Liam's Secret Son

‘But—’

‘I have a feeling he wants to do things differently the second time around,’ Perry said quietly.

‘But as soon as it becomes public knowledge exactly who Reilly O’Shea is—’

‘It may not come to that,’ her senior editor interrupted firmly. ‘Despite the fact I accept I was actually talking to Liam O’Reilly today, I had to carry out the meeting as if I were talking to Reilly O’Shea. We obviously discussed the possibility of a contract to publish the manuscript…’ Perry hesitated. ‘He had some quite interesting clauses of his own that he would like in any such agreement.’

Laura raised dark brows at the arrogance of the man. ‘Such as?’

‘No personal publicity. No public appearances. In fact his privacy completely guaranteed, or it was no deal.’ Perry shrugged at her incredulous expression. ‘Strange requests from a first-time author, I agree,’ he commented dryly. ‘But not so strange coming from a man who has already had a taste of all those things—and hated every moment of it!’

As an interested bystander in that blaze of publicity, of those personal appearances, Laura couldn’t agree with Perry’s conclusion; eight years ago Liam had given the appearance of enjoying every moment of his success!

She sighed. ‘As you say, we obviously have a long way to go yet. How did you leave the meeting?’ she prompted interestedly.

‘He’s staying in London another couple of days, I said I would call him before he left. To be honest, it was one of the most difficult meetings I’ve ever had to attend. I loved Time Bomb eight years ago, but I have to say that I think Josie’s World is even better—and all the time I was talking to Reilly—Liam—I just wanted to tell him that!’ He shook his head.

‘I’m glad that you didn’t give in to the temptation,’ Laura remarked dryly, looking at the slender gold watch on her wrist before shuffling some papers together on her desk. ‘I have to go now, Perry, but we’ll talk about this again first thing in the morning.’ She paused. ‘Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure exactly how we proceed from here.’

What troubled her the most, she had to admit, was keeping her own identity out of any future negotiations with the author. For reasons of her own, she did not want Liam to know that she was Shipley Publishing…!

The dark blue telephone that stood on her bedside table seemed to be glowering at her, even when she didn’t actually look at it, silently reproaching her for not picking up the receiver and punching out the number of Liam’s hotel.

As was her custom for the last two years, she had retired to her bedroom once dinner was over, taking a pile of work with her. She was sitting up in bed now, her narrow silk-clad shoulders surrounded by sumptuous satin cream-coloured pillows, glasses perched on the end of her nose, as she read through the latest manuscript of Shipley’s most successful author.

So far, came that disquieting little voice in her head. Because she had no doubt, if they really could secure Liam’s novel, that he would instantly eclipse Elizabeth Starling as Shipley’s top author!

Elizabeth’s latest manuscript was good, in fact it was more than good, but it didn’t stand a chance of holding Laura’s attention tonight.

She lay back with a sigh, removing her gold-framed glasses. She really didn’t wear contact lenses, coloured or otherwise, but she did wear glasses for reading nowadays. Possibly because she did so much of it.

Not that she was complaining about her lot in life. Her marriage to Robert had been as fulfilling as it had been successful. It was because of him that she was now head of Shipley Publishing. If that position of power could also make things a little lonely at times, then it was by far outweighed by its compensations: financial security, this beautiful house in London, her villa in Majorca, the servants that ran both those homes so efficiently.

No, the reason for her restlessness tonight had nothing to do with any lack of material comfort in her own life.

Liam was expecting her to call him at his hotel. Part of her said, Forget what he expected; after the way he had treated her eight years ago he had no right to expect anything from her! But another part of her remembered his threat that if she didn’t call him then he would do everything in his power to find her. And that she most certainly did not want.

Besides, she had information that Liam certainly didn’t have—knew exactly the reason he was in London at the moment. Whereas he knew absolutely nothing about her life now. She wished it to remain that way.

‘Mr O’Reilly’s room, please,’ she requested briskly, once her call was answered at the hotel.

‘The line in Mr O’Reilly’s suite is ringing for you now,’ came back the competent reply.

A suite… Expensive in a prestigious hotel like that one. So Liam did still possess some of the wealth that had come to him years ago. She had wondered. It had never been easy to tell what his financial position might be from Liam’s outward appearance; he very rarely wore anything other than denims, casual shirt and a jacket. Exactly as he had today. He—

‘Yes?’ came the terse reply as the receiver was picked up the other end.

‘Liam,’ Laura returned, forcing her tone to sound casually light. ‘You asked me to call you,’ she reminded him. Unnecessarily, she was sure. There had been a determination about Liam earlier today that had brooked no argument against his request.

‘So I did, Laura,’ he returned in that lilting voice, his initial terseness having disappeared on recognition of her voice. ‘I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me.’

‘I’ve already eaten,’ she answered with inward satisfaction.

‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ Liam protested.

‘When I’m at home I always dine at seven-thirty,’ she said firmly.

‘And where’s home, Laura?’ he enquired huskily.

‘Nice try, Liam.’ She gave a softly confident laugh. Although her hand tightly gripping the receiver was slightly damp with tension…

‘I thought so,’ he came back mockingly. ‘You were a little less than enthusiastic about my calling you when I mentioned it at the hotel earlier today, too,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘Why the secrecy, Laura? Could it be that you don’t live alone?’ There was a sharp edge to his voice now.

‘How clever of you to guess, Liam,’ she teased. ‘Although it couldn’t have been that difficult. After all, it’s been eight years.’ And this man had been married and divorced in that time—wasn’t it logical that she might have done at least one of those things too?

‘You aren’t wearing a wedding ring,’ he bit out.

She hadn’t been mistaken earlier about the reason for that glance at her left hand! ‘Not all women do nowadays,’ Laura rejoined.

‘You would if you were my wife,’ Liam rasped.

‘If I were your wife I would also carry a certificate of insanity!’ she snapped.

Then wished she hadn’t. The silence that followed her outburst was icy cold, the only sound their joint breathing down the respective receivers.

Why had she said that? It was no good telling herself she had been goaded into it by Liam’s arrogance. Her intention had been to keep this call as short and impersonal as possible; two minutes into the conversation she had let Liam break through her reserve.

But once again it was that cool control that came to rescue the situation, allowing her to remain silent after her outburst.

‘You know, Laura—’ Liam was finally the one to break that silence, speaking slowly ‘—you and I should have met years ago.’

‘Strange, but I thought we did,’ she said acidly. ‘There must be something wrong with your memory, Liam,’ she added with barely contained sarcasm.

‘Nothing at all,’ Liam drawled. ‘But if you had been this Laura Carter eight years ago, perhaps things would have worked out differently between us.’

‘Oh, please, Liam.’ She sighed her disgust. ‘It has been eight years—and in that time I’ve probably heard every chat-up line there is. That one ranks right down there at the bottom!’ she assured him.

‘It isn’t a chat-up line! I’m not sure I even know any of them any more,’ he said self-disgustedly. ‘Unlike you, it seems, I’ve lived a very quiet life the last five years. Come and have a drink with me, Laura,’ he pressed.

‘I thought you said you didn’t drink any more,’ she reminded him dryly.

‘I occasionally indulge in a social glass of white wine,’ he corrected.

‘I’m afraid I’m booked up for the next two evenings,’ she refused.

It was just like Liam to assume that she could drop whatever arrangements she might have made in her social life just so that she could go and have a drink with him!

Probably because eight years ago she would have done exactly that. She had been head over heels in love with Liam then, had taken any opportunity she could to spend time with him, even to the point of letting down other friends if he’d asked to see her.

But that had been then. This was now. The two situations were completely different.

‘I meant now, Laura,’ Liam cut softly into her indignant thoughts.

‘Now?’ she repeated incredulously.

‘Why not?’ he pressed huskily.

‘Because I’m already in bed!’ she protested astoundedly.

And then wished that she hadn’t. It was, after all, only ten minutes past nine!

‘Alone?’ Liam prompted harshly.

What on earth—! ‘I would hardly be calling you if I weren’t!’ she answered with cold disdain.

‘You might be surprised at what some women are capable of,’ he rasped scathingly.

‘Not this woman,’ she assured him indignantly.

‘So you’re in bed. But alone. What’s to stop you joining me for that drink?’

Having to get up. To dress. To put on make-up she had already removed. Drive over to the hotel. All just to spend time with someone she didn’t want to be with!

‘I don’t think so, thanks,’ she refused distantly. ‘I did as you asked and called you. I don’t think I owe our past—friendship any more than that.’

‘I disagree,’ Liam refuted. ‘Aren’t you in the least bit curious about the last eight years, Laura? I know I am.’

Laura was suddenly very tense. ‘Curious about what, Liam?’ she enquired guardedly.

‘What’s happened to you during that time,’ he came back instantly. ‘Because you certainly aren’t the impressionable university student I knew back then!’

‘Thank goodness!’ she said with some relief. ‘Look, Liam, I only called you at all against my better judgement—’

‘Why against your better judgement, Laura? Am I so awful, so morally depraved, that you want nothing more to do with me?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Liam,’ she cried. ‘I don’t even know you any more—’

‘My point exactly,’ he pounced with satisfaction.

‘And I don’t want to know you, either!’ she concluded firmly.

‘That isn’t very kind, Laura.’

Kind! Had it been kind eight years ago when he’d left for Hollywood and just walked out of her life? When he hadn’t even called, sent so much as a postcard? Had never even troubled himself to find out if she were okay after he’d left?

This man didn’t even know the meaning of the word kind!

Thankfully she had found other people in her life who did…

‘We have nothing to talk about, Liam,’ she assured him flatly. ‘Absolutely nothing in common.’

If you took away the fact that she owned a publishing house, he was an author, and it would be mutually beneficial to both of them if Shipley Publishing were to acquire Liam’s latest novel…!

‘We have the past—’

‘It’s been my experience that to indulge in reminiscences is a complete waste of time, Liam,’ she told him bluntly. ‘People very rarely remember the same experience in exactly the same way!’

‘I remember our relationship eight years ago as something sweet and rather beautiful—’

‘Oh, please spare me that, Liam,’ she cut in disgustedly.

‘—in my life,’ he finished.

Maybe in retrospect that was how it now appeared to him. It was a pity he hadn’t felt the same way eight years ago!

‘Which just bears out my earlier statement about people acquiring differing impressions. Of the past or anything else,’ she said briskly. ‘I remember myself as a rather stupid twenty-one-year-old, totally infatuated with a world-famous author—an author who probably found me a complete pain in the—’

‘Now you’re being unkind again, Laura,’ Liam cut in. ‘To yourself, I mean.’

‘No, just realistic,’ she drawled. ‘No wonder you couldn’t wait to get away—from me as well as England!’

‘It wasn’t like that—’

‘It was exactly like that, Liam,’ she assured him laughingly. ‘I must have been such a nuisance, following you around all those months like some faithful little lap-dog, hanging on your every word, there every time you turned around—’

‘I said it wasn’t like that, Laura,’ he told her angrily. ‘The fact that you remember it as such is a good enough reason for us to meet up for that drink!’

‘You’re very persistent, Liam,’ she said wearily. ‘Or is it just a question of my being something of a challenge now that I’m obviously not as malleable as I used to be?’

‘I never thought of you as malleable!’ he barked.

She sighed, wondering exactly what she should do for the best.

As Laura, there was no doubt in her mind that she didn’t want to meet Liam; she still remembered all too vividly the pain she had felt after knowing him in the past. But as the owner of Shipley Publishing she knew that at some stage in the negotiations she was going to have to deal with him. Perhaps it was better to get any personal awkwardness between them out of the way before that became necessary? Although that didn’t include, at this stage, telling him that she was now Laura Shipley…

‘Or perhaps it’s just that you think your husband might object to your meeting me for a drink?’ Liam put in softly.

Laura stiffened resentfully. ‘Let’s leave my husband out of this,’ she retorted. Robert, and her marriage to him, were not things she ever intended to talk about to Liam. They might have a business relationship ahead of them, but that certainly didn’t involve confidences about her personal life.

‘Gladly,’ Liam returned shortly. ‘So what’s it to be, Laura? Meet me for a drink tonight? Or I come looking for you tomorrow?’

‘That sounds decidedly like a threat, Liam.’ It didn’t just sound like a threat—it was one!

‘If that’s the way you care to take it,’ he conceded with exasperation.

‘I think I should warn you—I don’t respond too well to threats,’ she told him stiffly.

‘Then don’t take it as one,’ he replied impatiently. ‘My goodness, Laura, you didn’t used to be this difficult!’

She had used not to be a lot of things. But it was those changes, in herself as well as her life, that now gave her the inner strength and security to accept his invitation. Liam couldn’t touch her emotionally. Not any more.

‘Okay, Liam, I’ll meet you for that drink,’ she accepted graciously.

‘Why ever couldn’t you have just agreed to do that ten minutes ago?’ he demanded.

‘I didn’t want to make it that easy for you,’ she told him with blunt honesty.

He sighed. ‘I would take a guess that you don’t intend making anything easy for me!’

She laughed softly. ‘You would guess correctly. Give me forty minutes or so to dress and get over to you,’ she continued briskly, throwing back the satin sheets to get out of bed.

‘I’ll have the champagne waiting on ice for you,’ he came back huskily.

Laura stiffened. ‘Let me make it clear from the onset, Liam—we do not have anything to celebrate,’ she told him flatly.

‘Maybe you don’t—but I do.’ He sounded completely unperturbed by her outburst. ‘I’ll tell you about it when you get here,’ he promised.

Laura dressed, frowning at her reflection in the mirror as she put on her make-up. Exactly what did Liam have to celebrate? What did he intend telling her about when she got to the hotel? She couldn’t believe, after the secrecy he had maintained concerning his manuscript, Josie’s World, that he intended telling her about that.

And if he did how she would actually respond?

In the circumstances, how could she respond…?

CHAPTER THREE

A QUICK look around the bar and lounge area on her arrival at the hotel a short time later showed her that Liam wasn’t in any of them. Which could mean only one thing…

Laura marched determinedly over to the reception desk, her eyes, with their different colours, sparkling angrily. ‘Could you call Mr O’Reilly’s suite, please, and tell him that Laura is waiting for him downstairs?’

‘Certainly, madam.’ The receptionist smiled at her before doing exactly that, putting her hand over the receiver after a minute or so’s conversation with Liam. ‘Mr O’Reilly would like you to join him in his suite on the third floor—’

‘Could you tell Mr O’Reilly that I am waiting for him downstairs in Reception—with or without the champagne!’ Laura was so angry her voice shook slightly, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

How dared he? How dared he assume she would go up to his suite for the agreed drink? Exactly who did he think he was? More to the point, what did he think she was?

The receptionist related the message, ending the call a few seconds later before smiling at Laura with vacuous politeness. ‘Mr O’Reilly says he will join you here in a few minutes.’

‘Thank you,’ Laura accepted stiffly, before marching over to sit in one of the sumptuous armchairs that filled the reception area, glaring across at the four lifts as she waited for Liam to appear from one of them, not even sure now that she was going to stay for the proposed drink!

She sat and fumed as she waited. Liam had a nerve, just assuming— The arrogance of him! The absolute, unmitigating gall of the man!

‘I would tell you how beautiful you look when you’re angry,’ an amused voice remarked behind her, very close to her ear, ‘but I very much doubt, in your present frame of mind, that you would appreciate the hackneyed compliment!’

Laura, having spun round angrily at the first sound of Liam’s voice, found herself with her face only inches away from his own.

For the second time today, exactly where had he come from?

She had seated herself facing towards the lifts this time, and still she had missed his arrival. The man was more elusive than a taxi in the theatre district of London on a Saturday evening!

‘I walked down,’ he drawled as he seemed to guess some of her thoughts.

‘Three floors?’ she gasped disbelievingly. The Liam she’d used to know had sometimes found walking from the bedroom to the kitchen too much effort!

He grinned at her obvious scepticism. ‘I’ve taken up hiking in the countryside since I moved back to Ireland.’ His expression darkened. ‘For a while it became my salvation!’

‘How nice,’ Laura returned insincerely, not wanting to hear the reasons why he had needed salvation. ‘You decided not to bring down the champagne, I see.’ She looked pointedly at his empty hands.

‘It’s waiting for us in the bar.’ He gave a sweep of his hand in that direction.

Meaning what? Laura wondered as she stood up. That he had intended the two of them drinking in the bar the whole time? Or that he had made a hasty call down to the barman and asked him to put a second bottle of champagne on ice? Somehow Laura had an idea it was the second option!

‘You think too much,’ Liam teased, moving to lightly clasp her arm as they strolled through to the bar. ‘You also look gorgeous,’ he added admiringly.

She frowned at the compliment. She had dressed in black trousers and a fitted black leather shirt deliberately, considering them to be smart but unalluring. The last thing she wanted was for Liam to think she was out to appear attractive to him. She had obviously failed!

Laura studied him as they sipped the champagne that had been poured for them, having unemotionally noted the female interest engendered in the bar by his dark Irish good looks. Some things never changed, she acknowledged dryly; Liam always had been able to attract every woman within a ten-yard-radius, no matter what her age!

‘So, Laura.’ Liam looked across at her with laughing blue eyes. ‘What’s your conclusion?’

She inwardly stiffened at his perception, while outwardly giving every impression she was completely relaxed sitting in the armchair placed next to his. ‘Concerning what?’ She was deliberately unhelpful.

‘Concerning any physical changes you might see in me after all these years,’ he drawled unconcernedly.

Unconcernedly, Laura guessed, because he knew that none of those changes had detracted from his rugged good looks.

She shrugged. ‘We’re both eight years older, Liam.’

He chuckled softly. ‘Very tactfully said, Laura—but in no way does it answer my question.’

She raised dark brows. ‘Because, quite honestly, I don’t see the point in the question, let alone the answer,’ she replied tersely.

Blue eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘What’s he like?’ he murmured slowly.

It took all of her inner control to maintain her composure. ‘Who?’ she finally asked stiffly.

‘The man you married.’

Her gaze was cool now. ‘Robert’s the most kind, wonderful, considerate person I have ever known,’ she answered without hesitation.

Liam looked less than pleased by her reply, scowling darkly. ‘But what’s he like in bed?’ he probed.

Laura, in the process of sipping her champagne, almost choked over the bubbly liquid, glaring at him with icy eyes. ‘How dare you?’ she gasped once she could catch her breath, her hand shaking slightly as she slammed her champagne glass down on the table that stood in front of them. ‘Just who do you think you are? You have absolutely no right—’

‘That bad, hmm?’ Liam put in consideringly, still studying her with narrowed eyes.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She glared at him, two bright red spots of angry colour in her cheeks.

‘Too defensive, Laura. Too outraged. Just too everything, really,’ he taunted. ‘The next thing you’re going to tell me is that the kindness, consideration and being wonderful far outweigh the fact that he doesn’t satisfy you in bed.’ He quirked mocking brows.

‘You’re completely wrong there, Liam,’ she replied scathingly, bending to pick up her clutch bag. ‘Because I have nothing further to say to you—about Robert or anything else!’ She stood up, looking down at him contemptuously. ‘You have changed in the last eight years, Liam—and certainly not for the better!’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake sit down, Laura,’ he said wearily. ‘Okay, I was out of order making those remarks about your husband.’ Even if they are true, his tone implied. ‘I apologise, okay?’ he prompted irritably as she still glared down at him.

‘No, it’s not okay,’ she told him from between stiff lips, completely unyielding.

He sat forward, reaching out to clasp one of her hands in his. ‘Did it ever occur to you that I might be feeling a little jealous?’ he asked. ‘After all, you used to think I was wonderful,’ he added self-derisively.

She gave a scornful laugh. ‘That was before I grew up enough to be able to pick the gold from the dross!’

Before he released her, Liam’s fingers tightened briefly about hers—the only outward sign he gave that he was angered by her deliberate insult.

And it had been deliberate, she inwardly acknowledged, provoked by his insulting remarks about Robert. She wouldn’t allow anyone to do that. Robert had been her salvation in a time of deep crisis.

She had also been thrown a little by Liam’s suggestion that he might actually be jealous of her feelings for Robert. Until she’d realised Liam might just feel put out, the feelings of adoration she had once had for him having now passed on to Robert!

For a moment, a very brief moment, she had actually thought she might have been mistaken about how unfeeling he had been in the past. She obviously wasn’t; Liam’s feelings of jealousy were just as selfish as all his other emotions had always been!