He had promised, he remembered. Why the hell had he done that?
His arms slackened their grip around her and she eased herself away, hitching up her shoulder straps before flicking back her hair with her fingers. Her face was flushed, her lips bruised and swollen from his attention and he ached to take her back into his arms and finish what he’d begun.
He’d made that promise to someone else, though—someone else who wore ill-fitting brown suits and glasses that wouldn’t be out of place on a welder. He hadn’t made that guarantee to the woman standing in front of him. He would have been mad to have done that.
‘I think you should leave,’ she said, not moving, clutching her arms over her chest like a shield. ‘Now.’
He took a deep breath. He would go. After all, he had promised.
But he definitely wouldn’t make that mistake again.
CHRISTMAS came early to the Summers’ household.
Five mornings before the big day, Philly clutched the white stick, hand shaking, eyes disbelieving, mind unable to comprehend. She looked again at the instructions, reading the last section twice over until she was sure she had it clear in her mind, then she looked back at the stick.
There was no mistake.
She had read it right.
She was pregnant.
Elation zipped through her. She’d done it! She was carrying a child. Having a baby was no longer just a dream, just a hope. It was now a reality. And in less than forty weeks, all going well, she would hold that baby in her arms. And her mother would hold her grandchild.
Please God it wouldn’t be too late for it to make a difference.
But it couldn’t be too late. It was a miracle. She was having a baby.
Her baby.
Elation suddenly gave way to another emotion.
Dread.
This wasn’t just her baby. It was Damien’s too.
Guilt gripped her heart, squeezing it as tight as the instructions now crumpled within her fist as her body swayed into the bathroom vanity unit, knocking the soap dish to the floor.
This was not some IVF pregnancy, where the sperm had been donated with the intention and hopes of furnishing someone with a child anonymously. This child’s father was no phantom, no unnamed donor whose chosen part in conceiving a child was over.
This child’s father was Damien DeLuca, about as far from a phantom as ice was from the sun. And he would have to be told.
Oh, he wouldn’t like it. The self-confessed career bachelor and man about town was hardly likely to be excited at the prospect of discovering he was to be a father. But if he was angry about it he could hardly blame her. Neither of them had given a moment’s thought to protection that night. Sure, she was the one who was pregnant, but he wasn’t exactly the innocent party in all this.
Yet none of that really mattered. There was no question that she had to tell him. It wouldn’t be right or fair to deny Damien the existence of his own child, just as it would be wrong to prevent that child from knowing the identity of its father.
She gazed unseeing into the mirror. And maybe, once he knew, just maybe there was a sliver of possibility that he might even care…
She shook her head, shaking out the wistful dreams and hopes. She was having a baby—wasn’t that enough?
Damien would just have to deal with it, just as she would. First though, she had to tell him.
She hauled herself upright and away from the vanity. It was just as well the office was closing over Christmas. She had two weeks off to spend with her mother. She’d use the time well, see a doctor, get confirmation of her home pregnancy test result and obtain some advice about the best time to tell her mother.
‘Philly?’ Her mother’s voice came muted from outside the door. ‘Are you all right? I thought I heard something crash.’
She looked around her and saw the soap dish, now lying shattered in pieces on the floor. She hadn’t even noticed. ‘I’m fine,’ she called back. ‘Just clumsy today.’
Her mother would be delighted when she discovered why. She stooped to pick up the largest pieces and tried to quell a sudden pang of remorse. She wouldn’t be judgmental—her mother wasn’t like that—but she’d be curious all the same and maybe just a tiny bit sad that there was no boyfriend or husband on the scene. She’d wanted to see Philly settled down after all.
But she’d considered that same scenario when she’d applied to undergo IVF treatment. She’d known that it would still be worth it, that any disappointment would be short lived in the joy that a new baby brought, especially when that baby meant so much.
As for telling Damien? She had to tell him as soon as possible. It had been one thing to keep her secret to herself when there was no chance of him ever finding out. But now there was no way. The product of that secret would soon betray her anyway.
As soon as the doctors had confirmed the pregnancy. The first chance she had, she would tell him.
‘ENID!’ Where was that woman? ‘Enid!’
Enid appeared at his office doorway, pen and blue folder at the ready.
‘You rang?’ she asked, one eyebrow skewed north.
He gritted his teeth. He never liked it when she took that tone. Having a PA who knew too much about you was a positive drawback at times.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Completing the papers you asked me to fax the last time you bellowed at me, not five minutes ago. Not to mention,’ she added before he had a chance to respond, ‘sorting out two weeks worth of mail you demanded barely five minutes before that. And answering the phone in between—you did ask me to take even your direct line calls for today. And thank you for asking, I had a wonderful Christmas holiday. At least, I imagine that’s why you demanded my presence this time?’
For a moment he was speechless. ‘Well, good for you,’ he replied with a snarl, wondering just why the hell he had wanted to see her.
‘And Switzerland?’ she continued, her eyes narrowing as if she was peering right into his soul. ‘How was the skiing this year? Normally you come back a little more relaxed after your break.’
‘Fine,’ he snapped, drumming his fingers on the table while he tried to forget all about his failure of a holiday and remember what he wanted Enid for. ‘Switzerland was fine.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Enid in a tone that said pigs could fly. ‘Then maybe you’d like to go over what’s in your diary for today.’
His head snapped up. That was it. ‘Only if you’ve finished discussing my social calendar,’ he retorted. ‘My diary is why I asked you here in the first place.’
‘I see,’ said Enid, clearly nonplussed. ‘Only you never said.’ She flipped open the folder in her hands. ‘First up at nine, you have an hour long meeting with Philly about the roll out of the new campaign, after which…’
He jerked upright and out of his chair at the sound of that name, turning to the window as Enid’s voice droned on in the background listing today’s appointments.
Philly. What was it about her that made him so unsettled? How did she do