The Blackmail Pregnancy. Melanie Milburne

Byron think she was still hankering after him, like a lovelorn ex-wife who couldn’t get her life back on track.

      ‘Did Felicity finish her degree?’ She asked the first question that came into her mind.

      ‘With honours. We’re very proud of her. She’s the first Rockcliffe female to complete a doctorate. My mother got as far as her master’s, but it took Fliss’s determination and brilliance to lift the game that next notch.’

      ‘I always thought she’d do it,’ Cara said. ‘She’s got what it takes.’

      ‘Evidently so have you,’ he observed. ‘That’s an impressive degree hanging on your office wall.’

      ‘It came at a high price.’

      ‘But worth it, surely?’ he asked. ‘You’ve made your mark on Sydney’s design intelligentsia.’

      ‘But not on the bank manager.’

      ‘No, but they’re hard to please at the best of times.’

      She felt a smile tug at her mouth.

      ‘Trevor would be glad to hear you say that,’ she said.

      ‘Did you meet him at design school?’

      She nodded. ‘He was a friend of a friend—you know how it goes.’

      ‘Have you got a boyfriend? A lover?’

      Cara bent her head over her food, playing with the salad garnish. ‘I can’t see that it’s any of your business. What about you?’ She lifted her eyes gamely to his.

      His dark gaze gave nothing away. ‘Suffice it to say I’m in between appointments.’

      Her heart squeezed at the thought of him involved with someone else, but she fought against revealing her feelings to him. It was none of her business who he slept with—now.

      ‘So I take it your offer to me is some sort of stop-gap?’

      ‘You might like to see it that way, but I prefer to see it as an investment in the future.’

      ‘There’s not much future for children without two loving parents,’ she pointed out. ‘Surely all children are entitled to at least that?’

      ‘That’s the ideal, of course, but life doesn’t always go to plan. There are literally thousands of households headed by single parents. No one could say they’re doing a substandard job; they’re just getting on with it—bringing up the next generation as best they can.’

      Cara toyed with her food, rearranging it without lifting any morsel of it to her mouth.

      ‘Some do better than others,’ she said, pushing her plate away.

      Byron knew her statement was loaded but decided against pressing her. She looked tired, almost defeated, as if the world had been cast upon her slim shoulders. She was visibly sagging. Her eyes refused to meet his and her shoulders were slumped as if in surrender. He thrust his napkin aside and got to his feet.

      ‘Come on. I’ll take you back to your office.’

      She was glad of the reprieve. She felt uncomfortable in his company and couldn’t wait to be free of it so she could think clearly. Having him so near clouded her thoughts, ran them together—like a red T-shirt thrown amongst white washing.

      He settled the bill and she allowed him to lead her by the elbow towards the car.

      ‘I’ll see you on Sunday,’ he said when he left her outside her office. ‘I’ll pick you up from your home. Trevor gave me your address the other day.’

      Cara waited until his car had disappeared down the street before she turned towards her office, her thoughts jumbled inside her head.

      Trevor was waiting for her.

      ‘How was it?’

      ‘How was what?’

      ‘The house,’ he said in excitement. ‘Was it everything and more?’

      She gave him a vague smile and pushed past to go to the sanctuary of her office.

      ‘It was that and more. I’m going to take the job and start work immediately. I’ve got a house—no, a mansion to fill with furniture, and only four weeks in which to do it.’

      Trevor gave a whoop of delight.

      ‘That’s my girl!’ he crowed. ‘We’re not going under!’

      No, she thought. You’re not going under—just me. And she closed her office door on his carefree smiling face.

      Byron was right on time when he pulled up in front of her small rented apartment on Sunday evening. Cara had been watching from the window and now stood in the hall, waiting for his knock.

      She opened the door and felt her stomach tilt at the sight of his tall frame before her. He was wearing dark trousers and a lightweight knit top that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders.

      She had chosen to go casual as well. Her camel coloured pants teamed nicely with her black top, and her hair was loose for a change. She saw his eyes flick over her as she stood before him, his expression giving nothing away. She wanted to say hello, but instead reached for her bag, trying to cover her unease.

      ‘I thought we might go somewhere quiet and discuss your decision over dinner,’ he said as she followed him out to his car.

      ‘Fine.’

      One-word answers were all she could manage on the way to a little Italian restaurant in Glebe. Cara sat twisting the strap of her bag and wondered what he was thinking. Was he anticipating resuming their relationship tonight? Or would he wait until she’d finished the house?

      They were seated with drinks and menus in front of them when Byron asked, ‘Have you come to a decision?’

      She looked up at him in alarm. Couldn’t he at least wait until their food had been ordered?

      ‘I meant about the food,’ he added with a small tilt of his mouth as he noticed her troubled expression. ‘You don’t need to panic just yet.’

      ‘I’m not panicking.’

      ‘Yes, you are. I can feel your tension from here.’

      ‘I’m not tense, I’m…I’m concentrating.’

      ‘On what?’

      ‘The menu.’

      ‘What do you feel like?’ he asked.

      ‘What?’

      He gave her another frustrated look.

      ‘I’m still talking about the food.’

      ‘I haven’t had time to look,’ she replied coolly. ‘You keep badgering me with questions.’

      ‘Sorry.’ His apology was gruff as he returned to his own menu. ‘I realise this isn’t easy for you.’

      ‘Are we still talking about food?’ she asked.

      His mouth twisted as he met her eyes across the table.

      ‘No, not this time.’

      The waiter appeared and asked for their order. Cara rattled off the first thing she’d seen under main courses and sat back and waited for Byron to relay his own preference. Once the waiter had bustled away she felt the full heat of Byron’s gaze.

      ‘So, what have you decided, Cara?’

      ‘I’d hardly call it a decision,’ she said with some resentment. ‘You’ve made it very difficult for me to do anything else.’

      ‘I made it difficult?’ he asked with heavy irony. ‘I wasn’t the one who didn’t take a decent look at the business end of things until it was too late to do anything. What world are you living in, Cara? You can’t blame other