Facing Up To Fatherhood. Miranda Lee

he was going to play it, was it?

      Gritting her teeth, she stood up and gave the approaching guards a haughty look of disdain. ‘I gather Mr Hunter won’t be returning?’

      ‘That’s right, ma’am,’ the bigger and older of the two informed her. ‘He said to tell you that next time he’d be calling the police.’

      ‘Really? Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we? No, that’s not necessary!’ she snapped when the guard who’d spoken forcibly took her by the elbow. ‘I’ll go quietly.’

      Despite her protests, the two guards still escorted her till she was outside the building.

      She stood there on the pavement for several moments, glaring up at the top floors, struggling to get her temper under control. She imagined the bastard peering back down at her from his lofty position, smug and smirking with triumph.

      ‘You’ll get yours, Dominic Hunter,’ she threatened under her breath. ‘I’m going to take you to the cleaners!’

      Scooping in several deep breaths, Tina forcibly slowed her pounding heart and found some much-needed composure. Her brain finally began ticking over, and she started wondering why Bonnie’s father was so sure of his ground that he would dare have her thrown out. It was a stupid move to bluff about paternity in this day and age.

      No matter what else he might be, Dominic Hunter was not stupid.

      It suddenly dawned on Tina that he probably believed Sarah had had that termination he’d paid for, which meant he might not have realised Bonnie was the baby Sarah had come to see him about, despite her being the right age. He possibly thought Bonnie was another baby entirely, and she, Tina, was the mother. When he’d stared so hard at her it could have been because he was trying to recall if he’d ever slept with her or not. Since he hadn’t, naturally he’d assumed she was trying to pull off some kind of false paternity suit.

      That had to be it!

      Tina could have kicked herself. She should have said straight up that she wasn’t the biological mother.

      ‘Your new mummy’s an idiot,’ she told the now wide-awake infant as she wheeled the pram towards the taxi rank on the corner. ‘But don’t worry, I have a contingency plan. Since I’ve temporarily blotted my copybook with your father, we’ll go see your grandmother and gain entry that way. Yes, I know you’re getting hungry and wet. I’ll feed and change you in the taxi. I’ve brought everything with me. Bottles. Nappies. Spare clothes. Aren’t you impressed?’

      Several passersby glanced over their shoulders at the tall, striking brunette wheeling the brand-new navy pram along the pavement, oblivious of everything but the baby to whom she was talking fifteen to the dozen.

      ‘Just wait till your nanna sees how beautiful you are. And how good. She won’t be able to resist you. I couldn’t, could I? And look at me? A hard-nosed piece if ever there was one. Or so your real mummy used to say. And she was probably right. But she wasn’t right about my not being able to love anything or anybody. No, my darling, she was quite wrong about that…’

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE nerve of the woman! The darned nerve!

      Dominic fumed as he glared down at the pavement below and watched her pushing the pram down the street. What on earth did she think she was playing at? How did she think she was going to get away with such an outrageous claim? Even if he was one of the unlucky few whose condom had failed, did she honestly imagine that he wouldn’t remember sleeping with someone like her?

      She wasn’t the sort of female he would forget in a hurry. For one thing, she was exactly his type. Dominic had always been attracted to tall, slim brunettes with interesting faces and dark, glittering eyes who made it obvious from their first meeting that men were not their favourite species. He liked the challenge of getting them into bed, then watching them abandon their feminist aggression for the short time his sexual know-how—and their own basic needs—overcame their natural antagonism. He’d had several rather lengthy involvements with such women, and prided himself on keeping them as friends afterwards.

      Oh, yes, he would have remembered having sex with…damn it all, he didn’t even know her name! She’d only supplied Doris with the name of her baby.

      Bonnie.

      As if that would mean anything to him!

      He watched till she disappeared under a street awning, certain that that would be the last he’d see of her.

      Perversely, he almost regretted having had her thrown out so hastily. He should have questioned her further, listened to her tall tale, found out what it was she wanted from him.

      Money, he supposed, as he turned from the window and strode across his office towards the door. What else could she possibly have wanted?

      He ground to a halt with his hand reaching for the doorknob, his forehead creasing into a frown.

      But why had he been the target of her attempted con? It wasn’t as though he had a reputation for indiscriminate and promiscuous behaviour. He certainly wasn’t the sort of man who could be convinced he’d slept with some stranger whilst drunk or under the influence of drugs. He never drank to that much excess and he never took drugs!

      Maybe she’d mixed him up with someone else, he speculated. Maybe she was the one who’d forgotten who it was she’d slept with. Maybe the father of her baby was someone else working at Hunter & Associates. Or a stockbroker from another firm. Someone who looked like him, perhaps.

      Yes, that had to be it, he decided firmly. It was a case of mistaken identity.

      Now, forget her and get back to work, he ordered himself. You’ve wasted enough time for one day!

      Mrs Hunter’s address was in Clifton Gardens, an old but exclusive Northshore suburb which hugged Sydney Harbour and where even the simplest house had an asking price of a million.

      Mrs Hunter’s house, however, wasn’t simple. It turned out to be a stately sandstone residence, two-storeyed, with a wide wooden verandah. The block was huge, and the gardens, a visual delight, immaculately kept.

      Tina frowned at the sight, and the conclusions such a property evoked. Dominic Hunter’s family possessed old money, the kind which inevitably produced people who thought they were a cut above ordinary folk. Arrogance was as natural to them as breathing.

      If Mrs Hunter proved to be such a snob, maybe she wouldn’t welcome an illegitimate grandchild into her life, regardless of how adorable Bonnie was. Maybe she would be as sceptical—and as rude—as her son. Maybe she would swiftly show Tina and Bonnie the door, as he had done.

      Tina’s resolve wavered only momentarily, her confidence regained by a glance at the beautiful baby in her arms.

      No woman in the world could resist Bonnie, she reasoned. Not if she had any kind of heart at all!

      Tina was climbing out of the taxi before a second dampening thought occurred to her. What if Dominic Hunter’s mother wasn’t at home?

      She’d set about discovering the woman’s existence and her address that morning, after she’d been told by Dominic Hunter’s secretary that she couldn’t see the great man himself that day.

      Severely irritated at the time, Tina had swiftly rung Dominic Hunter’s secretary back, putting on an English accent and pretending to be an embarrassed florist who was supposed to deliver flowers to Mr Hunter’s mother that day but had lost her particulars.

      At the time, she hadn’t even known if his mother was still of this world. Presuming he did have a mother. It would never surprise Tina to find out that the Dominic Hunters of this world were spawned in a test-tube. Or cloned from some other selfish macho creep with a megalomania complex.

      A couple of minutes later she had hung up, with everything she needed to know. Mrs Hunter was still alive and well. And Tina knew where she lived.

      She’d