The Secret Love-Child Page 5

  Just because Rafe was more like the type of man she'd used to fall in love with willy-nilly, that didn't mean she would fall in love this time. She also had the added advantage of knowing in advance that he wasn't interested in marriage or children. There would never be any fooling herself that she had a future with him.

  He'd just be a passing pleasure. A salve to her pride and a comfort to her bruised female ego. Not to mention a comfort to her female body!

  By the time she got through the next fortnight, cancelling everything and putting up with everyone's condolences, she'd need comforting. And what better way than on a balmy tropical island in the arms of a gorgeous man you fancied like mad, and who seemed to fancy you in return?

  'Isabel?'

  Isabel shook herself out of her provocative thoughts.

  'Yes, Mum?'

  'Well, what do you think about finding a friend to go away on that holiday with you? If you can't get your money back, it does seem a shame to waste it.'

  'We'll see, Mum.' She'd better sleep on the idea. She'd been knocked for a couple of sixes today. And she had been drinking. The booked holiday on Dream Island didn't start for another fortnight and she doubted Rafe was going anywhere in a hurry. Maybe if she felt the same way in the cold light of Monday morning...

  A shiver ran down Isabel's spine at the thought of doing something that bold. It was one thing to deliberately go to bed with a man like Luke, when your intention was marriage. Quite another to contemplate a strictly sexual affair with the likes of Rafe Saint Vincent!

  CHAPTER SIX

  RAFE didn't sleep well that night, which wasn't like him. Usually, he was out like a light soon after his head hit the pillow.

  But not this time. He tossed and turned. Even got up on one occasion and poured himself a stiff drink.

  The trouble with that, however, was it reminded him even more forcibly of the reason for his insomnia.

  Had she drunk some more after hanging up on him? Was she also up, wandering around the house in her nightie with another glass of whisky clutched in her hands?

  He carried that image of her back to bed with him and tossed and turned some more, his hormone-revved head wondering what kind of nightie it might be. Short or long? Provocative or prissy?

  Various alternatives came to mind. She'd look delicious in long creamy satin, and wickedly sexy in short black lace. Better still in nothing at all.

  His groan was the groan of a man suffering from a case of serious sexual frustration. Which would never do if he wanted to get some sleep. And he did. He hadn't finished his work today and he'd have to beaver away at it all day tomorrow. No Sunday brunch down at Darling Harbour with his mother. No slouching around watching the cooking shows on satellite.

  Dragging himself up again, he made his way into the bathroom; where he had the hottest of hot showers, a technique he'd found worked much better on him than cold. The heat sapped his energy, and relaxed his tense muscles and other aching parts. After a good twenty minutes of sauna-type soaking, he snapped off the water, dried himself with one of his extra-fluffy white bath sheets, then fell, naked and pink-skinned, back into bed.

  An hour later he was still wide awake.

  Swearing, he rose, pulled on his black silk robe, made himself some very strong coffee and trudged downstairs to his darkroom where he surprised himself by working like a demon for several hours. It was light when he emerged, but by this time he was too exhausted to care. He went upstairs, switched off his mobile, took his other phone off the hook, closed the roller shutter which he'd recently installed on his bedroom window and collapsed into bed.

  If his oblivion was ravaged by erotic dreams, he certainly didn't recall them, but he was embarrassingly erect when he was wrenched out of his blissful coma by the sound of his front doorbell ringing. It was just as well, Rafe decided as he struggled out of bed, that the robe he was still wearing provided discreet coverage. Because he had no intention of getting dressed. He was going to get rid of whoever was at the door, then go back to bed for the rest of the day.

  It was Isabel, looking as if she was on her way to afternoon tea with the Queen.

  Cream linen trouser suit. Blue silk top. Pearls. Pink lipstick. And that lovely blonde hair of hers, slicked back up in that prissy roll thing.

  Her perfect grooming highlighted his own dishevelled appearance. Why couldn't he have any luck with this woman?

  'I presume you've come for your phone,' he grumped.

  She looked him up and down with about the same expression she had when she'd first arrived yesterday. 'Sorry to get you out of bed,' she said drily. 'But it is two in the afternoon.'

  Rafe decided there was no point in telling her the truth, that he'd worked most of the night because of her.

  'Yeah well, we party animals do get tired. And last night was Saturday night. I didn't get to bed till dawn.'

  'Alone?'

  He crossed his arms. 'Such a personal question for a lady who's just come for her phone.'

  'You said I'd just come for my phone. I didn't.'

  Rafe stared at her. Was he about to get lucky here?

  'Do you think I might come inside?' she went on in that silkily cool voice of hers, the one which rippled down his spine like a mink glove.

  'Be my guest,' he said eagerly, stepping back to wave her inside.

  'I need to go to the bathroom,' she said straight away. 'I've just driven straight down from Gosford Hospital.'

  Rafe frowned as he swung the front door shut behind him. 'What were you doing up there?' And, even more to the point, what was she doing here! The suburb of Paddington was not on the way from the Central Coast to her address at Burwood. So she wouldn't have dropped in just to use his toilet!

  His heart was already thudding with carnal hopes.

  'Luke was in a car accident on the F3 freeway yesterday,' she said.

  'Is he all right?'

  'A few bumps and bruises. Nothing too serious. But he knocked his head and was unconscious for a while. The police found my number in his car and contacted me early this morning, so of course I had to go and see how he was.'

  '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?1

  '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 fi
replace 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.

  Not that Luke had broken her heart exactly. But he'd certainly shattered her dreams.

  Isabel cleared her throat, determined not to start waffling, and doubly determined not to feel one scrap of shame!

  'The bottom line is this, Rafe. Just because I've decided to have a baby alone doesn't mean I always want to be alone. I happen to like sex. Actually, I like it a lot. Perversely, I seem to like it most with men like you.'

  Rafe's eyebrows shot upwards, then drew darkly together. 'Hey, hold it there. What do you mean by men like me? That sounded like an insult.'

  Isabel winced. She hadn't worded that at all well. 'It wasn't meant to be an insult. It was just a fact. I'm always attracted to men who aren't into commitment. That used to be a big problem, given I wanted marriage and a family. It was the main reason I decided on a marriage of convenience with Luke, because I was sick and tired of falling in love with Mr Wrong. Now that I've made the decision to have a baby on my own, I don't have to worry about the intentions of the men I sleep with, because I won't want to marry them. I just want to have sex with them. Is there some problem with that? I thought that was what you wanted, too.'

  Rafe frowned. He'd thought that was what he wanted, too.

  'I guess I still like my girlfriends to think I'm an okay guy, not some selfish sleazebag who uses women for one thing and one thing only.'

  'Oh, but I don't want to be your girlfriend, Rafe. After the honeymoon holiday is over, I don't want to ever see you again.'

  He was truly taken aback. 'But why not?'

  Isabel was not about to tell him the truth on this occasion—that she didn't want to push her luck by spending too much time with him. It was one thing to live out a fantasy fortnight with him on Dream Island, quite another to have him popping around all the time after they came back to Sydney. He really was too nice a guy to allow that. She was sure to end up wanting more from him that he could give.

  Right at this moment, however, she just wanted him for sex, and nothing more. One look at his gorgeously rakish self on his doorstep this morning had confirmed that. Isabel didn't want to risk changing that status quo.

  'I have my reasons, Rafe,' she said firmly. "This is a take-it-or-leave-it proposition. I'm sure I could find someone else t
o go with me if you turn me down.'

  The thought of her going with someone else made up Rafe's mind in a hurry. 'No need to do that,' he said hurriedly. 'I'd love to go with you.'

  'On my terms and no questions asked?1 she insisted.

  'None except essentials. Firstly, how long will I be away?'

  'Two weeks.'

  Two weeks. Fourteen days and fourteen nights. Fantastic! 'And it's on Dream Island.'

  'Yes, you've been there before?'

  'No, but I've heard about it.' It was the newest and most exclusive of the tropical island resorts off the far North Queensland coast, specialising in romantic holidays for couples and honeymooners. He wondered if they would have one of the special bures overlooking their own private beach. That would be really something. To be totally alone with her with nothing to do but eat, sleep, swim and make love. His kind of holiday!

  'When, exactly, do we fly out?' he asked eagerly.

  Today fortnight, at ten in the morning. I'll pick you up here at eight. Be ready.' She stood up abruptly.

  'Hey.' He jumped up also. 'You're not leaving, are you?'

  'I have no reason to stay any longer,' she returned, her manner firm. 'You said yes. We have nothing more to discuss.'

  'What about contraception?'

  She stared hard at him. 'I presume I can rely on you to see to that.'

  'You're not on the pill?'

  'No, and even if I was I would still want you to use condoms.'

  He supposed that was only sensible, but he still felt mildly insulted. Which was crazy, really.

  'Fine,' he said. 'But there's still no reason to rush off, is there? I mean...fair enough if you don't want to see me afterwards, but it might be nice to spend some time together before we go off on holiday together. Get to know each other a little better.'

  Tm sorry but I don't want to do that.'

  'Why not, for pity's sake?'

  'Look, Rafe, may I be blunt?'

  Did she know any other way? 'Please do,' he bit out.