LITMIR.BIZ

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someone say he was easier to recover from once you were out of bed? I can only pray that it’s true.

      ‘Rubbing shoulders with nature for the past month doesn’t seem to have done you much good,’ was Lynne’s first comment once she’d hugged her. ‘You’re looking pale, my pet.’

      Marin shrugged. ‘They all took me out to the local Chinese restaurant last night,’ she returned. ‘I think the sweet and sour sauce seriously disagreed with me. But I’m fine again now.’

      Except that she wasn’t, because Mike arrived that evening, fresh from playing in a charity cricket-match, and hefting a bulging carrier bag.

      ‘To welcome home the exile,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got all your favourites. Chow mein, Kung Po chicken, shrimps in special sauce, beef with water chestnuts and a paddy field of fried rice.’

      This time, to Marin’s dismay, just the smell did it, and she fled.

      ‘If you’re no better in the morning,’ Lynne ordained sternly, handing her a glass of water, ‘You must see the doctor. You could need antibiotics.’

      ‘I’d settle for a stomach transplant,’ Marin said wanly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever look a Chinese meal in the face again. Let’s hope it’s over.’

      But she hoped in vain.

      ‘Right,’ Lynne said briskly, coming into the bedroom where she lay hunched and miserable under the covers. ‘I’ve phoned Wendy Ingram and explained why you won’t be in, and Dr Jarvis will see you at two-thirty.’ She paused. ‘Can I leave you anything? Hot coffee, maybe?’

      Marin shuddered. ‘I think I’ll stick to water.’

      But half an hour later, she felt a total fraud. ‘I’ll cancel that appointment and go to work,’ she told herself with determination, putting on her robe and heading for the sitting room to use the phone.

      She was checking the surgery number when she heard the hall door close, and assumed it was Lynne back to check up on her.

      ‘Look,’ she began. ‘You’re taking the mother-hen thing too far.’

      ‘And you, sweetheart,’ Jake said from the doorway, ‘are getting your genders confused.’

      Marin gasped, a hand flying to pull the edges of her robe closer. ‘What—what do you want?’

      He strolled forward, dark-suited, his silk tie loosened, his face cool, unreadable. ‘You.’

      Her heart lurched, but she faced him defiantly. ‘I don’t think so. Even you can’t be that desperate for a woman.’

      His brows lifted coldly. ‘Just who are you insulting by that remark, sweetheart? Yourself or me?’

      ‘I meant,’ she said swiftly, ‘that you must have better things to do elsewhere.’

      ‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t come here to make a pass at you and have it rejected.’

      ‘Then why?’

      ‘Because, before you vanished into the wilds of wherever, I told you we needed to talk.’

      ‘And I made it clear that was unnecessary.’

      ‘Also because Lynne told me you were ill,’ he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And I was—concerned.’

      ‘Then Lynne shouldn’t have fussed,’ she said. ‘And as I’m quite all right again, you’ve no need to trouble yourself.’

      ‘You don’t think so?’ He looked at her reflectively. ‘Maybe you should cast your mind back a few weeks to our never-to-be-repeated night together. There could be a very different reason for your malaise.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I mean, my sweet, that unless you were taking the contraceptive pill you and I had unprotected sex—more than once.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Usually I take my own precautions, but, as love-making was never supposed to feature on the agenda that weekend, I was completely unprepared. As I now suspect you were too. So there could be—consequences.’

      For a moment, she stared at him, her mind reeling. Then she said huskily, ‘No, it’s not possible. I don’t believe it.’

      ‘Then let’s see if your faith is justified,’ he said. He took a flat packet from his inside pocket and tossed it to her. ‘Pop into the bathroom, if you will, and put both our minds at rest.’

      Marin stared down at the pregnancy-testing kit, her heart beating like a drum in sheer panic. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No—I can’t.’

      ‘Why not? The instructions seem perfectly clear. And I certainly can’t do it for you.’

      ‘All right, then, I won’t.’ She lifted her chin. ‘You have no right to march in here, giving me orders.’

      ‘I wish to know whether or not you’re carrying my child,’ he said. ‘I’d say that’s well within my rights. So, please do as I ask. For both our sakes.’

      Their eyes met, clashed. Then Marin turned and stalked off to the bathroom.

      She could simply throw the kit away when she was alone, she thought, and tell him the result was negative. That he could leave with a clear conscience.

      Except that she needed to allay the sudden terrifying doubt in her own mind. Reassure herself that the frantic mental sums she’d already been doing were all wrong that her period was often late, and that she really was fine, with nothing to fear.

      Above all she needed to watch him walk away and know that she would never have to experience the hurt of seeing him again.

      Peace of mind, she told herself, in a little box.

      When she finally returned to the living room, Jake needed to take only one look at her white face and quivering lips. He was silent for a moment, then sighed.

      ‘That settles it,’ he said. ‘Now we really do have to talk.’ As he walked towards her, she took a step back and saw his mouth tighten. He took her hand and led her to the sofa.

      She tried to free herself. ‘Leave me alone.’

      ‘Don’t be silly.’ His voice was quite gentle as he drew her down beside him. ‘Sit down before you fall down.’ He paused. ‘I suppose our first priority is to tell your mother and stepfather. Find out how soon they can get here.’

      She stared at him, mute with horror at all the additional implications of this discovery. The thought of having to tell Barbara and Derek what a total mess she’d made of her life—to inflict such a terrible disappointment—made her cringe inside.

      Confessing to Lynne would be just as bad, but she knew her stepsister would help her, get her through whatever needed to be done. She felt sick all over again at the prospect.

      She said, stumbling over the words. ‘I’d rather not—tell them.’

      ‘I’m sure,’ he said drily. ‘I’m not looking forward to telling my mother, either. But it has to be done.’ He paused. ‘It will have to be a special licence, and the local registrar, of course, and we need to set the date as soon as possible.’

      The words swam in her head, making no sense. No sense at all.

      She stared at him, ‘Please—what are you talking about?’ she whispered.

      ‘About our wedding, naturally,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘We’re having a baby, Marin, so we’re going to get married. And that’s all there is to it.’

      ‘But you’re not the marrying kind.’ Her protest was instant and unthinking.

      ‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘And I certainly had no plans for fatherhood, either. How quickly life can change.’

      ‘Oh,

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