Emma Darcy - The Father Of Her Child

It was from the producer of a television daytime chat show. She had tried to reach him earlier this afternoon, but he had been too busy to take the call. He was returning it now. This frequently happened with the media people she had to deal with. It was not until they had wrapped up the business of the day that they gave their attention to anything relating to tomorrow or next week or a fortnight from now. Calls were made after normal working hours had ended.

That was one of the reasons Lauren had a mobile telephone. It was necessary to gain a successful result from her initiatives. She worked to other people’s convenience, not her own. If she wasn’t available to take calls, to instantly follow up on opportunities offered, they could all too easily be lost.

A promotional campaign had to be effected within a certain limited time. Media interest was often a chain reaction. It was also fickle. If she didn’t strike while the iron was hot, she was not doing her job properly. It was as simple as that.

It wasn’t as though Wayne hadn’t known she loved her job before they were married. It had come as a shock when he had expected her to give it up for him within weeks of their honeymoon. She might even have done so if that had been the only problem emerging between them, but his attitude towards her work permeated everything else, too. It was like having married Dr. Jekyll, then finding herself living with Mr. Hyde.

By the time she had talked through arrangements with the television producer, Graham had driven past King’s Cross and was well on the way to Rose Bay. She tucked the mobile phone in her handbag and decided to postpone putting her hair up until they arrived at the restaurant. It would be easier to do it in the ladies’ powder room, and they would certainly be arriving ahead of the guests.

“When do you take off with Evan Daniel?” Graham asked.

“Next week. Wednesday.”

“You’ve drummed up a lot of interest in him.”

“Good subject.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“Very likeable,” Lauren agreed warmly. “I think he’ll come over well. I hope you’ve got good supplies of his books in the shops, Graham.”

“Best-seller status.”

“Great!”

He shot her a curious look. “Is Evan Daniel your kind of guy, Lauren?”

“Why do you ask?” she returned teasingly, aware there was considerable speculation about her love life amongst Global’s staff.

Graham shrugged. “I know you date occasionally but you don’t stick with anyone for long.”

“It’s difficult to maintain a relationship in my kind of job.”

“I notice you shy off really good-looking guys.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. And that’s odd for a good-looking girl like you.”

“Maybe I want more than what’s on the surface.”

“That’s why I asked about Evan.”

“He’s married, Graham.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop anyone these days,” he observed dryly.

“His wife is pregnant. Do you think I’d respect a man who played around when his wife is expecting his baby?”

“Ah, respect! Yes, there has to be respect.” He nodded sagely, then threw her a smile of approval. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Lauren. You’ve got your head on straight.”

She hoped so. She’d certainly lost her head completely over Wayne. He was so handsome he’d melt most women in their shoes. And he had a body to drool over. Pure pin-up material. Her chemistry had led her badly astray, and that was something to be wary of. Graham was very perceptive. She did shy off good-looking guys.

Maybe, Lauren reflected, that wasn’t being fair. One shouldn’t make generalisations from one bad experience. She resolved to give the next really attractive man who showed an interest in her at least half a chance to show he had some decent substance, too.

They drove past the marina at Rose Bay and through the gateway to the park where the Salamander Restaurant held a prime position on the shoreline. Global was holding its launching party in real style. Lauren felt a bright lilt of anticipation. Perhaps tonight she would meet someone interesting, a stranger across a crowded room.

She grinned.

Did hope never die?

LAUREN saw him arrive-the stranger.

She didn’t know why her gaze was drawn to the restaurant foyer at that particular moment. She was out on the deck overlooking the bay, chatting with a small circle of associates. People were milling around in the dining room, which had been cleared of its normal furniture for freedom of movement. For some reason the groups of guests had shifted, leaving an unobscured channel of vision. And there he was.

It gave Lauren a weird feeling, as though she had conjured him up herself, somehow waving a mental magic wand, making the people part, and there in the spotlight-one tall, dark, handsome stranger. But the illusion was incomplete. His eyes didn’t meet hers. He didn’t even glance her way. His attention was directed to his companions. He was smiling, a warm, kindly, reassuring kind of smile.

“Lauren, what did you think of.?”

It took an act of will to draw her gaze to her companions and focus her mind on what was being said. She gave her opinion on the question directed at her and tossed the conversational ball into the general ring, disinterested in pursuing a discussion.

People had moved when she looked again. She surreptitiously changed her position, scanning the crowd in an idle manner, half wondering at herself that she felt so drawn to find him, place him. Hadn’t she told herself a thousand times it was the person inside who really counted, not superficial attraction?

It was the smile, she decided. She’d liked his smile. A smile could say a lot about the inner person. She was curious about him. That was perfectly natural.

She spotted him in a group she quickly identified. Evan Daniel was talking to his editor, Beth Hayward. The pretty blonde between Evan and the stranger was probably Evan’s wife, Tasha. She had a proprietal air as she watched him speak. My husband, it said, with pride and pleasure.

The stranger bent and whispered something in the blonde’s ear. She nodded and threw him a grateful look. He moved away. Lauren followed his progress across the room to a set of glass doors that opened to the other end of the deck from where she stood. He didn’t look around him as most people did, seeking familiar faces, ready to greet or respond. From the moment he set off alone, his face wore a closed, forbidding look.

Lauren was intrigued. It was a total shutdown of charm. He exuded an air of single-minded purpose. Not a party animal, she concluded, more a man with a mission. She wondered why he was here this evening and what he intended to achieve.

His classy, dark grey suit had the stamp of a conservative professional, as did his shirt and neatly styled black hair. In contrast to that image, a blue shirt and a brightly patterned silk tie made a vivid splash of individualism that denied any easy pigeonholing of this man.

His face was pleasingly proportioned, cleanly chiseled, unmistakably male, although a full-lipped mouth softened and sensualised it. Another interesting and endearing feature was surprisingly small and neat ears. His eyebrows were straight, with a slightly downward slant. It was impossible to discern eye colour at this distance, but Lauren decided it would probably be brown. Dark chocolate. She loved dark chocolate.

He stepped onto the deck. He didn’t glance in her direction or pause to admire the spectacular view of the harbourside around the bay. He headed straight to where tables and chairs were stacked in the far corner. With brisk economy of movement he separated a small table and two chairs, then took them inside, choosing to set them against the glass wall in a protected alcove beside a serving bench.