neutral expression. ‘I’ll ask for your autograph if that will help your anxiety attack,’ she offered helpfully. Heavens, she thought in alarm, why on earth did I say that? Isn’t it my role in life to apply soothing oil to troubled waters? Since when did I instigate hostility?

‘Now English reserve I can tolerate, Doctor, but that was plain nasty. Listen, I get the message, you don’t like me, but I gave my word to your sister that I’d see you safely to her place. I’m not about to give you directions, so the only way of finding the house is to stick with me. I suggest you put a brave face on it, honey.’

The easy endearment and the edge of mockery in his voice made her angry. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she insisted, ignoring the growling of her stomach.

‘You’ve just driven all the way from Boston; did I get that much right?’ He inclined his head as she nodded. ‘Then you need to eat; I need to eat. Logic sort of makes a pretty compelling case for us eating together.’

Put that way it was easy to see why he thought she was making a fuss about nothing. No doubt the average female would think finding herself dining with Sam Rourke was as good as winning the lottery. I am making a fuss about nothing, she thought, giving him a concessionary but tepid smile.

The lobster was, in fact, just as delicious as he had suggested and the portion so generous she couldn’t finish it. She pushed her plate away with a sigh. ‘I’m stuffed,’ she said with rueful honesty.

Sam gave a sudden laugh and the sound made heads turn, a fact he seemed oblivious of. ‘You sounded so like Hope,’ he explained as she looked questioningly at him.

‘We are sisters.’

‘It’d be easy to miss that.’

‘She is beautiful,’ Lindy agreed, without any trace of jealousy that her companion could detect. Lindy knew that she was hardly ugly, but competing with her sister was not something she’d ever considered. The Lacey triplets were as dissimilar in looks as they were in personality.

‘I wasn’t talking about physical similarity, or lack of it. I mean Hope is so warm and spontaneous…open.’

‘I don’t make a habit of gushing with total strangers, Mr Rourke,’ she said, her smile fading. Why not just call me a cold fish and be done with it? she thought indignantly.

‘You don’t even trickle, Dr Lacey,’ Sam Rourke commented drily. ‘But then, as I’m sure you’re going to point out, that is none of my business. I’m here to act as guide.’ He couldn’t have made it plainer that the whole thing had become something of a chore to him.

‘I’m sorry I’m not a scintillating dining companion,’ she observed waspishly. His criticism shouldn’t have mattered to her, but inexplicably it hurt.

‘I don’t often get this sort of antagonism from women,’ he remarked, leaning back in his chair and regarding her thoughtfully.

I just bet you don’t, she thought, her scorn reflected in the light blue depths of her almond-shaped eyes.

‘Guys, sure. ‘‘I never watch your sort of movie’’, is quite a common line. Then there’s the other sort who want to show I’m not such a tough guy off the screen…’

‘And are you?’

‘A flicker of interest?’ he mocked. ‘What happened to the ‘‘I’m totally unimpressed by the fact you’re a big star’’?’ He watched the faintest of flushes mount the smooth contours of her cheeks as his words found their mark. ‘To answer your question, I’m not into bar brawls, not even to impress a lady. Besides,’ he said, running a hand down the side of his jaw, ‘I couldn’t risk the face.’ The languid self-mockery in his tone made her look sharply into his densely blue eyes. She averted her gaze as swiftly as she could; he had the most extraordinarily penetrating stare.

‘I suppose it’s an occupational hazard, people confusing you with the characters you play. Even when they’re…’

‘Go on,’ he encouraged as she stopped abruptly, looking uncomfortable.

‘Even when they’re as two-dimensional and stereotyped as the ones you play.’ She lifted her chin and tried not to feel guilty for being so brutal. He had asked!

Sam sucked in his breath behind a display of even white teeth and looked a long way from being mortally wounded. ‘Ouch!’ he said, the last remnants of boredom vanishing from his expression. ‘Aren’t you guilty of judging me by the type of character I portray on the screen? You know, the one who snaps his fingers and has a tall, leggy blonde on his arm…’ He ought to feel guilty for winding her up, but it was irresistible.

‘In his bed, usually,’ she responded with a reluctant smile, recalling the last film she’d seen him in; seen quite a lot of him as she recalled. It was hard to look at his chest and not remember how well muscled those broad shoulders were. Then don’t look at his chest, she told herself crossly.

‘You admit it, then?’

Lindy lifted her slender shoulders fractionally and pursed her lips ruefully. Now that he’d said it, she couldn’t deny that her own instinctively aggressive reaction to him had been partially directed at the type of macho wonder man he generally played. Big-box-office roles, but not exactly stretching; that summed up Sam Rourke’s career.

‘It could be I’m a great actor,’ he suggested. ‘I can see you find that hard to believe.’ He gave a long-suffering sigh.

The lopsided smile was impossible not to respond to. ‘Do you mean you won’t act like an egocentric, narcissistic, shallow—?’

‘Now don’t go expecting miracles. I never make promises I can’t keep,’ he interrupted, holding up his hands to stem the flow. ‘I have unplumbed shallows. Shall we just say I won’t call you babe? It’ll be hard, but I’m a very amenable guy deep down.’

‘That’s a weight off my mind,’ she assured him solemnly, with an answering glimmer in her eyes. She’d seen Sam Rourke do humour, but that had been scripted. This dry, caustic wit was obviously the natural variety and she found it much more attractive than the slick, predictable banter.

It was gradually becoming obvious that, whilst the characters this man portrayed might arguably be two-dimensional, he was much more complex in the flesh. And distressingly perfect flesh it was too, she thought, pulling her glance from the sinewed strength of his forearms meshed with a fine covering of dark hair.

‘Better, Doctor, much better,’ he approved caustically. ‘You know, you’ve got to learn to relax around us glittering, famous types if you’re going to be part of the team.’

‘I suppose I will,’ she agreed doubtfully.

The offer of a job as medical advisor on the set of the film her sister was starring in had seemed like a heavensent opportunity. The doctor they’d had lined up had broken his leg and was in traction. They hadn’t begun shooting any of the scenes with medical content yet, Hope had assured her. It would be a breeze! Lindy had just resigned from her job as a senior house officer at a prestigious London hospital and had needed time to sort out where she was going from there. Now she was here, Lindy was beginning to regret the impulsiveness of her actions.

‘Won’t people resent the fact I got the job because I’m Hope’s sister?’ What am I doing here? she wondered, feeling suddenly very homesick.

‘Nepotism is one of the more savoury ways people get jobs in this business,’ Sam observed drily.

‘You’re not telling me the casting couch still exists, are you?’ she laughed.

‘Such sweet innocence,’ he mocked lightly. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of murder, extortion, blackmail; but the old-fashioned ways are still the best, or so I’m told.’

Looking doubtfully into his cynical blue eyes, she wasn’t sure whether he was joking. ‘It all seems very casual,’ she admitted.

Getting a job to her had entailed gruelling interviews and hard-won references, but here she was being offered a salary that made her blink, to do something which didn’t sound very strenuous.

‘I just got a phone call and a first-class ticket for Boston,’ she said.

‘Don’t look so worried,’ he advised with an amused smile. ‘I’ll make you work for your money. I’d assumed you were star-struck. Don’t explode!’ He raised a pacific hand. ‘But, that obviously not being the case, it must be a man that made you up sticks.’

‘A man?’ she enquired with discouraging hauteur. It occurred somewhat belatedly to her that Sam Rourke was her new boss and it might have been politic to take that into account before she’d started sniping at him. She might just regret her honesty in the near future.

‘Broken heart, love affair, that sort of thing. Though you don’t look the type to…’ Sam paused, weighing his words. Telling a woman, even one as self-contained as this one, that she didn’t look as if she had enough fire in her veins might not go down too well.

‘Make a fool of myself over a man?’

‘My thought exactly,’ he agreed with some relief.

‘I’m not,’ she said flatly. She had no intention of going over her reasons for leaving a job she’d loved. A man had certainly been involved—and love, too, if Simon Morgan was to be believed.

From the moment he’d taken over as consultant orthopaedic surgeon, he’d made his personal interest in his house officer obvious. He hadn’t got encouragement, but he hadn’t needed it. He was one of that breed of men to whom things had always come easily, and he hadn’t thought Rosalind Lacey was any different from anything else he’d wanted.