The Father Of Her Child

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Copyright

“Lauren? It’s Michael,” he said with a soft list of anticipation.

Her stomach clenched. The archdeceiver himself! If he thought she was about to rush in and beg for more, he could think again. “Yes?” she queried, her mind suddenly cold and clear.

“I found your note. It was a great night for me, too.”

“I’m glad it was mutual,” she replied silkily, waiting for the perfect line to turn the knife.

He laughed. “Couldn’t be more so. When do you think you’ll finish work tonight?” “Oh, I don’t know. What do you want, Michael?” That was a good question. Let him beg!

“I’ll be with you again as soon as you’re free.”

She deliberately heaved a sigh. “Look, Michael, it was a great night. A really great night. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?” Silence. “Come again?” He sounded puzzled, disbelieving.

Lauren went in for the kill. “Well, the fact of the matter is that I don’t go in for repeat performances. Why spoil a perfect memory?”

EMMA DARCY

nearly became an actress, until her fiancé declared he preferred to attend the theater with her. She became a wife and mother. Later she took up oil painting-unsuccessfully, she remarks. Then she tried architecture, designing the family home in New South Wales, Australia. Next came romance writing- “the hardest and most challenging of all the activities,” she confesses.

The Father Of Her Child

Emma Darcy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Sue Curran, my editor, in warm appreciation of her sharing and caring

CHAPTER ONE

“LAUREN says…”

Michael Timberlane’s jaw clenched. His friend and client, Evan Daniel, continued talking, blithely ignorant of the effect of those two explosively evocative words.Lauren says. Michael didn’t hear anything else. His mind filled with brooding resentment.

He couldn’t count the number of times his ex-wife had thrown those words at him as though Lauren Magee was the font of all knowledge and wisdom on how a marriage should work. Lauren says, Lauren says. a long litany of feminist claptrap that had given Roxanne the encouragement to indulge herself in single-minded selfishness. Any sense of give and take had flown right out the door under Lauren Magee’s influence.

It was a black day when that woman had accepted the position as publicist at the publishing house where Roxanne worked in marketing. Why the Sydney branch of Global Publications had to import a career woman from Melbourne to head its publicity department was beyond Michael’s comprehension, but the word in the industry was that Lauren Magee was a fireball. She obviously didn’t mind whom she scorched, either.

Michael grudgingly conceded he had not been averse to the idea of divorce by the time Roxanne decided it was what she wanted. His ideal of a true partnership within a love relationship had been comprehensively whittled away. Nevertheless, Evan’s inadvertent reminder of the interfering judgments by a woman who didn’t even know him stirred a vengeful wish to turn Lauren Magee and her insidious list of women’s rights upside down and inside out.

Would that he could!

It was undoubtedly a waste of energy even thinking about it. The woman had to be a man hater with a brick-wall temperament, totally closed to logic or reason. She would probably have Evan’s balls for breakfast if he stepped out of line on this promotional tour she had organised for him. A male author who liked an alcoholic lunch would not be her cup of tea at all.

Michael unclenched his jaw, relaxed his facial muscles and dutifully tuned back into Evan’s flow of excitement over his jam-packed schedule of interviews with the media. Global Publications, via Lauren Magee, was certainly doing him proud in their efforts to launch his new historical novel on the Australian reading public. Michael hoped it would sell well, not only for his friend’s sake, but also for his own satisfaction as Evan’s literary agent.

He silently congratulated himself on getting Evan an extremely good deal for the book, though he would have privately preferred the highest bidder to have been any other publishing house than Global Publications. But business was business. The best interests of all the authors on his list had to be served. That was one of the principles by which he’d gained his reputation as an agent whose judgment could be trusted.

He knew books. He knew what they were worth and where their market was. Evan Daniel’s sweeping saga of early colonial days in the convict settlement of New South Wales was a rattling good story and had the elements for solid, commercial success. All it needed was the right push to bring it to public attention.

“I need your help, Michael.”

Evan’s excitement seemed to have faded into a sudden fit of anxiety. Michael raised his eyebrows, inviting elaboration on whatever problem was troubling his friend. This had to be the underlying reason for his visit this morning. It was a long drive from Evan’s home at Leura in the Blue Mountains to Michael’s apartment-cum-office at Milson’s Point in the very heart of Sydney. Enthusing over his promotional tour hardly constituted a strong enough motive to bring him here.

All the signs of inner agitation were evident. Evan shifted his somewhat roly-poly body uncomfortably. He tugged at the frizzy brown curls above his ears, pulling them out into tufts. With his round face and big, dark, soulful eyes, Evan frequently reminded Michael of a cuddly koala bear. Despite his rotund shape, women were attracted to him. There was something very appealing about Evan. His bright and benevolent personality reached out to people.

“Could you take the time off to come with me on the tour to Melbourne and Brisbane?” he finally blurted out.

“You don’t need me to hold your hand, Evan. You’ll do fine. Your natural enthusiasm about your book…”

“It’s not that. I’m not scared of the interviews,” came the hasty assurance. His ensuing grimace held both apology and an appeal for understanding. “It’s Tasha. She’s going to be rabidly jealous of Lauren the moment she lays eyes on her.”

Michael was astounded. “Lauren Magee?”

“You know how gorgeous she is. And I’ll be staying in the same hotels with her.”

“Lauren Magee…gorgeous?” Michael couldn’t believe it. In his mind’s eye Lauren Magee was a sexless martinet, as thin as a matchstick with every bit of feminine sweetness squeezed out of her.

Evan looked puzzled. “Haven’t you met her?”

It would be pistols at dawn if he did, Michael thought darkly. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” he drawled with deliberate carelessness.

“I thought you knew everyone in the publishing industry.”

Evan’s surprise was comical. Michael had to smile. “The publishers and the commissioning editors, yes. I haven’t met every single person on their staffs.”

“But Lauren. Oh, well, you can meet her at the party tonight. I’ll introduce you. Then you’ll see why I need you to come with me on the tour. I know it’s asking a big favour, Michael, but…”

“I won’t be there tonight,” Michael stated flatly.

It was Global’s launching party for all its new books for the coming year. Roxanne would be swanning around with her second choice of husband, who was, Michael thought cynically, quite perfect for her. Her preening didn’t bother him, but she made such a pointed show of it in front of him he felt sorry for the other guy. It was distasteful. Such comparisons always were.

Michael prided himself on being civilised. Most of the time he was. Very civilised. Extremely civilised. The combination of Roxanne on parade, trying in her perverse vanity to make a fool of him, plus Lauren Magee on the sidelines with her feminist cant, just happened to bring out the savage in him. It was not a feeling he liked.

Evan looked hurt. “I’m one of the speakers.”

“I’m sorry, Evan, but you don’t need me to applaud your speech.”

“I do need you. Not for applause. If I could stand you between Tasha and Lauren, it would save me a power of trouble. Tasha wouldn’t get any funny ideas with you around. It’s perfectly obvious that any woman with two eyes in her head would go for you, not me.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, Michael thought. Superficially, he supposed, he fitted the tall, dark and handsome tag, but in a savage mood, he knew he could look more intimidating than attractive.

“And if you came on tour with me,” Evan pressed, “Tasha would have no reason to get upset.”

The impassioned plea tried Michael’s patience. “Your marital problems are none of my business, Evan. If you can’t assure your wife of your unbreakable fidelity, take her with you.”

“You know Tasha is eight months pregnant,” came the plaintive protest. “Can you see her manoeuvring into an economy-class seat on one of those small intercity planes? Not to mention her doctor’s orders to rest and take care. We’re not taking any chances with this baby. Not after two miscarriages.”

Michael frowned. He had forgotten Tasha’s delicate condition and the trouble she’d had in carrying a child to full term. Evan was right. It was stupid to take any risk. If it was his wife and baby Michael knew he’d be cocooning them in cotton wool.

His desire to have children had been frustrated by Roxanne’s deceptions, and he wondered now if he’d ever get to be a father. Finding the right woman had to come first. He assured himself that at thirtyfour, he was still in his prime and his choices in life were wide open. He was not restricted by time.

“Surely Tasha can trust you,” he offered. “It’s only for a few days.”

Evan sighed. “Normally, yes, but she’s in a very fragile mood, feeling all lumpy and undesirable. We’ve had to refrain from sex because. Well, I don’t want to go into that.” He flushed. “Anyhow, she’s not going to be happy about me flying off with a woman as gorgeous and sexy-looking as Lauren Magee.”

Lauren Magee sexy-looking? Michael shook his head incredulously. That was wrapping a wormy apple in a glossy skin.

The glum, discomforted face of his friend stirred sympathy. Evan and Tasha were going through a tough time. The successful launching of this book was important to them financially, so it couldn’t be dropped, and Evan was quite likely to fumble the interviews and get smashed on double gins if he was upset.

“Please?” he begged. “There’s no one else I can turn to. If you don’t help me.” He rolled his eyes and gestured despairingly.

Michael’s curiosity was piqued. “Do you like her, Evan?” he asked pertinently.

“Who? Lauren?” He looked innocent. “She’s a lovely girl, but I’m a married man, Michael. I love my wife and I’m not about to stray.” Hotly earnest.

“Does she like you?”

Uncomfortable shifting again. “Well, er, only in a friendly kind of way. I just don’t want Tasha to misunderstand. If you’re with me, everything will be all right.”

A nasty little troublemaker, amusing herself by coming between husbands and wives, Michael thought with considerable venom. Not this time, Lauren Magee, he silently vowed. Lovely girl…huh! She might be gorgeous and sexy-looking, but she clearly had the sting of an asp, poisoning other people’s relationships.

Michael decided it would give him immense satisfaction to do a bit of stinging of his own. Besides, Tasha deserved to have peace of mind during this difficult period. The strain of an advanced and possibly threatened pregnancy was more than enough for her and Evan to cope with. Protecting them from any capricious harm by Lauren Magee was the decent thing to do.

“Okay, Evan, I’ll run interference for you,” he said, a dangerous little smile lurking on his lips.

Relief burst over his friend’s face. “At the party tonight? And the tour?”

“Yes. You can count on me for both.”

And to hell with Roxanne and her ridiculous gloating with her new husband! He could stomach that if he had to for one evening. It was in a good cause. As for Lauren Magee, well, he was beginning to look forward to locking horns with her.

Evan surged out of his chair and reached over Michael’s desk to grab his hand and shake it vigorously with both of his. “You’re a true, true friend and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It means I can relax and enjoy everything, and Tasha will, too. She’s been looking forward to tonight’s launching party. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Then I hope she’ll have a happy evening.”

Evan grinned. “Champagne on tap. I love free drinks.”

“Don’t forget you have to drive,” Michael warned dryly.

“Uh-uh. We’re staying in the city overnight. Taxis both ways.”

“What hotel? I could pick you up. Best if we arrive together, don’t you think?”

“Great!” Evan heaved a huge, contented sigh. “I won’t forget this, Michael. Any time you want a favour, you’ve got it.”

“I’ll remember that. Do you have a list of the tour details with you. dates, times, flights, hotels?”

“Sure do. With all the telephone numbers for you to make your bookings.”

Evan was probably right about no-one else being able to help him, Michael reflected a few minutes later. The cost of this safeguard venture would prohibit most people. Money meant nothing to him, never had, and Evan knew it. Real friendship did. All the wealth in the world couldn’t buy that. If a couple of thousand dollars could prevent Tasha and Evan from being messed up by Lauren Magee, Michael was only too happy to supply the necessary.

That lady had a few things coming to her.

Michael figured he was just the man to deliver them.

He could feel the primitive savage stirring inside him, and this time he didn’t try to suppress the feeling. He revelled in it. Being civilised could definitely be overrated. He had the taste of revenge in his mouth. It was sweet.

CHAPTER TWO

“COME on, Lauren,” Graham Parker urged. “It’s peak hour, remember? The traffic across the city is bound to be horrendous, and I want to make it to Rose Bay by six.”

“I’m coming.” The last page of the publicity flyer started rolling through the fax machine. Confident there’d be no problem with the transmission, Lauren turned to her desk, snatched up her handbag and flashed a smile at the head of the marketing department. “Ready to go.”

Graham was in his mid-forties, solidly married to his wife, family and computer and nicely avuncular towards her. Lauren knew he read nothing personal into her asking him for a lift to the launching party. It was simply a convenience between two coworkers. She always felt in a comfort zone with Graham. It was a pleasant feeling.

“Snazzy belt,” he commented appreciatively.

She grinned, pleased with the compliment. The belt was a recent purchase, featuring a large gold bow set on a wide, black, elasticised band. “Nothing like a good accessory to turn day wear into glitz.”

He shook his head in bemusement as she joined him. “Do you turn your whole life into a time and motion study?”

“Have to with my job, Graham.”

“I don’t know how you can stand the pace. Always on the go. It would give me a coronary.”

“I like it.”

It filled her life. She needed that. She didn’t like having too much time to dwell on the empty spaces. It was good to keep busy. Besides, she was doing what she did best, organising schedules, taking care of people, sorting them out, fitting everything and everyone into a workable and effective pattern. It seemed to Lauren she had been doing that as long as she could remember, having been the eldest child in a family of nine.

Once she had dreamed of having someone take care of her and do all the looking after. Big mistake. Her stomach clenched in recoil at the memory of the prison her ex-husband had made of their marriage. Never again, she vowed. Obsessive possessiveness had no place in Lauren’s concept of love. It was both frightening and crushing.

As she rode the elevator to the ground floor with Graham, she consciously banished those shadows from her mind. These days she lived life on her own terms, and the party tonight should be fun. No responsibilities for her apart from chatting to a few authors, making them feel welcome and introducing them to other guests. Champagne was to flow freely and a band had been booked to provide dance music after the speeches. Lauren loved dancing.

She adjusted the new belt so the gold bow was set closer to her hip line. It looked brilliant on the bright violet of her ribbed knit sweater. She was really pleased with the overall effect, the wide black elastic accentuating the black of her skirt and tights and the bow picking up the gold trim on her black suede shoes.

She still had to do her hair. It was in a bit of a tangle from being loose all day. Lauren grinned to herself as she recalled her hairdresser calling it a wild animal. The copper-red hue did not come out of a bottle and the natural curls bounced from her scalp and rioted over her shoulders and halfway down her back.

Once she was in Graham’s car she would pile up her unruly hair and clip on the black and gold earrings. That would certainly put the finishing touch to her cocktail-hour appearance.

Graham hustled her out of Global’s office building to the car park, clearly anxious to be on his way. By Lauren’s calculation, from where they were in Artarmon, the express route to the bridge and the Harbour Tunnel to the Eastern Suburbs cut the trip to Rose Bay to forty minutes at most, even through peak hour traffic. The party didn’t start until six, and it was only just past five now.

“Why the hurry?” she asked. Accustomed to travelling to a tight schedule, Lauren disliked the waste of time involved in arriving anywhere too early.

“I want to check the display table before anyone arrives.”

“I thought Roxanne was doing that.”

She had told Lauren so this morning, pleased with the task of setting up a display of the new titles catalogue and the gift T-shirts.

“She tripped down the steps out there and sprained her ankle,” Graham stated flatly.

Lauren rolled her eyes. Another drama in Roxanne’s life to be endlessly recounted to every ear she could find!

“I don’t know if she finished the job first,” Graham added with a grimace.

“I take it she won’t be at the party with her new husband tonight,” Lauren said dryly.

“Into each life some rain must fall.”

Lauren couldn’t help laughing at his droll intonation. Since Roxanne worked in marketing, Graham was even more a victim of her confidences than Lauren was. His responses were invariably short, pithy sayings. He let the rest float over his head.

They were probably being unkind, Lauren thought, as they settled into the car. Spraining an ankle was no joke. It should evoke sympathy. The problem was that Roxanne was such a sympathy gobbler, one’s natural store of it ran out. This past year Lauren had taken to actively evading Roxanne and her self-indulgent wallowing in real or imagined woes.

She ruefully reflected that when she had first arrived at Global Publications, she had been sucked right into being a listener. Like a sponge, she had absorbed a steady stream of complaints about the demands and unreasonable expectations of Roxanne’s first husband, It had hit on wounds from her own miserable marriage, drawing what might have been, in hindsight, unwarranted sympathy, as well as the best advice she could give.

She hadn’t known then that advice was not really what was wanted. Roxanne soaked up advice from everyone who would give it. She went looking for advice constantly because it gave her the excuse to talk about herself. Roxanne Kinsey was the most self-absorbed person Lauren had ever met.

All the same, Roxanne was probably well rid of her first husband. He had sounded as though he was tarred with the same brush as Lauren’s big mistake. Men who wanted to own women were innately insecure. No trust. Rabid jealousy. Demanding accountability of every moment away from them. Forcing their will on every little thing.

Nightmare alley, Lauren thought, and was glad to be out of it. Although she did miss living in Melbourne. All her family were there. Unfortunately, so was Wayne, and she didn’t trust him to stay out of her life. Despite their divorce, he wouldn’t let go. Coming to Sydney had effected a solid break from him, and that had been necessary for her peace of mind, but she did find it lonely up here.

At least she would have a chance to visit her mother during her stay in Melbourne with Evan Daniel. A smile broke through her brooding as she thought of the upcoming promotional tour. Some authors were highly touchy and temperamental, but Evan Daniel was a real sweetie, cheerful, obliging, appreciative of everything she had arranged for him, a lovely, warm, huggable bear of a man. She wished she could find someone like him for herself.

Her mobile telephone beeped, and she quickly drew it out of of her handbag.

Graham threw her a twinkling look. “That thing will be growing out of your ear if you don’t watch out, Lauren.”

“It would be handier if it did,” she returned lightly.

She knew Graham’s remark was not a criticism, yet coming on top of her thoughts about Wayne, it scraped a highly sensitive area. The night she had walked away from her marriage, Wayne had ripped her mobile telephone from her ear and hurled it against the wall in a jealous rage. The memory lingered darkly as she answered the call.

It was from the producer of a television daytime chat show. She had tried to reach him earlier this afternoon, but he had been too busy to take the call. He was returning it now. This frequently happened with the media people she had to deal with. It was not until they had wrapped up the business of the day that they gave their attention to anything relating to tomorrow or next week or a fortnight from now. Calls were made after normal working hours had ended.

That was one of the reasons Lauren had a mobile telephone. It was necessary to gain a successful result from her initiatives. She worked to other people’s convenience, not her own. If she wasn’t available to take calls, to instantly follow up on opportunities offered, they could all too easily be lost.

A promotional campaign had to be effected within a certain limited time. Media interest was often a chain reaction. It was also fickle. If she didn’t strike while the iron was hot, she was not doing her job properly. It was as simple as that.

It wasn’t as though Wayne hadn’t known she loved her job before they were married. It had come as a shock when he had expected her to give it up for him within weeks of their honeymoon. She might even have done so if that had been the only problem emerging between them, but his attitude towards her work permeated everything else, too. It was like having married Dr. Jekyll, then finding herself living with Mr. Hyde.