Читать книгу Another Man's Baby - Judith McWilliams - Страница 9

Two

Ginny tensed as she watched Philip stride across the living room. He was wearing a short, white towel wrapped around his lean waist, and nothing else. She stared at his broad chest in fascination. It was covered with a thick pelt of dark hair that intrigued her. She wanted to run her hands over it and see what it felt like. To find out if it were soft and silky or crisp and abrasive.

Mesmerized, Ginny watched the supple movement of the muscles beneath his tautly stretched skin as he picked up the phone. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Anywhere. Her eyes drifted lower, down over his flat hips and strong legs. Her mouth dried as she watched water droplets trickle down his legs. Slowly, enticingly, the drops caressed his flesh as they meandered downward. She wanted to follow their path. To trace over it with her fingertips and then with her lips.

Philip gestured emphatically as he responded to something his caller had said, and Ginny shivered as Philip’s towel momentarily parted, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of his masculinity. Her eyelids felt heavy, and a tightness was wrapping itself around her chest, making it difficult to take a deep breath.

This was crazy! She made a valiant effort to regain control of her wayward responses. How could she be sitting here all but drooling over a man that she barely knew, and what little she did know she didn’t like? It made no sense.

Ginny tried closing her eyes to shut out the temptation, but it didn’t help. She found Philip’s powerful body clearly imprinted on the back of her eyelids.

Flustered, she opened her eyes and tried concentrating on Damon, but it didn’t help. All she could think about was how closely the color of Damon’s hair matched Philip’s.

It’s only a mindless chemical reaction, she assured herself. Purely physical. The kind of thing that writers had been immortalizing in song and legend since time immemorial. And the very ferocity of her attraction guaranteed that it would quickly consume itself and burn out. A seed of doubt floated through her mind, but she refused to allow it to take root. She was a competent, modern woman who was more than capable of handling an unwanted sexual attraction, starting right now. She would look at him and see nothing but a superb physical specimen.

Ginny slowly raised her head and looked at Philip. Only a superb physical... Her determination wavered as he raised his hand and the muscles in his chest rippled. She found herself wondering what it would feel like if he were to hold her close to his chest. Close enough to feel the movement of those muscles. Close enough...

“No, I don’t think the boy is Creon’s.”

Philip’s curt words ripped through the sensual fog that had entrapped her, and her arms tightened protectively around Damon’s defenseless little body. Grimly, Ginny bit back a furious retort. Yelling at him wouldn’t help Beth. It would only make Philip feel justified in his pigheaded opinion. Besides, what Philip Lysander thought wasn’t all that important in the final analysis, she reminded herself. It was what Jason Papas thought that counted.

“We’ll be there tomorrow morning, Jason.” Philip hung up the phone and turned to Ginny, frowning when he noticed how rigidly she was holding herself in the chair. She looked brittle enough to break, and there was a deep flush on her pale cheeks.

“Umm...” he began, not sure what he wanted to say.

“What?” Ginny clipped the word out, her eyes focused on a point beyond his left shoulder.

Was she embarrassed? he wondered. Embarrassed because he had so easily seen through her lies? Or angry that he had?

He watched as she leaned over the boy and the light from the lamp created golden sparkles in her hair. How could she look like a Botticelli Madonna and yet have had an affair with another woman’s husband?

Philip watched the graceful movement of her hand and she swept back a tendril of hair that had escaped her chignon. What would it feel like to have her hair brush across his skin? He clenched his teeth as he felt himself reacting to the thought. The urge to touch her again was fast reaching a compulsion. A compulsion that worried him. He knew her to be a fraud, preying on a sick old man, so how could he be attracted to her?

“No one is ever going to believe that you’re supposed to be my lover,” he snapped, irritated at the way she refused to look at him. As if he were the one who was doing something wrong.

Ginny cautiously looked up and then wished she hadn’t when her eyes landed on the slight swell visible beneath his towel. Determinedly, she dragged her gaze upward to his face.

“Might I remind you that pretending we are lovers was your bright idea, not mine,” she said. “No one who knows me would believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because the men I date are all calm, reasonable men who examine the facts before they leap to conclusions.”

“They sound like bloodless bores!”

Ginny frowned at him, refusing to admit even to herself that some of them had been just the faintest bit stultifying.

“They are men of high principles.” She retreated into platitudes.

“You’re trying to tell me that your dates have all been men of high principles, and yet you claim that a married man is your son’s father?” he asked scathingly.

“Be—” Ginny hastily caught herself and rushed on. “I didn’t know he was married. He certainly never said so.”

“He wore a wedding ring.”

“Not in New York he didn’t! And all that’s immaterial.” Ginny tried to redirect the conversation. She most emphatically didn’t want to discuss her love life—such as it was—with Philip. She was edgy enough.

“It isn’t immaterial that no one will believe that we are lovers.”

“You could take out a newspaper ad!”

“Lovers should be comfortable around each other,” he persisted.

Ginny grimaced. She didn’t think she’d ever feel comfortable around him.

“We can start the process by you touching me.” Philip walked over to where she was sitting, stopping scant inches from her.

She could smell the faint cedary fragrance of the soap he’d just used. It reminded her of Christmas and the anticipation that she always felt. As if something wondrous were about to happen. An anticipation much like that which gripped her now.

Touch him? Ginny considered his command. Where? Her eyes lingered on the contrast between his snowy white towel and the dark tone of his skin. Unconsciously, she rubbed the fingers of her free hand over her skirt to try to stop the tingling sensation that danced over them.

Touching him was definitely not a good idea, her mind decided even while her fingers curled in anticipation. But what could it hurt? Ginny tried to rationalize her growing need. In fact, it might help to speed up the time when her fascination with him would fade. And it wasn’t as if she could do more than touch him. Not while she was cradling a sleeping baby.

Giving in to the temptation, Ginny reached out and poked his thigh with a fingertip. There was no give. He was solid muscle.

“Oh, for the...” Philip grabbed her hand and pressed it flat against his bare thigh.

Heat from his body flowed into her receptive flesh, loosening her inhibitions. Tentatively she moved her hand slightly, shivering as the hair on his leg scraped abrasively over her palm. To her mingled dismay and relief, Philip suddenly stepped back.

“It’s a start,” he muttered, and it seemed to Ginny that his voice was deeper.

Could he have been affected by her touch? Was that why he’d retreated? It was an intriguing thought, but not a relevant one, Ginny told herself. It didn’t matter what Philip felt because she couldn’t allow anything to develop between them. Beth was counting on her to get Jason Papas to acknowledge Damon’s right to the family’s financial support, and she couldn’t do that if she were to become emotionally involved with what appeared to be the main opposition to the idea.

“There’s a nursery at the end of the hall off the kitchen that my sisters use when they stay at the apartment,” Philip said. “The boy can sleep there. Your luggage is in the bedroom beside it.”

Without another word, he turned and left the room. A minute later she heard the sound of his bedroom door slam shut.

“And a good-night to you, too,” Ginny muttered as she got to her feet, being careful not to jar the sleeping baby. Things would be better after a good night’s sleep, she told herself as she went to find the nursery. At least she had the comfort of knowing that they couldn’t get much worse!

Absently, Philip pulled his towel off and dropped it on the thick plush carpet. Her continued insistence that Creon was the boy’s father annoyed him, but didn’t really surprise him. Having come this far, she would hardly be likely to change her story simply because he told her he knew that she was lying. She was probably thinking that she would have better luck at convincing a lonely old man that the boy was his grandson.

Philip shoved his fingers through his damp hair in frustration. He knew she was lying. She had to be. Creon couldn’t have had an affair with another woman because Lydia would have said something about it. She would have asked his advice about what to do, and she hadn’t. She’d never said a word against Creon.

He paused as he suddenly realized something. Lydia had never discussed Creon with him. She mentioned Jason occasionally, and she was always talking about her daughters, but he couldn’t ever remember her saying anything about Creon. A trickle of unease oozed through him. Was there some significance to her silence?

He didn’t know, and there was no way he could ask her without revealing what he was trying to hide. And he couldn’t risk that. Lydia had always been the most sensitive of his sisters. The most vulnerable. Creon’s death had hit her very hard. She’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and her always reserved personality had become almost withdrawn. If she were to find out that a beautiful woman had suddenly appeared, claiming to have had Creon’s son, it could push her so deeply into her shell she might never be able to climb out. A feeling of desperation gripped him.

He had to protect Lydia. But could he? For the moment, Ginny Alton was willing to go along with the charade that the boy was his, but how long her cooperation would last was anyone’s guess.

Philip dressed as he considered his limited options. He needed a lever to use against her, but what? Maybe the fact that Creon hadn’t been seeing her while he’d been in New York? It wasn’t much, but if he could find out how Creon had spent his time when he’d been in New York last year, perhaps it would convince Ginny that her claim wouldn’t stand up to an investigation.

Philip picked up the phone and dialed the number of his company’s New York office. His manager wouldn’t be there at this time of night, but he could leave a message on Essing’s voice mail telling him what he wanted him to do. With luck he’d have a report by tomorrow.

In the meantime, he’d simply have to keep as close to Ginny as he could to make sure she didn’t do or say anything to upset Lydia. He’d stay very close. Philip felt a surge of anticipation that made him vaguely uneasy. Since he couldn’t explain it, he ignored it and went to his study to go over the latest developments in the labor problems at one of his Athens’ factories.

The following day dawned clear and sunny, unlike Ginny’s mood. To her dismay, even though she was now well rested, her first view of Philip over the breakfast table was enough to convince her that a good night’s sleep hadn’t changed anything. He still had a very unsettling effect on her central nervous system. Even the fact that he was casually dressed in tan slacks and a powder blue knit shirt didn’t help.

Sitting down across from Philip, she gave Damon his bottle. That meant that the only thing she could do was to simply wait her compulsion out.

“Don’t you ever feed the boy any real food?”

Ginny looked up to see Philip frowning at Damon’s bottle.

“Damon. His name is Damon. And this is real food if you happen to be four months old.”

“He needs solid food,” Philip insisted. “Some cereal like this.” He held up a spoonful of the oatmeal he was eating.

Ginny fixed him with the gimlet stare she used on irrational clients who wanted to plunge into the stock market with no plan of action. “He has already shown signs of some nasty allergies, so if you even come near him with that stuff, I’ll...”

Philip looked at her ferocious expression and was hard-pressed not to laugh. She looked like an angry lioness about to defend her lone cub from mortal danger. A flicker of tenderness unexpectedly curled through him. She really was a good mother. It was too bad she hadn’t been as careful about who she went to bed with. Her lover couldn’t have been much of a man to have gotten her pregnant and then deserted her.

“You’ll what?” he asked curiously, when she didn’t finish her sentence.

“You’ll see.” Ginny promised darkly, having no idea what kind of threat might work on him. Probably none, she conceded. Philip Lysander appeared to be a man who was used to having his every whim catered to. Much as Creon had been.

To her surprise, his lips suddenly tightened. “If you repeat one word of your lies about Creon to Lydia, I’ll make you rue the day you were born.”

“And here I was afraid to descend to clichés,” she scoffed.

“I mean it! As far as Lydia is concerned, the boy is mine.” His voice was cold enough to freeze water.

What would it be like to have someone love you so much that they would be willing to go to such extremes to protect your peace of mind? Ginny wondered. The men she’d dated over the years had all treated her as the competent professional she was. They had respected her enough to allow her to solve her own problems. Which was what she wanted, she assured herself. She was strong enough to fight her own battles. She glanced down at Damon who was devouring his breakfast.

“I’ll be in the study making a few phone calls,” Philip said coldly as he got up from the table. “As soon as the boy is finished, we’ll leave for Jason’s.”

Ginny watched until he disappeared into his study. “I wonder what his blood pressure is?” she murmured to Damon. “At least, he doesn’t hold anything in.”

Would he make love with the same intensity? It didn’t matter how he made love. She throttled her curiosity. Philip Lysander’s love life had nothing to do with her. Determinedly, Ginny focused her attention on Damon, trying to use her love for him to drive out her fascination with Philip. It was a dismal failure.

The trip from Athens to Glifadha took an hour and a half. An interminable hour and a half. Between her agitation at being cooped up in a closed car with Philip, her nervousness over the upcoming interview with Jason Papas and the fact that Damon cried for most of the trip, Ginny was a bundle of nerves by the time Philip pulled up in front of Jason’s rambling white villa.

Ginny quickly climbed out of the car, unbuckled Damon from his car seat and cradled his hot, sweaty little body against her shoulder.

“Come on.” Philip grabbed her arm and hurried her inside.

Ginny quietly followed him through the huge house because she wasn’t sure that he’d let go of her, and she didn’t want to get into an undignified scuffle with Philip under Jason Papas’s nose.

Philip finally stopped in the open doorway of a large study.

“Is that the child?”

Ginny looked in the direction of the harsh voice to find a gaunt old man, who had to be Jason Papas, standing by the window eyeing her with distaste. Unconsciously, her chin lifted, and she stared back at him with equal distaste. If Jason hadn’t raised Creon to believe that he had a right to take what he wanted from whomever he wanted it, then poor Beth would never have been put in this situation.

“Yes,” Philip answered when Ginny remained silent.

“Bring him here,” Jason ordered Ginny.

Ginny walked to within a few feet of Jason and shifted Damon slightly so that his face was no longer hidden against her neck. She watched as Jason inched closer to the child as if drawn against his will. It was impossible for her to tell what the old man thought because other than the glitter in his eyes, which could have been anything from anger to happiness, his features were blank.

Unfortunately, Damon was not so reticent about expressing an opinion. He took one look at his grandfather and let out a howl.

Using Damon’s reaction as an excuse, Ginny retreated. “Damon doesn’t like strangers,” she said coolly.

“And you claim he’s my grandson?” Jason sneered.

“I don’t claim it. I know it.”

“You’re pretty enough to tempt a man to forget his marriage vows,” Jason said, and Ginny didn’t make the mistake of reading a compliment into his words. “But my son would never sully his honor with the likes of you. The truth is—”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you over the head!” Ginny decided that it was time to firmly establish a few ground rules. Such as the fact that she would not allow herself to be verbally abused. “You can blather on about Creon’s so-called honor till the day you die, but it won’t change the facts one iota. And I’ll give you another news flash. I did not fly halfway across the world to serve as a verbal punching bag for your prejudices.”

Jason glared at her. “So what are you going to do? Leave? If you do, you’ll never see a drachma of my money.”

“That will be for the courts to decide,” Ginny retorted. She didn’t know if Beth would take her quest for recognition of Damon that far, but it wouldn’t hurt Jason to believe it.

“The courts!” A deep flush burned high on his thin cheekbones. “You actually dare to threaten me?”

“No,” Ginny said flatly. “I’m not threatening anything. I’m telling you. Damon is entitled to his father’s support, and if it takes a lawsuit to obtain it...” She allowed her voice to trail away.

“Why, you immoral slut!” Jason’s lips compressed as if he’d just bitten down on something very bitter.

“That’s enough! Both of you.” To Ginny’s surprise, Philip intervened. “This is getting us nowhere, Jason. I’ll show Ginny the nursery, and we can discuss this later.”

The only thing Ginny wanted to discuss at that precise moment was the quickest way to return to New York. But the memory of Beth’s desperate face stilled the words in her throat. Beth was counting on her.

Ginny tensed as Philip took her arm and hustled her away from Jason. And there was another reason why she wasn’t quite ready to leave, she admitted honestly. If she were to leave Greece now, she would probably never see Philip Lysander again, and if she didn’t see him again she couldn’t find out why he exerted such an unprecedented pull on her emotions. Somehow she needed to find out the reason for her attraction. She needed a rational explanation so that she could go back to being comfortable with herself.

“Jason isn’t normally so...” Philip gestured impotently.

“You mean no one normally gives the old tyrant any opposition!” Ginny said dryly. “Having met the father, I suddenly understand why Creon was such a self-centered, self-absorbed twit.”

Philip glanced at her. “If you felt that way, why did you have an affair with him?”

Ginny bit her tongue in annoyance at her hasty words. The more she became involved with the Papas family, the harder it was for her to remember that she was the one who had supposedly loved Creon.

“He could be very charming when things were going his way,” she finally said. “It’s only when his duplicity caught up with him in the form of Damon that he showed his true colors.”

Philip frowned as he suddenly remembered something his mother had said a few years ago about the way Jason indulged Creon’s every wish.

“Philip.” A soft, hesitant voice called to them from a small sitting room as they passed the open archway.

Ginny stopped, forcing Philip to, also. A petite, dark-haired woman somewhere in her thirties was standing across the room. She started toward them, a warm smile on her face. A shard of some dark emotion ripped through Ginny as Philip’s lips curved in a loving smile. A smile that was reflected in his dark eyes.

He enveloped the woman in a bear hug and swung her around in a circle. Setting her down on her feet and keeping a protective arm around her shoulders, he turned her toward Ginny. “Lydia, this is Ginny Alton and her son, Damon. Ginny, this is my sister Lydia.”

Philip’s dark eyes held an unspoken warning as he stared at Ginny.

“Hello,” Ginny said, telling herself that the relief she felt at discovering this was his sister was only because the situation didn’t need the complication of a jealous girlfriend of Philip’s in the house.

“Good morning.” Lydia gave Ginny an uncertain smile as if not sure how to greet her.

Which made two of them who weren’t comfortable with the situation, Ginny thought wryly.

Lydia’s smile widened, becoming more natural, as Damon gave a gurgle and waved a fist at her. “What a darling little boy. You must be very proud of him. My husband always wanted a boy, but I never...” Lydia sighed. “He was so disappointed when our last daughter was born.”

Ginny stared at Lydia in horrified disbelief. Daughter! Last daughter! Creon not only had a wife tucked away in Greece while he was seducing Beth, but he had children!

“Umm, Ginny...” Philip began, not liking the glint in Ginny’s eye.

Ginny ignored him. “How many daughters do you have, Lydia?”

“Three,” Lydia said. “Maria is three, Ianthe is two, and little Jasmine is just five months old.”

One month older than Damon! Impotent fury poured through Ginny. If she could have somehow gotten her hands on Creon, she would have cheerfully throttled him.

“Damon looks very Greek,” Lydia observed with a sideways glance at Philip.

Philip winced at the accusation he could see in Lydia’s eyes. He didn’t want his sister to think that he was the kind of heedless, selfish man who would get a woman pregnant and allow his child to be born a bastard. But the alternative was to tell her what Ginny was claiming, and that was unthinkable.

Telling himself that once he had pried the real name of Damon’s father out of Ginny he would tell Lydia the truth, he took a deep breath and forced out the lie. “I think he looks a lot like me.”

As if on cue, Damon emitted an angry howl.

Ginny gave Philip a limpid smile. “He certainly acts like you.”

“Poor little thing,” Lydia sympathized. “He sounds very unhappy.”

“He needs to be changed, some food and a nap—in that order,” Ginny said.

“If you’d feed him something with a little bulk to it, he wouldn’t always be hungry,” Philip muttered.

Lydia ignored him. “I will take you to the nursery. It should have everything you need.”

Ginny followed Lydia, feeling as if she’d done nothing but trail along behind people since she’d arrived in Greece. Unable to resist the impulse, she glanced over her shoulder at Philip. He hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, although with the window at his back, she couldn’t tell if he were watching them or not. He was simply a large, dark form looming in the middle of the room.

Like Nemesis. Her own personal Nemesis. Ginny resisted the childish impulse to stick out her tongue at him.

Lydia glanced from Ginny back to Philip and said, “You must love him very much.”

“My feelings for your brother are very strong,” Ginny said with absolute sincerity.

Lydia patted Ginny’s arm comfortingly. “Do not worry. He will do his duty by you. I will call the family.”

“The family?” Ginny said weakly, not liking the sound of that. This scenario needed less players, not more.

Lydia nodded emphatically. “Mama and my sisters. They will talk to Philip.”

He had mentioned sisters when he’d explained the nursery in his apartment, Ginny remembered. At the time she’d been too tired to wonder about it. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Five. We are all older than Philip.”

“I can imagine that he would have been enough to deter your parents from trying again.”

Lydia looked at Ginny uncertainly as if not sure how she was supposed to respond. Finally, she gave an unsteady gurgle of laughter—as if laughing weren’t something she did very often. As it probably wasn’t, Ginny thought. Having been married to a man like Creon would have squelched even a confirmed optimist’s sense of humor.

“Please don’t call the family, Lydia.”

“But Philip must do his duty toward you,” Lydia protested.

“I most emphatically don’t want a man to ‘do his duty toward me.’” Ginny wrinkled her nose in distaste at the idea.

Lydia sighed. “Yes, duty is cold comfort. But if you do not want to marry Philip then why did you come to Greece?”

Ginny felt like screaming in frustration. How could such a simple thing like going to see Damon’s grandfather have evolved into such a complicated tangle of lies?

For once, Ginny was relieved when Damon started to cry, because Lydia seemed to forget her question.

“Come. The nursery is this way. I will introduce you to Nanny who looks after Jasmine. Miss Welbourne is the older girls’ governess, but she and they are spending a few weeks in Paris with my mother.”

Ginny felt anger bubble through her. Lydia had a nanny and a governess and, undoubtedly, a staff of servants to run this palatial villa, while poor Beth had had to move in with Ginny because she couldn’t afford to keep her own apartment while she wasn’t teaching. Ginny glanced over at Lydia’s sad face and her anger deepened, becoming all the stronger because she didn’t have anyone to vent it on. None of this mess was Lydia’s fault. In a way, she was as much Creon’s victim as Beth was.