It Started With A Kiss: The Secret Love-Child / Facing Up to Fatherhood / Not a Marrying Man

‘He’s having some rotten luck on the road lately, isn’t he? First his parents and now him. Does his new girlfriend know about this?’

‘Yes, I was there when she arrived. With her mother.’

‘The infamous mother. What was she like?’

‘The bathroom first, please, Rafe?’

‘Oh, yes—yes, of course. This way.’ He had the presence of mind to take her upstairs, instead of to the small downstairs toilet. The main bathroom upstairs was quite spacious and luxurious, another recent renovation. He’d been steadily renovating his terraced home since he’d bought it a couple of years back. It had cost him a small fortune, despite being little more than a dump. But, as in all big cities, you paid for position.

After showing her where the bathroom was, he dashed into his bedroom to dress. Hurrying into his walk-in robe, he ran his eye along the hangers, wondering what to wear. The day wasn’t hot, but neither was it cold. Lately they’d had typical spring weather in Sydney, fresh in the morning but warming up as the day progressed, provided it wasn’t cloudy. And it wasn’t today, judging by the sunshine on his doorstep just now.

By the time Isabel emerged from the bathroom Rafe was looking and feeling a bit better in his favourite black jeans and a fresh white T-shirt. But his face still sported a two-day stubble and his feet were bare.

There was only so much a man could achieve in just over three minutes, the time it took for Isabel to emerge. Clearly she wasn’t a girl who titivated.

‘Nice bathroom,’ she said crisply.

He’d known she’d like it. It was all white, with glass and silver fittings. Cool and classy-looking, like she was.

‘You might not like this room as much,’ he said as he led her into his main living room, which was decorated for comfort rather than style. No traditional lounge suite, just huge squashy armchairs to sit in, functional side tables, far too many bookcases and an old marble fireplace which he never used, although the mantelpiece was good for leaning on and holding glasses during a party. He had a hi-fi set in one corner and a television and video in the other.

‘I like the doors,’ Isabel said, as she sat in his favourite armchair, a reclining one covered in crushed claret-coloured velvet.

He glanced at the white-painted French doors which led out onto the small terrace. ‘They’re purely decorative,’ he said. ‘I never open them because of the traffic noise.’

‘What a pity.’

He shrugged. ‘You can’t have everything.’

‘No,’ she agreed with a touch of bitterness in her voice. ‘You certainly can’t.’

Rafe sank down in a cream leather armchair facing her, and tried to guess at why she’d come to see him.

‘The mother was stunningly good-looking for a woman of forty plus,’ she said abruptly. ‘And the daughter was…well, let me just say that I don’t think Luke is going to have a change of heart and marry me after all.’

‘Were you seriously hoping he would?’

‘Stupidly, I think I was beginning to. Which is really pathetic. But on the drive back to Sydney today I decided I had to stop hoping for some man to come along and give me what I want out of life. I have to go out and get it for myself. And if it’s not quite what I’ve dreamt about all these years, if I have to compromise, then that’s just the way life is.’

‘That sounds sensible,’ Rafe said, even though he had no idea exactly what she meant. ‘So what is it you’re going to do? And where do I come into the equation?’

She smiled. She actually smiled. Only a small, wry little smile, but it was even better than he’d imagined. Or worse. He’d do anything she asked of him, be anything she wanted him to be. If only she’d let him make love to her.

‘The thing is, Rafe, I’ve always wanted a baby,’ she announced baldly and Rafe nearly died of shock.

Hold it there, buddy, he reassessed. Now that was one thing he wasn’t going to do, even if it did mean he’d get to do what he wanted to do most at that moment.

‘Naturally, I would prefer to have a husband,’ she went on, with an elegant shrug of her slender shoulders, ‘or at least a live-in partner before having a child.’

‘Naturally,’ he said with heavy emphasis.

‘But that’s simply not going to happen in my case in the near future, and time is running out for me. So I’ve decided to opt for artificial insemination from a clinic which supplies well-documented but anonymous donors.’

Rafe was both relieved and confused. Why was she telling him all this?

‘Now that Luke is going to make me an independent woman of means, I don’t need a man’s financial support to have a child,’ she elaborated. ‘I can well afford to raise one on my own. I could put the child in daycare and go back to work, if I so desired. Or hire a nanny. Of course, I do realise it’s not an ideal situation, but then, it’s not an ideal world, is it?’

‘No,’ Rafe agreed. ‘But why are you telling me all this, Isabel?’ he finally asked.

‘I’m just filling you in on my plans so you can understand the reasons behind the proposition I am going to make you.’

‘And what proposition is that?’

‘I want you to come to Dream Island with me on the honeymoon Luke and I booked.’

Rafe tried not to gape. ‘Er…run that by me again?’

‘You heard me,’ she said in a straight-down-the-line, no-nonsense fashion.

Rafe stared at her. Wow. Talk about a shock.

He might have been ecstatic if he hadn’t been just a tad wary. The thought that she might have some sneaky plan to use his sperm to impregnate herself without his knowing did not escape him. Though, if that was the case, why tell him about her intention to have a baby at all? Better to keep that a secret if that had been her hidden agenda.

‘Why?’ he demanded to know.

‘Well, it isn’t because I don’t want to waste money,’ she threw at him with a measure of exasperation. ‘Even though the honeymoon package was all prepaid and it’s too late to cancel. I want you to come with me because I want you to come with me.’

Rafe had difficulty embracing the possibility that she just wanted him for sex, even though it was the most exciting thought. All his fantasies of the night before coming true!

‘As what, exactly?’ he persisted. ‘If you think I’m going to pretend to be your husband as a salve to your pride, then you can think again.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t insult you like that. You’ll be with me as my…my lover.’

Mmm, she’d choked a bit over that last word. He stared deep into her eyes and tried to see what was in her mind.

‘Yes, but is my role as lover just a pretend one, or do I get to have the real thing with you?’

She blushed, and it enchanted him as much as it had the first time. It also didn’t gel with her wanting him as little more than a toy boy. She just didn’t seem to be that kind of girl.

‘Spell it out for me, Isabel. I might be being dense but I’m still not getting the full picture here.’

She sucked in deeply, then let the air out of her lungs very slowly, as though she was gathering the courage to say what she had to say. He watched her, fascinated and intrigued.

Isabel hadn’t thought it would be as difficult as this. When she’d made the decision on the drive down to ask Rafe to come away with her, she’d thought it would be easy. He’d just say yes and that would be that. She hadn’t anticipated that he’d question her so closely, or make her confess her desire for him quite so bluntly.

It was embarrassing, and almost…shameful.

Yet why should she be ashamed? came the resentful thought. Had Luke been ashamed, taking what he wanted? At least she wasn’t guilty of jumping into bed with Rafe the same day she met him, or while she was engaged to someone else. They wouldn’t be breaking anyone’s heart by going away together.