Pregnancy of Revenge Page 8

  Sometimes Charlie had to pinch herself to believe he was real, and she told him so early on the Friday of the second week.

  Jake laughed lazily, and told her to feel him and make sure. She did, all over. And he called her a natural-born sensualist, and made wild, passionate love to her, until she thought she would lose her mind with the excitement of his powerful body driving her to the edge of sense and beyond.

  Exhausted, they lay sprawled together on the bed. She said in a breathless voice, 'Now I know why I love you. And I'm totally convinced you're real.' She spread her fin­gers through the damp hair on his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart beneath her palm. She heard him chuckle and she pulled gently on the short, curling body hair.

  'Find me funny, do you?' she teased. But the telephone rang on the bedside table before he could respond. She watched as he lifted the receiver, and said something in Italian. She felt his body tense, and heard the change of tone in his rich deep voice, even though she could not understand what he was saying.

  Ending the call, Jake sprang off the bed, and glanced down at her. 'That was my office in Italy. I have to leave immediately.' Without another word, he headed for the bathroom.

  Stunned, she stared at his broad back as he disappeared into the bathroom. She loved Jake and he was leaving. It had to happen eventually, she knew, but blindly she had pushed the knowledge to the back of her mind, not wanting to face reality. Now she had no choice.

  Well, what had she expected, for heaven's sake? she asked herself. Jake had a huge corporation to run, and her manager was expecting her back on Sunday. So Jake had to leave a day earlier than planned. It was no big deal. She would see him again.

  Jake strolled back into the room. 'Okay.' He tossed her a brief glance, and proceeded to dress with the same brisk efficiency he did everything.

  Charlie had watched him countless times before, but somehow this morning she couldn't. She was too afraid of betraying her misery at his imminent departure. Jumping off the bed, she crossed to the walk-in wardrobe, selected navy trousers and a blue ribbed sweater, then collected fresh un­derwear and stepped into the bathroom.

  Standing in the shower, she told herself not to overreact. If the last two weeks had proved anything, it was that they were great together. She loved him and she felt it in her bones that Jake cared about her. They were both mature adults with busy careers; it was natural they would be apart sometimes.

  As she walked into the lounge ten minutes later she was still telling herself she had nothing to worry about.

  Jake was standing by the table, leafing through some pa­pers in a briefcase, the expression on his face one of intense concentration. The suitcases by his side told her he had al­ready packed. He was dressed in a dark pinstriped business suit, white shirt and grey silk tie, and he looked every inch the hard-headed tycoon. But she knew the other Jake, the passionate tender lover, and a sob caught in her throat at the thought of him leaving.

  She must have made some sound because his dark head lifted and she walked across to him. 'You're already packed.'

  'Yes.' Jake placed a brief, somewhat distracted kiss on her cheek. 'I'm sorry I have to leave so quickly, but my presence is required in Italy.'

  'I know. But it's a shame we are going to lose our last day together.' She couldn't prevent the slight tremble of her lips.

  Jake placed a finger over her mouth. 'There will be other days, Charlotte. I'll call you tonight. Stay here and enjoy your last day.'

  Her pleasure at his promise to call her was dented by his suggestion she stay on at the hotel. To be here alone held no appeal. 'No, I wouldn't feel comfortable staying here without you. I'll go home.'

  'Whatever you want,' he said gruffly. Suddenly a con­science that had never troubled Jake before where women were concerned reared its head. He was the 'love them and leave them' type, the women suitably rewarded of course, but Charlotte was different. Sure, he had lusted after her, but his original intention had been less than honourable and he prided himself on being an honourable man.

  He couldn't just walk away from her. So he did some­thing he never did: he wrote a number on the back of a business card. 'This is my home number in Genoa. If you need me, call me. And now I really must go—the jet is waiting.'

  Charlie watched him snap shut his briefcase, blinking back the tears.

  'Already?' The tremble in her voice gave her away.

  'Afraid so.' The bellboy arrived to take the suitcases and Jake brushed a brief kiss against her trembling lips and left.

  Dr Jones had been Charlie's GP all her life. He dined at the hotel restaurant regularly, and quite often Charlie joined him: he was more friend than doctor. But looking at him now, she was horrified.

  'You're sure?' she asked for the third time.

  'Yes, Charlie dear. From the date you have given me, you are almost seven weeks pregnant.'

  'But we used protection,' she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.

  'Obviously not enough,' Dr Jones said dryly. 'But it isn't the end of the world. You're pregnant, not ill; you're a very fit young woman, Charlie, and I know you will have a beau­tiful, healthy baby. So I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Go home and tell the lucky man.'

  Easier said than done. Charlie thought, staring blindly at the pile of invoices on the desk in front of her three days later.

  It’s no good sitting daydreaming, Charlie.'

  At the sound of her manager Jeffs voice, her head lifted. 'I am not dreaming,' she snapped. 'I'm trying to work.'

  If you say so.' Jeff stopped by the desk and looked down at her, compassion in his grey eyes. 'You should tell the father. He has a right to know. It's not like you to shirk your responsibilities.'

  Jeff had known Charlie since she was twelve, when he had been hired by her grandfather to manage the hotel. She had been a bright, lively child, a joy to all who knew her, and he hated to see her so miserable.

  'This baby is my responsibility, and what I would like to know is, how the hell did all the staff find out I was pregnant the same day it was confirmed?' Charlie demanded, running a hand distractedly through her blonde hair.

  'Maybe because you came back from your holiday, glow­ing like a woman in love, you mentioned Jake d'Amato just once or twice and bought a ' 'Teach Yourself Italian' ' book. So when you started dashing off to be sick every day, it was a bit of a give-away. Plus everyone knew you had a doctor's appointment,' Jeff said with a chuckle. 'They all care about you, and most of them guessed you were preg­nant long before you realised what was up.'

  'Thanks! Thanks very much! So not only does everyone in the hotel know I'm pregnant, they think I'm a pregnant idiot for not recognising the signs.' Charlie groaned. 'What am I going to do?'

  'I've told you. Ring the man, and do it now. I have to go and fill in on the desk. Amy was supposed to be on Reception but she has an optician's appointment. I'll catch you later. Do it,' Jeff reiterated, walking out the door.

  The trouble was, Charlie thought forlornly, she already had called Jake's home near Genoa three times since the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy, hoping to get a mes­sage to him, but she had only managed to speak to some woman called Marta, whose English was as bad as Charlie's Italian.

  In the five weeks since she had last seen Jake, her ten­tative belief that he might love her as she loved him had taken a severe jolt. He'd rung to make sure she'd arrived back home safely, and then nothing for a week. Then he'd called to tell her he was going to America and would get in touch when he got back. She had heard nothing since, but had lived on hope and consoled herself with the fact she knew he was in America.

  But yesterday, leafing through a magazine one of the de­parting guests had left behind, she had seen a double-page spread of a prestigious charity dinner in New York, and staring out from one picture was Jake d'Amato with a stun­ning brunette at his side. According to the item accompa­nying the picture, Jake's companion was Melissa, a model and long-time 'friend' of Jake, better known
for her string of wealthy lovers than her modelling career.

  Charlie hadn't tried to call Jake again. Face it, she told herself sadly, she had been taken for a fool. While she had fallen in love, to Jake she had been nothing more than a passing fancy. She blinked back the tears that moistened her eyes. She was not going to cry. She had done enough of that in the past few weeks and she had to stop.

  She should have known a man like Jake d'Amato was far too sophisticated to be attracted by a naive virgin for long. Remembering the last day when they had parted, she knew she had felt him withdrawing from her. He had been cool and his kiss goodbye had been little more than a peck. In fact, when Charlie thought about it now, the only thing that was surprising was that he had bothered to call her at all!

  Anger and pain bubbled up inside her. In every other area of her life she was super-efficient. She could run a hotel, climb a rock-face, or search for the dead and dying in any catastrophe around the world. She was compassionate by nature and slow to anger. Yet in the male-female stakes she was an absolute novice.

  Morosely, she concluded falling in love was heaven and hell. In her case mostly hell: the butterflies in the stomach, the hunger, the need for one man and the constant doubt as to whether Jake felt the same. Well, it was all going to change. She had been acting like a lovesick fool long enough.

  Angrily she brushed her hand across her eyes and, shov­ing back the chair, she stood up, squaring her slender shoul­ders. No man was going to take her for a mug and get away with it, she vowed. In fact... Impulsively she grabbed the telephone and pressed out a number she knew by heart. She heard the 'Pronto, ' through a red mist of anger, and burst into speech. She didn't care if Marta only understood one word in ten. Charlie was going to have her say.

  'Tell that no-good bastard you call a boss, I am pregnant and he is going to be a father.Charlotte incinta, Jake papà—capisco?' She sarcastically inserted the few Italian words she knew, regardless of grammar, and slammed die phone down.

  Whether they made sense or Marta understood, Charlie didn't care. It had made her feel a hell of a lot better. Plus, she thought as she left her office, she could tell Jeff quite honestly she had done the right thing and told the father, and get him off her back.

  'I could cover Amy's shift for you, Jeff,' she offered, stopping at the reception desk. With the hotel booked solid for the summer, the staff were at full stretch, and Charlie was adept at filling in when the need arose.

  'No, I'm fine. Why don't you take the day off? You've hardly been out of the place in weeks. The sun is shining and Dave and his brood are going sailing for the day. Chef is preparing a picnic. I'll tell him to add a few of your favourites and you can join them. It will do you the world of good.'

  Jeff was right. She had hung around the hotel day and night like an idiot waiting for the phone to ring, hoping Jake would call. Well, not any more. She had another human being to worry about now.

  'You're right as usual, Jeff,' she admitted with a wry self- mocking smile. 'I have been behaving like an idiot.'

  'You, an idiot?Never.' A laughing voice floated over her shoulder. Charlie spun around and smiled at the big, burly grey-haired man grinning down at her. Dave had obviously just left the dining room, with his brood: Joe, eighteen, James, sixteen, and Mary, two years behind. 'You are a pearl among women, and if you would help me control this lot for the day, I'll even put it in writing,' he teased.

  A day sailing was a far better prospect than moping around the hotel another minute. 'Yes, okay, Dave.' The fresh air and the company of good friends was just what she needed to help her banish the depressing thoughts about Jake. 'I'll go and change and meet you at the jetty in twenty minutes.'

  'Come on, Charlie,' the boys yelled. 'The water's great, it's not like you to be the last in.'

  Wearing a black bikini and stretched out on a towel placed on the fore deck of the sailing boat, Charlie was feeling surprisingly content. She grinned and waved a lazy hand. 'No, I've eaten far too much, maybe later.'

  They had sailed to the southern end of the lake, and dropped anchor at a favourite little cove to have their picnic. The three teenagers all had healthy appetites, and Charlie had been no slouch.

  'Very wise.' Dave flopped down beside her. 'You have to be careful in your condition.'

  'Oh, God!' Charlie groaned. 'Not you as well. You only arrived yesterday, for heaven's sake. Surely the bush tele­graph isn't that fast?'

  'Afraid so. Jeff told me over a couple of beers last night. He thought I should know as your team leader and more importantly as your friend, Charlotte.' Charlie knew she was in for a lecture when Dave used her full name. 'You know of course you're off the International Rapid Rescue now, but finding a replacement of your calibre is not my main worry. You are, Charlie. I've known you since the first time Lisa and I came here on holiday almost twenty years ago, and you are as dear to me as my family. And Lisa would say the same if she was still alive,' he said seriously.

  She had known she would have to give up the team, but it was the sentiment Dave had expressed that made Charlie blink the sudden moisture from her eyes. Lisa and Dave had visited the hotel with their expanding family for almost as long as she could remember. And she knew how hard Lisa'sdeath from breast cancer last year had hit Dave and the children. 'Thank you for that,' she murmured.

  'Yes, well, the thing is, I can't help feeling responsible for the condition you're in. If—'

  'You are certainly not responsible. I think I'd know if I had slept with you,' she cut in with a cheeky grin, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  'Forget the jokes, Charlotte, this is serious. If I had never said you needed a change of scene and offered you the use of the studio, maybe you'd never have met the man who has been careless enough to make you pregnant. But that aside, the important question is, do you love each other?'

  There was no point in denying the truth. Dave knew her far too well and would see through a lie in a second. 'I love Jake, but I doubt he loves me,' she said flatly.

  'According to Jeff, the man is some kind of industrial tycoon who lives abroad. But you do keep in touch with him? Whether he loves you or not, you have to tell him you're pregnant. It is natural for you to have doubts in your condition, but you will probably be pleasantly surprised. Trust me, I know my own sex. Any man would be ecstatic to have a woman like you for his wife and the mother of his children.'

  'Yes, sure,' she agreed dryly. At that point three very wet teenagers flopped on the deck and ended the adult conver­sation, much to Charlie's relief, for the rest of the afternoon.

  It was late, almost six, when they finally tied the boat up at its mooring. The teenagers yelled, 'Race you to the hotel!' and set off at a run.

  'Ah, to be thirty years younger,' Dave groaned.

  Charlie flashed him a grin and raced off after the others. The day on the water had done her the world of good, but she was tired and finally had to stop and catch her breath. She looked up at the hotel with the backdrop of the woods embracing it. The grey stone walls gleamed in the evening sun, the immaculate garden stretched down to where she stood with the lake behind her, and she thought she had never seen the old place look more beautiful.

  A bittersweet smile curved her soft lips. She was almost home. She placed her hand over her still flat stomach in a tender gesture of reassurance to her unborn child. 'Whatever else happens in life, you and I will always have a home here,' she said with a deep sigh of contentment.

  The day out had cleared her head. She was expecting Jake d'Amato's baby, and already she loved them both. But she knew better than most there were no guarantees in life. She had lost all her family, and she had seen through her work generations of families destroyed, even whole towns. She was pregnant, and she now had the chance to build her own little family. Charlie knew with absolute certainty that she had the ability and the strength of will to give her child a good life. As for Jake, she loved him and probably always would, but whether they got together was no longer the main
issue. Her baby was her first concern, now and always.

  'Age catching up with you too?' Dave quipped as he reached her, and placed a guiding hand around her waist. 'Come on, I'll help you up the hill.'

  Charlie laughed. 'Shouldn't that be the other way around, old man?'

  The Lakeview Hotel was a beautiful old building, in a mag­nificent setting and not at all what Jake had expected. It had to be over a hundred years old, and constructed in stone with an elegant terrace along the front. The interior was Victorian in style with stone-mullioned windows, and ma­hogany-panelled walls, the wood mellowed with the patina of years. He doubted if the place had changed much since it was built, and, glancing at the key rack while waiting forthe receptionist, he noted there were only twenty letting rooms. Hardly a big enough hotel to make much of a profit. Not surprising Charlotte was eager to contact him, he thought cynically.

  He had begun to believe in the two weeks they had spent together she was not the greedy, selfish bitch he had first thought. But now he realised she was cleverer than most. She had been aiming for the jackpot, a meal ticket for life. Impatiently he drummed his fingers on the desk. Where the hell was the receptionist?

  A tall thin man finally appeared. 'Can I help you, sir?'

  'Yes, I want to see the owner. Charlotte Summerville,' Jake snapped. He wasn't used to waiting.

  'Your name, sir?'

  'Jake d'Amato. She knows who I am,' he said impa­tiently.