The Pregnancy Bond

‘It can be if you believe in yourself,’ Marianne had insisted. ‘Go for it!’

So she had, and knew almost at once that the perfume, the flaming hair and the outrageous satin suit were made for each other. Whether they were made for her she still wasn’t quite sure, but it was fun finding out.

Tonight was the start of her new life as a bright single young woman, sailing once more under her maiden name, making her own way in the world instead of trailing behind a man because she loved him more than he loved her, until at last he hadn’t loved her at all. As well as her looks she had rediscovered her brains, and it was like being a new person. The final pleasure was the revelation that she could be the pursued and not the pursuer.

Carl managed to pounce on her and sweep her into the dance.

‘Mmm,’ he murmured, inhaling her scent. ‘You smell too good to be true. You look too good to be true, and you feel—mmm!’

‘And who did you last say that to?’ she asked, amused.

He was shocked. ‘I lay my passion at your feet and you doubt me. Talking of your feet, I love those golden sandals.’

‘Marianne made me buy them, plus the perfume. I’m really her handiwork.’

‘It’s not Marianne who makes you go in and out in all the right places,’ he mused, allowing his hands to move around hopefully.

‘Down, Fido,’ she said, wagging one gilt-taloned finger at him in mock rebuke. She liked Carl, but she hadn’t quite made up her mind about him.

‘All right—for the moment. You know why Marianne has got involved, don’t you? She’s set her heart on seeing me get married.’

‘Well, she’s wasting her time with me,’ Kelly said with spirit. ‘No more husbands, ever.’

‘Was he really that bad?’

‘Couldn’t tell you. He no longer exists.’

‘Quite right. A lover is far more exciting,’ he murmured in her ear.

‘Maybe, but it can’t be you.’

‘Why?’ he demanded in comic outrage.

‘You’re my tutor. It wouldn’t be proper.’

‘I’ll throw you out of the class tomorrow.’

They laughed together. He drew her close and nibbled her ear, which made her laugh even more, giving him the chance to plant a kiss on her mouth. She kissed him back. Carl was nice.

He wasn’t allowed to enjoy his triumph for long. Frank, another mature student about Kelly’s age, whisked her away.

‘Great little place you’ve found here,’ he yelled above the din.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ she yelled back. ‘Thanks for your house-warming present.’ He’d given her a pair of black and white avant garde prints that added the finishing touch to her walls.

‘How are you enjoying your freedom?’ he asked.

‘If I’d known it felt this good I’d have gone for it long ago.’

‘Harmon is your maiden name, right?’

‘Right!’

‘Who was your husband?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Kelly said, repeating the mantra that had sustained her through the miserable weeks. ‘He’s in the past.’

‘Good for you. That’s the only way to do it.’

When the dance ended they were by the bar. Frank danced off with somebody else while Kelly downed an orange juice.

Marianne sidled up to her. ‘You really are a dark horse, aren’t you?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean that fantastic man who’s just walked in; the one with come-to-bed eyes and that “I’ll have any woman I like” look.’

‘I don’t know any man like that,’ Kelly said regretfully. ‘Where?’

‘Over there. He looks a bit familiar. Now, where have I seen his face before?’

‘On television,’ Kelly said, stunned. ‘And he wasn’t invited.’

‘Well, I’ll be only too pleased to take him off your hands. Honestly, he shouldn’t be allowed out alone. It’s not safe—for any of us. I want everything you know. Starting with “Is he married”?’

Kelly pulled herself together. ‘Not since ten-thirty this morning.’

‘You mean he’s—? He isn’t—?’

‘My ex.’

‘All that was yours, and you let it go?’

Kelly surveyed Jake Lindley, trying to see him through Marianne’s eyes. She knew about the eyes, and the look of knowing that women were clamouring for him. It wasn’t his fault. Women were clamouring for him, and Jake had no false modesty. Or much of any kind, if the truth be told. He’d made a brilliant career as a television journalist by being accurate, hard hitting, colourful and drop-dead gorgeous.

He was thirty-two, in his prime, with a lurking devil in his eyes and a sensual quirk to his mouth that was worth any amount of good looks, except that he had them as well.

But as for him being hers? Had he ever really been hers? She’d been his in every possible way, but she’d never felt, in her heart, that she’d been vital to him. Nor had she ‘let him go’. She’d merely faced the fact that in all important ways he’d gone already.

Marianne murmured, ‘You really don’t mind if I try my luck?’

‘You’re welcome to him,’ Kelly said firmly. Oh, it felt good to be able to say that; not to have to watch jealously. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

As they weaved their way through the throng of guests Kelly tried to calm down. The sight of Jake had given her a shock because she wasn’t expecting him, but that was all. She was a little annoyed with him for gate-crashing, but apart from that she was cool. A few feet away from him she waved gaily.

‘Jake, how nice to see you,’ she carolled.

He gave her his practised smile. ‘I’m sorry, have we m—? Kelly?’