Modern Romance Collection: February 2018 Books 1 - 4. Lynne Graham

all, once the excitement had gone she had been left pregnant and alone and now her memory trailed back fifteen months...

      Discovering that she was pregnant had proved a real shock for Merry because she had not seriously considered that that single accident was likely to result in conception and had hoped for the best. She had barely settled into a new and very challenging job, and falling pregnant had seemed like the worst possible news. She had suffered from severe morning sickness and at one stage had even feared she was on the brink of having a miscarriage. She had waited until she was over three months along before she’d even tried to contact Angel to tell him that she was carrying his child. She had never had his personal mobile number and had never got to speak to him when she’d phoned the office, suspecting that calls from her were on some discreet forbidden list. The prospect of sending a letter or an email that would probably be opened and read by a former colleague had made her cringe. In the end she had used her working knowledge of Angel’s diary and had headed to the hotel where he met his father for lunch twice a month.

      That unwise but desperate move had put in motion the most humiliating, wounding encounter of Merry’s life. Angel had had a very tall and beautiful blonde with him when he entered the bar, a blonde with bare breasts on display under a gauzy see-through dress. She had looked like the sort of woman who didn’t ever wear underwear and every man in the place had stared lustfully at her, while she’d clung to Angel’s arm and giggled and touched him with easy confidence. Just looking at her, Merry had felt sick and ugly and plain and boring because pregnancy had not been kind to her. Her body had already been swelling and thickening, her eyes had been shadowed because she couldn’t sleep and the smell of most foods had made her nauseous. She had stayed concealed in the bar behind a book and round a corner while Angel, his companion and eventually his father had sat down to lunch on an outside terrace.

      If Angel had not reappeared at the bar alone, she would probably simply have gone back to work without even trying to achieve her goal. But when she’d seen him she had forced herself up out of her seat and forward.

      ‘I have to speak to you in private,’ she had said. ‘It’s very important. It will only take five minutes.’

      He had spun back from the bar to appraise her with cool, guarded eyes. ‘I’m listening.’

      ‘Could we go out into the foyer?’ she had pressed, very conscious of the number of people around them. ‘It would be more private.’

      He had acquiesced with unconcealed reluctance. ‘What is this about?’ he had demanded as soon as they’d got there.

      And then she had made her announcement and those expressive beautiful eyes of his had glittered like cold black diamonds, his consternation and annoyance obvious.

      ‘Do you want it?’ he had asked doubtingly, earning her hatred with every syllable of that leading question. ‘Scratch that. It was politically incorrect. Of course, I will support you in whatever choice you make.’ He had drawn out a business card and thrust it into her unwilling hand. ‘I will inform my lawyers. Please provide them with contact details and I will make provision for you.’

      And that had been Angel’s knee-jerk response to unexpected fatherhood: brief and brutal and wholly unemotional and objective. Go away and I’ll give you cash to keep you quiet and at a distance.

      Remembering that encounter, Merry shuddered and tears stung her eyes afresh. That was the final moment when she had faced the reality that she had given her body to a ruthlessly detached man without a heart. How could she let such a man come within ten feet of her precious, loving daughter? That question kept her awake until dawn. Suddenly keeping the peace and giving Angel another chance seemed the stuff of stupidity.

      * * *

      Having done his baby research diligently before his visit, Angel believed he was prepared for all eventualities. His second cousin had six-month-old twins and a toddler and lived in London. It was hard to say who had been most startled by his interest: his cousin at the shock of his curiosity or Angel at finding himself festooned in wriggling babies, who cried, pooped and threw up while poking and pulling at him. There were loads of babies in his extended family circle but Angel had always given them a very wide berth.

      He put on his oldest jeans for the occasion and, after consulting his cousin, he purchased only one modest gift. Merry wouldn’t be impressed by a toyshop splurge. She was already saving every penny he was giving her into a trust for their daughter. Merry and her endless rainy-day fund, he thought incredulously, deeming her joyless, fearful attitude to spending money depressing. She was a natural-born hoarder of cash. If only his mother suffered from the same insecurity, he conceded wryly.

      From upstairs, Merry watched the sleek, expensive car pull into the driveway. She had dressed smartly that morning. After all she had a potential new client coming at half eleven and she needed to look professional, so her hair was freshly washed, her make-up was on and she wore a summer dress that clung to her slender curves. What she wore had nothing whatsoever to do with Angel’s visit, except in so far as looking smart lifted her confidence, she told herself soothingly.

      Angel sprang fluidly out of his car, his lean, powerful body clad in black jeans and a green sweater that was undoubtedly cashmere. He found English summers cold. She carried Elyssa downstairs. Her daughter wore one of the fashionable baby outfits that Sybil often bought her, a pretty blue floral tunic and leggings that reflected her eyes. The door knocker rapped twice and she hastily settled Elyssa down on the rug before rushing breathlessly back to the door, scolding herself for the unmistakeable sense of anticipation gripping her.

      Angel stepped in and his stunning dark golden gaze locked to her with the most electrifying immediacy. Tension leapt through Merry along with a growing unease about the decision she had made. He looked amazing. He always looked amazing, she reminded herself mockingly, striving not to react in any way. But it was impossible. Her breath shortened in her tightening throat and her breasts tingled and a sensual warmth made her thighs press together.

      Angel’s scrutiny roamed from the glossy bell of her dark hair, down to the modest neckline of the dress that clung to the delectably full swell of her breasts, before skimming down over her waist to define the feminine swell of her hips. He didn’t let himself look at her legs because she had fantastic legs and the heat pooling in his groin didn’t need that added encouragement. He didn’t know how she had contrived to get skinnier and at the same time more interestingly curvy but he especially didn’t like the feeling of being sexually drawn against his will.

      ‘Elyssa’s in here,’ she framed stiffly.

      ‘That’s a Greek name.’

      ‘Yes, she’s entitled to a Greek name,’ Merry proclaimed defensively.

      ‘I wasn’t...criticising.’ Angel registered the white-knuckled grip she had on the edge of the door and recognised that he would be treading on eggshells every time he spoke. He gritted his teeth on the awareness but as Merry pushed the door fully open he finally saw his daughter and for several timeless moments stayed rigid in the doorway drinking in the sight of her.

      ‘She’s got my hair,’ he almost whispered, moving forward and then dropping down onto the rug a couple of feet from his daughter. ‘But curls look cute on her...’

      Merry watched him closely, registering that he had enough sense not to try to get too familiar too fast with a baby that didn’t know him. No, Angel was far too clever to make an obvious wrong move, she reflected bitterly, before catching herself up on that suspicious but hardly charitable thought and crossing the room to go into the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’

      ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

      ‘Don’t go all polite on me,’ she said drily.

      ‘What do you expect?’ Angel shot her a sardonic glance of rebuke. ‘I know you don’t want me here.’

      Merry paled at that blunt statement. ‘I’m trying not to feel like that.’

      She put on the kettle and watched him remove a toy from his pocket, a brightly coloured teething toy, which he set on the rug at his feet.