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Her insides churning, she scooped up Morris and carried him swiftly down towards the main bathroom and his bedroom. ‘Your mummy and daddy won’t be too happy with your being out of bed, young man,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I won’t tell them if you promise to drink up your water real quick, then go back to sleep.’
‘Who was that man kissing you, Auntie Angie?’ Morris asked with a child’s innocent puzzlement.
‘He’s a friend of your father’s and mine,’ she told him, hoping that would be a satisfactory answer. Morris was going through an inquisitive stage when he asked questions about everything.
‘Why was he kissing you? Are you going to marry him, Auntie Angie?’
Angie felt sick inside. ‘No. I’m not going to marry him, Morris. We haven’t seen each other for a long time. People kiss each other when they haven’t seen each other for a long time.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘How much water do you want?’ she broke in, hoping to distract the child. ‘A whole glassful or only half a glass?’
Angie managed to get Morris back to bed without any more embarrassing questions. She only hoped he wouldn’t relay the news in the morning, of his Auntie Angie kissing one of Daddy’s friends in the guest-room. Briskly she tucked him in, pecked him on the forehead, and was about to escape when Morris decided that he couldn’t possibly go to sleep without being read a story.
Sighing, Angie did the honours with Toby, the Tonka Truck which proved to be quite a long story. By the time she finished it, Morris was sound asleep. For a long moment she stared down at the sleeping child, with his olive skin and black curls, the unbidden thought coming that a son of Lance’s would probably be as fair as Morris was dark. Asleep, he would look like a golden angel.
Her heart turned over and, closing her eyes, she bent to kiss Morris on the forehead, her mind still full of that imaginary golden angel. ‘Love you,’ she whispered softly.
With a sad sigh, she opened her eyes, closed the book, put it aside and stood up. After carefully snapping off the bedside light, she had turned to tiptoe out of the room when she encountered Lance, lounging in the doorway. Clearly he’d watched the whole proceedings; the thought disturbed and then infuriated Angie. When would she rid herself of these stupid futile dreams?
She shoved him out of the doorway none too gently, and quickly closed the door before he said anything and woke Morris.
‘Smart little tyke,’ Lance said. ‘Trust Bud to have a great kid like that.’
Angie eyed him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. ‘Jealous, Lance?’
‘Of course.’
‘In that case, why haven’t you had children of your own?’ she snapped. ‘Or have you been too busy with your jet-setting life to fit them in?’
‘If you’re going to answer your own questions, Angie, then why should I? I might ask you the same question. Why haven’t you converted that obvious maternal instinct of yours into first-hand reality? Why haven’t you found some nice man to marry by now and had a couple of kids?’
God, he had a hide to ask her that! The man had to be thick as a brick! ‘No doubt I will,’ she said, smothering her hurt behind a cold smile. ‘Eventually. But for now I happen to have a career.’
‘All, yes... your career. Bud tells me you’re directing schoolgirls along the path of right and righteousness.’
‘Trust someone like you to sneer,’ she countered tartly. ‘People with no morals and standards always mock those who have.’
His eyebrows shot upwards. ‘Watch it, Angie. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, you know.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning ten minutes ago you showed a tendency to loose morals yourself. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I found you’d become one of those females willing to open their legs after one kiss.’
Her hand flashed across his cheek, the sound harsh and biting. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed, everything inside her trembling wildly.
His own hand lifted rather indolently to rub his reddened cheek. ‘Was that for just now, Angie, my sweet? Or nine years ago?’
