Liam's Secret Son. Carole Mortimer

you care to take it,’ he conceded with exasperation.

      ‘I think I should warn you—I don’t respond too well to threats,’ she told him stiffly.

      ‘Then don’t take it as one,’ he replied impatiently. ‘My goodness, Laura, you didn’t used to be this difficult!’

      She had used not to be a lot of things. But it was those changes, in herself as well as her life, that now gave her the inner strength and security to accept his invitation. Liam couldn’t touch her emotionally. Not any more.

      ‘Okay, Liam, I’ll meet you for that drink,’ she accepted graciously.

      ‘Why ever couldn’t you have just agreed to do that ten minutes ago?’ he demanded.

      ‘I didn’t want to make it that easy for you,’ she told him with blunt honesty.

      He sighed. ‘I would take a guess that you don’t intend making anything easy for me!’

      She laughed softly. ‘You would guess correctly. Give me forty minutes or so to dress and get over to you,’ she continued briskly, throwing back the satin sheets to get out of bed.

      ‘I’ll have the champagne waiting on ice for you,’ he came back huskily.

      Laura stiffened. ‘Let me make it clear from the onset, Liam—we do not have anything to celebrate,’ she told him flatly.

      ‘Maybe you don’t—but I do.’ He sounded completely unperturbed by her outburst. ‘I’ll tell you about it when you get here,’ he promised.

      Laura dressed, frowning at her reflection in the mirror as she put on her make-up. Exactly what did Liam have to celebrate? What did he intend telling her about when she got to the hotel? She couldn’t believe, after the secrecy he had maintained concerning his manuscript, Josie’s World, that he intended telling her about that.

      And if he did how she would actually respond?

      In the circumstances, how could she respond…?

       CHAPTER THREE

      A QUICK look around the bar and lounge area on her arrival at the hotel a short time later showed her that Liam wasn’t in any of them. Which could mean only one thing…

      Laura marched determinedly over to the reception desk, her eyes, with their different colours, sparkling angrily. ‘Could you call Mr O’Reilly’s suite, please, and tell him that Laura is waiting for him downstairs?’

      ‘Certainly, madam.’ The receptionist smiled at her before doing exactly that, putting her hand over the receiver after a minute or so’s conversation with Liam. ‘Mr O’Reilly would like you to join him in his suite on the third floor—’

      ‘Could you tell Mr O’Reilly that I am waiting for him downstairs in Reception—with or without the champagne!’ Laura was so angry her voice shook slightly, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

      How dared he? How dared he assume she would go up to his suite for the agreed drink? Exactly who did he think he was? More to the point, what did he think she was?

      The receptionist related the message, ending the call a few seconds later before smiling at Laura with vacuous politeness. ‘Mr O’Reilly says he will join you here in a few minutes.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Laura accepted stiffly, before marching over to sit in one of the sumptuous armchairs that filled the reception area, glaring across at the four lifts as she waited for Liam to appear from one of them, not even sure now that she was going to stay for the proposed drink!

      She sat and fumed as she waited. Liam had a nerve, just assuming— The arrogance of him! The absolute, unmitigating gall of the man!

      ‘I would tell you how beautiful you look when you’re angry,’ an amused voice remarked behind her, very close to her ear, ‘but I very much doubt, in your present frame of mind, that you would appreciate the hackneyed compliment!’

      Laura, having spun round angrily at the first sound of Liam’s voice, found herself with her face only inches away from his own.

      For the second time today, exactly where had he come from?

      She had seated herself facing towards the lifts this time, and still she had missed his arrival. The man was more elusive than a taxi in the theatre district of London on a Saturday evening!

      ‘I walked down,’ he drawled as he seemed to guess some of her thoughts.

      ‘Three floors?’ she gasped disbelievingly. The Liam she’d used to know had sometimes found walking from the bedroom to the kitchen too much effort!

      He grinned at her obvious scepticism. ‘I’ve taken up hiking in the countryside since I moved back to Ireland.’ His expression darkened. ‘For a while it became my salvation!’

      ‘How nice,’ Laura returned insincerely, not wanting to hear the reasons why he had needed salvation. ‘You decided not to bring down the champagne, I see.’ She looked pointedly at his empty hands.

      ‘It’s waiting for us in the bar.’ He gave a sweep of his hand in that direction.

      Meaning what? Laura wondered as she stood up. That he had intended the two of them drinking in the bar the whole time? Or that he had made a hasty call down to the barman and asked him to put a second bottle of champagne on ice? Somehow Laura had an idea it was the second option!

      ‘You think too much,’ Liam teased, moving to lightly clasp her arm as they strolled through to the bar. ‘You also look gorgeous,’ he added admiringly.

      She frowned at the compliment. She had dressed in black trousers and a fitted black leather shirt deliberately, considering them to be smart but unalluring. The last thing she wanted was for Liam to think she was out to appear attractive to him. She had obviously failed!

      Laura studied him as they sipped the champagne that had been poured for them, having unemotionally noted the female interest engendered in the bar by his dark Irish good looks. Some things never changed, she acknowledged dryly; Liam always had been able to attract every woman within a ten-yard-radius, no matter what her age!

      ‘So, Laura.’ Liam looked across at her with laughing blue eyes. ‘What’s your conclusion?’

      She inwardly stiffened at his perception, while outwardly giving every impression she was completely relaxed sitting in the armchair placed next to his. ‘Concerning what?’ She was deliberately unhelpful.

      ‘Concerning any physical changes you might see in me after all these years,’ he drawled unconcernedly.

      Unconcernedly, Laura guessed, because he knew that none of those changes had detracted from his rugged good looks.

      She shrugged. ‘We’re both eight years older, Liam.’

      He chuckled softly. ‘Very tactfully said, Laura—but in no way does it answer my question.’

      She raised dark brows. ‘Because, quite honestly, I don’t see the point in the question, let alone the answer,’ she replied tersely.

      Blue eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘What’s he like?’ he murmured slowly.

      It took all of her inner control to maintain her composure. ‘Who?’ she finally asked stiffly.

      ‘The man you married.’

      Her gaze was cool now. ‘Robert’s the most kind, wonderful, considerate person I have ever known,’ she answered without hesitation.

      Liam looked less than pleased by her reply, scowling darkly. ‘But what’s he like in bed?’ he probed.

      Laura, in the process of sipping her champagne, almost choked over the bubbly liquid, glaring at him with icy eyes. ‘How dare you?’ she gasped once she could catch her breath, her hand shaking slightly as she