Morelli's Mistress (Harlequin Presents) (9 page)

It had been a busy morning so far and Abby was feeling unusually weary. It was because she had so much playing on her mind, she thought, but she perked up a bit when she saw her friend.

‘Hi,’ she said, reaching for a coffee mug. ‘I think I’ll join you.’

‘Why not?’ Lori, a slim, attractive woman in her early thirties, grinned and propped her elbows on the counter. ‘It seems pretty quiet at present.’

‘It is now,’ agreed Abby, filling the cups. ‘How about a banana muffin?’

‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ said Lori, sniffing appreciatively. ‘You know, if I worked in here all day, I’d spend most of my time sampling the merchandise.’ She grimaced. ‘I’d soon be as fat as butter.’

‘Not you,’ said Abby, setting the muffin on a plate, adding a dessert fork, and handing it over. ‘There you go. Enjoy.’

‘I will.’ Lori forked a mouthful of the muffin as Abby sipped her cappuccino, her expression mirroring her delight.

‘This is awesome!’

‘I’m glad you like it. It’s a new recipe I found—’

The sudden surge of nausea took Abby completely by surprise. She felt the hot, strong beverage she’d been sipping rise into the back of her throat, and gagged. Then, lifting an apologetic hand towards Lori, she almost ran into the small bathroom situated at the back of the storage area.

Once again, she was violently sick. She had little in her stomach, but that didn’t stop her from retching painfully. She was sluicing her face with cold water from the hand basin when Lori tapped on the open door.

‘Hey, Abby,’ she said, viewing her friend with some concern. ‘Are you okay?’

Abby wiped her face with a tissue and turned with a shaky smile. ‘I am now,’ she said ruefully. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise.’ Lori came to put an arm about her shoulders. ‘Does this happen often?’

‘Just today,’ said Abby, resting her hips against the basin for support. ‘I mean, I’ve felt a bit queasy for the past few days, but it’s only today that I’ve actually thrown up.’

‘So what do you think it is?’

Abby shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Something I’ve eaten, perhaps.’ She paused. ‘Do you think I should close the café?’

‘That depends.’ Lori straightened away from her. ‘Have you eaten anything dodgy recently?’

‘Well—no. Not that I can think of, anyway.’

Lori caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you couldn’t be pregnant, could you?’ she asked awkwardly. ‘You have been looking a bit—well—peaky for a couple of weeks.’

Abby stared at her in alarm. ‘Pregnant?’ she echoed. ‘I—no. Of course not.’

Lori shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. ‘But you have been seeing that guy who’s bought Gifford’s estate, haven’t you? Luke Morelli. I recognised him the first time he came into the café weeks ago.’ She grimaced. ‘Blame it on the gossip magazines. I’ve seen his picture several times. He’s usually escorting some glamorous socialite or other to a charity function or a film premiere. You know what men like him are like.’

Just the thought of that made Abby feel sick all over again.

‘He’s quite famous, you know.’

‘Is he?’ This was a side of Luke she’d never seen. But then, how well did she really know him? Not that well at all, it seemed.

There were a few tense moments when Abby just stared at her. Then she said cautiously, ‘But how did you know I’ve been seeing him?’ and Lori sighed.

‘Greg told me,’ she admitted. ‘He’s such an old gossip. I wouldn’t have believed him, but Joan Miller said she’d seen Morelli’s car outside the café one evening a few weeks ago, when she was going to see her sister.’

Abby licked her dry lips. ‘He did call in, yes,’ she conceded with some embarrassment. And then, because something more was needed, she added, ‘I admit, I knew him before I came here, Lori. I met him—oh, years ago in London. When—when I was still married to my ex.’

‘Hey, it’s nothing to do with me,’ exclaimed Lori, evidently regretting saying anything. ‘And your being sick is probably just a bug. It’s that time of year.’

‘Yes.’

But Lori didn’t sound convinced, and nor was Abby.

Then, after a moment, the other woman added, ‘Perhaps I should tell you that Greg thinks you’re using your influence with Luke Morelli to get the development cancelled.’

‘What?’

Lori nodded. ‘He says that’s why you’ve been seeing him. That if anybody can change Morelli’s mind, it’s you.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
NGELICA
R
YAN
,
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 couldn’t be true, he thought incredulously. He always took precautions. He never had sex without wearing a condom.

Apart from anything else, he’d never wanted to find himself in this position. Even when he was married to Sonia, he’d made sure there would be no unwanted babies.

Had he known even then that their marriage was unlikely to last? Much as he’d wanted to deny it, Abby Laurence—Lacey—had ruined him for anyone else.

So how the hell...?

And then he remembered the first occasion he’d come to the apartment. It had been raining and he’d been virtually soaked to his skin. Abby had been straight out of the shower, all soft and warm and fragrant, and, stupidly, he’d lost his head.

God!

He stared at her, cupping the back of his neck with both hands and trying to get a handle on his emotions.

He was shocked; who wouldn’t be shocked in the circumstances? But it was more than that. The realisation that he was going to be a father had stunned him. This girl—this girl he’d fought against caring about for so long—was going to have his child.

Abby’s cheeks were flushed now and, although she was still wearing that belligerent expression, he realised what it must have cost her to blurt out a thing like that.

Particularly to someone who had just insulted her.

‘Well?’ she said, and he could see she was nervous. ‘Aren’t you going to call me a liar? After all, you’ve just said you can’t trust me.’

Luke shook his head. ‘How long have you known?’

Abby shrugged. ‘I bought two testing kits a week ago. They were both positive.’ She was trying to sound indifferent and failing abysmally. ‘What can I say?’

‘And—and how far along are you?’

She stiffened. ‘I’m not having a termination.’

‘Did I ask you to?’ Luke spoke tersely and then lifted a hand, palm outward, to mitigate his words. ‘I just meant—do you know how many weeks—?’

‘Well, let me see.’ She was sardonic. ‘The first time we slept together was about five—six weeks ago. So I guess that sounds about right.’

Luke shook his head. ‘Unbelievable.’

‘What?’ She looked contemptuously at him. ‘I didn’t want this, you know.’ She paused. ‘But—when a friend discovered what had happened, she insisted that I ought to tell—the father.’

Luke stared at her for a moment longer and then he said flatly, ‘You know, I think I could do with that cup of tea now. Do you mind?’

Abby shrugged, but she turned back to the kettle she had been filling and set it on the ring. Then, taking down two cups from the shelf, she dropped a teabag in each.

‘Sugar?’ she asked, glancing briefly up at him, and Luke nodded.

‘Two spoons, please,’ he said, and then turned and made his way back to the sofa where he’d left his jacket.

Sitting down, he closed his eyes and raked back his hair with hands that weren’t quite steady. Dear God, he’d never expected this. Abby was having a baby. She was having
his
baby. He was going to be a father!

His hands dropped between his spread knees and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. A damp nose nuzzling his palms was surprisingly comforting. Harley was now gazing up at him with his warm dark eyes, and he realised the dog had sensed something was wrong.

‘Hey, boy,’ he said, trying to get his head around what had happened. He managed a rueful grin. ‘What are you going to do when there’s a baby in the house?’

‘That won’t be your concern,’ said Abby shortly, coming to set his cup on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Drink your tea while it’s hot.’

Luke glanced up into her set face. Then he patted the sofa beside him. ‘Sit down, Abby. We need to talk.’

Abby regarded him coolly for a few moments, then she collected her tea from the breakfast bar and seated herself in the armchair at right angles to the sofa.

‘There’s not a lot more to be said,’ she declared. ‘I’ve done my duty. You know the score. And when the baby’s born, I won’t stop you from seeing him—or her—if that’s what you want.’

‘Hold up.’ Luke, who had taken a couple of mouthfuls of his tea, now set his cup back on the table. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Since when have I said that you and our child will be living apart from me?’

Abby caught her breath, trying to pull that absurdly short skirt over her knees. ‘It’s not your decision to make. And I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying.’

‘And that would be?’

‘That we live together.’

‘Why not?’

The words were out before Luke could stop them, but they didn’t have the anticipated effect.

She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, Morelli. You don’t get to call the shots here. You said it yourself, you don’t do commitment. And I have no intention of putting my baby—’

‘
Our
baby!’

‘—at the mercy of your casual liaisons with other women.’

Luke got angrily to his feet. ‘What right have you to accuse me of having casual liaisons?’

Abby rose, too, though he noticed she stepped away from him before replying. ‘Well, what was this?’ she demanded, spreading a hand to encompass the apartment. ‘You had no intention of seeing me again. You’ve just admitted as much.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Luke’s jaw was clenched so tight, he could feel the pulse racing beneath his ear. ‘In any case, that was—before,’ he said inadequately, and Abby gave a short laugh.

‘Before I’d trapped you, is that it?’ She lifted her chin.‘Well, I’ve got news for you, Morelli—’

‘Stop calling me Morelli!’

‘—I’ve got no intention of trapping you. Or of living with you, for that matter. This is the twenty-first century, Luke. Women don’t need to rely on men to support them. Right now, I’ve got the café, and when that closes, I’ll find a job. Or other premises, who knows? Whatever, you won’t be involved.’

Luke’s frustration knew no bounds. ‘You can’t stop me from being involved.’

‘Oh, I think I can.’ She lifted her hands to release her hair from its ponytail. ‘There’s no law that says I have to do anything more than I’ve already done. You know about the baby now. And after it’s born, you’ll have your chance to share custody or not. That’s up to you.’

Luke scowled. He knew she was right, but that didn’t stop him from resenting the ultimatum she’d given him. And while he had said the things she’d accused him of, the truth was he had wanted to see her again, damn her.

‘I need to think about this,’ he muttered, aware that she had never looked more desirable than she did at that moment.

He’d always admired her legs and the short skirt showed them to perfection. Add to that the sleeveless vest that outlined the pert fullness of her breasts, and exposed the moist hollow between, and he was fascinated. A pearl of perspiration invited him to taste, and he could already feel his erection tightening his jeans painfully across his crotch.

‘Abby...’ he began roughly, but she was already walking towards the door.

‘I think you’d better go,’ she said, without a trace of expression in her voice. ‘Thank you for coming. Goodbye.’

Luke followed her across the room, but when she stepped aside to allow him to leave, his hand hit the wall beside her head, backing her up until there was scarcely a breath between them.

‘This isn’t over, Abby,’ he said harshly, his mouth hot against her neck, and he heard her catch an unsteady breath.

‘It is,’ she insisted, her voice barely audible as she pressed him away from her. ‘Just go, Luke. I wish I never had to see you again.’