Happy Mother's Day!

Peculiarly, he was disappointed—but since when had realism ever deserted him? Why should she want to lose her most valuable client just because he’d spent the night pleasuring her? Hadn’t she already shown herself to be an admirably sharp businesswoman?

‘Don’t you worry about a thing,’ he soothed. ‘Last night is forgotten. It will never be mentioned again. As far as you and I are concerned, it is business as usual.’

Somehow that had felt like the worst thing he could have possibly said—and Aisling had experienced a weird sensation of alarm as she had made her way down in the elevator and caught a cab to the office.

Thank heavens she kept spare clothes there and arrived before any of the others, and was able to reapply her makeup and to lose the dress and stilettos without having to face any curious eyes. She sought refuge in a crisp cotton shirt and a smooth pencil skirt and a pair of flat suede shoes, which were reassuringly comfortable.

Stepping back from the mirror, she eyed her image with a resolute expression. It had been a wonderful experience and a sensual treat, but now—just as Gianluca had said—she must put it to the back of her mind.

If only it were that easy. She didn’t feel right. She felt … odd. As if something had fundamentally changed in her world. She worried that maybe she had sold herself short in some way—by snatching at something with a man who had offered her nothing but fleeting gratification. Had she been too easy—and should she have played harder to get?

If only she could rid herself of the burning ache she felt in her heart and the torturous replaying of things he’d said and done to her during that long, blissful night. She told herself she wasn’t in love with him—and, even if she had been, that absence would soon make him fade into his proper place in her memory bank.

She went through the mechanics of work. She hired a decorator to repaint the hall in her apartment and went shopping in Portobello Road for new pictures for the walls. She booked a spring break in Paris and went to the theatre with a man she met at the gym, before deciding that she didn’t like him enough to see him again—even though Suzy, who also knew him, thought she was being completely crazy.

But Suzy didn’t know the truth about her brief affair with Gianluca, did she? If she did, perhaps she would have echoed one of Aisling’s biggest fears—that she didn’t think any other man was ever going to be able to match up to him. Ever.

But not quite her greatest fear. That didn’t materialise for several weeks.

It started in the same way she guessed it started for a lot of women. She felt off colour—and could no longer face the piece of wholemeal toast with chunky orange marmalade which she always ate at breakfast time. In fact, the one time she tried it she was very nearly sick, but she put that down to the fact that she’d spent most of the previous evening working until late, with a snatched Chinese meal at the end of it.

Then she began to feel dizzy, with spots appearing before her eyes if she stood up too quickly—and she began to wonder if perhaps she wasn’t run down, or if she had been doing too much. Weren’t those the symptoms of migraine? Maybe she should make an appointment to see the doctor.

It was only when the nausea began to make her retch when she got out of bed in the morning that she realised there was one simple fact she had failed to consider—and at first she simply refused to believe it.

When she looked back on it afterwards, she was amazed at how dense she could have been. But denial could be a powerful instinct—particularly when it threatened everything you held dear. For the first time in a long time she felt frightened, and more alone than she’d ever been—even as a child when she’d lain trembling beneath the blankets, waiting for her mother to come home.

She was sitting in her office when she thought everyone else had gone home, feeling completely washed out and tired and just working out the quickest way of getting home, when Suzy came in, a deep frown furrowing her brow.

‘Do you have a moment?’ she asked, shutting the door behind her.

Aisling looked up at her. ‘Can’t it wait?’

Suzy shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid it can’t.’

What now? Aisling was about to tell her to sit down, when she noticed that Suzy had done exactly that. ‘So go ahead,’ she sighed. ‘Shoot.’

Suzy stared at her. ‘How long do you think you’re going to be able to hide it, Aisling?’ she questioned gently.

‘Hide what?’

‘The fact that you’re pregnant.’ And Aisling burst into tears.

She’d never had a scene at work. Never. Not for Aisling had there been the drunken episode at the Christmas party—or the resignation thrown at the boss in a fit of pique. Yet now she sat there at her desk, howling into a sodden tissue like an overwrought teenager, while Suzy shushed her.

‘It’s not the end of the world, Aisling,’ she soothed. ‘Women have babies on their own all the time.’

It didn’t seem the right time to tell Suzy that she was wrong. That Aisling’s own experience had convinced her that marriage and love and security and the whole package were the only sensible foundation for bringing up children.

‘Does he know?’ asked Suzy gently.

Aisling bit her lip. ‘No. No, he doesn’t.’

‘Do you think he’ll be … pleased?’ questioned Suzy delicately.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘You’re going to have to talk about it!’ There was a pause. ‘Who is the father, out of interest? Obviously somebody very discreet—since we’ve never seen him.’ Suzy frowned. ‘He’s not married, is he?’