скачать книгу бесплатно
‘No, you don’t.’
He laughed out loud. ‘I promise you I do. I called him this morning, told him I was in town unexpectedly. He wanted a chat about something I mentioned at the fundraiser so we said we’d grab a few minutes this afternoon. I’m sorry, should I have checked with you first?’
‘No, of course not. Will, however—’
‘Is the boss—last time I checked.’
She spun round at the sound of Will’s voice.
‘And entirely dependent on my secretarial talents. And knows how much I love surprises.’
‘Well, that’s me told.’ Will laughed, reaching out to shake Leo’s hand. ‘Sorry I’m a few minutes late, and, as I’m sure Rachel has already told you, I have another meeting in twenty minutes. But we can talk through a couple of ideas if you like and then follow up over Skype?’
‘Perfect,’ Leo said. ‘And then Rachel and I are going to head out for a bite to eat. Assuming that’s not a problem with the boss.’ Her eyes whipped to him, and her jaw dropped open at the sheer cheek of it.
‘No problem at all,’ Will said, with a raised eyebrow in her direction. ‘I assume everything’s set for my two o’clock?’
Professional pride forced her not to snap at either one of them. ‘Files are on your desk, electronic copies are attached to the calendar appointment. The access codes for the teleconferencing are in there, too, but I can dial in for you if you need me to.’ She fought the urge to tell Leo to sod off. Because much as his heavy-handed interference with Will rankled, if she didn’t go now, then when was she going to tell him? It needed doing, and she’d be surprised if she was presented with a better opportunity than this.
‘No, it’s fine. I’m sure I can manage on my own for a couple of hours, despite what you might think. You go, enjoy yourself,’ he said with a smirk that told her she was definitely not forgiven for interfering with his love-life.
Rachel looked pointedly at the clock. ‘Your next meeting is in fifteen minutes, Will. Do I need to contact everyone and let them know it’ll be late starting?’
He laughed, and she cursed the permanent good mood he’d been in since the night of the fundraiser. He had been so much easier to manage before. And she had no one to blame but herself.
‘Come on through, Leo,’ he said, with a smile in his voice that matched the grin on his face.
Rachel busied herself working through straining inboxes, her own, Will’s, as well as one of the generic admin accounts. Then she flicked through her hard-copy inbox, separating out her own items from Will’s, checking that the assistants had marked the correct pages for him to sign, adding sticky tabs where they hadn’t. Finally she tackled the outbox, dividing up the signed documents into the recipients they needed to be sent to next. The second hand on the clock above Will’s door crawled round, until she was certain that physics was working against her.
Except this was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To put this off—for ever, if that were an option. She didn’t want to see Leo. Didn’t want to have lunch with him. She wanted to never see him again, never feel the loss of control that she’d experienced that night. And that had had consequences just as frightening as she’d ever imagined.
A baby. Where was she meant to fit a baby into her life? The Friday-afternoon ‘catching up with the trade press’ hour? She wasn’t exactly experienced at motherhood, but she was pretty sure that a baby needed more than an hour a week. Even if she pulled together every single one of her contingency and emergency hours it was less than a day a week. No, having this baby meant ripping up everything that made her feel safe and secure, and starting over completely. She leant back in her chair, surveying the piles of paperwork covering her desk. What was the point to this? Because it wouldn’t matter how neat the piles, how precise and efficient her system. At some point, this would all fall apart.
She had choices. She didn’t have to do this, to have this baby. But even as she thought it, the tearing pain in her heart told her that it wasn’t the right choice for her.
She was having this baby.
Now she just had to tell Leo.
She glanced up at the clock again—one-fifty-eight—and wondered if Will would remember his call. Should she buzz through and remind him? So that he didn’t run late or so that she could get to lunch with Leo? She didn’t want to think too hard about the answer to that.
At two minutes past two the door opened and Leo walked out, a grin still on his face. But then what did he have to worry about? Who wouldn’t be happy if they could spend all day at the beach or dipping into their trust fund? Well, he might have to think about getting a little responsibility after today.
If he wanted to be involved, that was. She should really have used this time to think about what she was going to tell him, what she was going to ask him. What she wanted from him. She didn’t need him to do this. Frightening as it was, she knew it could be done alone. There were plenty of single mothers out there who balanced parenthood with careers. No doubt all that was needed were killer organisation skills, and she had that one wrapped up nicely.
She refused to look up at him, still annoyed with Leo for his heavy-handedness. Instead she kept her eyes firmly on her monitor as she continued with her work. But she hadn’t counted on a blond head with tanned skin and insanely blue eyes intruding into her field of vision.
‘Ready to go?’ Leo asked as he leaned nonchalantly forward and against her cubicle.
‘Su-u-u-re,’ she replied, buying herself extra milliseconds by dragging out that one syllable for as long as she could without seeming ridiculous. She saved and closed her documents, backed everything up, flicked through her inbox to make sure that nothing urgent had arrived in the past five minutes, and then logged off. She took a sneaky deep breath as she reached under her desk for her handbag and braced herself. She was going to tell him. That was non-negotiable. What happened after that, how Leo reacted, she had zero control over.
Her stomach churned and she wished that she could blame it on morning sickness, but this was just good old-fashioned nerves.
‘Will told me about this great place around the corner,’ Leo said as they walked out of the door and onto the street. Great. He was definitely interfering and it was definitely on purpose.
How was she supposed to do this? Did she just blurt it right out over starters? Ply him with wine beforehand to soften the blow? Maybe she should tell him before they even sat down—that would make it less embarrassing if he did a runner straight off.
And she couldn’t even have a glass of wine to steady her nerves.
Before she had a chance to realise how far they had walked they were passing through the doors of the restaurant and being shown to their table. Somehow in their fifteen-minute meeting, either he or Will had found a moment to call ahead. Perfect.
Now she sat trying to surreptitiously watch him over the top of her menu. He was in a good mood, and a smile was lighting up his face. She wondered at the reason for it. Was it the meeting with Will that had made him happy, or was it sitting here with her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. She didn’t want to enjoy this, or for him to. Relationships meant chaos; they meant accommodating another person—something she generally didn’t do outside a boss-employee relationship. And even then she only worked with people who were really looking for her to manage them, rather than the other way around. So she indulged in friendships and occasional casual dalliances, knowing that she could get out the minute anything approaching chaos started to impinge on her life. Short flings were satisfying and easy to manage. Leo fitted beautifully into that first category, but was failing miserably with the second.
He looked up and caught her eye.
‘So, anything you fancy?’ he asked with a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes at the lazy innuendo. He slouched back in his chair and she took a moment to really look at him, in a way she hadn’t allowed herself since the hazy early-morning hours after the fundraiser. She was desperate to smooth the chaotic curls that tumbled rebelliously over his forehead, but was aware at the same time he’d lose something of his charm if she were to do it.
Drawing her eyes away from him, she toyed with a breadstick as they waited in silence for the main courses to arrive. This was bad. This was a bad date. She was a bad date. How had she spent hours with this man, making love as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and now she was struggling to make small talk?
‘Is everything okay?’ Leo asked.
So her complete state of panic hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed. Well, the worried glances he’d been throwing at her for the past fifteen minutes should have been her first clue. She’d chosen to studiously ignore them, worried that acknowledging them would lead to talking about what was wrong. But still, she was surprised by the serious note to his voice, feeling his concern, the connection between them, all the way to her core. She remembered the way she had felt that morning at the railway station, watching his train pull away from the platform and knowing that however much she felt for him, she’d missed any opportunity to explore it. And then he’d waltzed back into her life on the day when exploring any connection between them seemed more impossible than ever.
She had to tell him, and now was as good a time as any. Actually, no, that wasn’t true. Now was the best chance she was going to get. She took a long, fortifying sip of her mineral water, wishing it could have been an ice-cold glass of Sauvignon Blanc, and opened her mouth to speak.
‘Leo, there’s something—’
‘Here we go—two tagliatelle al ragu? Would you like parmesan? Black pepper?’
She hid her frustration behind a smile as the waiter bustled and chatted at them good-naturedly. And then watched his retreating back in panic, flailing.
‘You were—’
‘I’m pregnant.’
She blurted the words out before Leo could finish his sentence, and instantly regretted it as Leo snorted his red wine.
‘Pregnant?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed, hoping that Will hadn’t told anyone else at the office about this place.
‘How can you be— I thought you were going to— What does— Pregnant?’ She waited out his rambling until he could form a complete sentence. ‘It’s not even been that long,’ he said. ‘Only a few weeks. Can you even be sure? I mean, how do these things work?’
‘It’s been seven weeks. I’m late, I took a test, it was positive,’ she said, trying to keep her temper, trying to remember that she’d not exactly been level-headed when she first found out, either. She couldn’t be disappointed that he’d not taken it well—she’d not expected beaming smiles. But perhaps some tiny part of her had hoped for something...more. More than this obvious horror.
‘Did you take the morning-after pill?’
‘Does it matter? I’m pregnant.’
He leaned back in his chair and she tried to remind herself that actually, yes, it wasn’t such an unreasonable question. After the condom fail, the contraceptive ball had been entirely in her court—there was nothing he could have done.
She softened her voice. ‘Yes. I took it that morning, about half an hour after your train left. I followed the instructions and did everything right. But it’s not a hundred per cent effective.’ She gave him a minute to absorb this, but then found she didn’t have anything else to say. She just waited for him to process.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked eventually, and she cracked a tiny smile, touched at the softness in his voice. She remembered it from that night.
‘I’m still trying to take it in,’ she said honestly.
‘When did you find out?’
She checked her watch. ‘A couple of hours ago. Right before—’
‘Right before I surprised you at the coffee machine. Jeez, no wonder you were a mess.’
‘A mess?’
‘You know, all...’ He waved a hand in the air, and she told herself it was probably better to be charitable and not to try and translate it.
‘Have you thought about...?’ From the careful way he spoke the words, and wouldn’t look up to meet her eye, she knew what he was asking.
‘I’m keeping it.’
As she said the words, she felt their truth. Felt that she could never give a different answer to that question. Parallel shivers of excitement and fear raced up her spine.
‘You’re keeping it,’ he repeated, his intonation just hinting at a question. ‘Isn’t this something I should expect to have a say in?’ he asked.
Rachel dropped her head into her hands and rubbed at her hair, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. ‘I’m not sure it’s the sort of thing you can compromise on. It’s sort of an either-or situation.’
‘Still,’ Leo said, his expression bordering on haggard when she peeked up through her fingers. ‘When did you decide this, if you only just found out? You can’t have had time to think it through.’
‘I haven’t. I don’t need to. I know some people would choose something different, and I totally respect the right to make that choice. But it’s not what I want.’ She couldn’t explain the fiercely protective instinct that told her she had to keep this baby, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognise it. It had been there, lurking, since the minute she’d read the word ‘Pregnant’ on the test. It was the reason she’d had decaf coffee, and the reason she’d told Leo now, without needing time to think through their options.
‘Did you plan this?’ Leo’s question snapped her out of her thoughts in an instant, and cut straight to her heart. She gaped at him, affronted.
‘Why in God’s name would you think I planned this?’ He sat back against his chair again, letting it take his weight as if he were no longer able.
‘You plan everything else.’ His expression was hard and guarded—she flinched from the anger and the hurt she could see simmering below the surface. She wouldn’t stand for this. This was not her fault. They had both played their part in getting them to this point, and they would both have to deal with the consequences. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but he spoke first. ‘What was it—a big birthday on the horizon got your biological clock ticking? Did you reach the entry in your calendar that read “Start a family” and just pick up the next willing donor?’
She dropped her fork in shock, her mouth open as she tried—and failed—to put words to her hurt.
‘Do you really think I’m capable of that?’ Rachel asked, her voice low and throaty as she fought down tears, disbelieving that he could be capable of such cruelty. Of course she knew that she didn’t know him well, but she’d thought after that night she had a pretty good measure of him. Nowhere had she seen the capacity for such heartlessness. ‘Because I’m cutting you a hell of a lot of slack here by not throwing something.’
‘No. I don’t know. God.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I honestly don’t know what to think. I turn up at your office hoping for a smile and a flirt and maybe—if I played my cards right—a repeat performance of that night. And you tell me that I’m going to be a father, whether it’s what I want or not. I tell you, I’ve thought about you since that night, thought about you a lot, actually, but I never imagined...this.’
Rachel let out a long sigh. ‘How could you? I can barely imagine it now, barely believe that it’s true.’ She took another long sip of her water and picked disconsolately at her congealing pasta. ‘What are we going to do?’
She gave a little shudder at the sudden realisation she had no answer to that question. The next few months, years, decades of her life—which this morning had a predictable, reliable pattern—suddenly blurred, as she saw her plans for the future evaporating. To be replaced with...what? She had no idea what the next few days looked like now, never mind anything beyond that. A fist of fear gripped her lungs, and she struggled to draw in a breath. When she finally managed to drag in a couple of gasps of oxygen, she found that they were stuck there. She tried to force them out, but the effort tightened her chest further. One hand flew to her shirt, pulling at the collar as if it would somehow help the air move.
Her movement must have startled Leo, because his gaze flew from where it had been locked on the tablecloth to her face, and she saw her alarm reflected there. ‘Rachel?’ he asked urgently. ‘What’s wrong?’ His hand reached for hers across the table.
‘Can’t...breathe...’ she managed to gasp.
‘Did you swallow something?’
She shook her head and saw realisation dawn in his eyes. He gripped her hand harder and pulled her from her seat, throwing some notes on the table and leading her quickly to the door. Once outside, he pulled her through the gates of a small park and down beside him onto a bench. He placed his hand firmly on her face, his palm cupping her cheek.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered her, his voice steady and understanding. ‘Rachel?’ Her darting gaze locked onto him.
‘You can breathe just fine,’ he told her, his eyes fixed on hers, his voice calm but firm. ‘I’m going to count and you’re going to breathe out. Then you’re going to breathe in.’ She nodded, willing herself to believe him, listening to his voice rather than the racing of her mind as he counted ‘one...two...three...’ With her lungs so full she thought they might burst, she looked at his eyes, focused on his words, the simplicity and predictability of the numbers, and let her chest relax, let go of the solid tightness of her shoulders and the terror in her mind. As she gradually felt her body return to normal, she slumped back on the bench, and Leo did the same.
‘Thanks,’ she managed eventually.
‘Okay,’ Leo said. ‘I think one thing we have to agree on right now is that neither of us is particularly able to make important decisions at the moment.’
‘I—’
‘Just had a panic attack. Forgive me if I take that to mean we need a little time.’ She nodded slowly, unable to dispute his words. This might be easier if she were doing it alone, she thought. If she could make a plan exactly as she wanted, and then stick to it.
She knew without question that life couldn’t happen that way with Leo. He would throw her plans off course from the first possible moment, and insist on chaos as often as possible after that. Just the thought of it made her chest feel tight again.
‘Do you have to go back to the office or can I see you home?’ Not words to help her to breathe normally.
‘I have to get back,’ she said, thinking of her and Will’s schedule for the afternoon. She couldn’t just not turn up.
‘We need to talk, properly,’ Leo said, and reached for her hand—a spark of something half remembered flickered between their skin. Her first instinct was to snatch her hand back—his touch was too dangerous—but his fingers clamped around hers before she could. His other hand tucked her hair behind her ear, and smudged away a tear that was trickling over her cheek. He turned her to look at him, and she relaxed, thinking how easy it would be to lean forward, to brush her lips against his, to lose herself for a moment. Leo’s breathing quickened, and she knew he’d thought it, too. But, she told herself, the last thing this situation needed was more complications.
She dropped her gaze and pulled back slightly.
‘Perhaps we should talk in a few days, when we’ve had time to think...’ Her voice tailed off as she tried to reshape her view of the world to imagine how that conversation would go. ‘Are you coming up to London again?’
‘No,’ Leo said, with a small shake of his head. ‘Not for a while. But you could come down to my place in Dorset, get away for a few days.’
Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. ‘Just hear me out. There’s space, fresh air and distance from your office. I’m not promising sea air has all the answers, but maybe a change of perspective...?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
‘And I’m not sure what choice we have. I can’t see that getting to know each other is optional, now. I know where you live—where you work. I’ve even seen you in action. Don’t you think it’s fair that you see a little of my life, too?’
She nodded. ‘Perhaps I could come for the day.’
‘Honestly, by the time you’ve travelled, you’ll want to stay longer,’ Leo said. ‘Plan to come at the weekend. Stay Saturday night. I have a guest room,’ he added, no doubt noticing the refusal that was about to leave her lips.
She tried hard to think of some way to skewer this logic, some way to get out of this scenario that had her holed up with a man she found dangerously irresistible—the man who had got her pregnant. But whichever way she looked at it, she could see that he was right.
‘Okay,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ll come.’
CHAPTER FOUR (#u3ec29d86-2a96-533f-8baf-44201965afb9)
LEO COLLAPSED ONTO the sand, chest heaving and limbs comfortingly heavy.
