‘But you were a virgin, Tara.’
‘So what? Everybody is a virgin at some point in their life. I had to lose it some day.’
‘But not with...’
His words had tailed off but she’d wondered what he had been about to say. Not with someone like me, probably. Someone who was completely out of her league. A commitment-phobe billionaire who normally dated the kind of women most men lusted after, not a skinny redheaded employee who’d hardly even been kissed before.
‘I can’t offer you anything, Tara,’ he had continued fiercely. ‘If that’s what you’re thinking.’
How dared he presume to know what she was thinking? Hiding her hurt behind righteous indignation, Tara had decided to fight against the negative opinion he seemed to be forming of her.
‘You thought I was holding out for the man I’d one day marry?’ His look of surprise had told her she’d judged it correctly. ‘That I wanted to trade my innocence for a big white dress and a triumphant march down the aisle? You think the only reason we country girls come to the city is because we’re looking for a husband? Well, don’t worry, Lucas. I’m not—and if I was, I wouldn’t choose someone who clearly has no intention of ever settling down. Just like I’m not expecting anything to come of this. You’re right—it shouldn’t have happened and it certainly won’t happen again. For one thing, you’re off to New York, aren’t you? And I’m staying here in Dublin to find myself another job, which was always the plan.’
Unlike that night over dinner, this time he hadn’t attempted to persuade her to stay and Tara felt angry at herself for having supposed he might. And hurt, too. That was the stupid thing. Her heart gave a funny little twist. He obviously couldn’t wait to put as many air miles between them as possible. She’d thought she couldn’t possibly feel any worse than she did, and then he had proceeded to rub salt into the wound by being unusually considerate.
‘Look, I don’t want you to feel you have to rush into anything.’ His words had been careful but he had seemed oblivious to the irony in them as he’d reached out to glance at his watch. ‘You must use the house here in Dalkey for as long as it takes you to find a job you really like. I’ll be away for at least six months and I don’t want you feeling as if you’ve got to grab the first thing which comes to hand just to get away from here.’
He’d made her feel like a charity case but somehow Tara had hidden her humiliation behind a tight smile as she’d scrambled off the bed. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’
‘Tara?’
‘What?’ Her voice had been toneless as she’d turned around to answer his deep command. And wasn’t it crazy how the human spirit continued to hope no matter how much the odds were stacked against it? Hadn’t she secretly been praying he was going to tell her to get right back into bed when one look at the shuttered indifference on his face had told her that any such hope was pointless? ‘What is it?’ she’d said.
He had shrugged, even though she’d been able to see his body shift uncomfortably on the bed and the rigid outline of his erection beneath the sheet had been abundantly clear. She had felt herself blush and had been grateful that the dim light of the room had hidden her embarrassment.
‘Nothing,’ he’d growled. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
So she had picked up her abandoned dressing gown and T-shirt and returned to her room without another glance at the naked man on the rumpled bed, and if she’d thought he might come running after her—well, he hadn’t done that either.
In the morning she’d overslept—which she never did—and when she’d gone downstairs, she’d found a note lying on the table. A simple note. A note which was damning despite its air of considered politeness. Or maybe because of it.
Tara,
In view of what happened last night, I’ve brought my trip to New York forward by a few days. I’m sure you’ll understand the reasons why.
Good luck with all that you do—you’ve been the best housekeeper I’ve ever had and any references I provide will reflect that opinion.
I’ve paid you in advance for six months, so take your time choosing your next position.
Lucas
What position was
he talking about? she’d wondered with a mild tinge of hysteria as she’d crumpled the note in her palm before hurling it into the fire where it had combusted into a bouquet of bright flames. The one which involved her straddling him before taking him deep inside her body?
But recriminations and casting blame were going to get her nowhere. She needed to think clearly and objectively and, most of all, she needed a new job. She went to a couple of employment agencies and scrolled through the newspapers for domestic vacancies, but nothing compared to working for Lucas. She even went on a couple of interviews but her heart wasn’t in it and despite her glowing references she was turned down for both jobs, which didn’t exactly do wonders for her self-esteem.
She was longing to confide in Stella but something held her back. Was it because she thought her friend might be shocked by what she’d done—essentially enjoyed a night of casual sex with her employer? Stella couldn’t be more shocked than she was herself, Tara thought grimly as she polished the fine furniture in Lucas’s sitting room, trying to keep herself busy. And she discovered very quickly that it was easy to procrastinate. To act as if nothing had really changed, except that it had.
Something had really changed.
Her periods had always been as regular as clockwork and so she was concerned from the very first day of being late. But there again, it was weird how your mind did its best to protect you by concealing the truth and cloaking it in all kinds of possibilities. She told herself that there’d been so much upheaval lately it was no wonder she was a little out of sorts. She blamed the sudden dip in the temperature as autumn suddenly swept through the city. She managed to keep these various myths alive for a whole fortnight. It was only when she’d been unable to keep her breakfast down, or her lunch for that matter—and Stella had popped round unexpectedly to find her sitting white-faced in the kitchen—that the whole horrible truth came tumbling out, though it still needed a little prompting.
‘So. Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Tara?’ her friend demanded. ‘About why you’re looking so awful and acting so distracted?’
Licking her tongue over bone-dry lips, Tara prepared to say something she was glad her grandmother wasn’t alive to hear. Or her mother for that matter. ‘I’m...pregnant.’
There were a few astounded seconds while Stella appeared to be having some difficulty digesting what she’d just been told. ‘I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone,’ she said at last, carefully. ‘Have I missed something?’