The Parent Test

Table of Contents

Cover Page

About the Author

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Copyright

ELIZABETH DUKE was born in Adelaide, South Australia, but has lived in Melbourne all her married life. She trained as a librarian and has worked in many different types of libraries, but she was always secretly writing. Her first published book was a children’s novel, after which she successfully tried her hand at romance writing. She has since given up her work as a librarian to write romance full-time. When she isn’t writing or reading, she loves to travel with her husband, John, either within Australia or overseas, gathering inspiration and background material for future romances. She and John have a son and daughter, who are both married and have children of their own.

The Parent Test

Elizabeth Duke

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

ROXY’S nerves were strung tight by the time her plane touched down in Sydney after the long flight from Los Angeles. Her emotions were swinging from joyful anticipation at the thought of seeing her baby niece again, for only the second time, to a shivery dread at the prospect of coming face to face again with Cam Raeburn, the man she was prepared to fight for custody of her niece.

Nobody was at the airport to meet her, which didn’t surprise her. Nobody but her father knew that she was arriving back in Australia today, and he was living in Western Australia now, with Roxy’s stepmother Blanche. Crabby old Blanche had wanted to live near her own daughter’s family, as far away from her husband’s family as possible.

And now that Roxy’s sister Serena and brother-in-law Hamish had tragically gone, Blanche was doing her best to sever all ties with her remaining stepdaughter—and the orphaned baby girl Hamish and Serena had left behind.

‘No, of course the baby’s not with us!’ Blanche had squawked when Roxy had called from northern Mexico after hearing the shocking news of the tragic boating accident. ‘How could I take care of a baby with my arthritis? And your father has a bad heart, remember? Don’t worry, the child’s in good hands. Hamish’s brother, Cam Raeburn, is looking after her.’

Roxy wouldn’t have wanted Blanche taking care of her baby niece anyway, even temporarily. Even Cam Raeburn was preferable to Blanche. As the baby’s uncle and godfather, Cam should at least have his niece’s best interests at heart

Roxy humphed as she hailed a cab to her Sydney flat. Best interests or not, she had to make Cam see that she was the best one to take care of their niece from now on. She was Serena’s sister—the baby’s aunt—while he was a single man…a divorcee…a womanising bachelor who surely wouldn’t want to be lumbered with a baby indefinitely.

With a bit of luck the novelty of looking after his seven-month-old niece was already wearing off.

She hoped so—fervently. It would make things so much easier and less traumatic for the baby if he would simply hand their niece over. Once she had little Emma safely back here in Sydney, she would apply for formal custody.

It didn’t take long to reach her two-bedroomed flat in suburban Coogee—the flat where she’d be bringing baby Emma soon, hopefully. As she carried her bags into her bedroom Roxy caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.

She looked a fright. She couldn’t let Cam see her like this!

Her cotton top was like a crumpled rag. Her old faded jeans had stains from the coffee she’d spilt on the plane. And her short-cropped hair, normally sun-bleached and glowing with natural golden highlights, looked dull and drab and even more of a mess than usual.

She always wore her hair short, in a naturally tousled style—with her fine-boned face and slight build it suited her best that way and was easier to manage. But her new choppy hairstyle had short jagged bits sticking out all over. The nursing aide who’d cut it for her at the hospital in Los Angeles had called it a ‘dishevelled bob’, supposedly the latest trend in L.A. salons.

As her gaze settled on her drawn face, Roxy sighed. Normally tanned and healthy, she looked thin and pale after her three-week stay in hospital, and the long flight had left her blue eyes darkly shadowed and lacking their usual lustre.

She fingered her bottom lip tentatively. At least the surgery on her mouth had had time to heal…thanks to that ghastly virus which had kept her in hospital for an additional two long weeks. In fact, the extra time in hospital had been a blessing in another way too. It had given her time to mourn Serena and Ham-ish…time to recover from her grief and shock before coming home to face further trauma in the shape of Cam Raeburn.

Before taking a quick shower and changing into a fresh shirt and jeans, she called her father to let him know she was back and that she was planning to head down the coast to Raeburns’ Nest to claim her niece.

‘I’m home to take care of Emma now,’ she told him firmly.

‘Oh, Roxy, love, how can you look after a baby?’ Her father sounded frailer each time she talked to him. Part sorrow at losing a daughter, and part Blanche, Roxy thought with a grimace. Her stepmother would wear anyone out.

‘She’ll be better off with me than with Cam Raeburn,’ she insisted.

‘But you’re always away in some far-flung country, love. Emma would be stuck alone in your flat for months at a time and it would cost you a fortune in baby-sitters. How could you afford it? At least with Cam Raeburn caring for her, Emma will have an uncle and a live-in nanny with her all the time. And with his wealth, Cam can afford a daily housekeeper and every possible luxury.’

A live-in nanny…a daily housekeeper…every possible luxury. Roxy’s heart dipped.

‘And now that Cam owns Raeburns’ Nest,’ her father ploughed on, ‘he’s able to keep Emma in her own home, in familiar surroundings. With a rich uncle like Cam Raeburn, love, the baby won’t want for anything.’

Roxy pulled a face. ‘Anything but a mother.’

‘Roxy, love, with your field trips…’

‘I’ll give up my field work! I’ll try to get extra teaching hours at Uni. They have a creche there now.’ But the long summer break had just started at Uni and lectures didn’t resume until next March—four months away. ‘I’ll manage,’ she asserted, but her voice wavered. Whether she gave up her field work to stay at home all the time or not, how could she compete with what Cam Raeburn had to offer Emma?

‘You’d better have it out with Cam.’ Her father sighed. ‘I don’t think he’ll be prepared to give her up.’

‘Once he knows that I’m back and that I’m prepared to—’

‘He’s planning to get married again, love. He told me when I called him the other day to ask after Emma. He wants to give the baby a proper family again, he said, like she had with Hamish and Serena.’

Shock jolted Roxy into silence for several long seconds. Getting married again? Cam Raeburn?

‘He wants to marry one of his flashy bimbo brunettes?’ she finally bit out. She felt a trembling, irrational surge of fury. ‘I’ll fight him in the courts first!’

Her father gave a brief, sympathetic laugh. ‘A single, penniless female, fighting a rich industrial chemist with a highly profitable business and powerful connections? And a married man?’

‘He’s not married yet! And if I have anything to do with it, I’ll have poor little Emma out of his clutches before he is! Serena wanted me to have Emma,’ Roxy burst out. ‘She told me once that if anything ever happened to them, she wanted me to bring up their daughter!’

‘Serena—um—didn’t mention custody in her will, love…unfortunately. Look…you’d better take that up with Cam as well.’

‘Oh, I will, don’t worry.’ Her voice trembled. She’d have a lot of things to take up with Cam Raeburn when she saw him. But first she had to find out more about this woman he was planning to marry. As a married man—as a wealthy husband with a wife—he’d hold every trump card. She’d have no hope in the world of fighting him and winning.

Had he actually proposed yet? Or was he just thinking about it?

A bitter memory stirred, and she shivered. The night of her sister’s wedding…Cam Raeburn, leading her into that secluded moonlit garden…the deceptive magic in the air… She swallowed hard, remembering the way he’d kissed her, soaring her to heights she’d never known…the way he’d looked at her, gazing deep into her eyes…the way he’d murmured, in that deep rumbling voice of his, Things can happen when you least expect them to.

How prophetic his words had been! When she’d least expected it, the magic spell he’d been weaving had cruelly shattered. The moment Cam had found out that she wasn’t just a history lecturer, but also an archeologist who spent half her year out of Australia, scrabbling around in the dirt at remote digs, he’d lost interest in her. Worse, he’d dumped her for someone else. A stunning dark-eyed brunette.

Hurt, humiliated and angry, she’d been trying to avoid him ever since. They’d only come face to face once in the past year and a half…unavoidably, at baby Emma’s christening five months ago, when their niece was just two months old. In typical fashion, Cam had flaunted another raven-haired beauty in her face—a clone of the one at her sister’s wedding.

She hadn’t been back home since—until now.

Who was this girl Cam was planning to marry?

Had Cam Raeburn finally found a leggy, dark-eyed brunette who was willing to look after a home and a baby? Was he so determined to give his niece a secure, stable family life again that he’d decided to marry his niece’s nanny?

No! Roxy thought violently, her face heating. Serena’s baby is not going to be brought up by a roving-eyed uncle and some flashy bimbo who doesn’t genuinely care about her. Emma is my responsibility.

She drew in her lips, her eyes narrowing as she asked her father caustically, ‘Emma’s live-in nanny wouldn’t happen to be a young, stunning-looking brunette, by any chance?’

‘Young? A brunette? Mary?’ Her father gave a confused laugh. ‘No, love, Mary’s a widowed grandmother—a former mothercraft nurse. She used to mind the baby for Serena and Hamish when they wanted an evening out or at weekends when they went sai—’ He stopped, choking on the word ‘sailing’.

Roxy swiftly changed tack. ‘Well, I’m sure Cam won’t want to be left holding the baby for too long.’ It would cramp his style too much. ‘Not that he’ll need to, now that I’m home.’ Her spirits had lifted a little. At least it wasn’t the live-in nanny.

‘Roxy…’ It was Blanche’s voice on the phone now, sharp and impatient as always. ‘You’re tiring your father. It’s time for his rest’

‘I have to go anyway. Tell Dad to take care.’ Roxy hung up and started dialling the number of Raeburns’ Nest.

She was familiar with the number because Hamish and Serena had lived there during their idyllic, far-too-short marriage. Now Cam, it seemed, had moved back into his old family home. It belonged to him now.

She’d only spoken to Cam once since the tragedy six weeks ago, when she’d called him from northern Mexico after speaking to her father—and only after learning that Cam had temporary custody of the baby.

The line had been shocking, full of static, and she’d had to shout. ‘Cam? It’s Roxy Warren.’

‘Well…Roxy.’ She’d felt the chill in his voice even over that very noisy, distorted line. ‘You couldn’t even come home for your sister’s funeral. We thought a week’s notice would have been ample, even for you.’

A burst of ear-splitting static had muffled her indignant reply: ‘I’ve only just heard. I’ve been camping out in northern Mexico for the past—’

But Cam was speaking over her, his words cracking like gunfire down the fast-disintegrating line. ‘Your father could have done with your support at the funeral. Blanche was no—’ He swore, and gave up. ‘Look, this line’s impossible. Hang up and call your father. He’ll be back in Perth by now.’

‘I’ve already—’ But the line had gone dead.

Even now, anger surged inside her at the memory. She could have done with a little sympathy, not a barrage of unfair criticism. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask after her niece, let alone let Cam know that she was on her way home to take care of the baby.

Her unlucky accident on arriving in Los Angeles the next day—and the bug that had hit her days later in the hospital—had prevented her from making any more calls. She’d managed to send word to her father, via one of the nurses, and had eventually spoken to him herself before leaving the hospital.

But she’d made no attempt to call Cam Raeburn again until now. She hadn’t wanted to warn him that she was about to leave hospital and come home. She didn’t trust him.

She had good reason not to trust him.

CHAPTER TWO

HER hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer.

‘Cam Raeburn.’

Her stomach knotted. ‘Hullo, Cam, it’s Roxy. I’m back and I’d like to come down to Raeburns’ Nest to see Emma,’ she said breathlessly, before he had a chance to cut in.

She didn’t like the pause that followed. ‘By all means,’ he agreed finally. ‘Why don’t you pack an overnight bag and stay for the weekend? If you can spare a whole weekend with your niece.’

She gritted her teeth, even as her heart jumped in panic at the thought of staying under the same roof as Cam Raeburn for a whole weekend. ‘I have all the time in the world,’ she assured him loftily. ‘My niece is my top priority from now on.’

And I’ll stay at Raeburns’ Nest for as long as it takes to convince you of that, she added under her breath. If she hoped to convince him that she was the best person to look after Emma, she would have to use the utmost care and tact…and be prepared to stay for however long it took.

‘Is it all right if I come now? This afternoon?’ she asked in a less confrontational tone. Sleeping off her jet lag would have to wait.

‘We’ll be here. You can remember where to come?’

She scowled at the implication that she’d seldom been home to visit her family. ‘I’ll find it,’ she ground out. She’d only been to Raeburns’ Nest once before…on the day of Emma’s christening five months ago, on her last visit home. Serena and Hamish had invited everyone back to their home after the simple ceremony at their local church.

As she showered and changed, Roxy brooded on the unwanted encounter.

There’d been no avoiding Cam in the tiny coastal church. As godmother and godfather to baby Emma, they’d had to stand side by side at the font.

Cam hadn’t changed a bit in the twelve months that had passed since Serena’s wedding. Still as good-looking as ever, as sexy as ever. The same tall, athletic build…the same amazing shoulders…the same shiny dark hair…the same glittering black eyes…but the softness she’d once seen in them had gone.

He’d been the first to break the ice. Every painful word, every charged look, was etched in her memory.

‘Back for long this time, Roxy?’

She bristled at his tone, at the cynically raised eyebrow. A year might have passed, but obviously nothing had changed. She’d thought for a fleeting second, as their eyes briefly met, that a spark had leapt to life in the lethal black depths, but it was gone in a flash.

His normal reaction to a woman—any woman, no doubt—until he’d remembered who she was. A footloose, scruffy-haired history freak who liked fossicking in the heat and dust in remote corners of the world, unearthing ancient civilisations.

‘I’ll be going away again sooner than I expected,’ she hissed back at him, tossing her head to show him she couldn’t wait to go—while wishing at the same time that she’d worn something a little more sophisticated to her niece’s christening than a long-sleeved granny dress, straw hat and flat-heeled shoes.

‘There’s been an exciting new find in the far north of Mexico,’ she crisply informed him, ‘and I’ve been invited to join the team there. I’m leaving next week.’

Despite the coolness between them, her body was reacting to his nearness, her nerve-ends quivering, her skin heating. It was his fault she’d decided to go away again so soon, his fault she’d extended her field trips since her sister’s wedding. If Cam’s passionate kisses had genuinely meant something…if he’d asked her to stay…if he’d wanted her to stay… But he hadn’t. He’d preferred the dark-eyed brunette.

He’d even brought another flashing-eyed bimbo to his niece’s christening!

‘Roxy…I don’t believe you’ve met Belinda.’ Cam’s eyes hadn’t even flickered as he’d introduced her to his latest dark-eyed stunner. ‘Belinda’s a member of my tennis club, back in Sydney.’

I bet you’ve done more than played tennis together, Roxy had thought nastily, noting the woman’s luscious red lips and provocative smile. A real femme fatale. Just Cam’s type.

The type who would never have dirty fingernails or a hair out of place.

She sighed. Tousle-haired, blue-eyed blondes with an odd dress sense and a craze for ancient civilizations were obviously not Cam’s type.

Roxy dismissed the galling memory, sighing heavily as she threw clothes into a bag—enough for a week or longer—then jumped into her car for the two-hour drive south. She wondered if the dark-eyed Belinda was still around. Or was there yet another ravishing brunette? Ravishing enough for Cam to want to marry?

It was a slow trip out of the city, and there was heavy traffic on the freeway south. After a trying hour and a half, she caught a glimpse of the coast, and the sprawling industrial city of Wollongong, where Cam’s flourishing chemical and fibremaking plant was, as well as his head office and a company house where he could stay if he wished. She knew that he also had a marketing office in Sydney—and a city penthouse.

She blew out a sigh. How could she compete with all that?

After another half an hour she saw the long sweep of the coast again, and the popular coastal township of Kiama, where her brother-in-law, Hamish, had co-owned a pharmacy.

Roxy gulped down a lump in her throat, still finding it hard to believe that Hamish and Serena had gone. They’d been so perfect for each other, so happy together. They’d shared everything. Even—tragically—a love of sailing.

Blinking away a blur of tears, she turned her thoughts to their baby daughter, wondering how her niece was getting on with Cam Raeburn—a very different type of man from the baby’s gentle, home-loving father, Hamish. Emma had been with Cam for six weeks now. Had they bonded in that time? Would the baby be upset, all over again, if she took her away from him?

Raeburns’ Nest was a few kilometers further down the coast, perched high on the rich green cliffs overlooking the ocean. Hamish and Cam had jointly inherited the family home on the death of their widowed father. The two brothers had shared the house until Cam married his wife, Kimberley, and built a new home in the lush Kangaroo Valley nearby—a house he’d sold after his divorce, moving back into his Sydney apartment and his company house at Wollongong. Hamish had stayed on at Raeburns’ Nest, bringing his beloved bride, Serena, to live there with him after their whirlwind two-month courtship.

Roxy’s hands began to tremble as the house came into view. Set in a couple of acres of natural bush, the big old sandstone house looked even more comfortably imposing then the last time she’d seen it, now that the new guest wing, which Hamish had been building on at the time, was complete. As she swung her baby Mazda into the gravel drive alongside the house, she caught a glimpse of the tree-lined tennis court and fenced in-ground swimming pool to the rear of the house, framed by trees, lawn and thick bush.

An ideal home for bringing up a family, she mused with a sigh, her spirits nosediving. How could her two-bedroomed city flat compete with a home like this? With luxury like this?

Dragging her bag from the rear seat, and the giant teddy bear she’d bought for the baby at L.A. airport, she followed a brick-paved path to the side door, avoiding the formal front entrance overlooking the cliffs.

She expected to see Cam’s housekeeper appear when she knocked, or even Mary, the nanny, but it was Cam himself who opened the door.

For a stunned second she stood staring at him, unable to speak. He looked so vastly different from her remembered image of him. On the only two occasions she’d met him before he’d been dressed to the nines—in formal black tie at Serena’s wedding, and twelve months later, at Emma’s christening, in a stylish grey suit, neat white shirt and red silk tie.

On both occasions his thick dark hair had been neatly slicked back and shiny clean, his handsome, strong-jawed face clean-shaven, his powerful shoulders enhanced by the superb cut of his jacket.

Today he was wearing frayed denim shorts and a faded T-shirt with food stains down the front. His strong face was shadowed with overnight growth, his thick hair uncombed, looking as if he’d just climbed out of bed, and his long tanned feet were bare, with an orange splotch on one of them.

She felt almost overdressed, for once, in her washed-out blue jeans, long-sleeved white shirt, loosely knotted at the waist, and well-worn sneakers.

Yet—she swallowed hard—his appearance didn’t repel her, as it should have. He looked incredibly, heart-stoppingly sexy.

As if realising he was under scrutiny, Cam’s mouth curved in a face-crinkling smile that was part mocking, part rueful.

‘I haven’t had time to shave yet, though I did manage a quick shower, after the baby threw up all over me. Lunchtime was interesting too…’ He brushed a hand over his stained T-shirt. ‘This was a clean shirt until Emma made it clear she doesn’t like mashed pumpkin. I’m on my own this weekend,’ he explained. ‘I gave Mary the weekend off to visit her family, and Philomena doesn’t come at weekends.’

Philomena, Roxy assumed, was his housekeeper. Since she wasn’t around at weekends, she was unlikely to be one of his bimbos!

‘You’re finding our niece a handful?’ she asked hopefully. If he was complaining already, it shouldn’t be too difficult to persuade him to hand Emma over.

‘Even the best mothers find babies a handful at times,’ he said dryly. ‘Come in, Roxy, I’ll show you to your room. You can see Emma later. She’s asleep at the moment and I don’t believe in waking a sleeping baby unnecessarily.’

Roxy bit her tongue, tempted as she was to protest at the implication that she was unnecessary. He was quite right not to wake the baby. Even if his motive might be suspect.

As he closed the door behind her he studied her face for a disconcerting few seconds. She sucked in a breath as strong warm fingers closed round her chin, tilting her face upward.

‘Well…they certainly did a good job.’ His tone was faintly caustic. Not a hint of sympathy. He drew back, letting her go as if the very touch of her repulsed him. ‘Though why in hell’s name you’d want to have cosmetic surgery in the first place, let alone now, when you could have been here at home comforting your father or your sister’s baby…well, it leaves me baffled. And disgusted, frankly.’