His Love-Child. Jacqueline Baird

are still here when I get back, I’ll have a drink with you. But don’t spoil your evening waiting for me.’ And with this Willow turned and left the office.

      Ben Carlavitch was a very handsome man, but to Willow, ensconced in his suite with her publisher, the lawyer and Louise, he could have looked like Quasimodo and she still would not have noticed. She barely registered what was being discussed, and answered yes to everything, heaving a sigh of relief when the rest got down to discussing money. Her mind was in turmoil. Theo Kadros hadn’t changed much in nine years, except he looked harder and more cynical than she remembered him. He was right, they had parted with a handshake, but even now Willow could recall the fierce self-control it had taken to dismiss the man from her life.

      Dear God! Thinking about it now, she could not believe she had ever been that young or that naive. The morning after sleeping with Theo she had answered the telephone and all her romantic dreams had gone crashing to the ground. The man whose bed she had just left had been engaged to be married to someone else. He was an unscrupulous fiend; even his own sister had said he was a playboy.

      A few hours later, still in a blessedly merciful state of numb shock, Willow had been sitting in the departure lounge at Heathrow Airport waiting for the boarding announcement for her flight. The flight had already been delayed, and Willow had been anxious to get to her mother, and put the shameful events of the previous night behind her. Briefly closing her eyes, she had wondered how she could have been so stupid.

      ‘Willow.’

      Her eyes flew open in shock. Theo Kadros was standing in front of her like some dark avenging angel, and she was struck again by his sheer magnetism. But now, in the harsh light of day, the dream-like picture she had of the teasing, tender lover was blasted into oblivion by the ruthless, dynamic power of the man towering over her.

      Horrified, she leapt to her feet. She must have been crazy to even think for a minute that a sophisticated man like Theo Kadros could be interested in her for anything but a one-night stand. He was way out of her league, and the bitter realisation gave her the strength to face him. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in a cool, polite voice.

      A wry smile curved Willow’s full lips as she remembered the look of dismay on Theo’s face as his gaze had roamed over her from the top of her head to her toes. She had dressed for comfort for the long-haul flight, in plain white cotton drawstring trousers and a baggy blue Her hair had been scraped back in two plaits and her face scrubbed free of make-up, and she’d known she’d looked nothing like the glamorous, scantily clad girl he had met the night before.

      ‘I could say… where are we going for the weekend?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘But then again…’ his dark eyes narrowed angrily on her pale face ‘… perhaps I just came to wish you a happy eighteenth birthday.’

      Still in shock, Willow ignored his comment about the weekend and thanked him politely, much to her own amazement.

      Stony-faced, he demanded to know why she’d never told him she was so young. She responded petulantly with, You never asked, and he grunted like a wounded bear. He then demanded to know why she had lied to him and let him think she was the new student in the house. Again she told him with quiet reason, ‘You asked me if I was staying and I was.’

      With his temper rising to boiling point, he pointed out that he would never have slept with her if he had known how young she was, or that she was a virgin. Embarrassed, Willow told him to keep his voice down. Then with a sudden flash of inspiration she informed him that she had simply planned it as something to do when she came of age, adding that she’d thought an older man would be better as he was likely to be more experienced.

      His rage barely contained, he demanded how she could treat the loss of her innocence so lightly. He tried to persuade her to keep in touch with him, by telephone or letter, and suggested they meet up again in India, anywhere. When that didn’t work he demanded curtly that she keep in touch with him just in case there were any repercussions from the night they had spent together.

      Not once did he mention his fiancée, and it was left to Willow to angrily point out, ‘Really, Theo, I think you are overdoing it a bit. I bet you didn’t say that to the woman who shared your bed the night before me.’ She caught the flash of something very much like guilt in his eyes, and knew Dianne had told the truth. Then, with a casualness that pleased her battered heart, she told him he had nothing to worry about, pointing out that he had used protection and that there was always the morning-after pill, implying she had taken one.

      At that he stiffened and took a hasty step back, his dark eyes hard and blank. ‘Well, then, you are right, there is obviously nothing more to be said.’ He made a throw-away gesture with his hand palm up. ‘Except I am glad I could be of service,’ he drawled mockingly.

      At that moment her flight was finally called. ‘My flight… No hard feelings, Theo,’ she said with a cool smile and took his hand and shook it.

      Surprised, he looked at her hand holding his, and then slowly unwound his strong fingers. ‘Have a nice life, Willow.’ And then he left.

      ‘So what do you think, Willow? Are you agreed?’

      Blinking back to the present at just the right time, Willow still couldn’t face the anguish she had suffered after Theo had left her that day. ‘Yes.’ She looked up across the table into the shrewd grey eyes of Ben Carlavitch.

      You haven’t been listening to anything that has been said.’ His handsome face turned into a rueful smile. ‘A bit dampening to a Hollywood mogul’s ego.’ He grinned.

      She grinned back. He really was a very attractive man, and about thirty-five, she guessed. ‘Yes, I did,’ she lied. ‘And if my publisher is happy, then so am I.’

      ‘Whoever he is, he is a very lucky man,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I just hope he appreciates you. If not, give me a call.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE doorman held open the taxi door and, sliding out, Willow called goodnight to Louise, who was sharing the cab with her. She glanced up at the impressive entrance to the hotel, and shivered slightly in the cool night air. It was almost midnight, and Willow felt sure that Theo Kadros would have given up waiting for her long ago. She certainly hoped so. She had accompanied the others to a smart Italian restaurant after they’d left the meeting with Carlavitch, and had toasted her success with champagne. Willow had deliberately chattered on long after their meal was finished, lingering over the coffee, but finally there had been no alternative but to return to her hotel.

      Walking quickly into the lobby, Willow made a beeline for the girl at the reception desk and asked for her room key.

      ‘Thank you.’ She almost snatched it from the receptionist’s hand in her hurry to get away, and, spinning around, she walked straight into a hard, masculine body. A strong arm closed around her waist, and she slowly lifted her head, her blue eyes clashing with dancing black.

      ‘You don’t need to bowl me over, Willow, you did that years ago,’ Theo said in a deep, husky drawl, and smiled wickedly down into her startled eyes.

      ‘You’re still here,’ she blurted. Suddenly conscious of the hard length of his body against her own, Willow took a hasty step back. For a brief second she thought he was not going to release her, but then to her relief his arm fell from her waist and she was free.

      Her wary gaze skidded over him. He was wearing an elegantly tailored beige suit with the jacket open. The loosely pleated trousers hung low on his lean hips and faithfully traced his long legs. At some time during the evening he must have discarded his tie as his white silk shirt was open at the neck, revealing the tanned column of his throat and just the slightest hint of black chest hair.

      A vivid mental image of her much younger self, leaning over his broad, naked chest teasingly tugging at the tiny black curls, flashed into Willow’s mind. She swallowed hard and dragged her gaze back to his face.

      ‘But of course I’m still here, Willow.’ His dark eyes captured hers. ‘I promised to buy you a drink and talk over old times, and I am a man of my word,’