Lee Wilkinson - From Mistresses To Wives?

She slipped out at lunchtime and bought a pregnancy testing kit, then spent fifteen minutes in the cloakroom nerving herself to do the test. The result proved positive, removing the last doubt from her mind.

Standing there, gazing at the strip, Jessica was aware of a stirring deep down in the very centre of her being. Emotional, not physical, she realised. New life was already growing inside her, minuscule at present, but destined to become a fully developed human being. Whatever else happened, this child was going to be loved and protected, she vowed.

Having resolved to tell Zac on the way home, she was dashed when he phoned to say he was going to be late. He didn’t say why, and she didn’t ask, unwilling to give any leeway to the thought that had sprung in the back of her mind. The news would keep. In fact, a little more time to assimilate it properly herself wouldn’t go amiss.

Zac took it for granted that she called for a taxi to transport her to and from the office on the occasions he was unable to do it himself. At peak times, Jessica found the tube just as quick. She had never suffered from claustrophobia in her life, but tonight, strap hanging on the packed train, she felt everything closing in on her. Hormonal again, she reckoned, thankful to emerge. Taxis might be preferable after all.

The time was going to come when she had to give the job up altogether, of course. Sitting behind a desk with a front the size Sarah’s had been would prove impossible. Whether Zac would still find her desirable when she looked like that was open to question.

She made herself a snack when he hadn’t turned up by eight o’clock. Not because she felt like eating, but because she had a responsibility towards the life growing inside her. By nine she was beginning to doubt, by ten to definitely suspect. When he finally arrived at half-past, she was ready to let fly.

‘Where do you think I’ve been?’ he responded curtly. ‘With another woman?’

The directness of it took her aback for a moment, but only for a moment. Attack had always been the best means of defence.

‘Why not?’ she challenged. ‘We’ve been married a whole six and a half weeks! A long time for a man as used as you are to playing the field!’

One dark brow lifted sardonically. ‘If I’ve given the impression I’m bored with you, I must try to do better. If you want the truth, I’ve been seeing an old friend. Male, as it happens. In town for the one night before heading back to New York.’

Jessica rallied her waning forces. ‘So why didn’t you tell me that when you phoned?’

‘Because I was already late for a meeting. I could have got my secretary to phone you with more detail, of course, but I didn’t think that would go down too well. Was I wrong?’

‘No,’ she said after a moment.

Zac eyed her dispassionately. ‘You look tired. You should have gone to bed.’

‘I’m fine.’ It was an effort to keep her tone from reflecting her feelings. She tried a new track. ‘I phoned Sarah this morning. They’re both still doing well. She wants us to go over when she’s home.’

‘She might, Brady certainly won’t.’

The anger returned full force. ‘It’s about time the two of you started pulling together!’ she snapped. ‘You’re like dogs fighting over a bone—with your grandfather on the sideline urging you on! You’re cousins, for God’s sake!’

‘Even closer than that.’ Zac was angry himself, his eyes like cold steel. ‘My father had an affair with Brady’s mother. He was the result. That makes him my half brother.’

Jessica gazed at him in shock for several seconds before she found her voice again. ‘Does he know?’

‘Yes, he knows. His mother told him the truth after our fathers were killed, and he told me.’

Mind whirling, Jessica said slowly, ‘Your mother had no idea?’

‘Oh, yes. She’d been aware of it from the start.’

‘But she stayed with him? Your father, I mean.’

‘She stayed for my sake. I was about six months old when Brady was born.’

Green eyes widened. ‘Your father had the affair while your mother was pregnant with you?’

‘So it would appear.’ Zac looked as if he was beginning to regret having begun this. ‘Some men find pregnancy a sexual turn-off. And no, I’m not finding excuses for him, but his sister-in-law—my aunt—obviously made herself readily available.’

Jessica’s head was lowered, the lump in her throat hard to swallow. If his father had found pregnancy a sexual turn-off, then it was likely that he might too. Not a brilliant outlook for a marriage lacking anything else to hold it together—apart from those damned shares!

‘Lousy situation though it is, I don’t think you and Brady should allow it to colour your lives to the extent you do,’ she said thickly. ‘Your grandfather doesn’t help.’ She looked up as the thought struck her. ‘He did know?’

Zac gave a short laugh. ‘He didn’t at the time. If he had, he’d have cut Dad off pronto. Brady told him within days of hearing it himself. Hence the added pressure on me to make good.’

‘You can’t possibly be blamed for what your father did!’

‘As his son, I’m expected to atone for it.’

‘That’s unfair!’

‘That’s life,’ Zac returned drily. ‘We’ve been asked to make another visit, by the way.’

‘Asked,’ she flashed, ‘or commanded?’

The shrug was brief. ‘Tell it the way you see it. Whatever his faults, I’m fond of the old devil. Even more so of my grandmother. She’s devoted a lifetime to him. The least I can do is spend the occasional weekend.’ He paused, eyes veiled now as he regarded her. ‘I can’t force you to come with me, of course. That has to be up to you.’

‘But it will hardly do your image any good if I don’t.’

The sarcasm left him unmoved. ‘Probably not. Anyway, it’s been a long day. I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too long. You look a bit washed out yourself.’

He was gone before she could comment. Not that there was a great deal she could have said other than to tell him the reason she looked washed out, as he so tactfully put it. Her pregnancy would certainly enhance his stature in Henry Prescott’s eyes, but how would he regard it himself? A baby was going to alter their whole way of living.

He was asleep when she finally went up, lying on his back, his breathing deep and even. Many men snored in that position, she’d heard, but she didn’t even have that much to find fault with.

The night was warm, and he’d pushed the duvet aside. Nude, as always in bed, his body gleamed like bronze in the soft light from the bedside lamp he’d left burning. Jessica studied the strong, clean lines, eyes traversing a route downwards over the broad chest with its tapering V of hair to the hard-packed midriff and narrowed hipline, the firmly muscled thighs enclosing the very essence of his masculinity.

Even dormant, he was well-endowed. She touched her tongue to lips gone dry at the image in her mind’s eye of how he looked when he was fully aroused. She wanted him desperately, but she wasn’t prepared to waken him. Not the way things were. He would have to know eventually, of course, but not yet. It was hardly as if she was going to give birth tomorrow.

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