Tall, Dark... Collection. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
slightly, blue eyes bright and alert, his features still showing signs of babyhood.
Liam’s son…
Laura frowned as she acknowledged the likeness between father and son. It wasn’t just that their colouring was the same; Bobby had a certain proud bearing in his stance, and was obviously going to be as tall as his natural father.
For the first time, as she watched her son unobserved, she pondered the question of whether or not one day—when Bobby was old enough for Liam not to be able to even attempt to have a share in his son’s childhood or teenage years!—she would have to tell him about his real father.
For her own sake, she answered a definite no; after the pain of the past she couldn’t contemplate sharing even Bobby’s adulthood with Liam! From Bobby’s point of view she was less sure. He had loved Robert as his own father, been devastated at his ‘daddy’s’ death two years ago. But the truth of the matter was Bobby’s real father was still very much alive…Was she right to deny him all knowledge of that?
Why did Liam have to come back into their lives in this way and present her with this dilemma?
‘Why are you frowning, Mummy?’ Bobby asked curiously at her side, having joined her without her even noticing, and with his hand now nestling comfortably in hers as he looked up at her.
She determinedly pushed away her disquieting thoughts, smiling down at her son. ‘Was I, darling?’ she parried, taking his school bag from him. ‘I was actually just wondering if you would like to go out and have a burger for tea?’
As she had expected—and hoped!—the thought of going out for tea instead of going straight home totally diverted Bobby from the fact that she had initially looked less than happy.
She pushed thoughts of Liam away into a locked compartment in her mind. She intended keeping it that way. If she knew Liam—and she was sure she did!—then he would have made that appointment to see her in the morning; she could think about him again then.
Easier said than done! She had managed to get through tea at the burger restaurant, had bathed Bobby at home, done his homework with him, read him a story after she’d put him to bed, all without allowing a single thought of Liam to interfere. She wasn’t so lucky now she was alone in her own bedroom later that evening!
Eight years ago Liam, a lecturer when he wasn’t actually writing, had come to her university to give a talk on modern literature. She remembered that the hall had been packed that day, all of the students, having read at least one Liam O’Reilly book, now curious to see and listen to the man himself.
Laura hadn’t heard a word he’d said!
As soon as Liam had stepped on to the podium she had been mesmerised—by the way he looked, the way he moved, the soft, lilting seduction of his voice.
The lecture had passed in a daze for Laura, and she had still been lost in daydreams of the handsome author when she’d gone to the refectory for her lunch, picking uninterestedly at the pasta salad she hadn’t remembered choosing, sipping lukewarm coffee she had forgotten to put any sugar in.
‘Did you know there’s a contact-lens in your tea?’
Those words! Ill-fated, if she had but known it. But at the time all she had cared about was the fact that the man she’d been daydreaming about had just spoken to her, the lilting attraction of his voice unmistakable.
Her cheeks had been fiery red as she’d looked up to see Liam O’Reilly standing beside her table with his own laden luncheon tray, and her breath had caught in her throat as she’d gazed up into the rugged handsomeness of his face.
She’d moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘I don’t drink tea,’ she returned shyly. ‘And I don’t wear contact lenses either,’ she added, well aware that he had to be referring to the differing colours of her eyes.
He grinned down at her. ‘I know. Oh, not that you don’t drink tea,’ he explained as he put his tray down next to hers on the table. ‘I meant the contact lenses; I couldn’t help but notice the incredibly unusual beauty of your eyes at the lecture earlier.’
Those eyes widened now, even as she swallowed hard. ‘You—saw me there?’
He grinned. ‘Second row, third seat in. Mind if I join you?’ He indicated the otherwise empty seats around the table at which she sat.
‘Er—no. I mean, yes. No, of course I don’t mind if you join me,’ she corrected self-consciously.
All the time at the lecture, when she had been gazing at him like some besotted idiot, he had actually noticed her too! Or maybe he had noticed her because she’d been gazing at him like a besotted idiot…?
‘I enjoyed the lecture,’ she told him nervously as he lowered his lean length into the chair beside hers.
He gave her a sideways glance, a smile still playing about those sculptured lips. ‘Did you?’ he drawled teasingly. As if he were well aware of the fact that she hadn’t heard a word he said!
‘Don’t look so stricken,’ he advised gently as the colour first came and then as quickly receded from her face, leaving her very pale, her eyes huge pools of colour in that paleness. ‘You weren’t the only one who looked ready to fall asleep,’ he assured her humourously. ‘I’m well aware that for most of you a degree is the only goal, that a lot of the work that precedes obtaining that degree can be boring in the extreme—’
‘You weren’t in the least boring!’ she burst out protestingly as she realised he thought that was the reason for her inattentiveness. ‘I—I was fascinated,’ she told him truthfully—even if that fascination hadn’t exactly been with what he was saying!
‘Prove it,’ he invited, taking a mouthful of the chicken sandwich he had chosen for his lunch.
She swallowed hard, eyeing him warily. If he intended going through a question-and-answer session on his talk that morning she might as well own up to the truth right now; until she had chance to look at a friend’s notes she wouldn’t have a clue what he had actually talked about!
‘Have dinner with me this evening?’ he asked lightly.
Dinner…? Liam O’Reilly wanted her to have dinner with him?
She stared at him, trying to tell from his expression exactly what he meant by such an invitation. He looked back at her with questioning blue eyes—eyes that told her nothing!
Laura moistened her lips again, frowning up at him, her uncertainty mirrored on her face.
Liam chuckled softly. ‘Is it such a difficult thing to decide?’ he teased.
‘I—er—no,’ she answered hesitantly. ‘I just—Why on earth would you invite me out to dinner with you?’ Her frown deepened.
Dark brows rose over deep blue eyes. ‘Because I’ve never met anyone before with such incredible, beautiful, unusual eyes,’ he confessed.
Laura grimaced. ‘I think you’re playing with me, Mr O’Reilly,’ she said heavily.
‘That’s your prerogative,’ he conceded huskily. ‘But the dinner invitation stands. And the name’s Liam.’
‘Laura,’ she returned shortly. ‘Laura Carter.’
‘Well, now that we’ve formally introduced ourselves—would you care to have dinner with me this evening, Laura?’ He quirked dark brows once more.
‘Yes,’ she answered quickly—before she could give herself time to think too much about it and say no!
She had no idea why he had invited her out to dinner—but she knew exactly why she wanted to accept; he was just as mesmerising on a one-to-one basis as he had been on the podium earlier. In fact—more so!
He nodded. ‘And make sure you bring your appetite with you this evening; I can’t abide women who pick at their food.’ He looked pointedly at her almost untouched