Proof Of Their One-Night Passion. Louise Fuller

that reminded him of home, and there had been a crush of people at the bar, escaping the wind’s chill.

      He’d been on the verge of leaving.

      A combination of work and family histrionics had shrunk his private life to early-morning sessions with his trainer and the occasional dinner with an investor when, finally, it had dawned on him that his app had been launched for nearly three months.

      On a whim, he’d decided to try it out.

      But, watching the couples dotted about the bar, he had felt a familiar unease clutch at his stomach.

      Out of habit, he’d got there early. It was a discipline he embraced—perhaps because since childhood any chance to assemble his thoughts in peace had always been such a rarity. But when Lottie had walked through the door rational thought had been swept away. Her cheeks had been flushed, and she’d appeared to be wearing nothing but a pair of slim-heeled boots and a short black trench coat.

      Sadly she’d been clothed underneath but he’d stayed sitting down. If using his own dating app had been impulsive, then not leaving by another door had been the first time he’d done something so utterly unconsidered.

      ‘And you want me to join you there?’

      Her eyes met his and there was a beat of silence before she nodded.

      His pulse accelerated.

      It was nearly two years since that night.

      He was exhausted.

      His head of security would be appalled.

      And yet—

      His eyes rested on the soft cushion of her mouth.

      The coffee shop was still busy enough that they had to queue for their drinks, but they managed to find a table.

      ‘Thank you.’ He gestured towards his espresso.

      His wallet had been in his hand, but she had sidestepped neatly in front of him, her soft brown eyes defying him to argue with her. Now, though, those same brown eyes were busily avoiding his, and for the first time since she’d called out his name he wondered why she had tracked him down.

      He drank his coffee, relishing the heat and the way the caffeine started to block the tension in his back.

      ‘So, I’m all yours,’ he said quietly.

      She stiffened. ‘Hardly.’

      He sighed. ‘Is that what this is about? Me giving you the wrong name.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘No, of course not. I’m not—’ She stopped, frowning. ‘Actually, I wasn’t just passing, and I’m not here for myself.’ She took a breath. ‘I’m here for Sóley.’

      Her face softened into a smile and he felt a sudden urge to reach out and caress the curve of her lip, to trigger such a smile for himself.

      ‘It’s a pretty name.’

      She nodded, her smile freezing.

      It was a pretty name—one he’d always liked. One you didn’t hear much outside of Iceland. Only what had it got to do with him?

      Watching her fingers tremble against her cup, he felt his ribs tighten. ‘Who’s Sóley?’

      She was quiet for less than a minute, only it felt much longer—long enough for his brain to click through all the possible answers to the impossible one.

      He watched her posture change from defensive to resolute.

      ‘She’s your daughter. Our daughter.’

      He stared at her in silence, but a cacophony of questions was ricocheting inside his head.

      Not the how or the when or the where, but the why. Of course he’d used condoms but that first time he’d been rushing. And he’d known that. So why hadn’t he checked everything was okay? Why had he allowed the heat of their encounter to blot out common sense?

      But the answers to those questions would have to wait.

      ‘Okay…’

      Shifting in her seat, she frowned. ‘“Okay”?’ she repeated. ‘Do you understand what I just said?’

      ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘You’re saying I got you pregnant.’

      ‘You don’t seem surprised,’ she said slowly.

      He shrugged. ‘These things happen.’

      To his siblings and half-siblings, even to his mother. But not to him. Never to him.

      Until now.

      ‘And you believe me?’ She seemed confused, surprised?

      Tilting his head, he held her gaze. ‘Honest answer?’

      He was going to ask her what she would gain by lying. But before he could open his mouth her lip curled.

      ‘On past performance I’m not sure I can expect that. I mean, you lied about your name. And the hotel you were staying at. And you lied about wanting to spend the day with me.’

      ‘I didn’t plan on lying to you,’ he said quietly.

      Her mouth thinned. ‘No, I’m sure it comes very naturally to you.’

      ‘You’re twisting my words.’

      She shook her head. ‘You mean like saying Steinn instead of Stone?’

      Pressing his spine into the wall behind him, he felt a tick of anger begin to pulse beneath his skin.

      ‘Okay, I was wrong to lie to you—but if you care about the truth so much then why have you waited so long to tell me that I have a daughter? I mean, she must be what…?’ He did a quick mental calculation. ‘Ten, eleven months?’

      ‘Eleven months,’ she said stiffly. ‘And I did want to tell you. I tried looking for you when I was pregnant, and then again when she was born. But the only Ragnar Steinns I could track down weren’t you.’ She shifted in her seat again. ‘I probably would never have found you if you hadn’t been on the TV.’

      He looked at her again, and despite the rush of righteousness heating his blood he could see that she was nervous, could hear the undertone of strain beneath her bravado.

      But then it was a hell of a thing to do. To face a man and tell him he had a child.

      His heart began to beat faster.

      Years spent navigating through the maelstrom of his family’s dramas had given him a cast-iron control over his feelings, and yet for some reason he couldn’t stop her panic and defiance from getting under his skin.

      But letting feelings get in the way of the facts was not going to help the situation. Nor was it going to be much use to his eleventh-month-old daughter.

      Right now he needed to focus on the practical.

      ‘Fortunately you did find me,’ he said calmly.

      ‘Here.’ She was pushing something across the table towards him, but he carried on talking.

      ‘So I’m guessing you want to talk money?’

      At that moment a group of young men and women came into the café and began noisily choosing what to drink. As the noise swelled around them Lottie thought she might have misheard.

      Only she knew that she hadn’t.

      Ever since arriving in London that morning she’d been questioning whether she was doing the right thing, and the thought of seeing Ragnar again had made her stomach perform an increasingly complicated gymnastics routine. Her