The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child Read online

  He didn’t return her smile and she began to wonder if she’d misread the invitation, but when he took her by the elbow and ushered her towards a relatively quiet corner of the corridor there was no mistaking the gleam of desire in his eyes, or his intent in the huskiness of his words.

  ‘Early, say seven, so we can walk on the beach before we go home to bed.’

  ‘Home to bed?’ she whispered, her own voice as husky as his.

  Now he smiled.

  ‘Home to bed,’ he repeated, then he touched a finger to her lips. ‘It’s time we got to know each other better. You said Joe often stays over with your mother or Russ. He will be all right? Will it worry you to arrange that? Embarrass you?’

  Would it?

  Her mother would definitely understand—hadn’t she been urging Lauren to get to know Jean-Luc better?

  Although making love to him might not have been in her mind when she’d said it…

  Lauren watched the man in question stride away, obviously not heading home as she was. But she was reasonably certain she could pack a toothbrush in her handbag, and a certain sense of daring flooded through her.

  ‘Over thirty and getting excited about spending the night with a man!’ she muttered to herself as she left the hospital. Then she excused herself, smiling as she added, ‘Well, it is the first time.’

  ‘First time for what?’

  Bill asked the question as he linked his arm through hers, walking with her to the lights while she wondered just how loudly she’d been speaking.

  She turned to Bill. He was family as well as being a dear friend.

  ‘First time I’ve spent the night with a man,’ she admitted, blushing and laughing at the same time. ‘And it hasn’t happened yet, and knowing the way fate plays around with me and Jean-Luc it might not, but I don’t want to be sneaking around you and Russ and Mum so it’s best you all know, but it’s private, Bill, I don’t want it all over the hospital.’

  The lights changed and they crossed the road.

  ‘You know Russ and I would never spread gossip—we’ve suffered enough to loathe the very word, but are you sure, Lorie? Sure it’s what you want?’

  Bill was the only person who’d ever called her Lorie, and she knew it was out of the deep love he felt for her. Knew also that his question came out of that love…

  She stopped on the footpath and turned so he could see her face as she answered.

  ‘I’m sure for me, Bill,’ she said, and read understanding in his soft brown eyes. ‘As far as Jean-Luc’s concerned, well, I don’t think he knows himself. He’s had so many shocks—finding me alive and discovering he’s a father. Those two things were enough to throw his world into chaos. With Jeremy’s death on top of it—well, I doubt he’s able to think rationally at all. But if all he has to offer to me is an affair, then I’m willing to take it, because at least this time I’ll have some memories of our time together.’

  Bill put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug, and as they moved down the street towards home, he sighed.

  ‘Well, there are two good shoulders here ready for you if you need a cry later,’ he said. ‘But you’re right. If you don’t take the chance now, you’ll have to live with regrets, and memories are far better company than regrets.’

  Bill’s words confirmed her own thoughts and it was with mounting excitement she dressed for her ‘date’. A real dress—Jean-Luc hadn’t seen her in a dress. Not that she had many, but this one, a soft cotton with a V-neck and a swirly skirt, pale green with smudgy patterns of darker green and blue all over it, was her favourite.

  She brushed her hair until it shone and thought about pinning it on top of her head—she could do sophistication when required—but then remembered how Jean-Luc loved to touch her hair and left it down, hanging in two long curtains from her centre parting.

  At seven he was at the door. Joe was already settled in her mother’s flat—Jean-Luc was her date.

  And he was gorgeous! Not that his clothes were anything out of the ordinary—black jeans that fitted his body like a second skin, and a dark blue polo shirt in some kind of silky fabric that clung lovingly to his muscled shoulders and was open enough for a few dark hairs to show on his chest.

  Lauren wanted to touch but didn’t, revelling instead in the glow of appreciation in his eyes.

  ‘You are a very beautiful woman,’ he said quietly, then he took her hand. ‘Shall we go?’

  It was only as he led her down the garden path—down the garden path? her mind echoed—that she recovered enough of her senses to remember her car was parked in the lane out the back.

  ‘We’re going the wrong way,’ she said, and he smiled and pointed to a dark limousine waiting outside the gate.

  ‘I thought tonight we’d go in style,’ he said. ‘The driver has also suggested a restaurant and made a booking for us.’

  Lauren stared at the man who had made all these arrangements in such a short time. There had to be a catch.

  ‘And our walk on the beach?’

  Jean-Luc smiled again.

  ‘He will wait. He is ours to command—at least until midnight—but I have a feeling we won’t need to keep him out that late.’

  The look in his eyes was enough to take Lauren’s excitement from hectic to feverish, so much so she actually shivered.

  Had Jean-Luc seen it that he put his arm around her as he led her to the limo? The driver was now out of the car and holding the back door open for his passengers.

  Bill had put his arm around her shoulders earlier—a comforting arm. This arm was possessive, and the thought of that possession—what lay ahead—churned in Lauren’s stomach.

  ‘Champagne?’

  Jean-Luc had opened a small cabinet in the back of the vehicle and produced a bottle of what looked like very expensive champagne.

  ‘French of course,’ he teased, but Lauren was unable to speak, spellbound by the magic of it all.

  ‘I feel like Cinderella, whisked away to the ball,’ she told him, but she took the flute of champagne he handed her, and touched her glass to his.

  ‘To tonight and all the nights ahead of us,’ Jean-Luc proposed, and Lauren understood the toast. This was not a fairy story with a forever-and-ever ending, but a short story.

  ‘To memories,’ she said, and when he quirked a dark eyebrow at her words, she smiled.

  ‘This time I intend to remember,’ she said, and he chuckled.

  They dined at a table on a high deck, looking out over the beach and ocean, feeding each other tastes of their desserts, sipping cognac after dinner because it was French and it was that kind of evening.

  Then, with shoes shed, they walked on the beach, feeling the sand between their toes and the water sloshing around their feet, not saying much but aware all the time they were putting off the moment of return—putting off the finale of the evening.

  But as they settled into the limousine for the ride home, a new shivery sensation ran down Lauren’s spine. Where would this lead? The excitement she’d felt earlier built again and she rubbed her hand against Jean-Luc’s chest.

  Memories! She’d have memories!

  Slowly, slowly—he wanted to love her slowly and completely. Jean-Luc had promised himself that. But she was so open and trusting and so gloriously giving that his excitement was hard to keep under control.

  Lauren naked in his bed, her hands exploring his body. He knew from the tentative movements that she was inexperienced in love and he wanted the experience to be memorable for her, but control was impossible when she was so deliciously excited, so deliriously exciting.

  But still he tried, exploring her body with his lips, feeling her shudder of reaction as he kissed her neck, her shiver of anticipation when he fondled her breast.

  ‘You are a source of such delight,’ he whispered, his tongue twisting in her belly button. ‘Soft skin, full breasts, firm butt—I want to love every inch of you, sweet Lauren.’

  ‘And when it’s my turn?’ she asked,
her voice muffled because her lips were pressed against his hair, her own falling around his face like a curtain of privacy.

  ‘Do you want a turn?’ he asked, more excitement building.

  ‘To kiss your body? Of course!’

  And she moved so she was leaning over him, her breasts falling to his chest.

  ‘Where shall I start? Here?’

  She kissed his neck, in the hollow where it joined his shoulder.

  ‘Or here?’

  She teased her tongue across one of his nipples.

  ‘Or here?’

  Her tongue probed his navel, sending shooting signals southward.

  Then she moved again and this time her voice was husky with excitement.

  ‘Or here?’

  And tentatively she took his penis in her hand, and slid her lips across it then she opened her mouth and took the tip inside, sliding her tongue around it, nibbling gently with her teeth as he had nibbled on her nipple.

  Jean-Luc stood the pleasure of it for as long as he could then eased away, pushing her back on the bed.

  ‘Torture, sheer torture, my temptress,’ he said. ‘Enough teasing, we will make love. I was going slowly so it would be good for you, but if you get me any more excited then slowly will be impossible.’

  ‘I don’t need slowly, or expect that it will be good for me every time, Jean-Luc,’ his temptress told him, her hand resting against his cheek. ‘I may not be experienced, or remember what experience I did have, but I’ve read plenty of books. Making love with you will give me pleasure whether my toes tingle or not.’

  Jean-Luc looked down into her shadowed face and shook his head. He had a feeling in his heart he didn’t understand, and right now, with his body rampant with desire, was not the time to be analysing it.

  ‘Your toes will tingle,’ he growled, then he kissed her, demanding a response and revelling in it when it came. They were making love on equal terms, the teasing done, the excitement of the act building and building until he heard her gasp and felt her shudder of release and he let himself fall into the abyss that opened up in front of him, landing safely in his lovely Lauren’s arms.

  His lovely Lauren?

  The thought returned to him when he woke in the night and looked at the naked woman curled in sleep beside him, her hair a dark splash on the pillow, enough light from outside for him to see the hint of a smile on her lips.

  Satisfaction?

  He hoped so.

  But his lovely Lauren?

  This was an affair. He’d told her so. True, there was the problem of Joe but he had already worked that out in his mind. Joe could spend his holidays in France. He could afford to fly both Joe and Lauren over a couple of times a year. And in between he could make trips to Australia. His parents, too, could visit. He’d buy a unit here in Sydney so the family had a base. His mother would be proud to see Joe as a Nipper.

  And Lauren?

  He drifted back to sleep, content now to know she’d be there in the morning. They could make love again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS if they were a real family, Lauren thought, watching Jean-Luc help Joe with his ‘homework’ later that week. The task was to match pictures to words and although Lauren knew Joe could do it without help, he was obviously enjoying the attention of his friend John so was deliberately getting things wrong and turning it into a game.

  Even Lucy seemed to be accepting Jean-Luc, still standing by Joe’s side while Jean-Luc was in the house but no longer making dark, growly, keep-away noises in his throat.

  As for her own life…

  She gave a little sigh of satisfaction. Because Joe was used to sleeping in his little bedroom in her mother’s flat when Lauren did night duty, it was easy to settle him there for the night. Then she and Jean-Luc would wander back to his place, sometimes walking through the park first, sometimes going out for a meal, but usually cutting short the time between leaving Joe and getting into bed, for their love-making was so exciting that just thinking about it sent feathery tremors along Lauren’s nerves.

  Homework finished, Jean-Luc stood up.

  ‘Read me a story?’ Joe asked, knowing it was his bedtime.

  ‘Not tonight, little friend,’ Jean-Luc said, ruffling his son’s hair. ‘Tonight I have a meeting at the hospital.’

  Lauren felt a slight dampening of her excitement. Had he told her that? She tried to think, but thinking of anything apart from getting back into bed with Jean-Luc was becoming difficult.

  He’d certainly mentioned a meeting, but tonight?

  He left Joe at the kitchen table and walked through to the common foyer. Lauren had the front door open and was leaning on the jamb.

  ‘I will see you later?’ he asked quietly.

  Of course he would. She was besotted. Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away.

  But she tried for cool, calm and collected as she asked, ‘How much later?’

  He gave the cheeky grin she loved so much.

  ‘Not much later,’ he promised. ‘Ten o’clock. I’ll call down here for you.’

  ‘There’s no need. I could wait at your place.’

  He’d given her a key but she’d never used it. This seemed like the ideal time. But he was frowning and shaking his head.

  ‘No, I will call for you,’ he said. ‘I would not like you being in the flat on your own.’

  A feeling of warmth stole through her. Surely if he was concerned for her safety—No, she didn’t want to start thinking that way.

  ‘I’ll be waiting,’ she promised and, after a quick glance to see there was no one in the street outside, she put her arms around him and gave him a kiss.

  Which had just begun to get interesting when Joe came racing down the passageway.

  ‘John, John, you didn’t get the invitation.’

  He handed the blue envelope with stickers stuck all over it to Jean-Luc and as he took it, thanking Joe, bending over to assure him he wouldn’t miss the party for the world, memories Lauren had thought lost for ever rushed over her, swamping her with details—a child with an envelope for Jean-Luc, hearts all over it. ‘Je t’aime.’

  A return address!

  Therese Fournier!

  ‘The envelope—you got a letter from your wife. We fought!’ she said, staring at the man who’d been the man she’d loved. ‘You didn’t tell me that when you told me how you’d fallen in love with me in India! You told me all about our time together and didn’t think it sufficiently important to tell me you’d been married at the time? That must be why I blocked that bit of memory—blocked you out. The specialists said it was some other trauma! You were married all along and you were cheating on her with me—’

  ‘Lauren—’ Jean-Luc began, but too many memories were now crowding in Lauren’s head, pounding at her brain—hurting…

  ‘You’ve got a meeting, you’d better go,’ she said.

  Had Lucy heard the despair in Lauren’s voice that she now began to bark?

  ‘Lauren—’ Jean-Luc said again, but Lauren held up her hand.

  ‘Just go, Jean-Luc, I need to think.’

  ‘I can’t leave you like this—you’re in shock.’

  But attracted by Lucy’s noise, Russ came down the stairs, while her mother’s door was opening on the first floor.

  ‘There are plenty of people here who can deal with shock,’ Lauren told him. ‘You’ve got a meeting, remember.’

  He looked confused, but no more confused than Lauren felt as so many memories came pushing out of whatever dark corner had held them trapped.

  ‘Ten o’clock?’ he asked quietly as she opened the door for him and he walked out.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she managed, the mess in her head making her feel physically sick.

  He walked away and Lauren turned to face her family.

  ‘I’ve remembered things,’ she said. ‘And now I’m going to bed. Will someone, please, read Joe his story?’

  No one said a word and the silence seemed to echo along the
hall and up the stairs, then Joe said, ‘Gran will,’ and hurried up the stairs to where Gran was standing by her door.

  Was there a strange note in his voice?

  Surely not fear!

  Yet it had been his act of handing Jean-Luc the envelope that had opened the floodgates and Lauren’s reaction could have shocked her child.

  Seeing his uncertainty shook Lauren out of her welter of self-absorption and she hurried after her child.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Joe, darling. I didn’t mean I didn’t want to read your story. But I have a headache and I need to lie down.’

  It wasn’t quite a lie. She could feel a headache looming—and it was going to be a doozy.

  She gave Joe a goodnight kiss, ignored the adults all watching her with questioning yet cautious looks and walked back into her flat towards her bedroom. Perhaps when she was lying down, the past would go back to where it belonged and she could sort out how to go forward into the future.

  ‘Don’t lock your door,’ she heard Russ order. ‘I want to check on you later.’

  She didn’t answer, but didn’t lock her door. Her family were too good to her for her to shut them out. But lying down only made the headache worse and in the end she had to resort to one of the strong painkillers she’d been using far less frequently of late. Indeed, sometimes lately it had seemed she might be completely cured of the vicious pain that pressed against her temples and hammered in her head—cured of the pain if not the memory loss.

  By morning the headache was gone and although she felt as if she’d been run over by a bus, a not unusual after-effect of the painkiller, she headed off to work, knowing she’d be better off thinking about her patients than trying to work out whether the past had any relevance to her present life.

  She was reasonably sure it did, but while she could function on a day-to-day level, she knew she wasn’t up to sorting out the emotional mess she was in, so work was definitely the answer.

  She walked up the road, deliberately not looking at number twenty-six, for how could she see the house and not think of Jean-Luc? Back in India he had betrayed her—not only her but his wife as well—and now he’d betrayed her again, by not telling her of the fight they’d had—by pretending they’d still been in a loving relationship when they’d parted.