Their Secret Baby Read Online Free PDF Page B

golden eyes that had focused on him so intently all night suddenly darkened and deepened as if her thoughts were reflected there?
    The three days since his arrival at the hotel might not have changed very much. But the three hours since she had joined him in the restaurant tonight had resulted in much more than he could have hoped for.
    In those three hours, Caitlin Richardson seemed to have become another woman entirely. So much so that he hardly recognised her as the uptight receptionist who had greeted him on his arrival at the Linford.
    The physical change had been the first, the most amazing thing. The shock had been so great that he had simply stared in disbelief, all hope of speech deserting him. And for the first time in the months since he had learned of his daughter’s existence, all recollection of the baby fled from his mind in a second.
    He had only one thought in his head and that was that he wanted this woman. He wanted her so badly that it hurt like a kick in the gut, making him fight to suppress a groan of response.
    The neat navy and white uniform she had worn had been replaced by a silk dress in a deep, rich peacock-blue, tight-fitting and clinging all the way down her elegant frame to just above her knees. The bodice was sleeveless, strapless, boned in a way that enhanced the slight curves of her small breasts, lifting and displaying them in a way that made his breath catch in his throat, struggling to force his eyes away. And over it she wore a gauzy top of some toning, transparent fabric that flattered the delicate ivory of her skin, shading and defining it in a subtly enticing way. Fine shoes, so fragile as to be almost non-existent, with a small, thin heel, emphasised the slender length of her legs sheathed in the finest silken stockings.
    The soft brown hair that had been so ruthlessly scraped back before now hung in a sleek and glossy mane, and the way that it caught the light from the elaborate chandelier showed that it had strands of bronze and gold gleaming amongst the brown, like the glow of the softest candlelight. And some skilful touch with make-up had made her eyes huge, her lashes thick and impossibly long, her mouth soft and glossy and tormentingly kissable.
    But the biggest change had been in her personality. Just like her hair, she had softened and warmed, seeming determined to relax and enjoy herself. She had smiled. She had laughed. She had chatted easily and apparently openly. And she had given every impression of enjoying the evening thoroughly.
    Which gave him hope for moving the next stage of his plan along before too long.
    And added the kick of anticipated pleasure to sweeten the mixture he was aiming for.
    ‘Would you like a drink in the bar—a liqueur, or brandy?’
    ‘No, I think not. I’d better get back.’
    Was that regret in her voice? He certainly hoped so. It sounded as though she was reluctant to leave.
    Reluctance suited him down to the ground.
    ‘I’ll walk with you.’
    That brought a look of surprise and frank disbelief to her face.
    ‘I only have about a hundred yards to go.’
    ‘But I always walk my date home at the end of the evening.’
    He watched her register the word ‘date’, turn it over in her mind, debate with herself whether she was going to let him get away with it.
    ‘There’s no need—’
    ‘Caitlin—’ he broke in sharply ‘—let me do this.’
    He’d pitched his voice just right—aiming at a blend of concern and insistence, with a touch of need threading through it. And he knew he’d hit home as she opened her mouth to refuse, then stilled, and carefully closed it again.
    ‘Matthew, I really don’t think this is necessary.’
    ‘But I do.’
    She couldn’t know what it did to him to hear her voice, soft and faintly husky, use his name—or at least the name that he had given her. Something twisted sharply deep inside in response and he had to clamp his mouth tight shut against the sudden impulse to tell her the truth.
    He