His decision to live with me was a practical decision, not a sentimental one.’
‘Believe me,’ Tina said drily, ‘I don’t think your son is a Mummy’s boy. It’s just that he’s not going to be pleased to find me here when he comes home. Maybe you could ring him at the office and forewarn him.’
‘Absolutely not! No! He doesn’t deserve forewarning,’ she said brusquely. ‘Besides, Fridays are never a good day to ring Dominic at the office. I’ve already rung him once today and received a very poor reception. Which reminds me. I’d best ring Joanna and cancel her dinner invitation for tonight.’
‘Not because of me, I hope,’ Tina said, while wondering who Joanna was. A friend of Mrs Hunter’s? Or Dominic’s?
Mrs Hunter smiled a strange little smile. ‘Not at all, dear. She’s just a widow friend of mine. She can come another night. I’m a widow too, so little Bonnie won’t be having a grandfather, I’m afraid. But you’ll have me, won’t you, darling?’ she crooned down at the baby. ‘Now, come along, dear, you bring the pram and I’ll carry Bonnie. We’ll have a cup of tea and a nice long chat. Then, afterwards, we might fill in the rest of the afternoon down at the shopping mall, buying a few little things for Bonnie here. Would you mind?’
‘Oh, er…not at all.’
Off the woman went, making baby talk at Bonnie as she went, leaving Tina to do as ordered, trailing after her with the pram in rather a daze. There she’d been, thinking Mrs Hunter was such a sweet, gentle soul.
Which she was. But she was also a whirlwind of energy and decisiveness. Tina supposed it was unlikely that a too soft or susceptible personality could have produced a son like Dominic Hunter.
Dominic Hunter…
A lesser girl might have quailed to think of his reaction when he first spied her in his home this evening. She could just imagine it. Those hard blue eyes of his would narrow dangerously. The thick straight brows above them would beetle together again while smoke would waft from his flared nostrils. His broad shoulders would broaden while that huge chest of his would fill with outraged air. He would be ready to explode in seconds!
Tina smiled to herself.
She could hardly wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
DOMINIC considered being deliberately late home. He even contemplated ringing his mother at the last moment and claiming a fictitious business dinner in town.
But cowardice wasn’t really his bag and he climbed into his blue BMW just before six and headed for the bridge. He would endure the dinner but had no intention of making any effort with that woman.
With a bit of luck Damien’s merry widow—and his matchmaking mother—would finally see he was a lost cause where she was concerned. Lord, nothing turned him off quicker than gold-digging females who gushed all over him.
Blondes weren’t really his thing, either. Nor double D cup breasts which jiggled like unset bowls of jelly.
Give him a tall, slender brunette, with long legs, a tight butt and firm boobs, and he was instantly interested. Make her a challenge and the combination was irresistible.
Joanna Parsons was neither.
An image of the brunette who’d been in his office today popped into his mind.
Again.
She’d been doing that all afternoon, even distracting him from work on several occasions.
Still, she’d been deliciously sexy in those tight white pedal-pusher pants and chest-hugging white ribbed top. Her hair was sexy too. Long and dark and kind of wild-looking, just like its owner.
Pity she was a con-artist. Or a fool.
Dominic was wondering which she might be when he turned into the driveway and parked the car outside the double garage. He still hadn’t made up his mind by the time he slipped in the back door.
He was halfway up the stairs, heading for the sanctuary of his bedroom and private en suite bathroom when the sound of a baby crying stopped him in his tracks.
Frowning, Dominic turned and listened. It seemed to be coming from the front living room.
The television?
Not the television, he decided when the cries came again. Too loud. And too…real.
An appalling possibility popped into his mind.
Surely not, he thought. She wouldn’t dare!
But then the baby cried again and he knew she had.
Whirling, he flew back down the stairs and over to the doorway of the room in question, disbelief and fury sending his blood pressure sky-high.
And there she was, large as life, wheeling a pram up and down on the polished wooden floor, singing very softly as she did so.
Dominic had opened his mouth to let her have it when she abruptly stopped the singing, and the wheeling. When she bent over to inspect the suddenly silent contents of the pram, the sight of those already tight white pants pulling even tighter across her extremely attractive derrière made him almost forget how angry he was for a moment.
But only for a moment.
‘Hey, you there!’ he boomed out.
She spun round, her dark hair flying out in a shining halo before settling more sedately on her slender shoulders. Her dark eyes flashed with extreme irritation as she hurried over, her fingers pressed to her lips.
‘Hush up, for pity’s sake,’ she hissed. ‘I’ve had the devil of a time getting her off to sleep. I think it’s the strange house. Normally she goes off like clockwork after her bottle.’
Before he could say another word, she put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him backwards into the hallway, after which she carefully closed the door behind them, as though this whole scenario was perfectly normal and reasonable.
Dominic could only shake his head in amazement. Not a con-woman, he decided in total exasperation. A fool! A deliciously attractive fool, but a fool nevertheless!
‘I don’t know what you’ve told my mother,’ he muttered, ‘but you’ve got the wrong man. I am not the father of your baby.’
‘Keep your shirt on, Mr Hunter. I never said you were.’
Instant bewilderment scrambled his brains. ‘Huh?’ was all he could manage.
‘You can’t be the father of my baby because I don’t have one,’ she explained, as though he were an idiot. ‘I should have told you in your office but I simply didn’t think. Bonnie belongs to Sarah.’
‘Sarah?’ he repeated blankly.
The brunette gave him a very droll look. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me you don’t know Sarah, either. Sarah Palmer,’ she repeated coldly. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, she was your secretary for several months last year, Mr Hunter, during which time you had
