Her Secret, His Love-Child (3 page)

‘Can’t you get it done any faster?’ Alex asked with a frown as soon as the doctor was finished.

Doctor Kershew placed the two samples side by side on his cluttered desk then looked back and forth between them. He was obviously aware of the tension that had been simmering between them since they’d entered the surgery ten minutes ago. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘You’ll call me as soon as you know?’ Alex pressed.

Doctor Kershew shook his head. ‘They don’t call with the results. They send a written report. Would you like it sent to your home or office?’

‘My home. The less people who know about this, the better,’ he stated grimly, with a sharp glance in Katrina’s direction.

Katrina’s response was to jut her chin into the air, and her cat-like green eyes glinted with challenge again.

‘And you, Ms Ashby? Where would you like your copy sent?’

She turned to the doctor. ‘I don’t need it.’ She flung Alex a look that he was sure could strip paint. ‘I already know what the results will be. I don’t need some silly test to tell me something I already know.’

Alex stared at her, his scalp contracting. He’d been discomfited when she’d suggested the DNA testing. Hell, he’d been more than uncomfortable. He’d felt as though she’d smacked him around the head with a plank of wood.

If she’d had any doubts about the child’s parentage, then surely she’d have avoided the suggestion like the plague?

Now she was acting supremely confident of the results, so much so that the back of his neck began to prickle and a restless sensation attacked the base of his spine.

What if she was right?

What if the child was his?

Alex let his eyes stray to the baby’s cot, which so far he’d avoided looking at.

The baby had fallen into a peaceful sleep, her tiny fist pressed against her flushed cheek, her bow-like
mouth softly parted, her little chest rising and falling with each breath.

He’d decided many years ago never to get married or have children. With his family history, he’d considered it his only option.

It was a decision he’d never regretted.

He’d never even thought about what it would be like to have a child. What was the point when he’d already decided not to?

Now he had to consider it.

He stared at the sleeping infant. She was cute, he had to admit that. But then so was a newborn kitten. But if she was his…

The breath caught in the back of his throat.

If she was his then it was a different matter entirely.

Alex sucked in a deep breath and dragged his gaze away from the cot. His eyes locked with Katrina’s. She’d noticed him watching the child. She had a very assessing look on her face, as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.

She’d be surprised if she could look inside his head, Alex acknowledged wryly, because his thoughts had just jumped to another aspect of their situation.

If the child was his, then it meant Katrina hadn’t betrayed him.

There had been no other man.

No other lover.

And no intention to scam him.

It also meant that what they’d shared was real.

He wasn’t quite sure why that was so important to him but it was.

‘It’s standard procedure,’ the doctor said gently. ‘Both parents receive a copy.’

Katrina looked back at the doctor and shrugged. ‘I don’t care where you send it.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Alex rattled off the address.

The doctor made a note on the file before shutting it closed. ‘There, all done. Now, if that’s all, I’d better see to my next patient. I’m behind schedule.’

‘Thank you for squeezing us in,’ Alex said, rising to his feet. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘You said it was important. I always have time for you and your family.’ He leaned confidingly towards Katrina. ‘I delivered Alex and his brother, you know. I have a soft spot for them.’

‘I can imagine,’ she said faintly.

The doctor looked back at Alex. ‘How is Michael doing?’

Tension gripped him. ‘The same,’ he bit out. He didn’t want to talk about his brother in front of Katrina.

The doctor shook his head sadly. ‘Well, if there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is call.’

‘I know. But the first step is up to Michael.’

Katrina was paying close attention to the conversation. Alex had made a point of keeping his family and Katrina apart, as he did with all of his lovers. He’d wanted to avoid building any expectation of a permanent relationship.

But more and more that looked like it had been a waste of time where Katrina was concerned.

Because, if the baby did turn out to be his, then the future he’d envisaged would be well and truly blown to smithereens.

Alex was trying and failing to process an inbox full of emails when Royce called at eight that night. Once
again, the other man got straight to the point. ‘I don’t have a lot to report. One of my people has been watching the apartment since just before you arrived at two-oh-three.’

Alex was impressed they’d moved so quickly. ‘And…?’

‘And nothing. Katrina came out with a pram around three-thirty and walked to the local park and back. Other than that she hasn’t been out. A number of people have come and gone from the apartment building, but it’s been difficult to ascertain whether any of them have visited her. There’s been no sign of the guy who owns the apartment.’

Alex stiffened. ‘What guy?’

‘Let me see.’ Alex heard the tapping of computer keys. ‘The apartment is owned by a guy called Peter Strauss.’

Something shifted in his chest. ‘She’s living with a man?’

‘That’s not clear. We’re still looking into it. Katrina’s name doesn’t appear on any official lease or documentation. At least none that we’ve found so far. She’s either living with the guy or she has a private arrangement with him.’

‘I see,’ Alex said, not seeing at all, and wishing to hell that he did. ‘What else do you know about the guy?’

‘Nothing. We’re doing a background check now. I should have an answer for you tomorrow or the day after.’

‘Make it tomorrow. I want to know everything. When they met. What their relationship is. Everything.’

Alex wasn’t sure why he was so interested.

He tried to tell himself it was because the Strauss chap could be the baby’s father, but he knew he was just fooling himself.

He was a great believer in the saying ‘actions speak louder than words’ and Katrina’s behaviour suggested she was telling the truth.

The scales were now firmly tipped in favour of him being the child’s father.

So why should he care who this guy was?

Frankly he shouldn’t give a flying fig, but he did.

Alex sat stiffly in his chair, body so tense he expected his joints to creak when he moved. A restless sensation attacked the bottom of his spine.

He wanted to storm over to the apartment and demand some answers.

Instead, he cursed under his breath and headed for his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of black running shorts, a white singlet top and a pair of trainers. Leaving the apartment by his private elevator, he headed for the nearby park.

He jogged for an hour most days.

Tonight, he didn’t jog.

Tonight, he pounded the pavement as if his very life depended on it.

Sweat dripped from his body.

His lungs burned and his heart raced.

On his twelfth lap, Alex decided to call it quits. He could run until he cut a groove in the cement and it still wouldn’t ease his frustration.

He ground to a sudden halt, gasped in a breath and swore viciously.

Jogging at a less frantic pace, he headed back to his apartment.

Then, sweaty, tired and so wired he expected to emit sparks at any moment, he snatched up his car keys.

K
ATRINA
was cleaning the kitchen sink—gleaming stainless-steel was almost as satisfying as glowing white ceramic—when someone pounded on the door as if they were trying to smash it down.

Worried the racket might wake Samantha, she removed her rubber gloves and hurried to the door.

‘Who is it?’ she called softly, trying to keep her voice down.

‘It’s Alex. Open up!’

‘Alex?’ she asked in surprise, blonde eyebrows shooting towards her hairline.

What was Alex doing here?

‘Yes. Alex. Open the door!’

Startled by his forceful order, Katrina slid the door chain along its protective channel and then turned her attention to the lock. In her nervous haste, and hindered by the oversized rubber gloves, her fingers fumbled with the latch and it took her two attempts to get the door open.

‘What do you want, Alex?’ she asked.

Although she hadn’t invited him in, Alex swept past her into the apartment.

As he did, she noticed what he was wearing.

Or, rather, what he
wasn’t
wearing.

All he had on was running gear. Skimpy running-gear that left very little to the imagination.

A white singlet top bared the steely strength of his broad, bronzed shoulders, and short shorts left the hair-roughened length of his powerful legs free for her hungry gaze to feast upon.

In an instant, her mouth was parchment dry and her heart was beating ninety-to-the-dozen. ‘Alex?’ she prompted when he failed to answer her.

Suddenly she realised that while she’d been staring at Alex he’d been staring just as hard at her.

In her eagerness to open the door before Samantha was disturbed, Katrina had forgotten she was wearing her oldest tracksuit. It was tatty and worn, and the black was no longer sharp but faded. She’d taken the jacket off a while ago; scrubbing was hot work. Beneath it she was wearing a black stretchy top with spaghetti-thin straps.

If her outfit wasn’t bad enough, her hair had fallen out of the clip she’d used to fasten it to the top of her head. It was now half up and half down, with several strands sticking to her cheeks. To top everything else off, she wasn’t wearing a touch of make-up—not even mascara.

Katrina cringed inside at her dowdy appearance and then immediately reprimanded herself.

Who cared what Alex thought?

It wasn’t as though he meant anything to her any more.

‘What are you doing here, Alex?’

Alex stared at her with hooded eyes, then said abruptly, ‘I thought you lived alone.’

Katrina blinked at the comment, which had come out of left field. ‘I do. Apart from Sam, of course,’ she said, trying to ignore how primal and potently make Alex looked.

‘Really?’ He raised a brow. ‘What about Peter Strauss?’

Katrina blinked again. How did he know about Peter? And why was he asked about him?

‘Peter is my landlord,’ she said automatically.

‘You don’t have a lease.’

It was a statement not a question, and it was fired at her as fast as a bullet from a gun.

An uneasy feeling settled at the base of her spine. ‘How do you know that?’

He waved a hand. ‘Just answer the question.’

‘Have you had me investigated?’ she asked, still preoccupied with how he’d come across the information.

‘Of course.’

Shock ratcheted up her spine, vertebra by vertebra. ‘How dare you?’

‘Oh, I dare a lot of things. Why should you care, anyway?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Unless you’ve got something to hide?’

‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

‘Then why won’t you answer the question?’

Katrina folded her arms. ‘Because it’s none of your business, that’s why! As far as I’m concerned, you have no right to question me—unless it relates to Sam.’

His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t quite define. Suddenly, he was right there in front of her, hand cupping her throat. ‘Answer the question!’

The smell of heated male flesh mixed with sweat folded around her like an invisible cloak. As she inhaled,
it was as if she were absorbing little particles of Alex that circulated in her bloodstream like a potent drug.

Swallowing against the warmth of his palm, she managed to say huskily, ‘What’s this all about, Alex?’

What’s this all about?

That was a good question, Alex decided.

It was just a shame he didn’t have an answer.

At least not one he wanted to share.

He didn’t want to admit—even to himself—that jealousy had sent him rushing over here like a man possessed. But there was no other explanation.

And the little green monster was having a field day, eating away at him like acid burning through metal.

Katrina looked unbelievably sexy in an entirely natural way. She might not be wearing any make-up, and her outfit was one that most of his previous lovers would have consigned to the rubbish bin, but all Alex could see was the shapely contours of her body, skin that was glowing with good health and hair that was shining with vitality.

Had Strauss seen Katrina dressed like this? Had he peeled the figure-hugging black top and faded tracksuit-bottoms off the sleek lines of her body before making love to her?

‘Who is Peter Strauss to you?’ He knew he shouldn’t ask the question but was unable to hold it back.

She stiffened beneath the loose hold he had on her throat and her cat-like green eyes flashed quick-silver. ‘
That
is none of your business. Our relationship is over, remember?’ she said, tossing her head.

Her fragrance filtered into the air. Alex inhaled without meaning to, filling his lungs with the smell of her.

His head spun.

His heart pounded.

His body hardened.

Let her go,
a little voice in his head instructed with warning.
Let her go before you do something stupid.

Alex prided himself on his logic. The little voice in his head made a lot of sense.

Still, Alex couldn’t bring himself to release her.

Frustration imploded inside of him.

She was right.

He knew she was right.

‘I don’t care who you sleep with,’ Alex said harshly, wondering whether she knew he was lying through his teeth. ‘You can sleep with ten men for all I care.’ If she did, he would commit murder. ‘I’m thinking of the child. She needs to be brought up in a moral environment.’

‘The
child
has a name,’ Katrina said pointedly. ‘And I think that’s a little bit rich coming from you!’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you’ve had more women than you can probably count, so I don’t think you should be pointing fingers.’

His fingers curled more closely around her throat. ‘Don’t push me, Katrina.’

‘Or what? What will you do? Kiss me again like you did this morning?’ she goaded.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. She had the most beautiful mouth, just made for kissing.

‘Yes,’ he said huskily, and did what he’d wanted to do since he’d walked into the room.

Acting on gut instinct, he bent his head and claimed her mouth with his.

Unlike this morning, Katrina didn’t put up even a show of resistance.

This time, she kissed him right back with a depth of hunger that struck deep inside him.

Groaning in the back of his throat, Alex hooked an arm around the small of her back and pulled her closer until nothing, not even air, came between them.

He ignored the fact that their relationship was over and he shouldn’t be kissing her at all.

He ignored the fact that a young child, in all likelihood his daughter, lay sleeping innocently in the bedroom behind them.

He ignored everything except touching her and tasting her and relishing the familiar feel of her in his arms.

He deepened the kiss. Her arms made their way up and around his neck, where she dug her fingers into his hair.

The flash-fire of primitive desire laid claim to every ounce of tissue in his body. Muscles strained to get closer to her. His skin shrank around his bones. His heart and his pulse didn’t feel as if they belonged to him as they beat out a frantic tattoo.

He urged her backwards, instinctively seeking and finding the lounge. The backs of her knees hit the edge of a seat and he tumbled her on to the cushions.

He looked down. One spaghetti-thin strap had slipped off a creamy shoulder, baring the swell of her breast to his gaze.

His body throbbed—hard.

And, then again, even harder.

Then his eyes landed on a stuffed toy sitting in the corner of the lounge.

It was a brown gorilla. And it appeared to be staring at him.

Alex froze.

This was madness. Absolute and utter madness.

Until this situation was sorted, he shouldn’t be touching her.

He took a step backwards.

And then another.

Then he said, ‘We can’t do this.’

Katrina flopped back against the sofa.

She was weak, breathing heavily, body pulsing.

He was right; they shouldn’t be doing this.

She closed her eyes.

Why, oh why, had she let Alex kiss her? And why, oh why, had she kissed him back? He thought she was a liar and a cheat. He thought she was low enough to try and foist another man’s child on him. She needed her head read for letting him anywhere near her.

She breathed in deeply and willed her heart to stop its frantic beating.

‘I think you’d better leave,’ she murmured without looking at him.

Katrina could feel him looking at her bent head.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked finally.

Her eyes snapped open before flashing to his. ‘I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Why indeed?’

Alex walked to the door and pulled it open. ‘I’ll call you when I get the results.’

‘You do that,’ she said, just before the door closed with a quiet click.

Katrina was cleaning the fridge two days later, trying to take her mind off the fact that today was the day
the DNA test results were due, when the doorbell rang.

Immediately, she tensed.

What if it was Alex?

She hadn’t received her set of results yet, but that didn’t mean Alex hadn’t received his.

How was he going to react to the news that Samantha was indeed his daughter?

Stripping off her green rubber-gloves, she tossed them on to the sideboard before hurrying to the door. She paused and took a deep breath before pulling it open.

It was Alex.

But it was an Alex she’d never seen before.

He looked ill. Grey. Strained. Older.

She gripped his arm, which was rock-hard with tension.

‘Alex, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?’

He shook his head but didn’t answer her.

She all but pulled him into the apartment.

It was then she noticed the piece of paper gripped in his clenched fist.

Her heart plummeted to her toes with sickening speed, then jolted into the back of her throat.

‘Is that…is that the test results?’ she choked out.

Alex looked at his hand as if surprised to see he was still clutching the document.

He nodded, his fist unclenching as if it was spring loaded.

The paper bearing the logo of the laboratory dropped to the carpet.

Katrina didn’t bother picking it up. Didn’t bother because she knew the results.

Alex lifted his head and stared at her. His face was empty of expression and Katrina registered that he was in some kind of shock.

‘Samantha is my daughter,’ he said simply, his voice so low she could barely hear him.

Katrina nodded.

‘I’m a father,’ he croaked.

Again, she nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, you are.’

He ran a hand through his hair and around the back of his neck. ‘I thought I was prepared for this. When you suggested the DNA test, I knew you had to be pretty sure I was the father. But seeing it in black and white…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s knocked me for six.’

Katrina could see that. She’d never seen Alex like this.

But she found it hard to be sympathetic. She’d told him the truth so many times, she’d practically turned blue in the face. But he hadn’t listened to her.

Not once.

Even when she’d suggested the DNA test he hadn’t given her an inch.

‘Do you have something to drink?’ Alex asked.

‘I presume you’re not referring to tea or coffee?’

‘Whiskey, if you have it?’

‘I think Peter has some,’ she said.

She went to the kitchen cabinet where Peter kept his alcohol. Finding a bottle of whiskey towards the back, she poured a decent measure into a tumbler she pulled from the adjoining cupboard.

‘Here,’ she said, holding the glass out towards him.

Alex walked towards her as stiffly as a store mannequin come to life, took the glass and threw the whiskey down his throat in one fell swoop. The liquid must have
burned on the way down, but he looked like he relished the sensation, and when he turned towards her a moment later the spark of life was back in his eyes.

‘I want to see her.’ His voice was stronger now, his face determined. This was the Alex she knew so well. The successful businessman who knew exactly where he was going and what he wanted.

‘Of course.’ Katrina didn’t hesitate. She’d approached Alex because she wanted him to be a part of Samantha’s life. It looked like that started now. She pointed to the corner of the room near the window. ‘She’s in her pram.’

He nodded. His eyes were fixed with unwavering concentration on the pram as he crossed the room and looked down.

Alex bent over the pram, his heart kicking like a bucking bronco in his chest.

As soon as he did so, the baby smiled up at him.

She had his eyes, Alex realised, his heart squeezing tight in his chest, an emotion he hadn’t felt before blossoming inside him.

Or had she?

Didn’t all babies have blue eyes when they were born?

He wasn’t sure, but he preferred to think she took after him.

‘Hello, Samantha,’ he said, his voice little more than a croak, his throat so tight he could barely speak.

The baby gurgled and thrashed her little arms and legs.