office box in London…
Laura gave him a narrow-eyed look, still not convinced. ‘I must say,’ she said slowly, ‘you’re taking all of this much more calmly than I expected.’
Liam grinned. ‘I am, aren’t I?’ he agreed.
Laura’s earlier suspicions weren’t in any way lessened by this reply. If Liam had decided that publicity wouldn’t hurt him after all, despite what he had earlier maintained to the contrary, then there was absolutely no reason why he couldn’t have been the one to leak the information to the press. And neatly present her with that fait accompli.
It did seem a little extreme just as a means of achieving his own way. But, in a warped sort of way, it also made sense. Much more sense than the information having been leaked from anyone at Shipley Publishing.
And what more extremely reliable source could there be than the author himself…?
Laura sat back in her chair, looking across at Liam with narrowed eyes. Would he really have gone to that extreme just to ensure he got his own way—having her as his editor?
It seemed unbelievable, and yet…
‘What is it?’ he demanded, watching her closely.
Laura had been aware of that scrutiny, but her thoughts remained her own. ‘I’m not sure,’ she answered softly. ‘Tell me, Liam, the young lady who was just here—’
‘I told you, she’s the sister of an old university friend,’ he cut in harshly.
Laura nodded. ‘And her name would be…?’
Liam was scowling now, sitting tensely forward on his own chair. ‘What does her name have to do with anything?’ he rasped.
She wasn’t sure. Yet. But Liam had made no attempt to introduce the two women earlier; in fact he had seemed anxious to keep them apart. Which had been extremely rude of him. Although perhaps understandable if the other woman were a current romantic involvement in his life. But it might have another explanation…
Also, though she could be imagining it, now that Laura thought about it, the leggy blonde’s voice had sounded vaguely familiar…
Laura drew in a sharp breath. ‘Her name wouldn’t happen to be Wilson, would it? Janey Wilson? As in Janey Wilson, reporter for the National Daily?’
She watched Liam closely for his reaction to her suggestion noting the way the pupils of his eyes widened and then contracted, the slight increase in grimness about his mouth, the nerve pulsing in his throat.
Her mouth quirked disgustedly. ‘I can see that it is,’ she bit out, shaking her head. ‘Why, Liam?’ She frowned.
But she already knew the answer to that. Liam was determined to have his own way concerning his publisher and editor, and had decided, after meeting her again, that she was to be both those things. He was even willing to sacrifice his own privacy to achieve that objective—had hoped to use Janey Wilson’s newspaper article as a means of pressurising Laura into accepting those conditions.
‘Don’t bother to answer that,’ she said, before he could even attempt to do so, turning to pick up her shoulder bag before standing up. ‘I have to go now; I’ve already wasted enough of my day on this—’ She broke off abruptly as Liam reached out and grasped her wrist to prevent her leaving. ‘Let go of me, Liam,’ she told him with cold determination.
His hand tightened about the slenderness of her wrist as he too stood up, at once dwarfing her. ‘I did warn you yesterday not to believe you had got rid of me so easily.’
Her brows rose. ‘And today has proved that you carry out your threats.’
His face darkened. ‘It wasn’t a threat—’
‘Then you must have just managed to make it sound that way,’ Laura scorned.
‘And your decision?’ His eyes were narrowed.
‘Concerning your neatly engineered fait accompli?’ she clarified derisively. ‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted heavily.
And she wasn’t. She needed time and space—away from Liam!—to consider what she should do next. For everyone’s sake, not just her own.
‘Laura!’ His hold on her wrist relaxed slightly, his thumb moving caressingly against the base of her own thumb now.
Laura snatched her hand out of his grasp, angry when she still felt that slight caress against her skin. ‘I’ll let you know, Liam,’ she said tonelessly.
‘When?’
‘When I’m good and ready!’ she returned hotly. ‘You may have set this scene, Liam, but you don’t have the power to dictate everyone else’s moves now that you’ve done so! I need to think about all of this.’ Definitely away from him—far away! ‘When I’ve reached a decision I’ll call you.’
He studied her flushed and angry face for several long seconds before slowly nodding his head. ‘Just don’t leave it too long, hmm?’ he finally murmured.
Her eyes flashed in warning. ‘As long as it takes! You’ve engineered a situation here, Liam—for your own reasons,’ she added as he appeared about to protest. ‘But none of us—including you!—know what the repercussions might be once this story appears in the newspaper tomorrow.’ She shook her head resignedly.
Laura didn’t know what those repercussions might be, but she could certainly take an educated guess.
She only hoped Liam was ready for it!
She hoped she was too!
CHAPTER EIGHT
PREDICTABLY, the telephone at Laura’s home began ringing before eight o’clock the next morning. And continued to ring.
Laura had answered the first call, found herself talking to a reporter on a different daily newspaper from the National Daily, and quickly ended the conversation—only to have the phone ring again seconds later. To go unanswered. As the following dozen or so calls went unanswered, too. Until Laura decided to actually take the receiver off the hook. It meant she couldn’t receive any genuine personal calls either, but in the circumstances it was a small price to pay.
How members of the press had got hold of her private home number she had no idea; she never ceased to be amazed by the amazing network that fed them.
To say she was annoyed by this intrusion was an understatement! Thank goodness Bobby was still fast asleep, no doubt exhausted by events; Laura wasn’t sure how she would have answered his questions about the fact that the telephone receiver was being left permanently off the hook!
When the doorbell rang shortly after nine o’clock Laura opened the door to find one of the more determined reporters standing on her doorstep, vaguely waving his press card in her face before launching into a series of quick-fire questions. Questions Laura had no intention of answering. After telling him the inevitable ‘no comment’, she quietly and firmly closed the door in the young man’s face.
But she could see several other reporters,
