naive little thing you pulled out of the ranks to entertain you for a few weeks?’ Regan gave a brittle laugh. ‘She wouldn’t have said boo to a goose!’
‘Not the way I remember it.’ Liam’s voice had softened, a smile touching his lips. ‘The night I came back to the office to find you trying out my desk for size, you were far from being cowed.’
‘On the premise that I might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,’ she said, unable to stifle a reminiscent little smile of her own at the memory. ‘I expected to be fired on the spot for daring to infiltrate the hallowed upper-floor premises!’
‘Instead of which, you got yourself thoroughly kissed.’
Her smile vanished. ‘And the rest! As I said before, I was naive as they come.’
‘Irresistible,’ Liam said softly. ‘I’m not going to try apologising for the way I treated you. It’s too late for that. It isn’t too late to try making amends, though. I could help you get a job with better prospects for a start.’
Regan drew in a harsh breath. ‘I’m perfectly happy with the one I have, thanks! Are you going to go, or do I have to call for help to throw you out?’
For all the impression the threat made on him, she might as well have saved her breath. ‘I’ll go when I’m good and ready,’ he said. ‘Right now I’d welcome a cup of coffee. Decaf, if you have it.’
Regan gazed at him in frustration, aware that she wasn’t going to be calling on anyone to do anything at this hour of the morning. She knew a sudden sense of déjà vu as he shed his jacket and tossed it carelessly over a chair arm, muscle and sinew contracting as memory flooded in once more.
He’d always worn silk next to the skin. Her fingers itched to slide the length of his arms, feeling the muscular structure beneath the smoothness; to drift across the breadth of his shoulders and loosen his tie before beginning work on the buttons prohibiting contact with the warm male body beneath. She’d delighted in giving him pleasure—delighted in every aspect of their lovemaking.
She’d even believed him when he’d murmured words of love, she recalled cynically, bringing herself down to earth again with a thud. The shock when he’d told her he was getting married had been bad enough, the realisation that she was pregnant almost too much to bear. There had been a moment or two in the beginning, she had to admit, when she had contemplated abortion, but she could never have brought herself to go through with it.
‘Coffee?’ Liam repeated when she made no move. ‘We still have a lot to talk about.’
Regan couldn’t imagine what else there was to say, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be shifted. Her biggest fear was that Jamie would waken at the sound of voices and get out of bed to investigate. At six, he was already protective of her, regarding any man who came to the flat with suspicion. Not that there had been any for some time now. Word got around.
She closed the door quietly, belting the cotton wrap more firmly about her waist as she made for the kitchen. The room was warm enough without turning on the gas fire because it gathered rising heat from the lower regions. Not that she gave a damn whether Liam found it comfortable or not.
He followed her, standing in the doorway while she put the kettle on the boil and set a tray. The very feel of his eyes on her back made her all fingers and thumbs.
‘Why don’t you go and sit down?’ she exclaimed at length. ‘I’ll bring it through when it’s ready.’
‘It’s boiling now,’ he pointed out. ‘I’ll carry it through for you. Black for me, please.’
I know, she almost said, but that would have been too much of a give-away. ‘Sugar?’ she asked with deliberation.
‘None, thanks.’
He came all the way in to get the tray, his arm brushing hers in the confined space. She caught a faint whiff of aftershave—different from the one he had used when they’d been together, but emotive all the same. The tremor that ran the length of her spine left her weak at more than the knees. It took everything she had to keep her face from reflecting the turmoil going on inside her as she met his gaze.
‘Always the gentleman,’ she mocked.
‘If only on the surface,’ he responded without rancour. He ran his eyes over the tumbled auburn hair, softly lit by the low-wattage overhead bulb, the captivating lines of her face. ‘You’re still the only female I’ve ever known who looks as good minus the make-up as with it.’
‘Including your wife?’ she asked silkily, then shook her head in self-disgust. ‘Forget I said that.’
‘It’s forgotten.’ He indicated the door. ‘Lead on.’
She did so, sinking into one of the two small armchairs as he put the tray down on the low table set between them. Without buttons to hold it closed, her wrap parted over her knees. She drew the material across again swiftly, conscious of the brevity of the nightdress beneath and wishing she was wearing the satin pyjamas she had treated herself to as a Christmas present from Jamie.
‘You said we had a lot still to talk about,’ she reminded him when he made no attempt to open conversation but simply sat there studying her. ‘Such as what?’
‘Such as where you disappeared to after you walked out of your job for a start. It was as if you’d vanished off the face of the earth!’
‘I went home for a while,’ she said flatly.
Dark brows drew together. ‘You told me your parents were divorced, your father somewhere unknown, and your mother remarried to a man you had no time for and vice versa. That hardly sounds like home.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s where I went.’ Regan ironed out any emotion from her voice. ‘Why the follow-up, anyway?’
‘Guilty conscience,’ he admitted. ‘I’d played you a lousy hand. I wanted to make sure you were okay.’
‘Thoughtful of you.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ The irony was self-directed. ‘I know you’ve been with Longmans four years, but—’
‘How do you know?’ she demanded.
‘I had a chat with your boss.’
Green eyes darkened. ‘You’d no right to drag him into this!’
‘I was under the impression he was already in it, if you remember.’ He made a wry gesture. ‘It’s all right. I took full blame for the mistake.’
Whatever Hugh had told him about her, it obviously hadn’t included the fact that she had a child, Regan reflected gratefully. All the same, she had to get Liam out of here.
‘I really am tired,’ she said, pretending to stifle a yawn against the back of her hand. ‘I appreciate the offer to help me out, but it’s totally unnecessary.’ She added levelly, ‘I hope I haven’t caused you too much of a problem.’
His shrug was light. ‘Nothing I can’t handle. And the offer still stands. You know where to contact me if you change your mind.’
He got to his feet, the coffee barely touched. Regan rose with him, picking up his jacket from the chair and holding it out for him to slide his arms into the sleeves. She was taken totally by surprise when he stepped closer to enclose her face between his cupped fingers, unable to form a protest as his lips found hers in a kiss that transported her right back to that first, never-to-be-forgotten time.
Senses swimming, she could summon neither the immediate will nor the strength to break free. The jacket dropped from hands turned nerveless, kicked aside by Liam as he drew her closer to bring her tingling breasts into contact with the hard breadth of his chest. His mouth was a source of infinite pleasure, soft and firm at one and the same time, persuading her lips to part, to allow him access to the tender flesh within, the silky caress of his tongue arousing an unbridled response.
‘I