Loe raamatut: «Yesterday's Bride»

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT the hell have you done to your hair?’

For five years Taylor had wondered what her estranged husband’s first words would be when they met again. Yet in all her mental scenarios not once had she imagined his reaction to be outrage because she’d changed her hairstyle.

Then again, considering his opening line when they’d first met, nothing Craig Adams said should have surprised her. Despite the fact he was now a conservatively dressed thirty-two-year-old executive, his slow, provocative brown-eyed appraisal of her body was as brash as it had been twelve years earlier when he’d worn leather and blue jeans. And it stirred the same surge of feral excitement Taylor had hoped she’d outgrown....

‘Answer me, Taylor!’

The impatient command startled her from her introspection. ‘I’ve had it cut and permed.’ At his blank look she added, ‘My hair. I’ve had it—’

‘I’m not the slightest bit interested in your hair!’ he snapped, contradicting his earlier words. ‘I want to know what you’re doing barging in here without an appointment!’

‘Appointment? In case you’ve forgotten, I own half this business!’

‘Hardly! I sign the bloody dividend cheques you’ve been receiving the past five years!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed. ‘There’s no need to shout. Melanie’s in the outer office and I don’t want her to hear us arguing.’

His expression was one of utter astonishment. ‘Melanie?’

‘Yes. That’s why I’m here. She wants you to have lunch with us.’

‘What?’

‘I asked you to stop shouting. She wants—’

‘I heard what you said, Taylor. What I want to know is why.’

‘Because you’re her father.’ She saw him physically wince at the words and hated him for it.

‘She doesn’t even know me!’

‘That’s why she wants you to have lunch with us. She wants to meet you.’

Craig moved from behind his desk to gaze dazedly at the panoramic view of Sydney Harbour, trying to marshal his confused thoughts and shell-shocked emotions into some kind of order.

Each month as he automatically wrote out the child-support cheque, he dimly acknowledged the fact that some day his daughter would probably insist on seeking him out. He’d resigned himself to the fact. But he’d also figured he wouldn’t have to deal with her until at least another ten years down the track, when the kid might have had some chance of understanding how he felt. Suddenly someday was today. And it was too soon—for him and for Melanie.

How did you tell a five-year-old that you resented her like hell for depriving you of the only woman you’d ever loved? For stuffing up what had been a wonderful marriage? ’Struth, even his parents hadn’t dumped that on him until he was nearly eleven! Damn Taylor! She had no right barging in here unannounced and dumping this on him! No right walking back into his life and turning it on its ear! Yet again.

He wheeled around and nailed her with a cold stare. ‘You should have warned me about this! This isn’t the sort of thing you spring on a person, Taylor!’

She knew he was right, but she’d hoped that turning up unexpectedly would make the possibility of Craig refusing to see her that much less likely. ‘I guess I should have called,’ she conceded. ‘But Melanie wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘Melanie wanted? I’ve never heard anything so ludicrous! Do you mean to tell me you flew here to pander to the whim of a kid?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We drove.’

‘You drove from Adelaide to Sydney so she could have lunch with me?’

‘We don’t live in Adelaide any more.’ She took a steadying breath, almost frightened of what his reaction to her next words would be. ‘We moved back to Sydney a month ago.’

‘You...you’re here? Living here? In Sydney?’

If Craig’s tone reflected anything other than disbelief, she could only have said it was horror. Disappointment nearly crushed her. Did he hate her that much?

‘So,’ he continued, again turning to the window, ‘where are you living?’

It amazed Craig he could even speak much less ask appropriate questions. It seemed ridiculous that a day that had started out as routinely as this one had could take such a drastic turn for the unbelievable.

Taylor was back. Back in Sydney. Back in his life.

Closing his eyes to the scenic view and his ears to Taylor’s explanation for her move east, Craig tried to get a handle on what he was feeling. But his emotions seemed like a five-thousand-piece jigsaw that had just been tipped out of its box—a jumbled, fragmented mess, bearing little resemblance to the orderly picture the pieces were supposed to form.

For two years after she’d left him, he’d started each day half expecting, half hoping she would walk into his office and say she’d made a mistake. Tell him he was the most important thing in her world and that without him she’d shrivel up and die. It wasn’t an image prompted by ego or vanity; once it had been their daily litany. Then the baby had arrived and seemingly overnight everything changed....

Taylor had ceased to display even a token amount of affection towards him and she adopted a new litany—she was too tired...too busy...Melanie needed her more than him...he had to keep the business going! Her excuses had been boundless, pathetically transparent and signified the beginning of the end where their marriage was concerned.

At first he’d tried to fight the inevitable, and when that failed he’d tried to ignore it, but to no avail. Without warning or even an acknowledgement that their marriage was in trouble, Taylor had left him.

‘Craig, are you listening? I asked—’

‘I heard you,’ he said wearily. ‘You asked me whether I would meet with Melanie.’

He turned back to the woman to whom he’d once given his heart. Her beauty, as exquisite as ever, made him angry; her body, as streamlined as it had been at eighteen, made him hard. He swore, sitting down so the desk could at least let him keep his dignity.

‘Craig, Mel doesn’t know the details of...what happened.’

Her attempt at diplomacy drew a harsh laugh from his lips. ‘Jeez, Taylor, I’m sure you could be more specific if you tried! Exactly what details are you referring to?’

His bitterness stabbed at Taylor’s heart, her own urge to respond twisting the knife. She clamped her teeth shut against the pain and the cruel retort that came too easily to her tongue. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but for Melanie’s sake she wouldn’t let past bitterness contaminate the present.

‘I mean, Craig,’ she said, forcing her voice to evenness, ‘that she doesn’t know you hold her responsible for what happened between us.’

‘Don’t you hold her responsible?’

‘No,’ she said with assurance. ‘It was lack of trust that killed what we had, not Melanie.’

‘Lack of trust, or misplaced trust?’

She sighed. ‘You’ll never believe I didn’t intentionally conceive Melanie, will you?’ His gaze was rigidly accusing and Taylor had to force herself not to flinch.

‘No,’ he responded, ‘I won’t.’

‘No one but you, Craig, has ever called me a liar.’

‘I’ve never used that word.’

True, but he’d made manipulative, calculating and scheming sound just as derogatory. Just as painful. Just as chilling. ‘You implied it,’ she said. ‘It’s the same thing.’

‘Listen, Taylor,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘We agreed before we got married that given our own childhood experiences, we would never have children. It was a joint decision and any change to that agreement should have also been a joint one!’

‘But my getting pregnant was an accident!’

‘You know you sound even more insistent now than you did when you first made that claim! I’d almost believe you if I didn’t remember you casually tossing up the idea of having a family.’

‘I didn’t casually toss up anything!’ she flared. ‘I told you I thought that after six years of marriage, we could handle the pressures of being parents and—’

The thump of his fist on the glass-topped desk as he sprang to his feet quelled Taylor’s speech.

‘And when I disagreed, you said I was right! You admitted letting yourself be swayed by the fact so many of our friends were starting families! And then—’ he snapped his fingers ‘—bingo, you’re accidentally pregnant!’

Craig felt an old anger rising as he recalled how Taylor had venomously and repeatedly denied his accusations that she’d deliberately planned the situation; how she’d tearfully claimed she’d been taking the Pill religiously. He didn’t believe her, of course, and the ensuing rows had been loud and plentiful, but since neither of them advocated abortion, Craig had resigned himself to the fact that a baby was going to encroach upon their happiness.

Taylor had sworn a child would never come between them, that it would actually bring them closer, and for a while there he’d believed her. If he were honest with himself, and surely after five years he could be that at least, there had been a time when he’d begun to look forward to the child’s birth. Then things had started to go wrong. Now he wanted only to forget it. Only he wasn’t going to be granted that wish. He turned back to the woman assigned by the devil to disrupt his ordered life.

She was beautiful. So extraordinarily, hauntingly beautiful that even after all this time he’d often wake hard with wanting her, hungry for the feel of her exquisitely sculptured body writhing in sweat beneath his. The shorter cut of her tawny hair in no way detracted from her beauty, only enhanced the long, graceful curve of her neck, making the visual progression down to her high, firm breasts all the more exciting. The short skirt she wore hugged her hips and displayed legs most men only dreamed of having wrapped around them. He wasn’t immune to that dream, but the knowledge that for him it had once been reality empowered it with nightmare-like side-effects.

Though her heart pounded and her hormones were running amok in a rush of sensuality, Taylor forced herself not to squirm under Craig’s slow scrutiny of her body. It wasn’t easy, for even without touching her he had the power to make her ache with want. No one but him had ever possessed her body, yet she knew with certainty no one but him would ever be able to satisfy it. His hands and mouth had introduced her to pleasures she’d never imagined possible and it was difficult for her to remain focused on the purpose of her visit when she’d been deprived of such pleasures for half a decade. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach; raw desire began building within her.

When he finally brought his eyes level with her face, the urge to go to him almost overpowered her. Only one thing held her immobile. The knowledge that passion didn’t equate with trust. It was trust she wanted to see illuminate the bottomless depths of Craig’s dark brown eyes.

She managed to hold his gaze for nearly a minute before eventually lowering her lashes. It was a minuscule victory, but a victory none the less. Once she’d have succumbed to his visual seduction within seconds. This time she’d met it with impunity—well, outward impunity at least.

Perhaps seeing those identical eyes in her daughter had increased her resistance, for there was no doubt Melanie was a carbon copy of her father. They shared the same almost-black hair, the same deep-set eyes and wide brow, and the same neat, flat ears. Fortunately for Melanie, though, her beautifully delicate nose had been spared being pushed slightly off-centre in a rugby brawl and a cricket bat hadn’t left a scar two inches below her left eye!

Fury welled in Craig at the sight of her half smirk. ‘What’s so funny, Taylor?’ he demanded, angry at being her source of amusement.

‘I was thinking how lucky Melanie is that your nose is the result of a rugby game and not hereditary. She’s the image of you, Craig,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t even get a look in.’

Shocked as he was by her admission, he wondered if he hadn’t imagined the sadness tinging the words. So, his daughter looked like him. Funny he’d never given any thought at all to what the child might look like. Now it seemed he would be finding out firsthand.

‘What’s she like?’ he asked.

‘That’s something you’ll have to find out yourself. I’m biased. I think she’s wonderful.’

This time her smile was full-strength pride and happiness, and having been starved of it for five years, Craig was unprepared for its potency. It put his pulse speed up and all but knocked the breath from his lungs. Strange how something as simple as a smile could practically bring a grown man to his knees, but then Taylor’s had always had that effect on him. From the first time he’d seen her, he realized her happiness ensured his happiness....

Why then was he standing here contemplating meeting the person who had stolen that happiness?

About to refuse the lunch invitation, he glimpsed a flash of fear in the clear emerald eyes that studied him. What was it she feared? The past or the future? Herself or him?

‘What do you want me to do, Taylor?’ he asked.

‘Me? I...’

Caught off guard by his question, she paused and took a slow breath, the rise and fall of her breasts taunting him. Gripping the sides of his chair, Craig forced his face to remain impassive.

‘I want the decision to be entirely yours, just as lunch was Melanie’s. What I don’t want, Craig, is for her to be hurt.’ There was a wealth of warning in her voice.

‘And what,’ he asked coolly, ‘do you think would hurt her the most? My refusal or my acceptance?’

‘Your bitterness.’ There’d been no hesitation in her answer.

Amazement froze every muscle in Craig the instant he saw the child. Looking into the tiny face was like looking at a childhood photograph of himself-identical colouring and identical brown eyes.

The notion that this child was his own flesh and blood created alternate waves of terror and masculine pride within him. He had the urge to embrace her, but feared the consequences of doing so. Such an action was bound to be fraught with emotional danger although whether for him or the kid, he wasn’t sure.

Though physically Melanie looked nothing like Taylor, Craig experienced the same sensation of uncertainty under her thorough visual inspection as he had when Taylor had looked him over from the other side of the yard twelve years ago. There was interest but no indication of whether the observer was pleased or disappointed by what they found. She had Taylor’s style and panache, too, he decided, taking in the miniature hiking boots, khaki shirt and shorts, and the baseball cap worn backwards atop her long, straight hair.

The child darted a quick, uncertain look at her mother, before bringing her brown eyes back to him. Uncomfortable with the ongoing silence, Craig cleared his throat. ‘Hello, Melanie.’ He wasn’t surprised to hear his voice lacked some of its usual confidence.

‘Hello.’

The response was soft but not hesitant as she boldly stepped to within two feet of him and tilted her head back. She was small—barely reaching his mid-thigh.

‘How tall are you?’ she inquired.

Stunned to discover the kid had obviously been sizing him up, too, he was slow to reply. The delay earned him an impatient look.

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Sure I do! I’m...six foot four.’

The child nodded and continued to silently appraise him. Craig looked to Taylor for some indication as to what was expected of him now and was nonplussed to see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. It had a heart-wrenching and sobering effect. He glanced back at the little girl.

‘So,’ he said, ‘you want me to have lunch with you, huh?’ She nodded solemnly in response, but her steady gaze hinted she was expecting more input from him. ‘Right then...well, er, do you like Italian food?’

‘Do you?’ she countered.

‘Well...yes. Yes, I do.’

‘I don’t.’ She gave a theatrical shudder. ‘I hate Italian food.’

‘I thought all kids liked pizza.’ Craig was basing his assumption on the fact there were always kids in pizza commercials.

‘Pizza isn’t Italian. Pizza is normal food.’

‘Normal food...’ he echoed. ‘I see...’ He didn’t and looked towards Taylor for verbal backup, but her eyes remained focused only on her daughter. He was obviously on his own. ‘Well, I guess we could have pizza for lunch if—’

‘No,’ the pint-size female vetoed the idea. ‘I don’t feel like pizza. Know what kids really like?’

He shook his head. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t have a clue about—’

A childish giggle cut him off. ‘What’s your favourite food in the whole world?’

Again she caught him mentally off stride. ‘My favourite food in the whole world?’ He paused, trying to recall if he had one. ‘I guess it’d have to be grilled barramundi.’

‘Oh.’ If the child’s tone hadn’t told him he’d again come up with the wrong answer, her stance would have. Her arms were folded and she was frowning at him as if she were a teacher and he a troublesome pupil. ‘You do like McDonald’s, though, don’t you?’ she prompted. ‘Everybody likes McDonald’s.’

Craig wasn’t crazy about the direction this conversation was taking, but he had no chance to voice his objections.

‘Cheeseburgers are my favourite,’ Melanie told him. ‘Cept Mummy—’ her tone was scathing ‘—hardly ever lets me go there ’less it’s for a real special reason.’

Peripherally aware of Taylor’s tense stance, Craig struggled for both patience and a tactful response. ‘Yes, well...I guess mothers are like that,’ he said.

‘Fathers aren’t, though,’ the child stated. ‘My friend Renee’s father takes her there every Friday.’

‘Lucky Renee!’ he muttered, earning a withering look from Taylor.

‘Struth! What was he supposed to say, for God’s sake? He knew zilch about kids and even less about what fathers were and weren’t supposed to do. ‘Well, I guess,’ he said cautiously, ‘it’s all right on Fridays—’

‘It’s Friday today!’

His stomach pleaded a silent protest at the child’s reaction and again he looked at Taylor. She knew he’d never been partial to hamburgers, not even designer ones.

‘You can always have chicken nuggets,’ she suggested neutrally.

‘Thanks, you’re a big help!’ he muttered before addressing the child again. ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have something else—Chinese, French, fried chicken...’

He wondered how much vigorous shaking a kid’s head could take before it actually fell off. Ah heck! How bad could it be?

‘OK,’ he said wearily, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. ‘McDonald’s it is, then.’

Across Melanie’s head, Taylor mouthed the words thank you and gave him a smile so warm he was tempted to tell her he’d buy the kid her own franchise if Taylor would only keep looking at him like that!

Reacting to long-past memories and old habits, his hand moved inviting Taylor’s into it, but she averted her gaze, and it was her daughter’s hand she reached for...not his.