Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,37

now?’

‘I’ve never fallen out of lust with you, Tom. Perhaps I never fell out of love with you, either.’

‘What –’

‘I can give you what you want, Tom. We can help one another.’

He stared at her, suddenly understanding, and it was as though the curtains had just been drawn back to let the sun flood into the room.

‘You thought you could make me give up custody of Kelly… by seducing me?’

‘It’s not seduction, Tom.’ She’d stopped a few feet short of him this time. ‘We’ve… done it before. It would be picking up where we left off.’

‘Picking up…? Rebecca, will you listen to yourself! We’re divorced. The marriage ended. At your insistence, I might add. And now you think you can get me to give up custody of my daughter by sleeping with me?’

‘I don’t –’

‘What do you think custody means to me? Do you think it’s some sort of bonus, some sort of severance pay you’ve granted me, to be swapped for something I might prefer? Kelly lives with me. I’m her main caregiver. We’ve built up a life together over the last six months and more. I’m not going to relinquish that for anything, least of all for a quick roll in the hay with a woman I once found attractive.’

‘Still find attractive.’ Her expression challenged him to disagree. Tom stared at her in wonder.

‘My God,’ he said. ‘You really don’t get it, do you? Anything I’ve been saying to you. Now or over the last few weeks.’

Rebecca’s brazen demeanour was beginning to crack as her control slipped. She put a faltering hand up to her throat. ‘She’s my daughter. I’m her mother. You’ve no right to keep her.’

‘I’ve every right. You’re still entitled to see her and spend time with her, even have her over at yours or take her on holiday sometimes. But she lives with me, Rebecca. End of discussion.’ He sighed. ‘Why don’t you just go back to London, Rebecca. Stop hanging around here, stop wasting your time. And mine.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got to go. Don’t you dare pull a stunt like this again.’ He headed for the door.

Behind him she said, ‘Last chance.’

‘What?’

‘This is your last chance, Tom. I’m warning you.’

Tom stopped. Slowly, deliberately, he turned back. Rebecca was standing by the bed, arms by her sides, her fists clenched. The sexy, pouting look had gone from her face and had been replaced by a dark, glowering expression he hadn’t seen before.

‘Yes, Rebecca? You’re warning me? Please tell me what about.’

‘Reconsider, or you’ll be sorry.’

‘Do your worst. I’ll be ready.’

‘No, you won’t.’

There was something about the certainty with which Rebecca said it, something about the hint of a smile that played about her lips, that made Tom ask: ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just saying. I told you before, Tom, that you have no idea what I’m capable of. You’re about to find out.’

He resisted the impulse to take a step towards her. ‘If you do anything, anything, to harm Kelly –’

‘Oh, no, Tom.’ Her eyes were wide in faux innocence. ‘I’d never do anything to hurt her.’

It was only when he was through the doors of the hotel and striding back towards his car that he realised there’d been the ghost of an emphasis on the word her.

Chapter Eight

Even working freelance as she did, Chloe experienced the same feelings on a Monday morning as a nine-to-five officer worker: a sense of being slightly daunted by the week ahead, and an initial lethargy and reluctance to get going.

She’d conducted the interview with the deputy leader of the town council on Friday afternoon. It had been a cordial meeting, the councillor initially laying on the bonhomie with a shovel but retreating into defensiveness when Chloe pressed him on his organisation’s failure to address the estate residents’ concerns. Although she’d typed up the interview as close to word-for-word as she could recall it, Chloe had saved the writing of the actual article until today. It had been tempting to spend the weekend working on it, but she’d been determined to devote Saturday and Sunday to Jake, exclusively, with no room for work. And she’d stuck to it. On Saturday they’d driven to a new out-of-town zoo which turned out to be more out of town than she’d realised, and on Sunday they had travelled all the way to London to see a matinee children’s theatre production in the West End. Exhausted, but happy, Chloe had dropped into bed at ten on Sunday evening,