CHAPTER ELEVEN

      ANGELICA RYAN, Luke’s secretary, was waiting for him when he got to the office. Usually calm and efficient, today she was looking decidedly concerned.

      She’d phoned Luke earlier in the morning to inform him there was a personal letter waiting for him at the office. She’d explained it was marked ‘Private and Confidential’ and that it had been posted in Bath.

      Luke, who hadn’t been planning on coming to Canary Wharf today, had decided to come and collect it. The alternative was to have a courier bring it to his house, but he’d abandoned that thought. It concerned him that it might be from his father’s doctor and he’d rather not trust the letter to anyone else.

      The last time he’d seen Oliver Morelli, he’d been grumbling about the pain in his shoulder. And, although his doctor had assured him it was nothing serious, Luke knew his grandfather had suffered from angina, and that his father was afraid he was developing the same complaint.

      The envelope had no distinguishing marks, however, which was a relief. In fact, it didn’t look like an official letter at all. But who would write to him here? Who did he know who might mark a letter ‘Private and Confidential’? If it was a personal letter, why hadn’t it been sent to his home address?

      Going into his office, he seated himself at his desk and reached for a paper knife.

      ‘Can I get you anything, Mr Morelli?’

      Angelica was hovering in the doorway, evidently curious to know what it was. But Luke shook his head.

      ‘Nothing, thanks,’ he said, pausing until she’d got the message and closed the door behind her. Then, he slit the envelope open and drew out the slip of paper inside.

      * * *

      Abby was on the point of closing the café.

      There were only two other people on the premises and they were in the bookshop. She could hear Lori talking to them, discussing the latest bestseller. Lori was the ideal saleswoman, as she was such an avid reader herself.

      When the outer door opened, Abby stiffened instinctively.

      But then, she’d been on tenterhooks for the past two days. Ever since she’d sent that letter to the only address she could find for Luke, she’d been anticipating his arrival. Knowing him, as she did, she’d been sure he wouldn’t trust any response to the phone.

      And when she turned, she saw that it was indeed Luke.

      He was dressed casually in jeans, with a dark green suede jacket hooked by a finger over one shoulder. He was also wearing a plain black tee, that couldn’t help but emphasise the powerful muscles in his chest and arms.

      He looked hot, she thought tensely, and she didn’t mean his temperature.

      ‘Hi,’ he said, pausing just inside the door, and Abby was instantly aware of the sudden silence in the bookshop.

      ‘Hi,’ she said in response, glancing apprehensively towards that part of the premises. She was fairly sure that Lori had heard their voices and would presently appear.

      Smoothing nervous hands over her hips, she glanced down at the hem of her short skirt. She should have been wearing something longer, she thought impatiently. The last thing she wanted was for Luke to think she wanted to pursue their relationship.

      But she couldn’t stay behind the counter indefinitely, and she crossed quickly to the arched entrance to the bookshop. As she’d half expected, she met Lori coming towards her.

      Moistening her lips, she said, ‘I’m going upstairs, Lori. Will you lock up when you’re finished?’

      ‘No problem,’ said Lori, not without giving Luke a speculative glance. ‘See you in the morning.’

      ‘Yes.’

      Abby nodded and then beckoned Luke to follow her up the stairs at the back of the serving area.

      Harley met them at the door. The retriever was waiting to go out. Abby usually took him for a walk at this time of the day, but he was somewhat mollified when he saw Luke.

      Luke bent to scratch the dog’s ears and Abby moved past them into the small kitchenette that adjoined the main room. She was nervous. She couldn’t deny it. But she didn’t regret sending the letter, she assured herself. Not at all.

      ‘Coffee? Tea?’ she offered, reaching for the kettle, and Luke dropped his jacket onto the back of the sofa.

      Did he give the tumbled cushions on the sofa a longer appraisal, or was that only her imagination? Was he remembering, as she was, exactly what had happened there some weeks ago? From his enigmatic expression, she doubted it. Had he ever intended to contact her again?

      Luke came to stand on the other side of the breakfast bar, and she felt her stomach muscles tighten. But all he said was, ‘I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.’ He arched a brow inquiringly. ‘What’s happened? Has Hughes had a positive response to his petition?’

      Abby’s lips parted. ‘You really think I’d tell you if he had?’

      ‘Well, I can’t think of any other reason for inviting me here,’ he retorted shortly, and she shook her head in disbelief.

      ‘I gather from your remarks that you didn’t intend to come back,’ she said, trying to control her indignation.

      She had been such a fool where this man was concerned. Well, now she was going to pay for it, but she’d be damned before she’d let him have it all his own way.

      Luke’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did you expect me to?’ he remarked half mockingly now. ‘Oh, Abby, I’m not denying you’re a beautiful woman. Or that I wanted to have sex with you. I did. I still do. But I did warn you, I don’t do commitment. And particularly not to a woman I can’t trust.’

      The arrogance of his remarks left her speechless for a moment.

      Then, gathering herself, she said coldly, ‘You know nothing about me, Morelli. And even less about my life!’

      ‘I know you cheated on your husband,’ retorted Luke at once. ‘I didn’t like the bastard, but, God knows, he didn’t deserve to be made to look a fool.’

      ‘You think?’ Abby was incensed. ‘You don’t know the first thing about Harry Laurence. Like all men, you think the woman must be to blame. He was a bastard. I agree with you on that. But don’t underestimate your own abilities. When it comes to being a bastard, you’ve made the team.’

      Luke scowled. ‘If the only reason you’ve brought me here is to insult me—’

      ‘It’s not.’ Abby swallowed convulsively. This wasn’t how she’d hoped to tell him, but he wasn’t giving her any choice. ‘I’m pregnant, Morelli,’ she said coldly. ‘And before you ask the question, it’s yours.’

      * * *

      Luke felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut.

      It