Annie's Secret. Carole Mortimer
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wanted.
How ironic that its existence should have succeeded in alerting Luc to her identity when nothing else had!
‘Your unicorn,’ he echoed grimly as he grasped both her arms. ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier that we had met before?’ He shook her slightly.
‘And what was I supposed to say when you obviously had no memory of that meeting?’ Annie hissed. ‘“Hey, remember me? I’m the woman you spent the night making love to when you were on a skiing holiday four and a half years ago before dumping me the following morning.”?’ She scowled at him. ‘Somehow I don’t think so, Luc’
Well, when she put it like that…
Having spent the past few years deliberately blocking all memory of his ignominious fall from grace, and the dire consequences to his father because of that recklessness, Luc now clearly remembered the night he had spent making love with this woman.
Luc frowned. ‘We need to talk—’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ Annie interrupted derisively. ‘So we were lovers.’ She shrugged. ‘I remembered it. You obviously didn’t. End of story.’ She grimaced. ‘Now, would you please let go of me, Luc—you’re causing a scene.’ She looked about them pointedly to where several of the other hotel guests were now watching their exchange with open curiosity.
‘Ignore them!’ Luc rasped. He didn’t give a damn what the other hotel guests thought of them. Or him. He only cared that for some reason Annie had chosen not to remind him of their prior relationship.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that,’ Annie snapped. She only hoped, once Luc had released her, that she didn’t add to their curiosity by collapsing at his feet! Her legs certainly felt shaky enough for her to do that.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. Why did Luc have to suddenly remember their brief time together? It would have been so much easier, for everyone, if she could have just attended the rest of the conference without seeing him again—without him remembering—before returning home to England with no one any the wiser.
That Luc had now remembered their meeting was a complication she could well have done without. One that raised too many questions in her own mind…
The fact that he’d looked so grimly formidable at having remembered that meeting certainly wasn’t reassuring.
Annie forced the tension from her body and permitted a relaxed smile to curve her lips. ‘Let’s not make a big deal out of this, Luc,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘It was a little unflattering that you didn’t remember me initially, of course, but—’
‘Stop it, Annie!’ Luc said impatiently even as his fingers tightened on her arms.
‘Stop what?’ she asked, frustrated at his behaviour. ‘It’s great that you now seem to want to get together and discuss old times, but really, what would be the point when—’
‘I said, stop it!’ Luc repeated with controlled aggression. ‘The Annie I met before—’
‘The Annie you met, and who you’ve only just remembered,’ she pointed out fiercely, ‘was twenty years old and extremely naive!’ She gave a huff of derisive laughter. ‘I’ve grown up a lot in four and a half years, Luc. Enough to know when a man’s only interest is in taking me to bed!’ she added insultingly.
Luc felt the nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched cheek as he considered how she had learnt such a thing. Apart from that night she had spent with him, that is…
How could he not have remembered Annie when they met earlier this morning?
A part of him had remembered, came the instant answer to that question. An inner part of him had recognised both Annie and the huskiness of her voice. The part of him—that recklessly overindulged young man who had almost ruined his family and caused his father’s heart attack—that Luc had long tried to bury in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind.
Until he saw the unicorn tattoo on her lower back and all of those memories came rushing back with a vengeance.
Her hair had been longer four years ago, of course—a wild cascade of wavy chestnut curls that reached almost to her waist. Her body had been more youthfully rounded then too, her curves lush rather than athletically toned as they were now, and her face had also been fuller, the cheekbones not so defined.
But he should have remembered the deep blue of her eyes and those long dark lashes. Should have remembered how he had enjoyed the plump fullness of her lips when he’d kissed them. When she had kissed him, on the lips, and other more intimate parts of his body. He should have remembered—
‘I was your first lover!’ he exclaimed.
The colour flooded briefly back into those pale cheeks. ‘Yes. Well.’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Everyone has to start somewhere, don’t they?’
Except in Annie’s case Luc had been both the start and the finish.
What would Luc say, what would he do, if she told him that a child had resulted from their night together? That waiting for Annie at her mother’s home was a little boy of almost four, who had Luc’s dark curly hair and sturdy body, and the Balfour blue eyes shining brightly in a face that also bore a very strong resemblance to this man?
To his father.
To Luc.
Annie repressed a shiver of apprehension as she looked up at him, having no doubts that the hard, implacable man Luc now so obviously was took no prisoners. It was there for everyone to see in the hard arrogance of his face and the cold, remorseless darkness of those black uncompromising eyes.
No prisoners perhaps, but if he were to learn of Oliver’s existence, would Luc want to claim his son?
And if he did, what would Annie do about it? Oh, she wouldn’t allow him to take Oliver from her, never that, but would Oliver want to know who his father was? One day maybe. And how would Oliver feel once he learnt that Annie could have told his father of his existence now but had chosen not to do so?
Annie needed time to think. To try to decide what to do for the best. For Oliver’s sake…
‘Would you please let go of me now, Luc?’ she requested calmly. ‘I think we’ve drawn enough attention to ourselves for one day, and I have another meeting to go to this afternoon,’ she added.
Luc’s eyes narrowed as his gaze raked over her face. A face that suddenly completely masked her inner emotions. ‘In that case we will dine together in my hotel suite this evening so that we can continue this conversation.’ He made it a statement rather than a question.
Her eyes widened. ‘I really don’t think—’
‘Think what you like, Annie, but your agreement is the price for my releasing you now,’ he added coolly.
‘The price for—!’ Annie glared. ‘You really have turned into an arrogant snake since we last met, haven’t you?’ she seethed.
Luc gave a hard, humourless smile as he slowly uncurled his fingers from her arm. ‘Perhaps I always was one.’
‘Perhaps,’ Annie said, aware that the anger she felt was the only reason her knees hadn’t buckled beneath her when Luc released her. This whole thing—meeting Luc again, torn between whether or not she should tell Luc about Oliver and what might happen once she had—was turning into her worst nightmare.
His mouth tightened. ‘Humour me, Annie.’
‘I have a feeling that far too many women have already done that!’ she retorted.
He gave a rueful smile. ‘Perhaps.’
Annie sighed her frustration with his obvious intractability. What should she do for the best? Should she tell Luc about Oliver or not? Not to tell him now that she had met him again seemed cruel to both Oliver and Luc, but at the same time Annie feared what