Bride On Demand. Kay Thorpe
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found her privacy in the bedroom where they had all deposited their outdoor wear. The early May evening was cool, and the bed was piled high. There would be a regular scrimmage if everyone decided to leave at the same time, she reflected. Like the rest of the house, the room itself was beautifully furnished and decorated. Money was no object to people in Paula Lambert’s position.
Sitting down before the gracious Queen Anne dressing table, Regan took a cosmetic purse from her handbag and renewed her lipstick. There was no discernible shine on her small straight nose, but she dabbed at it anyway. Thick and glossy, her hair curved inwards below chin level to frame a face too full of character for conventional beauty, cheekbones prominent beneath wide-set eyes the colour of spring grass, mouth a trifle over-generous. Apart from the hairstyle, surely not so far from the way she had looked at twenty-two? she mused.
Liam would be thirty-seven now. An age when a man might be expected to start showing a little silver at the temples, a little thickening about the waistline. There might be a slight deepening of lines about eyes and mouth, perhaps, but the jawline was just as firm, the body just as fit beneath the well-cut lounge suit he was wearing. She could see in her mind’s eye the bronzed breadth of his shoulders, the wiry curl of dark hair on his chest, the hard, ridged stomach muscle—and felt a warm trickle run down her spine at the memory.
Cut it out! she told herself harshly.
The opening of the door behind her jerked her abruptly out of her thoughts. Reflected in the mirror, Liam looked too overpoweringly familiar.
‘So this is where you got to,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think you must have left.’ He paused, as if in anticipation of some comment from her, adding, when she stayed silent, ‘It’s been a long time.’
Regan gathered herself together to get to her feet, emotions concealed behind the social façade she had learned to don at will. ‘I suppose it is.’
‘There’s no suppose about it.’ He winged an ironic glance over the curves outlined by the sleekly fitting bodice of her dark green dress. ‘Why make out not to know me just now?’
‘I was following your lead,’ she claimed with a dismissive little shrug.
The strong mouth slanted. ‘I was under the impression I was following yours.’
‘Seems we both misread the vibes, then.’
‘Apparently.’ He paused, the cynicism increasing as he studied her. ‘The man you’re with is married, I believe.’
The intimation was obvious, her response purely reflexive. ‘So?’
‘So can’t you find a man of your own?’
She could scotch the impression right now by telling the simple truth, came the fleeting thought, but she didn’t see why she should. ‘I might ask our hostess the same question,’ she said coolly. ‘Always providing she knows your true status to start with, of course. How is your wife?’
‘We were divorced several years ago.’
Thrown for a moment, Regan made an effort to control her inner emotions. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Condolences unnecessary. We’d been living separate lives for some considerable time before it.’
‘Oh, that does make a difference, of course. But then, your emotions never did run all that deep!’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘It’s time we were both getting back to the party. Paula doesn’t look the type to take too kindly to being abandoned for long.’
Liam swung the door fully closed again, standing there like a rock himself, face set in suddenly harsher lines. ‘You know, I thought when I first laid eyes on you tonight how little you’d changed, but I was wrong. The girl I knew was nothing like you.’
The tone cut deep, drawing unstudied words to her lips. ‘The girl you knew was a gullible fool just waiting to be taken advantage of! I learned to do the taking, that’s all.’
The curl of his lip gave added weight to the wave of self-disgust, but it was too late for retraction. What the hell was it to do with him anyway? She drew herself up to her full five feet seven, still, even in heels, several vital inches short of matching his height. ‘Are you going to let me pass? I don’t think we have anything else to talk about.’
Something sparked momentarily in the grey eyes, then he shrugged and moved a step aside. ‘After you.’
Regan hesitated, aware that to reach the door she would have to come within touching distance of him. Not that he was likely to touch her, she assured herself. He had already shown his contempt for what he believed she’d become. He could go on believing it too, for all she cared. His opinion was of no importance to her.
He made no move as she stalked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when his arm snaked about her waist from behind, jerking her round to bring her up against him, his free hand coming up behind her head to hold her still as he brought his mouth down on hers.
Unable to free herself, Regan did her best to stay immobile in his grasp, but there was no denying the swift surging heat as her body awoke to sensations so long dormant. No other man had ever stirred her the way Liam had stirred her—the way he could stir her still. She moved against him instinctively, involuntarily, feeling his hardness, remembering the driving power in his loins.
She was shaky when he finally lifted his head, both mind and body in turmoil. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.
‘One department you haven’t changed in,’ he said sardonically. ‘Save it for the boyfriend—if a man twenty years older than you are can be called that.’
Hurting inside, she thrust herself away from him and turned blindly to grope for the door handle. Paula was just emerging from the room opposite when she yanked the door open. The other woman looked from Regan to the man at her back with suddenly narrowed eyes.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.
‘A private matter,’ said Liam flatly. ‘Nothing for you to concern yourself over. I’m going to get a drink.’
He moved off down the corridor, tall, dark and unyielding, leaving the two of them standing there like dummies. Paula was first to recover. The icy probe she turned on Regan cut to the quick.
‘I had an odd feeling that the two of you had met before,’ she clipped. ‘Just what game are you on?’
If the tone of the question hadn’t alienated her, the instinctive dislike she had felt on first meeting the woman was strong enough to swamp any desire on Regan’s part to offer explanation. For a brief disastrous moment the need to hit out at both her and Liam overruled all other concerns.
‘Bringing up a child single-handed is no game!’ she snapped back.
The other’s face went rigid, eyes darkening. ‘You’re claiming to have had Liam’s child!’
Realisation of what she had done hit Regan like a thunderbolt. What on earth had possessed her? she asked herself in consternation. More to the point, how did she retract?
‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this!’ Paula declared tautly before she could find the words. ‘You wait right here!’
Regan forced frozen limbs into action as the other woman moved off in Liam’s wake, mind devoid of everything but the need to get out of here. Turning back into the room she had so recently vacated, she tore her jacket from among the pile on the bed and slid it about her shoulders, then made for the door again. There were people in the hall when she got downstairs but no sign of either Paula or Liam, to her relief.
‘Leaving already?’ someone asked as she made her way through.
‘Going on somewhere,’ she answered quickly, and exited the house before any further questions could be put.
Only when she was outside in the cool night air did it occur to her that Hugh would wonder what on earth had happened to her, but it was too late now to start worrying