After the Loving Read online

  Paul and Kate obviously had very warm memories of their mother, and it warmed Bryna to know that Kate, at least, would have had no objection to her taking that place in her father’s life. If the situation had ever arisen. Which it never would.

  ‘Thank you,’ she accepted briskly. ‘Now, as a friend, would you hurry up and eat your lunch; I have to get back to work.’ She smiled brightly in the face of Kate’s pain at the deliberate snub; she couldn’t allow Kate to live under the misapprehension that there would ever be a happy-ever-after between Raff and herself. Raff was thirty-nine years old, with a grown-up family, and the thought of having to go through night-time feeds, teething, crawling, walking, the terrible-twos, and so on and so on, with another child, would throw even the self-confidently arrogant Raff Gallagher into a panic! It threw her into a panic!

  Who would have guessed when she had walked into a restaurant very similar to this one six short months ago that this would happen?

  She had been meeting Courtney Stevens, to discuss the use of six of her models to promote a new line he was introducing to his chain of fashion stores throughout Europe and America for the winter. He had proved every bit as charming as the advertising agency she was working with had told her he was.

  Or warned her. She and Janet Parker had worked together before, and when the cynical Janet described a man as ‘charming’ it was like any other woman saying he was lethally attractive!

  Courtney Stevens—or Court, as he had insisted she call him as they introduced themselves—was a blond giant of a man with a devilish charm glinting in deep blue eyes that were guaranteed to seduce even the most hardened of women. Bryna was charmed almost from the first moment, almost forgetting what she was there for as he deftly centred the conversation on her rather than the business she had come here to discuss.

  ‘We have to decide what models you would like to use,’ she had finally laughingly protested.

  ‘Well, we’re going to use the family pile,’ he dismissed drily. ‘For some reason my father bought himself a manor house in Kent and left it to me in his will; I’ve never had reason to use it until now. So as it means the crew will have to stay overnight down there, how about making one of the models a tall violet-eyed silver-blonde?’ He looked at her expectantly.

  She couldn’t possibly feel insulted by the intimacy of the suggestion, and she laughed huskily. ‘I no longer work as a model myself.’

  ‘Couldn’t you make this the exception?’ His large hand covered her much slenderer one.

  Her eyes glowed. ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘No?’ He looked as if she had dealt him a wounding blow. ‘Then how about joining me for——’

  ‘Would you like to introduce us, Court?’ interrupted a harshly rasping voice.

  Court frowned his irritation up at the other man. ‘Not now, Raff,’ he protested.

  ‘Exactly now,’ the other man drawled.

  ‘Bryna, Raff Gallagher. Raff, Bryna Fairchild,’ Court made the introductions in a disgruntled voice. ‘A friend of mine,’ he told the other man pointedly.

  ‘I’m glad to meet you, Miss Fairchild.’ The man, who until that moment had only been a dark blue tailored suit, she could see out of the corner of her eye, and a rasping voice, lowered himself into the chair beside her.

  For some reason just the sound of his voice as he cut in on their conversation had made her reluctant to look at him before, and as she glanced at him now she knew the reason why; it was like the moon eclipsing the sun. Court was the sun, open and uncomplicated, and Raff Gallagher was the moon, dark with secretive depths he allowed no one to enter.

  She told herself she was being imaginative, and yet piercing grey eyes seemed to look into her very soul and see all that was Bryna Fairchild.

  Raff couldn’t be called handsome, his features were too rugged for that, and yet he had something else that was even more effective, a compelling quality that overshadowed and obliterated every other man but him.

  He appeared to be the same age as Court, in his late thirties, and yet the years had left their mark in the cynical twist of his mouth, the hardness of his eyes, and the grey wings of hair over each temple.

  And from the moment she looked at him Court Stevens ceased to be anything but an attractively pleasant client.

  ‘Mr Gallagher,’ she greeted him coolly.

  ‘Please call me Raff,’ he invited gruffly. ‘I have every intention of calling you Bryna.’

  Whether she liked it or not! she acknowledged ruefully. Of course she realised who he was now; anyone who was in business and hadn’t heard of Raff Gallagher was either a fool or doomed to fail. And she hoped she was neither of those things. This man was Midas, anything he touched, from property to industry, turning to gold.

  ‘Raff, why don’t you get lost?’ Court invited irritably. ‘Bryna and I have some business to discuss. Not that sort of business, you fool,’ he admonished as the other man raised disbelieving brows in Bryna’s direction. ‘Bryna runs the Fairchild Agency.’

  The dark brow cleared. ‘I’ve heard of it,’ Raff drawled, turning to Bryna. ‘I apologise for the assumption I made just now.’

  Being a model, Bryna had received her fair share of insults over erroneous assumptions of what her profession actually entailed, but never before had a man presumed that about her without knowing a thing about her!

  She turned to Court Stevens with frosty eyes. ‘I really do have to go,’ she snapped. ‘Perhaps you could give me a call and we could get together to discuss this another time.’ She was probably walking away from a contract that could mean even bigger things for her agency if Court Stevens was pleased with the work they did for him this time, but she wasn’t going to stay around and be insulted by a man who acted as if he owned half of London—and probably did!

  ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ Court turned accusing eyes on the other man. ‘Will you just get out of here?’

  It was testament to how deep the friendship was between the two men that Raff Gallagher didn’t take exception to the way Court had been trying to get rid of him ever since he had interrupted them. But at that moment Bryna was too angry to care how close the two men were, as she stood up to leave.

  ‘Please stay, Miss Fairchild,’ Raff Gallagher drawled as he stood up, the formality deliberate, she was sure. ‘And please accept my apology for interrupting the two of you. Game of golf tomorrow, Court?’

  ‘OK,’ Court sighed unenthusiastically. ‘But you’re starting with a handicap.’

  ‘Don’t I always,’ the other man mocked. ‘Miss Fairchild,’ he nodded dismissively before strolling across the restaurant to join two men at a table who had obviously been waiting for him.

  ‘He always wins, too,’ muttered Court. ‘Sit down, Bryna. Please,’ he persuaded.

  She did so slowly, pointedly turning her chair so that she didn’t have to look at Raff Gallagher.

  ‘We became friends in our first week of boarding school after he bowled me out at cricket and I hit him with my cricket bat in the changing room,’ Court sighed. ‘I broke his nose.’

  Bryna had noticed that slight bump on the hawklike nose, laughing softly now as she envisaged the two little boys glaring at each other across a cricket bat, both taking their aggression at being away from home out on the other. ‘Stranger meetings have formed just as strong a friendship, I’m sure,’ she teased.

  Court smiled, his eyes brimming with laughter. ‘It wasn’t the fight that caused the friendship,’ he assured her. ‘What did that was the fact that Raff told everyone he’d fallen over and hit his nose. If he hadn’t I would have been expelled in my first week of school!’

  Two little boys who had bonded a lifetime friendship through resentment and pain. Maybe Raff Gallagher did have some redeeming qualities after all. One just had to dig deep to find them!

  She made a point of not looking his way as she and Court got down to the serious business of discussing the models. Nevertheless, she was aware of the exact moment Raff Gallag
her stood up to approach their table before leaving.

  Grey eyes delved into her soul a second time. ‘We’ll meet again, Miss Fairchild,’ he murmured as he bent over the hand he had lifted to his mouth, his lips cool and yet moist.

  ‘Give me a chance, Raff!’ Court complained.

  His friend chuckled huskily. ‘The choice will be Bryna’s,’ he said softly, meeting her gaze once again with compelling intensity before taking his leave.

  ‘It’s a no contest,’ groaned Court resignedly. ‘It always is.’

  ‘I can assure you Mr Gallagher holds no interest for me,’ Bryna dismissed primly.

  When she got back to her office a box containing a single red rose lay on her desk. There was no card with it, but she guessed that it wasn’t from Court; he was the type of man who would sign his name with a flourish to the accompanying card if he found a woman attractive enough to send her flowers.

  Half an hour later two more roses arrived, half an hour after that another three, then another three, and another three, until by four-thirty she had the round dozen.

  Her secretary/receptionist, Gilly, was agog to know who had sent them. When the man himself arrived at five o’clock neither woman was in any doubt as to who the sender had been. When Raff courteously invited Bryna out to dinner she had breathlessly accepted, her earlier antagonism forgotten; she had never met anyone quite like this man before.

  She still hadn’t met anyone like him, and even when he was long gone from her life, she knew she would never meet anyone like him again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘KATE tells me the two of you had lunch together today,’ Raff said enquiringly as he sat down opposite her.

  Bryna met his gaze guardedly, her heart skipping its usual beat as she looked at him, still affected, even after six months of knowing him intimately, by that compelling power that surrounded him. Tonight, dressed in black evening suit and snowy white shirt, he appeared even more devastating than usual.

  ‘That’s right, we did,’ she confirmed coolly, wondering where the conversation was leading to.

  Raff gave an inclination of his head, his mouth twisted into a rueful smile. ‘She seems slightly annoyed with you.’

  She and Kate had parted a little stiffly outside the restaurant, the younger girl seeming to blame Bryna for the fact that her father hadn’t fallen in love with her!

  Bryna shrugged. ‘She hoped I would talk to you about her moving in with Brenda next term,’ she told him truthfully.

  His eyes became suddenly flinty. ‘And what did you tell her?’

  She maintained her calm poise in the face of his obvious displeasure. ‘What do you think I told her?’ she drawled.

  Raff relaxed slightly, his long length stretched out comfortably in the armchair. ‘I think you agree with me, that young lady is not the choice of flatmate I want for Kate.’

  And what Raff wanted he invariably got, Bryna had found these last months. She was a prime example of that, in the past having been able to freeze off even the most ardent of men, and yet she and Raff had been lovers within days of their meeting. And far from feeling inadequate as she had always imagined she would, she had felt complete for the first time in her life! It had been the same every time they made love.

  ‘Perhaps not Brenda,’ she agreed. ‘But I think Kate is determined to get a place of her own, and she is over eighteen——’

  ‘I think I know what’s best for my children, Bryna,’ he bit out cuttingly, standing up abruptly. ‘We should be going now,’ he added curtly. ‘At the moment we’re politely late, any later and we may as well not bother!’

  Despite the fact that the dig about their lateness was aimed at her she wanted to say ‘then let’s not bother!’ She wanted to be in his arms tonight, close to him in the only way he allowed any woman to be close to him. She had long ago ceased to be upset by the way he cut her out of showing any interest in his children’s activities; it was far from the first time he had done so. To her it only served to emphasise the transient role she played in his life.

  And because of the child she herself carried inside her she didn’t suggest they miss the party, but slipped her arms into the coat he held out for her, the suede soft and supple against her body. ‘I’m sure Court won’t mind our tardiness,’ she shrugged lightly.

  She wished he would smile, because it completely transformed his face when he did, alleviating some of the harshness, lending warmth to eyes the colour of slate, the harshness of his mouth softening as deep grooves were etched into the leanness of his cheeks.

  Instead he nodded tersely. ‘After all these years Court has come to expect my rudeness,’ he said drily. ‘I wouldn’t want to disappoint him!’

  The two men were still the unlikeliest couple to have found such an enduring friendship that Bryna had ever met, Raff being hard where Court was gentle, Raff blunt to the point of rudeness where Court was always kind. Bryna had even wondered, when loving Raff hurt too badly, why it couldn’t have been Court she fell in love with that day. But she hadn’t, and so the two of them had become friends instead.

  ‘What did the doctor say?’

  Her smile faded as she looked up at Raff with startled eyes. ‘Sorry?’ she frowned, her hands shaking slightly as she held her coat around her as they braved the icy-cold early December winds to go out to the waiting Jaguar, the sudden chill not leaving her body even as Raff turned on the ignition and the burst of warm air filled the interior.

  ‘You told me last night that the doctor was going to tell you the results of your tests today,’ he explained raspingly. ‘You did keep the appointment, didn’t you?’ The lights on the dashboard illuminated his frown.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Bryna huddled down into the collar of her coat, the chill seeming to have permeated her bones.

  She inwardly bemoaned the fact that the intimacy of their relationship told Raff without words exactly when her body had failed her. She had assured him that it occasionally happened, although he had been aware that it never had in their previous four months together. When it happened again he had been the one to urge her to consult a doctor.

  ‘I’m anaemic, that’s all,’ she evaded. ‘It can have that effect. The doctor has given me some vitamins,’ she added truthfully.

  Raff gave her a probing look. ‘You do look a little pale,’ he conceded.

  She looked pale because she was still suffering from the shock of knowing she was pregnant; even the call to her parents telling them she would be home for the weekend hadn’t made the baby she carried seem more real to her. She was sure there would be visible signs of it soon enough, but at the moment, with her body still so slender, and no ill-effects such as morning sickness to cope with, she couldn’t help questioning the accuracy of the doctor’s diagnosis.

  Except that she felt different emotionally, filled with a tranquillity and inner peace she had thought never to know. Maternal instinct had previously only been an expression to her, but now she knew exactly what it was, the completely unselfish love for a human being you just knew was inside you despite there being no visible signs of its existence.

  ‘Warmer now?’ Raff cut in on her musings. ‘You seem a little distracted this evening,’ he frowned as she raised questioning brows. ‘You shivered earlier, I wondered if you were warmer now,’ he explained.

  ‘Fine,’ she gave him a dreamy smile. ‘Isn’t it a lovely evening?’

  ‘It’s been raining most of the day and they forecast sleet for tonight,’ he drawled derisively.

  Bryna blushed self-consciously. ‘I happen to like rain,’ she defended, her golden bubble firmly burst.

  ‘And sleet?’ Raff arched dark brows.

  She realised it was ridiculous to expect Raff Gallagher to act like a giddy lover, but sometimes she wished he wasn’t quite so controlled and cynical all the time. It would be nice to sometimes relax with him completely and show him how much she cared.

  But it was impossible with a man as armoured against the softer feelings a
s Raff was, and she knew it was only the child she carried inside her that made her hunger for that closeness now.

  ‘No,’ she conceded ruefully. ‘But maybe this bad weather is an indication that we’re going to have a white Christmas this year.’

  ‘And then you wouldn’t be able to get to your parents’ house for the holiday,’ he rasped.

  ‘No.’ She was tempted to tell him she wouldn’t mind that too much as she was going home this weekend anyway, but on their way to a party didn’t seem the appropriate time to tell him that.

  ‘Of course you’re welcome to spend Christmas with us if anything goes wrong with your plans,’ he invited smoothly.

  If he had issued that invitation a few weeks ago she would have been tempted to accept no matter how out of place she felt at the time, but he hadn’t suggested it before, neither had he shown any sign of displeasure that they wouldn’t be spending the holiday together. ‘I don’t think so, thank you,’ she refused lightly. ‘Christmas is a time for families, isn’t it?’

  His jaw tightened. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  The drive from Raff’s house to Court’s apartment was a short one, and Bryna was relieved to escape the suddenly icy atmosphere that had developed in the car after her refusal. She didn’t know what Raff was so annoyed about—his invitation had lacked warmth, to say the least! And it was also a little late in coming, when he knew she had made her plans weeks ago.

  ‘My favourite lady!’ Court greeted her warmly as soon as they were admitted to his apartment, kissing her lightly on the lips as he took her coat himself. ‘I thought you were never going to get here,’ he grinned at her. ‘It’s Raff’s fault you’re late, of course——’

  ‘Of course,’ the other man drawled coolly.

  ‘Only because you knew the sole reason I arranged this party at all was so that I could ask Bryna to dance and hold her in my arms for a while!’ Court challenged firmly. ‘Bryna?’