Emma Darcy: The Master Player

‘I know. I know. But I don’t trust her husband to play anything straight. Anyhow, Chloe came up with the idea of having the security guy escort her to and from the meeting.’

‘Gerry Anderson?’

‘The same,’ Max affirmed.

‘He’s one of the best,’ Angus assured him, having vetted the security guard personally. ‘Why not call him? Check out what’s going on? I have his number here.’ He opened the teledex on his desk.

‘I’m not his client this time,’ Max pointed out. ‘And Chloe promised to call me.’

‘You have his client’s interests at heart,’ Angus argued. ‘I’m sure Anderson will appreciate that position.’

It smacked of going behind Chloe’s back. Max didn’t like it, yet he felt too uneasy not to make the call. The sense of Chloe separating herself from him was getting stronger. She should have contacted him by now. Unless something was very wrong.

He had to know.

He made the call.

Ten minutes later he was assured that Chloe was safely home, had been since shortly after midday. He’d also been informed of the fraudulent pregnancy-a con game Laura Farrell had played profitably before. The most disturbing news, however, was Gerry Anderson’s report of what he’d overheard Tony Lipton say as Chloe was leaving the lawyer’s office-the strikes against any hope of sharing a long-term future with him lined up against what her husband was offering. And the final plea…

Call me.

She hadn’t made the promised call to him-the man whose lifestyle suggested she was only one link in a chain of many women, none of whom had locked him into marriage or having children.

Was she considering the self-serving promises her husband was holding out to her? Tony Lipton would have played the victim to the hilt, begging forgiveness, pleading for another chance to make a go of their marriage-cancel out his affair with Laura, cancel out her affair with Max, make a fresh start, have a family together…

‘Max, you’re wearing out my carpet.’

The dry comment jolted him into realising he was prowling around Angus’s office like a fiercely frustrated tiger, wanting to lash out at the situation, yet hemmed in by bars he couldn’t simply knock aside. Chloe was no longer living on his property, not so readily accessible, especially if she didn’t choose to be. And she was still married to Tony Lipton, who was undoubtedly trying to capitilise on Laura Farrell’s deceit.

He came to a halt in front of Angus’s desk, who leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in mock fear of being shot down where he sat. ‘Whoa! I’m not the target. I’m the negotiator, remember? Just point me in the direction you want to take…’

‘She’s mine!’ The words snapped out in an explosive burst of feeling. His hand sliced the air as violently as a slashing sword. ‘I don’t want that worm of a husband wriggling back into her life!’

Angus shrugged, looking askance at Max as though his behaviour was distinctly weird. ‘Why would she take him back?’ he queried in a tone of calm reasoning.

Max snarled back at him. ‘Because the P.A.’s pregnancy has been proved fraudulent. Because Tony Lipton knows how to twist that to his advantage-an infidelity trade-off-plus all the forever promises of love, having a family.’ He threw up his hands. ‘That pregnancy was the breaking point because Chloe wanted a baby.’

‘Then give her one, Max. Give her one.’

As though it was the simplest thing in the world!

Max rolled his eyes.

Angus proceeded to argue his strategy, the grey eyes glinting absolute certainty behind the frameless spectacles. ‘If Chloe wants children, sooner or later you’re going to lose her if you’re not prepared to give her any. Basic instinct in most women. Given that you want to keep her, there’s only one sure-fire win position for you to take, Max. Otherwise, you’d best start resigning yourself to letting her go.’

He couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. It would be totally intolerable to watch her walk away from him to share her life with someone else.

Angus wriggled his fingers in a weighing-up gesture. ‘You’ve never had a problem attracting beautiful women. I happen to think that Chloe Rollins has something very special, but…it’s your life, Max. Your choice.’

Angus was right.

There was only one sure-fire way to win.

The only question was…would Chloe want to join him in the longest run that two people could ever take on together?

CHLOE sat on the garden bench in the small backyard, feeding Luther pieces of ham as he frolicked around her feet. It was good to be outside in the open air, good to have the uncomplicated company of her darling little dog. She didn’t feel like eating lunch herself yet. The meeting with Tony had left her with a sense of deep distaste. She didn’t want to talk about it, either.

Her mobile telephone lay beside her on the bench, along with the mug of coffee she’d brought out to drink. Max would be expecting a call from her. She’d promised to let him know the outcome of the meeting. Dirty business, she thought, the whole thing so horribly grubby she didn’t want to rehash it.

Especially the sex in the bathroom bit. Had Max ever had a similar experience while he was in one of his past relationships? Had he knocked it back or let it happen, enjoying the thrill of unplanned pleasure? How much had a woman ever really meant to him, beyond the sexual satisfaction he both took and gave?

She barely registered the distant ringing of the doorbell but Luther went streaking inside to bark at the caller behind the front door. Chloe didn’t move, reluctant to see or talk to anyone. It rang a few more times. Luther kept barking. Chloe reasoned that both Gerry Anderson and Max had her mobile telephone number. They could call her to check if she was in or not. No-one else had the right to bother her.

Whoever was at the door eventually went away. Luther returned, looking triumphantly pleased with himself for having driven off what was obviously an unwelcome visitor. He trotted over to her to be petted and she smiled at him, leaning down to pick him up and set him on her lap, where he curled up contentedly as she patted him.

‘I’m glad I’ve got you, Luther,’ she murmured-the something real Max had given her as a substitute for a baby.

A thoughtful gift.

A caring gift.

But also a stop-gap gift because Max had no intention of giving her a baby.

She realised now why he had commented on her relatively young age-only twenty-seven, not old enough to be desperate about the biological clock. He obviously hadn’t wanted to feel guilty about holding up her need for motherhood. Parenthood was not in Max’s plans. Lust was a temporary thing in his life, not to be encumbered with any lasting commitment. He’d acted with integrity, but also with self-interest. Which was fair enough, Chloe told herself. It wasn’t his fault that she wanted so much more from him.

Luther stirred, his head lifting, ears pricking up, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he stared at the back fence, which closed off the property from a narrow alley between the rows of terrace houses. The gate allowing access to the alley started rattling. Luther leapt off her lap and raced down the yard, barking his head off.

Chloe was stirred to action herself. The gate was bolted so no-one could gain easy entry, but someone intent on burgling might scale the two-metre fence. Since the front doorbell hadn’t been answered, the assumption might well have been made that no-one was home. Breaking in from the backyard was nowhere near as public as from the street along Centennial Park.

She picked up the mobile phone and quickly followed Luther down to the fence. ‘I’m calling the police if you don’t quit shoving at my gate,’ she yelled out. ‘Just go away or I’ll hit triple zero right now!’