The Baby Claim. Catherine George

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The Baby Claim - Catherine George Mills & Boon Modern

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contradiction intrigued me.’

      ‘I’m glad I didn’t know,’ said Joss with feeling. ‘Rather like being caught on Candid Camera. I hope I was behaving myself?’

      ‘Of course you were. The perfect guest.’ Adam helped himself to more bread. ‘But I could tell you weren’t in party mood. I was surprised—and impressed—that you stuck it out so long.’

      ‘So you saw me disappear,’ said Joss thoughtfully.

      He nodded. ‘At which point inspiration struck. At worst, I reasoned, you would send me packing.’

      ‘And at best?’

      ‘The privilege of talking to you.’ He gave her a direct look. ‘My imagination never got as far as this.’

      ‘Chicken salad and questionable claret?’ she said flippantly.

      ‘Exactly. Now, tell me why you asked me back here tonight.’

      Joss shot him a warning look. ‘Certainly not to share my bed.’

      ‘I thought we’d sorted that out already,’ he said impatiently. ‘Listen to me, Eve. In basic terms, I swear I won’t leap on you the moment we’ve finished supper, or at any other time—is that blunt enough for you?’

      Blunt and very reassuring, decided Joss. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

      He eyed her searchingly. ‘You’ve obviously had bad experiences in the past in this kind of situation?’

      She shook her head. ‘I never invite men here for supper.’ Which was true enough.

      He frowned. ‘Never?’

      ‘Never.’

      ‘Then why me?’

      ‘Because you were in the right place at the right time,’ she said candidly. ‘I was in need of company tonight, and you offered yours.’

      Adam leaned forward, one of the heavy brows raised. ‘You mean I happened to be nearest, that any man would have done?’

      ‘Certainly not,’ she snapped, and jumped up. ‘You were kind. I liked that. But, best of all, you’re very tall.’

      He looked amused. ‘Is height a vital requirement?’

      ‘No. But for me it’s a definite plan. I’m five feet ten, with a passion for high heels.’

      Adam laughed as he refilled their glasses, and took very little persuading to finish off the bread and cheese. She offered him the fruit bowl. ‘Have one of these to go with it.’

      His lips twitched as he took a shiny red apple. ‘Very appropriate, Eve. Will my life change for ever after one taste?’

      ‘Try it and see.’ Joss smiled and sank down to her cushion again as his strong white teeth crunched into the apple. ‘Sorry there wasn’t any pudding.’

      ‘This is all a man could ask for. Company included,’ he added. ‘Do you feel better now?’

      ‘Yes. I haven’t been eating well lately.’

      ‘I didn’t mean the food.’

      ‘I know. And since you ask, yes, I do feel better.’

      ‘Good.’ Adam finished everything on his plate and put it on the tray. ‘Shall I take this out to your kitchen for you?’

      She shook her head. ‘Leave it. I’ll see to it later.’

      ‘Much later.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘I’ve no intention of leaving yet.’

      Joss was glad of it. The last thing she wanted right now was solitude.

      ‘I’ve respected the veto on names,’ he went on, ‘but is it against the rules to ask what you do with your life?’

      Joss decided against telling him she was a journalist. That might give too much away. For tonight she would just be romantic, mysterious Eve. ‘I’m—in publishing.’

      ‘Fiction?’

      ‘No. Fact.’ Joss settled herself more comfortably. ‘How about you?’

      ‘Construction.’

      Joss was struck by a mental picture of suntanned muscles and heavy loads of bricks. ‘It obviously pays,’ she commented, eyeing his clothes.

      ‘If you mean the suit,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘It’s the one I keep for parties and funerals. My Sunday best.’

      ‘Is it really?’

      ‘Absolutely.’ His eyes roved over her tawny blonde bob, the wide-spaced eyes, the faint suggestion of tilt to the nose. His gaze lingered for a moment on the full curves of her mouth, then continued down until it reached her black silk pumps. ‘I don’t think you bought any of that in a chainstore, either.’

      ‘True. I felt Anna’s engagement party deserved something special.’ Her eyes clouded. ‘And when I bought it I was in belligerent mood.’

      ‘Is this something to do with the dinner date that fell through?’

      Joss smiled bleakly. ‘In a way.’

      ‘But there’s a lot more.’

      ‘Oh, yes.’ Her eyes glittered angrily. ‘A whole lot more.’

      ‘Would it help to tell me about it?’

      Joss frowned, taken aback.

      ‘It’s easier to confide in strangers,’ he pointed out.

      ‘I see. I confide my pathetic little story, you offer me a shoulder to cry on, then off you go into the night and we never meet again?’ She smiled. ‘I think I saw the movie.’

      ‘I’d prefer to alter the script a little,’ he said, chuckling. ‘But whatever you tell me will be in strictest confidence.’

      ‘Like confessing to a priest?’

      Adam shook his head. ‘Wrong casting.’

      She nodded, looking at him objectively. ‘You’re right. You don’t suit the role.’

      ‘But I’m a superb listener,’ he assured her.

      ‘And you’re curious?’

      ‘Interested, certainly.’

      Joss gazed at him for a moment, weakening by the second in her need to talk to someone. Anna would have been her normal choice, but that, like staying away from the engagement party, had been out of the question. At least until Anna’s celebrations were over and the new, yawning gap in Joscelyn Hunter’s life could no longer be hidden.

      ‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked.

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