it at the time, but of course something like that could render the Pill ineffective. It didn’t help reminding herself that her periods were as regular as clockwork. That there was only one other time in her life that her period had ever been late…
Around mid-week, feeling queasy and off-colour, she decided to buy a pregnancy test. And it was then, in the lonely privacy of her flat, where she had behaved so foolishly with the man whose only plan was to make her pay, that her worst fears were realised.
She was having Seth Mason’s child—again!
‘You OK?’ Simone glanced up at her young boss with matronly concern as Grace emerged from the ‘ladies’ just outside her PA’s office. She had darted in there a few minutes before, overcome by a bout of sickness.
‘I’m fine, Simone.’ Grace wanted to dismiss any suggestion that she wasn’t, unwilling to draw attention to herself or her pregnancy. But she had just seen herself in the ladies’ room mirror and had been shocked by how washed out she looked, with her black pin-striped suit emphasising the sickly pallor of her skin.
‘Yeah?’ Simone sounded as sceptical as she looked. ‘And my name’s Errrol Flynn and I swing from chandeliers for a living.’
Grace couldn’t help but smile wanly at the images that conjured up. ‘I’d like to see that,’ she murmured, too under par even to want to talk right then. ‘Honestly, Simone, I’m fine.’ She managed to inject just the right degree of authority in her voice to silence her concerned PA; she was glad of her standing in the company which gave her the right to pull rank, that she seldom exercised, so that she could escape to the privacy of her own office.
The phone was ringing on her desk before she even had chance to sit down.
‘How are you getting on with that hunk you’re answerable to now?’ Corinne enquired from her yacht somewhere in the tepid waters of Madeira, sounding far too breezy. ‘And don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it, because he’s the type of man that could satisfy even someone with as many sexual hang-ups as you.’
Sighing, Grace rued the day that she had confided in her grandfather’s young wife about her lack of desire for the men she dated; she’d been especially worried when her real lack of enthusiasm had extended even to Paul.
‘Did you know my grandfather knew of Seth Mason from years ago?’ she asked the model, not feeling up to having this conversation with her. ‘And that he would have done anything to keep him from pushing his way into his company’s boardroom?’
‘Not pushing, Grace, dear—storming it. And with all that lovely drive and crackling authority!’ That the woman was smitten by Seth’s looks and dangerous charm was obvious to Grace. ‘Anyway, what do you mean?’ She could almost see the redhead’s green eyes narrowing in anticipation of some juicy snippet of information about him, and realised too late that she had said too much when Corinne, her voice dropping confidentially, enquired, ‘What did he do? Try to have his wicked way with you?’
She laughed, supposedly at the improbability of it. But it was so on the mark that Grace couldn’t contain the sharp little breath that escaped her. ‘Good heavens! Is that it?’ Corinne was far too shrewd not to have noticed. ‘My word! Have I hit the nail on the head? Is that why you’re so opposed to working for him? What did he do, Grace, spoil you for every other man?’ Corinne’s amused tones were just a little too loud, far too triumphant. ‘You aren’t frigid, love. You were just weaned on the wrong type of man far too soon.’
The wrong type of man full-stop! Grace thought, hating him, angry with him and with herself—for wanting him, for missing him like crazy, and for allowing herself to get pregnant—twice!—by the man she had once snubbed. Only now he was snubbing her, and it wasn’t very nice. No, worse than that—it hurt like hell!
But why? she asked herself, agonised. She wasn’t in love with him, was she? Or had she just been kidding herself all along? Was that why she had never been able to indulge in casual sexual relationships with men as some of her contemporaries did? Or even find the degree of pleasure she should have found with the man she had been planning to marry? Was it because she had found her soulmate in a man her upbringing had forced her to reject? The man with whom she had compared all other men she met, only to find them lacking in every way?
‘Stop dreaming up romantic dramas, Corinne,’ she parried, shaken by the possibility, and desperate to keep the ex-model from realising that she had guessed the truth—or at least part of it, at any rate. No way was she ready to accept that all her problems with men stemmed from a void in her life that only Seth Mason could fill.
‘Granddad would have been appalled by what you did. Culverwells is going to wind up being sold off. Seth says he won’t do that, but I don’t believe it.’ And in a sudden rush of anger, because she hadn’t seen him, because she didn’t know where he was and because she had been unfortunate enough to conceive his child when he didn’t even like her, she blurted out, ‘He’s a money-making, social-climbing, mercenary opportunist! And if you ever see him again, you can tell him I said so!’
‘Why don’t you tell him yourself?’ Corinne’s voice suddenly sounded sultry, oddly provocative. ‘He’s sitting right here on deck beside me. It’s Grace. I think she’s missing you.’ There was no attempt on Corinne’s part to cover the mouthpiece.
In a mortified daze, Grace grabbed the edge of her desk for support. Seth was on her grandfather’s yacht? Seth was in Madeira with Corinne?
‘Hello, Grace.’ As it started to sink in that he must have heard everything that her grandfather’s widow had been saying about her, that deep voice coming down the line was agonising torment. ‘Is everything all right?’
No, it blasted well isn’t!
Then, as it dawned that Corinne must know everything that had been going on between Seth and herself, in a voice raw with accusation she exhaled, ‘Did you tell her?’
‘Tell her?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Tell her what?’
‘About us?’ She imagined them together, discussing her, laughing about it.
‘What is there to tell?’
‘For goodness’ sake! Do I have to spell it out?’ He was stalling for time, making her sweat—and enjoying every minute of it. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’
‘Now, come on, Grace. You know what I said about kissing and telling.’
‘Oh, thanks a bundle!’ Now Corinne wouldn’t be in any doubt about what had gone on between them. ‘So now you’ve made sure she knows, if she didn’t before!’ The pain she felt inside was excruciating, but she forced herself to continue even as she collapsed, sick with herself, onto her chair. ‘I suppose you’re getting immense satisfaction out of this?’
‘No more than you were when you tried to convince Simone—and probably the whole office—that I was involved in a paternity suit.’
His words made her flinch. Well the joke had backfired on her. And how!
‘So that’s what this is—tit for tat? Let the spoilt, stuck-up little brat stew while you’re sunning yourself with Corinne and having a good laugh over it at my expense? Why not just shout it to the crew? Why not tell everybody what we did? You’re worse than unscrupulous, you’re…!’
‘Hold your horses,
