‘Ohhh.’ The protest was the universal whine of a five-year-old. Taylor ignored it not because of anything she’d read in a good-parenting manual, but because self-preservation demanded she end this fiasco as quickly as possible.
Craig caught her by the elbow. ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’ It wasn’t a question but his tone stopped it short of being a command.
‘Can we, Mummy?’ Melanie pleaded, tugging Taylor’s hand.
‘I’m sorry, but I play basketball on Friday nights,’ Taylor said, grateful for the excuse.
‘You still play basketball?’
‘I happen to believe in staying in shape and keeping fit.’
‘Well,’ he whispered, ‘there’s no denying you’re in great shape, but I’d like to test out your fitness for myself. How about tomorrow night, say eight o’clock?’ He smiled at her blushing confusion.
‘Nnnoo...I don’t like to have Melanie out late two nights in a row,’ she said, dislodging his grip and hurrying to the street. He kept pace with her.
‘I wasn’t suggesting you bring Melanie,’ he muttered.
If she’d hoped the fresh air would help clear her mind and soothe her jumbled nerves, she was wrong. The warm, early-February breeze seemed determined to sweep the musky scent of his favourite aftershave into her nostrils and into every cell of her memory. Sensual panic rushed through her, partly created by his scent and the tone of his voice, and partly by the feel of his breath on her neck. Her stride faltered and he grasped her elbow with lightning reflexes to prevent her stumbling. She jerked free as if scalded.
‘I...I can’t get a sitter. I’ve lost touch with most of my old friends,’ she said.
‘Even your old school pal, Dr Liz O’Shea?’
‘Liz plays on the team with me when she’s not on duty.’
‘Well, then, hire a professional.’ Her look of outraged horror told Craig he’d made a tactical mistake.
‘I will not leave Melanie with strangers! The answer is no!’
He shoved his hands into his pockets, pondering the idea of hauling her into his arms and kissing her into agreement, but one look at her determined features crushed the egotistical belief he could do it. But he wasn’t prepared to let her walk away without knowing for sure he was going to see her again. Soon.
He was struggling with a solution when he caught sight of the childish smile being beamed up at him. Well, he thought, returning the little girl’s grin, All’s fair in love and war.
‘Hey, Melanie,’ he said, ‘how would you feel if I called over one night next week to check how you were doing at school?’
‘Craig!’ Taylor’s blurted anger was drowned out by her daughter.
‘Wow, that’d be great! You could have dinner with us!’
‘Now there’s a great idea!’ He patted the child’s head, his eyes on Taylor. ‘I’m free Monday,’ he said, finding the fury in her green eyes nostalgic.
‘Monday’s no good! Mel will be too tired after her first day at school.’
‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘Tuesday’s equally good for me.’
‘Tuesday she has ballet!’
‘There’s always Wednesday—’
‘No, there isn’t!’ she said triumphantly. ‘I have basketball practice until seven.’
‘We’ll make it after seven, then,’ Craig countered, his hands balling into frustrated fists in his pockets.
‘Er...no, I...’
‘Say seven forty-five?’
‘I...I...um...I—’
‘Oh, please, Mummy? Pretty please?’
Melanie’s beseeching look and misty eyes tugged at Taylor’s maternal instincts while Craig’s arrogant smirk pushed at her violent streak. Great! She had a choice between a confrontation with the devil in Craig and a crying jag to rival the deep blue sea from Melanie. She could either score points for herself or break her daughter’s heart.
Her resigned sigh and half-hearted nod sent such a tide of relief rushing through Craig that he knew he was smiling like an idiot. ‘Thanks, Taylor, I’d love to come.’
Her response was a murderous look and he was relieved to have the kid nudge his leg to gain his attention.
‘Aren’t you gonna thank me, too?’ she asked him.
‘Eh, well sure,’ he said, crouching to put himself on the same level as the girl. The small arm that snaked out and hooked around his neck in an instinctively trusting action caught him off guard. He quickly lifted his eyes to the woman who bad conceived this child against his wishes, seeking her guidance as to what was expected of him. But she’d turned away.
‘Well, Melanie...’ He paused, still at a loss as to what to say to the owner of the huge smile and innocent brown eyes fixed on him. ‘I...eh...thanks for lunch. And...and I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.’ Quickly he set her away from him and stood up.
Blinking the blur from her eyes, Taylor made a production of looking for her car keys, hoping he’d say a quick goodbye and leave.
‘Taylor?’
She lifted her head impatiently. ‘Yes?’
‘She seems a nice kid.’
He was so close she could count the rate of the pulse in his neck. Traitorously her mind recalled how quickly passion accelerated that pulse, how it had felt to have it throbbing beneath her tongue as she licked the sweat of lovemaking from the skin covering it.
‘What’s your address?’
From her body’s reaction to his voice, he could have been asking her to strip. Goose bumps carpeted her skin, her own pulse went into a tailspin and her vocal cords seemed paralysed—along with every other part of her his eyes touched. It became a mental struggle to recall where she lived and her voice trembled slightly when she finally told him.
Taking hold of her wrist and softly brushing his thumb over it, he murmured, ‘Sure you’re not free beforehand?’
For Taylor the temptation to say to hell with basketball was almost overwhelming. She swallowed hard before answering in case the wild idea verbalized itself. ‘Seven forty-five Wednesday,’ she said firmly, removing her hand from his grasp.
‘I’ll be there.’
‘Melanie will be looking forward to it.’
‘She won’t be the only one, will she, Tay?’
Tay! No one but him had ever called her that. His use of it now was intended as a deliberate reminder of shared intimacies. Ha! As if she’d needed reminding.
He uttered no other farewell, and, determined she wouldn’t, either, Taylor took Melanie’s hand and walked away. The child twisted, waving cheerfully to the tall, darkly handsome stranger who was her father.
‘I think he likes me, Mummy,’ she said proudly, buckling her seat-belt. ‘Why else would he ask if he could come and visit me next week?’ she mused aloud.
Why? thought Taylor, revving the car with more vigour than was necessary. Because, dammit, he used you as a means to see me! And heaven help me, I let him do it!
CHAPTER THREE
AFTER an hour of torture at the hands of old memories, Taylor sprang from her bed and slipped into her robe. The silk was cool against her heated skin