‘No,’ she said, her breath choppy. ‘Stop this.’
His mouth was at her neck, cajoling, insisting and panic gripped her.
‘No!’ she yelled. ‘Just because you bought these clothes don’t assume you own what’s in them.’
‘The clothes are yours,’ he muttered, ignoring her jibe, his breath hot and persuasive against her skin. ‘Keep them.’
She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for strength.
‘You promised!’
His head lifted but he didn’t let go. ‘What did I promise?’
‘Not to maul me. You promised me there was no chance you would seduce me on this trip. You made it perfectly clear there was not a snowball’s chance in hell—remember? So let me go—now.’
He had promised, he remembered. Why the hell had he done that?
His arms slackened their grip around her and she eased herself away, hitching up her shoulder straps before flicking back her hair with her fingers. Her face was flushed, her lips bruised and swollen from his attention and he ached to take her back into his arms and finish what he’d begun.
He’d made that promise to someone else, though—someone else who wore ill-fitting brown suits and glasses that wouldn’t be out of place on a welder. He hadn’t made that guarantee to the woman standing in front of him. He would have been mad to have done that.
‘I think you should leave,’ she said, not moving, clutching her arms over her chest like a shield. ‘Now.’
He took a deep breath. He would go. After all, he had promised.
But he definitely wouldn’t make that mistake again.
CHAPTER SIX
CHRISTMAS came early to the Summers’ household.
Five mornings before the big day, Philly clutched the white stick, hand shaking, eyes disbelieving, mind unable to comprehend. She looked again at the instructions, reading the last section twice over until she was sure she had it clear in her mind, then she looked back at the stick.
There was no mistake.
She had read it right.
She was pregnant.
Elation zipped through her. She’d done it! She was carrying a child. Having a baby was no longer just a dream, just a hope. It was now a reality. And in less than forty weeks, all going well, she would hold that baby in her arms. And her mother would hold her grandchild.
Please God it wouldn’t be too late for it to make a difference.
But it couldn’t be too late. It was a miracle. She was having a baby.
Her baby.
Elation suddenly gave way to another emotion.
Dread.
This wasn’t just her baby. It was Damien’s too.
Guilt gripped her heart, squeezing it as tight as the instructions now crumpled within her fist as her body swayed into the bathroom vanity unit, knocking the soap dish to the floor.
This was not some IVF pregnancy, where the sperm had been donated with the intention and hopes of furnishing someone with a child anonymously. This child’s father was no phantom, no unnamed donor whose chosen part in conceiving a child was over.
This child’s father was Damien DeLuca, about as far from a phantom as ice was from the sun. And he would have to be told.
Oh, he wouldn’t like it. The self-confessed career bachelor and man about town was hardly likely to be excited at the prospect of discovering he was to be a father. But if he was angry about it he could hardly blame her. Neither of them had given a moment’s thought to protection that night. Sure, she was the one who was pregnant, but he wasn’t exactly the innocent party in all this.
Yet none of that really mattered. There was no question that she had to tell him. It wouldn’t be right or fair to deny Damien the existence of his own child, just as it would be wrong to prevent that child from knowing the identity of its father.
She gazed unseeing into the mirror. And maybe, once he knew, just maybe there was a sliver of possibility that he might even care…
She shook her head, shaking out the wistful dreams and hopes. She was having a baby—wasn’t that enough?
Damien would just have to deal with it, just as she would. First though, she had to tell him.
She hauled herself upright and away from the vanity. It was just as well the office was closing over Christmas. She had two weeks off to spend with her mother. She’d use the time well, see a doctor, get confirmation of her home pregnancy test result and obtain some advice about the best time to tell her mother.
‘Philly?’ Her mother’s voice came muted from outside the door. ‘Are you all right? I thought I heard something crash.’
She looked around her and saw the soap dish, now lying shattered in pieces on the floor. She hadn’t even noticed. ‘I’m fine,’ she called back. ‘Just clumsy today.’