Two-Timing Love. Kate Proctor
“You are completely despicable,” croaked Jenny.
“You sound almost surprised,” Jamie murmured blandly. “Which is odd, considering I still appear to be the selfish, manipulative tearaway you claim to know so well. Though there is one thing that puzzles me, Jenny…with so little going for me, how is it that you managed to develop such an almighty crush on me?”
KATE PROCTOR is part Irish and part Welsh, though she spent most of her childhood in England and several years of her adult life in central Africa. She now lives just outside London with her two cats, Florence and Minnie (presented to her by her daughters, who live fairly close by). Having given up her career as a teacher on her return to England, Kate now devotes most of her time to writing.
Two-Timing Love
Kate Proctor
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
‘I WAS beginning to think you’d never turn up—have you brought the documents?’
Jennifer Page froze at the sound of that voice, the warm, creamy tones of her normally vibrantly attractive features dulling to pallor as she resisted the urge to drag her fingers through the gleaming auburn of her short, almost boyishly cropped hair—a habit she knew to be triggered off by feelings of stress. And stress was decidedly what she was experiencing now, even as she hoped against hope that her imagination was in the throes of playing the nastiest trick it possibly could on her. But it was a pale imitation of her normally sunny smile that she bestowed on the hotel porter as he deposited her overnight case on the floor beside her.
Her movements almost robotic, Jenny turned to face the tall, powerfully built figure of the man who had addressed her, myriad sensations bombarding her and precious few of them in the least pleasant.
‘I haven’t any Austrian money—would you mind tipping the porter?’ she muttered stiltedly, one part of her strenuously denying that this was happening to her while the rest responded with nerve-jangling awareness to the familiar, larger-than-life figure of Jamie Castile.
She had almost forgotten how disgustingly attractive he was, she thought, weak with disbelief; but not the aura of danger emanating so powerfully from that faultlessly built masculine body now taking oddly tentative steps towards her.
She frowned in puzzlement as he halted before the porter, conscious that his movements lacked their customary languid grace as he fumbled awkwardly in his pocket and then handed the man some money. It was as he turned slightly towards her that Jenny let out a soft groan of disbelief and leaned heavily against the wall for support.
Perhaps the dimness of the room’s lighting accounted for her having missed it—that swaddled mound nestling against one broad shoulder and so obviously hampering the flow of his movements.
‘Well?’ demanded Jamie, his grey-green eyes offering no hint of welcome as the porter closed the door of the suite behind him. ‘Did you bring all the papers?’
‘Yes,’ replied Jenny, attempting to clear her mind of the shock and disbelief threatening to paralyse it. ‘Where are Clare and Graham?’
‘They’re still in Czechoslovakia with the other doctors—trying to do what they can for the earthquake victims.’
‘But…I…’ Jenny threw up her hands in exasperation with herself as the words refused to come. ‘Would you mind telling me what’s going on?’ she exclaimed, an edge of desperation in her tone.
Jamie Castile gave an impatient shrug, a gesture he plainly regretted the instant he had made it as the bundle against his shoulder stirred and let out a wail of protest that brought a look of weary sufferance to his handsome features.
‘For God’s sake, take it, will you?’ he groaned, gingerly removing the baby from against him and holding it out to her.
Jenny took an involuntary step back from the now vociferously protesting bundle that was their four-month-old nephew.
‘I…I’m not used to babies,’ she stammered.
‘For God’s sake, try something, can’t you?’ exploded Jamie. ‘Once it decides to start screeching like this there’s nothing I can do with it.’
‘Stop calling him it!’ hissed Jenny, taking the proffered bundle awkwardly into her arms and gazing down at it with a mixture of awe and trepidation. ‘Hello, little Jonathan Page,’ she whispered, her tentative smile accentuating the delicate beauty of her features as the infant quietened and fixed her with a wide-eyed gaze. ‘It’s late—shouldn’t he be in his bed and asleep?’ she demanded accusingly of his uncle.
‘I’m sure he should,’ drawled Jamie, flinging his tall frame heavily on to one of the perilously dainty chairs dotted around the room. ‘But actually achieving that requires skills I obviously don’t possess.’
Though ones he clearly expected her to have in abundance, simply because she was female, thought Jenny exasperatedly, then cuddled the baby to her with a small pang of guilt as he let out an ear-piercing wail. It wasn’t his fault his little life had suddenly been turned upside-down and it certainly wasn’t going to make him feel secure hearing his uncle and aunt indulging in a slanging match.
‘Which room is he in?’ she asked briskly.
Jamie’s reply was to nod in the general direction of one of the doors leading off the room.
The cot, next to an outsized double bed, looked slightly incongruous in contrast to the opulence of the room, as did too the jumble of disposable nappies and baby clothes strewn over the bed.
Jenny unwrapped the shawl from around her tiny nephew, whom she had last seen at his christening over a month ago—after which his parents had taken him back to Brussels, where they were part of an international medical team.
‘It’s lovely to see you again, even though it’s all a bit of a shock,’ she crooned as she placed him gently in the cot and tucked the covers around him. She winced as he let out another of those ear-piercing yells, then began patting him soothingly on his tiny back. ‘Be a good boy and go to sleep,’ she pleaded, her hand still patting gently.
After ten minutes, she crept out of the room, unconsciously holding her breath.
Jamie was still sprawled on the chair, an expression of scowling exhaustion on his face as his gaze met hers.