CHAPTER TWO

      SHE’D feared that Max had found out and had come to claim his rights as a father. Instead, he was asking her to look after his own son and a little baby! Perhaps he didn’t know about Perran after all!

      ‘I can’t. I have my job,’ she explained, proud to be as cool as a cucumber.

      ‘OK.’

      To her surprise, he made no attempt to argue but headed straight for the door. She gaped at him. Was that it?

      ‘What are you going to do about the children?’ she cried in astonishment.

      ‘Me?’ Max half turned, presenting his clean-cut profile. ‘I saw that as your responsibility. If you’re not interested, well...there it is. I’ll let you know the phone number of the Home they’re in—’

      ‘Home? What do you mean “Home”?’ she yelled, jumping up.

      ‘It’s a place where orphans or children at risk go—’

      ‘I know what a Home is!’ she hurled. ‘You know what I meant—don’t be so obtuse! You couldn’t possibly contemplate the idea of putting your own nephew and niece into care.’

      ‘What other options are there?’ With infuriating rationality he ticked off the reasons for his conclusion on his long, lean fingers. ‘You won’t go, I can’t go, so they’ve got to be cared for by the State, since you’re not keen to let them live on the street and raid dustbins.’ Quite unconcerned, he put his hand out to open the door.

      Laura was there before he made contact, sliding herself between him and the thin chipboard. He had no heart. Since he was his own boss, he could easily take time off to care for his son and niece. But he wouldn’t bother to put himself out, would he? Her face registered its disgust, and when a small smile played about his lips she gave him her fiercest scowl.

      ‘For once in your life,’ she said, the pitch and intensity of her voice showing the full force of her anger, ‘do something for someone else! For two little children—’

      ‘Ditto back.’

      How could he be so unemotional about this? Almost amused! Laura knew she had to persuade him to take on his responsibilities as an uncle. And father.

      ‘I repeat. I have my job—’

      ‘I’m sure Huggy Bear will give you leave under the circumstances,’ he said, sublimely relaxed and watching her as though she was unwittingly entertaining him.

      Laura glared. ‘I’ve got two twenty-first birthdays, an eightieth and a silver wedding cake to make this week! Plus a business conference with one hundred men demanding treacle sponges and bread puddings!’

      ‘Sounds delicious—’

      ‘Stop patronising me!’ she flared. ‘I’m not part of some huge operation where someone can go off and not be missed! Luke and I need each other—’

      ‘Yes. I saw.’

      Impatient with his curt condemnation, she brushed his sarcasm aside. ‘You’ll have to cope with the situation. I can’t let Luke down.’

      ‘He’d have to manage if you were ill,’ Max pointed out, angling his dark head in a ‘Mr Reasonable’ attitude. ‘What would happen then?’

      ‘He’d work overtime or call his sister in to help,’ she admitted. ‘But I couldn’t possibly ask him.’

      Then I will. I doubt he’d refuse. He’d look too churlish, wouldn’t he?’

      She wondered if Max ever took no for an answer. ‘OK! I need the money!’ she claimed, abandoning her pride and any pretence that she’d made good. He’d seen the flat, hadn’t he? There was no way he’d believe she was madly successful.

      ‘I’ll pay you.’ Max beamed as though that solved everything.

      ‘I wouldn’t take money from you if I was homeless and living in a cardboard box in a multi-storey car park in sub-zero temperatures!’ she yelled.

      Instead of being suitably offended, he appeared to be fighting down a grin. His eyes positively twinkled at her. ‘Stalemate, I think. Unless you have any bright ideas?’

      ‘Yes. You could go and play uncle!’ she insisted, feeling hot and bothered.

      He shrugged off that idea as ludicrous. ‘I’d probably poison them. I don’t know anything about kids.’

      ‘Neither do I!’ she cried, her voice quavering with emotion.

      ‘No?’

      He folded his arms. They brushed against her breasts—and she had nowhere to go except through the chipboard door. She made herself as thin as possible, conscious of the heat building up between them. Her eyes pleaded with his. He didn’t budge an inch.

      ‘No. What would I know?’ she muttered, trying not to breathe heavily.

      The dark eyes kindled with warmth. ‘Some women are naturally maternal. You were always looking after the village kids. I called you the Pied Piper, remember?’

      Incapable of speech, Laura kept on staring at him as misery gathered like a huge knotted blanket in her throat. Max’s voice gentled and his mouth became unfairly soft and tender.

      ‘They hung around you as if you were their idol—’

      ‘No!’ she jerked out in surprise, shaking her dark head emphatically.

      ‘Of course you were. Didn’t you tell them stories? Invent adventure games? Teach them about the plants and birds and generally mother them—?’

      ‘They were older! Not infants in nappies,’ she broke in, harshness masking her distress. ‘Seven...nine, ten... I wouldn’t know the first thing a-about...’

      She felt treacherous tears welling up and got rid of them through sheer will-power, squashing the fact that she’d boned up on babies once by reading everything she could lay her hands on. She’d wiped all that from her mind. She couldn’t look after little Kerenza. She just couldn’t. It would break her heart.

      ‘It’d come to you, what to do. You’re a woman,’ Max said, transparently pleased with his logic.

      ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ she spat, livid with fury.

      He touched her rigid shoulder lightly and she jerked his hand off with unaccustomed violence, the calming, protective sensation quite unnerving her.

      ‘I’m