The Girl He'd Overlooked (16 page)

His mind returned to that picture-perfect house, bristling with new furniture, updated to within an inch of its life, perched in its very own garden, a stone’s throw from all those quaint village services she had always raved about. He had intended to present it to her with casual indifference, a little something he had pulled out of his portfolio. He would have offered it to her at a laughably low rental and suggested that it would hit the open market if she decided not to take it because of her pride. Faced with that, he had known that she would not have been able to resist.

Well, the house was still there but now it would be his trump card.

The sick feeling of helplessness that had earlier gripped him began to dissipate. He was a man who thought quickly and made decisions at the speed of light. He was a man
who found solutions. He had extended the obvious solution and had been knocked back, but now he had another solution up his sleeve and thank God for that. For a few minutes back there, he had not been able to think clearly.

‘You’re right,’ he said heavily. ‘Although I don’t like leaving you like this. You look as though you’re about to collapse.’

‘It’s been a long day.’ For one craven, cowardly moment Jennifer was tempted to open the door for him, let him in so that she could curl up in his arms and fall asleep. She just wanted to hold him close because he made her feel safe.

‘Tomorrow, then,’ he murmured, badly wanting to touch her but instead pushing himself away from the doorframe. ‘If you still want to meet on neutral territory, then we will. If you’re agreeable to coming to my apartment, I will get my caterer to prepare something. We can talk about what happens next… take it from there…’

T
AKE
it from there… yes. Discuss the practicalities… of course. But are you excited… even just a little…?

That was the question Jennifer would really have liked to have asked him. Once she had recovered from the shock of being told that she was pregnant, she had been thrilled at the thought of having a baby, of having
James’s
baby. In the space of twenty-four hours, she had managed to wonder what the baby would look like, what sex it would be, whether he or she would attend a single-sex school or a mixed one, what career path he or she would follow, what his or her girlfriends or boyfriends would do for a living and at what age he or she would be married.

She was
excited.

She didn’t think that excitement would feature on James’s chart of possible reactions to the news. She thought that the best she could hope for would maybe be
acceptance
and its close relation,
resignation.

How could he not see that any marriage based on a situation where those two damning words were involved would never be anything more than a marriage of convenience? Destined to eventually fail because the last thing a marriage should ever be was
convenient
?

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Jennifer wondering what it would be like to be married to him. She marvelled, sitting
in the back of the chauffeur-driven car he had sent for her, how close she could be to everything she had ever dared hope for while still being so far. She wondered whether his anger and disappointment at what had happened would have gathered steam overnight. Had he lain awake thinking that, thanks to her idiocy, his plans for his life were now lying in ruins at his feet? Without a roomful of unwitting chaperones to keep the full extent of his reactions at bay, would he feel free in the privacy of his own apartment to really let rip when she showed up?

At any rate, they were going to have to reach some sort of agreement with regards to the way forward because she couldn’t keep her father in the dark for ever. She was due to visit the following weekend and she intended to break the news then that he would be a grandfather.

With the days getting longer, it was still bright by the time she got to his apartment at a little after six and there was no time to brace herself for the sight of him because he was waiting for her in the marbled foyer as she entered. Fresh from work and still in his suit, although without a jacket and with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his elbows and his tie loosely pulled down to allow the top two buttons of his shirt to be undone.

‘Oh.’ Jennifer came to a dead stop as she was buzzed in. ‘Have you just arrived from work? You should have called and asked me to get here a bit later. I wouldn’t have minded.’ All over again, she felt that powerful sensual tug towards him, as though her body had a will of its own the second she was in his presence.

James frowned. He had grown accustomed to her exuberance. Her awkward formality was a jarring reminder of the situation in which they had now found themselves. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a few seconds to look at her. She was wearing a stretchy knee-length dress
in shades of green and was it his imagination or could he now see evidence of her pregnancy? More rounded curves, breasts that would be substantially bigger than a handful… On cue, he felt himself harden and, given the inappropriateness of the moment, he dealt with that by walking towards her and keeping his eyes firmly focused on her face.

‘Don’t worry about it. Plans have changed. We won’t be heading up to the apartment.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Should you be wearing such tight dresses?’ He cupped her elbow with his hand and hustled her back towards the front door. ‘Now that you’re pregnant?’ Hell, she looked even sexier than ever. What man wouldn’t run into a lamp post trying to catch a backward glance at her luscious body. ‘Your breasts are spilling out of the top of that dress!’

‘Yes, I’ve put on some weight.’ Jennifer felt herself flush at the thought that he might be turned off at the sight of her increasing size. He was, after all, a man who was primarily concerned with the whole ‘body beautiful’ rubbish. If he wanted her to hide herself in smocks now, then what on earth was he going to do when she reached the size of a barrage balloon?

‘I don’t need to get into maternity frocks just yet,’ she snapped, watching as the chauffeur hurried to open the passenger door for her. ‘Some women
never
buy maternity clothes! Have you seen how unappealing they can be?’

‘You won’t be one of those women.’ He grimaced in distaste at the memory of a certain recent magazine cover that had been lying around his apartment, courtesy of Jennifer. It had featured a semi naked actress, heavily pregnant, in a few shreds of clothing that had done nothing to conceal her enormous belly.

‘You can’t tell me what I can or can’t wear!’

‘I just have. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping. Get you some looser stuff.’

‘Is that one of the
practicalities
you were planning on talking to me about?’ She spun to face him as soon as the passenger door had slammed behind him. ‘Because if it was, then you can consider it discussed and struck off the list!’

James gritted his teeth in frustration. Not the perfect start to the evening.

In the ensuing silence, Jennifer debated whether she should apologise for overreacting and decided firmly against it.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked eventually.

‘There’s something I’d like to show you.’

‘Really? But I thought we were going to discuss… how we’re going to deal with the situation…’

‘Consider what I show you as part of the ongoing conversation on the subject. Were you all right when you got back to your place last night?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You felt faint at the restaurant.’

‘Oh, yes. Well, that was just my nerves.’ She rested her head against the window and looked at him from under her lashes. ‘I know you think that I’m being unreasonable, James…’

‘This is a debate that can only end up going round in circles, Jennifer. Let’s put it on the back burner for the moment and concentrate on a more productive way forward, shall we?’ They had cleared the centre of London in record time and were now heading south west. ‘Question—when do you intend to break the news to John? I’d like to be there.’

‘I don’t see why—’

‘Is every suggestion I make going to end in a pointless argument?’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be difficult.’

‘Good. At least we agree on one thing. It’s a start!’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, James. I’m trying my best.’ She looked away quickly. Honesty forced her to admit to herself that that was hardly the strict truth. So far he had risen admirably to the occasion and she had relentlessly shot him down in flames. Was it his fault that he couldn’t supply her with the words that she wanted to hear? He had not once apportioned any blame on her shoulders, even though he must surely be blaming her in his head. He had offered to do the decent thing and was probably baffled by her refusal to even consider the possibility of marriage. He had no intention of leaving her in the lurch even though he doubtless wanted to run as far as his feet could take him to the farthest corner of the earth because fatherhood, for the man who couldn’t commit, would have been the final albatross around his neck. His
one hundred per cent innocent
neck.

He wanted to do what was best for the baby growing inside her,
their baby
, and all she could think was that he didn’t love her, that she would become a burden, that he would end up hating her. He was thinking of the baby. She, on the other hand, was thinking about herself.

Consumed by a sudden attack of guilt, Jennifer lapsed into nervous silence and watched as they cleared through the busiest part of London, heading out until increasing patches of greenery replaced the unremitting grey of pavements and roads.

She still had no idea where they were heading and was surprised when, eventually, the car weaved through a series of small streets, emerging in front of a house that looked as though it had leapt out of a story book.

‘Where are we?’ She looked at him with bewilderment and James offered her a ghost of a smile.

Thirty-six hours ago, he thought, this would have been a terrific surprise for her. Now, it was part of his backup plan.

‘We’re in one of the leafier parts of London.’

‘I didn’t think they existed. At least, not like this…’ She couldn’t take her eyes off the picture-perfect house in front of her. The small front garden was a riot of flowers on the verge of bursting into summer colour. A path led to the front door of the house, which was small but exquisite. A child’s painting of a house, perfectly proportioned with massive bay windows on the ground floor, flanking a black door, a chimney minus the smoke, beautiful aged stone awash with wisteria. To one side was a garage and to the other one mature tree, behind which peeped a lawn swerving away towards the back of the house.

‘Who lives here?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘If you had told me that we would be visiting friends of yours, then I might have worn something different.’ She was annoyed to discover that she was already thinking about changing her wardrobe, stocking it with baggier, more shapeless garments even though she had protested otherwise.

‘It’s one of the properties in my private portfolio.’ He was already unlocking the front door, pushing it open and standing aside to let her brush past him.

‘You never mentioned this!’

‘I never saw the need.’

‘It’s wonderful, James.’ Flagstones in the hallway, cream walls recently painted from the looks of it, a deep burnished wooden banister leading up to the first floor. Jennifer tentatively took a few steps forward and then, becoming braver, began exploring the house. It was much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
Downstairs, a range of rooms radiated from the central hallway. There was a small but comfortable sitting room, a dining room, a box room with built in shelves and cupboards that had clearly been used as an office, a separate television room and, of course, the kitchen, which had been extended so that it was easily big enough to fit a generous-sized table as well as furniture. It was a kitchen and conservatory without the division of walls. French doors led out to a perfectly landscaped garden. Whoever had owned the house previously had been a keen gardener with an eye for detail. Various fruit trees lined the perimeter of the garden and between them nestled a bench from which you could look back towards the house and appreciate the abundance of plants and flowers.

‘Gosh.’ Eyes gleaming, Jennifer turned back to James. ‘I can’t believe you would ever choose to live where you do when this place could have been an option.’

‘It’s very country cottage. Why don’t you come and see the upstairs? I think you’ll like the four-poster bed in the master bedroom. Everything has been done to the highest possible standard while maintaining the period of the place. Did you get a chance to see the Aga in the kitchen? I can’t think that there would be many properties in London boasting one of those.’ He wondered what on earth someone would do with one of those. He had no idea. It looked like a baffling piece of kitchen equipment, but she had wistfully mentioned them in the past and he had taken mental note. In fact, he had furnished the house with her in mind. He had been surprised at how many details of her likes and dislikes he had gathered and stored over time.

‘You sound like an estate agent.’ But for the first time since she had broken the news, James could see laughter in her eyes. Where he had failed, the house appeared to be succeeding, and before she could remember that she
was fighting him he ushered her up the stairs so that she could gasp and admire the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the walk-in dressing room in the master bedroom.

‘So,’ he said, once they had returned to the kitchen and taken up position at the wooden kitchen table, wooden because she had previously expressed a dislike for all things chrome and glass, ‘what do you think of the place?’

‘You know what I think, James. I imagine it’s been written all over my face.’

‘Good. Because this is one of the practicalities I want to talk to you about. A shared house isn’t going to be suitable for a baby. This, on the other hand…’ He made a sweeping gesture to encompass the cottage while keeping his deep blue eyes firmly fixed on her face.

He could see the indecision on her face and had to fight down the desire to tell her that she had no choice in the matter. Laying down laws and trying to browbeat her into submission hadn’t worked. ‘I firmly believe,’ he carried on smoothly, just as she was about to say something, ‘that children benefit from a more relaxed lifestyle than living in the centre of London can provide for them. Don’t you remember how much fun it was for you growing up in the countryside? Granted this is nothing like the countryside but there’s a garden, quite a big one by London standards, and all the shops you might need are within walking distance.’

‘But don’t you have plans for this place? I mean, was it rented out before? I hope you didn’t turf out any tenants, James.’

‘Your faith in me knows no bounds,’ he said drily, knowing that part one of the battle had been won. ‘I didn’t turf anyone out. You like the place and I think it would be ideal. It’s within commuting distance from London. In fact, surprisingly convenient for the underground… which
brings me to the small matter of your job.’ Which, he could see from the expression on her face, was something she had given no thought to.

‘My job… I hadn’t really thought…’

‘It’s going to be awkward.’

‘Are you telling me that I’m out of a job?’ Jennifer demanded, bristling.

‘Far be it from me to tell you anything of the sort. But think about it. You’re pregnant. You won’t be able to keep it under wraps and sooner or later it’s going to emerge that I’m the father. Might not be the most comfortable situation in the world for you…’

‘So I leave and do what?’

‘Practicality number two. Money. Naturally, if you want to stay on at the company then there’s no way I would stand in your way. I have no problem dealing with whispers behind my back and if you think you can deal with that as well, then I’ll support you one hundred per cent in staying on.’ He allowed a few seconds of silence to follow that statement. It took a strong person to survive the toxicity of office politics. ‘At any rate, whether you continue working or not, I intend to open a bank account for you and, just in case you want to argue with me over this, I’m telling you right now that no child of mine will want for anything because you’re too proud to accept money from me.’